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THE MOLESTAION OF INNOCENCE



Laying in bed last night I began thinking about the first time I was molested by a man and if it had an effect on me as an adult.

I was about nine or ten-years-old when I stood atop the main street bridge in Jacksonville, Florida, about to commit suicide. It was just a matter of moments before I got up enough nerve to jump over the metal railing. I remember looking down at the deep, black, fast swirling water, gleaming in the moonlight. Then along came a school teacher, named Bill who took me home, fed me and treated me like I was a person rather than a “big eared ugly bastard.”

I have never thought about it; but how do I really feel about Bill, today?

Well, I do not have any hard feelings toward him. He was nice and he was kind. He never hurt me and he treated me with more respect than I had ever had at that time in my life. He bought me clothes, shoes and took me to the movies. He, as I see it, never tried to buy me. He never showered me with gifts. He would buy me things as I needed them, just as a parent would do.

Maybe I would feel differently about the situation had he done more to me than just perform oral sex on me. That was all he ever wanted to do. He never tried to make me do anything to him.

I was more upset having to lay on top of Mother Winters, the head matron, while she masturbated. The smell of her powder and perfume was sickening to me.

I guess the bottom line is this: He was an adult and he took advantage of me as a young boy.

What effect did all this have on me as an adult?

I am not sure. It did not make me a homosexual and I have never had the desire to have sex with a man. In fact, even the thought is rather repulsive and disgusting to me.

Would the fact that I have been married six times have something to do with Bill and his molesting me?

I have always had a very good sex life. It was not an emotional type of sex life, but physically it was great. Sex to me was a physical thing and not an emotional episode.

“Let me see, today I will mow the lawn, paint the garage, feed the dog and this evening I think I will have sex with the wife.”

I have been told many times, “Can’t you just be spontaneous one time?”

“Spontaneous?”

“Isn’t that called rape?”

It is rather difficult to have more than a physical sexual relationship if one does not know that there is more to the act than the physical aspect. I have never felt anything more than that.

I was not a selfish lover. Once I learned what the hell was going on, I always made sure that my partner was satisfied. Of course my yelling “Oh Roger, Oh Roger, Oh Roger did not please them at all (Joking).

I don’t know. I am who I am. The sexual days are over for me now and I am somewhat glad. I do not look back upon those days as good or bad. They were just days and things that happened.

Maybe, that is what Bill did to me. If that be the case I will never forget that he was kind to me and he saved my life. That is what I remember the most. If I ever met him I would shake his hand in appreciation but I could never hug him.



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