This post contains details of child sexual abuse and self harm. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS WILL BE TRIGGERING FOR YOU. I ALSO WANT TO STRESS THAT THIS IS NOT PORNOGRAPHY AND IS NOT INTENDED TO BE IN ANY SHAPE WAY OR FORM. If you find any of this remotely disturbing, please stop reading. THANK YOU
Before I get into it all, I am currently ‘sober’. I have just taken 120mg of codeine so chances are that this will go drastically downhill before too long and my apologies for that. The reason I am writing about sex is because I am fighting the urge to cut, I haven’t slept properly for a few days, no sleep last night and this is likely to keep me awake if I don’t get rid of some of my thoughts.
Sex was introduced to me so early on in my life that I don’t think that I can recall a time when I didn’t know something about tingley sensations and the fact that I quite liked them. I also really don’t know if my sexual experiences started at 5/6 or whether they happened far earlier than that. This has caused me great angst over the past few days and is quite distressing for obvious reasons.
Having a little brother come into my life a couple of months before I was 2 gave me an awareness of our differences. My parents were also very open in walking around naked and therefore I knew that there were significant differences in big people. Kids are naturally curious when they are young and pointing out differences and asking questions is, from my experience with mine, a pretty normal and expected occurrence.
What differs for me is the constant stream of images that flash before my eyes which I have never been able to make any sense of. I have had them a lot recently and some of them seem to be fresh ones. They make no sense and have unsettled me a lot as they suggest other abuse which I don’t remember.
The girl who first abused me (that I can remember) confused me from the get go. In my head I knew that this was wrong. I could hear my mums voice telling me off for touching myself and later smacking me for it, I was embarrassed because I was naked and for some reason I have always been very private and not wanted people to touch me. Again, this makes me feel that something had happened far earlier. But when she started to caress my body I physically reacted at the pleasurable sensation it caused. The mixture of these feelings confused me in the sense that part of me thought that this was a bad thing and part of me enjoyed this bad thing.
On holiday with my family, the second girl who abused me was more boy like with her hair cut but was developing and had the same feminine beauty that the other girl had. I was again nervous about what was happening, but I was a little older and knew that once I relaxed I would enjoy whatever it was that we would do. This girl and I had a form of ‘lesbian’ sex. I was 8. We kissed deeply and passionately and she rubbed herself on me causing all kinds of feelings and sensations. I couldn’t get enough. She fingered me and caused me to cum. I did the same to her but not so well so she finished herself off. We were on holiday for about 2 weeks and we had some form of sexual contact every day. By the time I left to come back to London she knew every inch of my body and I knew hers too.
The following year we went back again. Being a bit older and having started to develop things were a little different. Everything seemed so much more intense than it had been and the pleasure was almost addictive. I loved this girl and wanted to spend time with her. She was 13, funny and to me very beautiful. I wanted to be just like her. The kisses were different too. The passionate ones which I thought were deep were nothing like how we kissed now. She had a boyfriend and had learnt more things. She also decided that this time round, we would be boyfriend and girlfriend. Because she was miles taller than me and had short hair she would be the boy and I would be the girl. She took control from the get go and would undress me. This would be followed by her exploring every inch of my body with her hands and mouth. Objects had been inserted into me before but she inserted her tongue into my vagina and did things to me that no 9-year-old should ever have done to them. BUT I didn’t tell her to stop, I didn’t hate it. I loved it and the games we played made me feel so grown up.
In the middle of these two holidays the male who befriended my family had started to molest me. He had already groped my tiny budding breasts and fondled me. However, I had only ever seen and touched other girls. I had seen my dad naked a few times but thought it was gross and my brother I was aware had a spout but wasnt the slightest bit interested. This young man told me to put my hand into his pocket he had something he wanted me to feel. I put my innocent hand into his pocket and couldn’t feel anything. He told me to move my hand over a bit, he said, “can you feel that? Do you know what that is?” I had no idea initially and asked him what it was. I remember his eyes growing dark with a strange look. I now understand that this look is sexual arousal and desire. I realised with a shock and complete embarrassment that it was his penis and went to take my hand out. His jeans were quite tight and getting my hand in his pocket had not been easy but trying to get it out was even harder. He grabbed over the top of my hand and pushed it back down firmly into his pocket. My hand was on the head of his penis which was growing harder and bigger. I had no idea what was happening and I remember feeling scared and very uncomfortable, I wanted to get my hand out of his pocket and run up to my room and hide. He didn’t let my hand go even though I was squirming. He pushed my hand further over the bulge and looked into my face and said “this is for you. this is what you do to me. One day it will be yours.” I had no idea what he was talking about and I was scared what it meant. I didn’t want his penis, especially one which was all hard. He let go and I took my hand out of his pocket and ran upstairs to my bedroom.
When we were on holiday I told the girl about what had happened and asked her about it. She dutifully told me all about sex and how it all worked. I didn’t want to believe her, the idea that my parents had to do that in order to have children was disgusting and scared me. Would I have to do this too? YUK!!!
I was just a kid and things scared me, made me uncomfortable and often made no sense to me at all. That summer holiday was to be honest, amazing. I spent everyday with her. We went swimming, played tennis, went to the beach. We spent a lot of time lying by haystacks kissing and touching each other. If this is what grown ups did then I would spend my time doing it with her. I believed that I was ‘in love’ with her….not that I had any idea what that was. All i knew was that I wanted to spend as much time as I could with her. I was no longer embarrassed about what we did. I would sometimes instigate it. She was wearing bras and because I was the girl in our game I needed to wear it so she would take it off and put it on me. It was too big for me, but oh I felt so grown up. This would be something to tell the other girl when I saw her next.
Jumping forward to my teenage years. I was 14 when I started to have my own sexual desires. I went to a youth group where there were boys and girls. Going to all girls schools getting to mix with boys my age was a new experience for me. The first boy I dated was 4 years older than me. He was a great kisser. Deep and passionate. I got teased a lot because he had stubble and caused the top of my lip to go all red. I was covered in love bites on my neck and my breasts. He was inexperienced and we tried to have sex but it really didn’t work. It was a bit awkward to be honest. Instead he took great pleasure in undressing me and giving me oral sex. What he didn’t know was that I had experienced oral sex and whatever he was trying to do really wasn’t doing anything. I remember the first time he stuck his tongue and fingers inside me…I am not sure what he was trying to do but it was uncomfortable and I told him that it was. He moved to my clit and tried his best but it really didn’t do anything. He wanted me to give him oral sex but I was scared of his penis and didn’t want to put it in my mouth. He was hurt by this but I couldn’t explain to him why. I had never told anyone and I wasnt about to.
We split up after a month because I really liked another boy. This other boy was only a couple of years older than me and we had a lot in common. We became best friends and spent a lot of time together. The first time I had sex was with this boy. I bunked off school and he came over to my house. It was quick, I didn’t feel a thing and I was sorely disappointed. The thing about this boy though was the chemistry and the physical pull we had towards each other. He was like a drug and I couldn’t get enough of him. He was the most passionate and deep kisser and literally made my knees go weak. I finally understood that this is what love really was. We had sex again a few days later. I was a slut to be honest. It was on my friends sofa and her mum caught us. We hadn’t used protection and I was ashamed. She told us we were dirty and disgusting and to get out of her house. I was semi dressed in the street. We smoked a joint and decided we should probably go home. I went back to my house and he went back to his. I told my mum what had happened because reality kicked in and there was a chance that I could get pregnant. I was given the morning after pill and was violently ill for the next two days. My mum never grounded me, told me off or anything.
As soon as I was better I went to my friend’s house. We stole some cider, smoked some pot, sniffed some poppers and got off our faces. We decided to stand on the street corner, scantily clad and get paid for some sexual act. We met a couple of foreign lads who were only to willing to ply us with booze, by us fags in exchange for a blow job. We both obliged and got a few quid on top of the rest. My friends bra got broken in the process and given that neither of us were particularly small I thought it was hilarious because they were bouncing around. This was when I felt something stir inside me. I was attracted to her. I jokingly offered to hold her breasts for her so they didn’t bounce so much! We tried my idea but it just didn’t work whilst we were walking back to my house.
We spent a lot of our time getting drunk, sniffing poppers and smoking a variety of weed, hash and other weird coloured stuff which seemed to get us buzzing. We were sitting outside a bank in a walkway rolling a couple of joints. I was looking at her and was taken by how beautiful she was. I moved forward and kissed her. She kissed me back. I decided to touch her more intimately and put my hand up her t-shirt. We didn’t go further than that but it was familiar to me and I liked it more than I felt I should.
As the years progressed I kissed more boys, kissed and slept with more girls. I had relationships with boys and one night stands with girls.
During these times I had learnt that for me sex had to be about the other person taking control. I like deep, passionate kissing that leaves you breathless. I prefer oral sex to intercourse because sex doesn’t really do anything for me generally. However, I do like having sex and can get impatient for that feeling when something is inside me.
I also prefer for it to be rough and to be tied up. I am sure that this sounds kinky and for some exciting. But for me it is how sex was introduced to me. Being touched like I am glass and going to break does nothing. Being bitten, pinched and having hard, almost violent sex does far more.
I feel like a freak that the only way I can enjoy being intimate with someone is by recreating my experiences from the abuse, both as a kid but also the rapes by the stranger and by my first husband.
Recently I wrote about my sexuality and the confusion I have been experiencing. Last week I told my followers that I am bisexual. I am about 80% certain of this, the 20% of me left wonders if this is only because of the abuse. I find it hard to call it that because I liked it some of the time and how can something you like be called abuse?
I am sexually attracted to both men and women. I enjoy sex with both. I am married and being bisexual does not change the way I feel about my husband or the vows I made to him. He knows that right now I am more attracted to women than men but this could just be to do with the amount of crap that is running around my head.
I am scared of men. I am frightened by their intentions towards me and how they are going to treat me. There are many reasons aside from the sexual abuse and rape, but that’s for another time. I tend to take time getting to know men before I trust them. Women on the other hand I am very quick to like or dislike someone, to trust them or not. Sometimes I get it very wrong but I am like a little kid with women and don’t see things until it’s too late.
At the moment I have a some crushes on my female friends on Twitter. This is embarrassing to admit, but I want to be honest. I need to make it very clear now that this is not based on looks but based on the connection we have made over several months of talking. I am not about to start hitting on my female friends, nor am I going to act on these feelings. The ladies know who they are so that’s all that matters.
Since being on Twitter I have got to know some men and opened up and trusted them unlike any time before. I do not know how I am seen on Twitter. I don’t know what people think about me. I try to be open and honest and true to myself. That was the whole point of it being anonymous.
Part of my openness is that I have a dirty mind like many people do and I am not ashamed of it. I am honest about things I post and yes, when it comes to sex and intimacy I am very passionate. I can talk dirty and have a laugh, sometimes shockingly so. I am a consenting adult who has the same desires and needs as most people have despite my experiences and mental health.
Right now, as I write this I am stoned from the co-codamol and still feeling like I want to cut. I am wide awake again which is just as frustrating as the lack of sex I am having.
In keeping with being open and honest, I am lonely as hell. Being intimate with someone has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. I love my husband very much, but he never touches me. The odd group here and there, but if I want anything more than that I have to throw myself at him and make all the moves. This does nothing for me and I feel frustrated by the lack of passion. His kiss used to make my stomach do somersaults but it doesn’t happen. I can’t reach orgasm with him which has him saying that I am broken. Going solo I can, but it takes time and I can’t get there and the only way I can is by seeing a woman being pleasured by either a male or female. I feel such guilt and shame for this. I hate masturbating because I always feel dirty and disgusting afterwards because of what my mum said to me. I punish myself afterwards by either cutting, which I haven’t done for 3 weeks, burning, hitting, pinching or scratching myself.
I am desperate for someone to hold me, to kiss me passionately and to make love to me the way I like it. Having a man do all these things for me without wanting anything in return is never going to happen. I don’t want to give a blow job to anyone right now. I feel angry when I see porn with a woman doing that. I don’t really understand why this is, but my feelings are quite strong. I feel very turned on by the idea of being with a woman, but when I think of this I am taken back to my summer holiday and the experiences I had then.
I feel completely confused and messed up about everything right now. I am scared that I have started to come across as a whore with no self-respect on Twitter. I am scared that the feelings I have inside to take risks and sleep with someone who can do for me what my husband can’t is growing stronger and I don’t understand why this is all happening now.
I don’t care that I am bi-sexual. I did to start off with but the truth of the matter is that it doesn’t change anything about me. It just means that if I was single I would sleep with whoever I liked and connected with. It wouldn’t matter if they were male or female. BUT in the same breath, I cannot imagine being with anyone else other than my husband. He knows me, he gets that there are things that scare me and makes sure he doesn’t do that. And perhaps most importantly he loves me. I have had a lot of meaningless kissing and sex when I was younger. It was fun, sometimes dangerous and part of my growing up.
Things have happened recently which have added to my confusion, have made me feel ashamed of myself and caused me to question everything about what I know. The only thing I do know is that deep inside I am miserable. I want to be wanted and ravaged and it’s not happening which in turn is making me feel worthless and undesirable. I feel invisible and unattractive and like this will be as good as it gets.