The Stories You Cannot Tell

A little background… my mom married my dad when she was sixteen, he was nineteen. Well, twelve years of marriage and 4 kids later, she had an affair and ended up leaving my dad and her kids for the other man. My dad took the four of us and moved to Vegas. I was 6 at the time. I have a few memories from before they were separated, but don’t really have memories between the time I was six until was twelve. I subconsciously blocked out all the crappy stuff and all I know that went on during that time frame is what my family and close family friends have told me. Both my mom and my dad got remarried. My dad married a beautiful, smart woman who was a wonderful mom to her 2 kids and an amazing step mom and role model for us. My mom, on the other hand, married the man with whom she had the affair on my dad. He was an alcoholic. He was a druggie. He was always mad. He was never happy; nothing was ever good enough. He was abusive. He didn’t care about his own 4 children, let alone my mom’s kids. She never said a word when he would abuse her. She never said a word when he would abuse us.

So when I was 16, she finally decided to leave the asshole behind. He and his four kids moved out. It was just her and I in our humble abode. For the first time ever my mother was actually standing on her own two feet. She went from her parents to my dad to her second husband, but now she was starting to do this thing called life on her own. Things were actually starting to get better. Then Alex came along. The divorce was not even finalized before my mom was “in love”. He moved in. He was an alcoholic. He was a druggie. He didn’t care about his own two kids, let alone me. My mom started spending all of her time with him or doing things for him. She didn’t care where I was, when I was coming home, or if I was coming home. I would stay out some nights with friends just waiting for her to call me. I wanted to know if she cared. She didn’t. I never got the call. After about a month, I was practically living at my boyfriend’s house and called my mom about once a week to let her know I was alive. The phone conversation never lasted longer than five minutes.

Not long after he moved in, he was arrested and expedited to California for violating probation. Where did that leave my mom? Where did that leave me? I moved in with my grandma, she quit her job, and she was off to California to live with his mom while he sat in jail for an unknown amount of time. I remember the exact thought that went through my head when she left: I can’t believe she is abandoning me again.

She slipped right back into the drugs, alcohol, and abuse. After living with my grandma for about 3 months I moved back to Vegas with my dad. She never cared to call. She never cared to visit. Not even for holidays or birthdays. After a few years, they moved back to Arizona. That was just last year. I was 19. She landed a few trips to the hospital from “accidents” and “clumsiness” before she pressed charges and he spent a few months back in jail. She is still married to him to this day. She calls from time to time. It’s my turn to not want to call. It’s my turn to not want to visit.

I’m happy that I don’t have the memories from when I was younger. I wish that I could forget the memories from the past few years. For me it was easier to forget than it has been to forgive. I still haven’t forgiven her. I don’t think I ever really will. But when she was here for my brother’s graduation, when she randomly shows up at my house, at my grandpa’s 80th birthday, at my grandparents 50th anniversary – when I am forced to be where she is, I pretend that I forgave her. My family is very religious. They used to always tell me how wrong I am to hold it against her. I’m wrong to hold a grudge. Two rights don’t make a wrong. Everything that is so easy to say when it wasn’t you that sat on the porch and watched your mom leave you for a man that treated her like shit. I got sick of it, so I let everyone believe that I have forgiven her. The truth is I haven’t.

The problem is that I don’t know if I can’t, or if I won’t. Is there a difference?

Signed,

The Daughter you don’t know hates you

Las Vegas

I once got back at an ex-boyfriend by killing his puppy. He had been given a Pitbull puppy by his new girlfriend. I went over to his house one day when he wasn’t home, put the puppy in an empty garbage can and then put the lid on it. Then I filled the can with water. The puppy struggled a little but then there was no movement.

I remember seeing the ex a couple days after I did it. He looked sad, miserable and very bothered. Just like how I did when he cheated on me!

My secret confession concerns my abuse at the age of ten. I was a nice looking, slightly chubby boy and niave and friendly. I was staying with my grandparents at a holiday resort. My grandfather had hired a little rowboat for he and I to use for fishing. A family was staying in a villa opposite ours and I became friendly with some of the boys. Thay had a family friend staying with them, a man about 35 if I remember rightly. He was also very friendly and kind and one day when I wanted to go fishing and my grandfather couldn’t take me for some reason, this man offered to take me instead. It never occurred to me that it was strange that the other boys in his house were not coming too.

We went out in the boat and he was really nice to me. When we had been fishing for a little while, I used an expression I had heard the big boys in the other villa where he was staying. I said “you prick” when a fish fell off my hook as I got it close to the boat. He then asked me “do you know what a prick is?” I said no and he told me it was another name for a penis. He talked about the fact that all boys had a prick. and said he would show me his. He slid his penis, which looked very big to me, out the leg of his shorts and told me it was OK because we all have one. He told me to show him mine. I was a bit shy but used to doing what adults told me so I just poked it out the leg of my shorts as I wasn’t wearing any underpants. He said it was a beautiful prick and said that no one could see us out in the boat so I should slip my shorts down so he could see it properly. I knew something was naughty about it but he was very persuasive so I pulled my pants down to my knees. He gently felt me and said it was a beautiful prick. He asked me if he could kiss it and I said “OK” so he did. I don’t recall if he sucked or just kissed it. He then took my hand and said I could feel his. He got me to wrap my hand around it and move it back and forth. All the time he was stroking my little penis. I think I remember that he was erect and after a while he said he needed to pee and leant over and put his penis over the side of the boat. Years later,I later realised he was ejaculating into the water.

After this, he said I should pull my pants up and told me that if I ever told anyone about our “secret” he would kill me. I spent a few years in mortal fear and laden with guilt for what I had done without really understanding what had happened. As I’m sure a lot of people do, I buried memory of the event only to recall the detail years later. For some reason, and here is my secret, I am now aroused by the memory and regularly masturbate while recreating the event in my mind. I do not find children attractive and have no desire to abuse them as I know the trauma I experienced but am intrigued as to why that occurrence in my life has become a masturbatory fantasy.

Tags: child abuse secrets sexual fantasy

-I once had hot sex with one of my girlfriend’s hot mothers. She invited me to Pilates and after about three weeks of going to class, flirting, then driving home and flirting we finally did it. Incredible. I wish I have videos to remember it by.

-I once witnessed a violent assault that resulted ina death. When it hit the news and the police asked for help is solving the crime I stayed silent. Even worse was that the victim was a pregnant single mother.

-I stole from the mail. Repeatedly.

-My uncle was killed by the mob and only I know the details.

-I had sex with my teacher before sex with teachers became so in vogue. My grade nine Drama teacher. She was a buxom blonde and so very tender and loving. Our affair lasted months.

-I was abused by my father and his father before him. Repeatedly.

-I have many many more confessions and stories I can’t tell. Soon there shall be more.

sHHs

Tags: secret confessions private stories confidential secrets

He doesn’t know that I know but I do. I had my suspicions for months so I’ve been doing some home work. I have watched enough CSI that I feel confident I could get away with it. I just have to gather up the strength to see this through. After years of taking his abuse it’s his turn to feel my pain. Thinking about it excites me.

Name kept secret
Location kept secret

Tags: affair abuse secret story