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My Sex Stories With Japanese Men - STORYTIME

In Michelle Stevens' powerful, just-published memoir, Scared Selfless , she shares how she overcame horrendous child sexual abuse and mental illness to lead a satisfying and happy life as a successful psychologist, wife and mother. Here, an excerpt from the book:. Since birth, I had been Michelle Brechbill. Daughter of Judy. Granddaughter of Evelyn and Glenn. Now, with the flick of a pen, I was Mooch a nickname Lundquist, daughter of Gary, new student at his out-of-state school. In no one seemed to question any of this.

One was full of milk the other was just water. Mitchell held my nose while Alex poured the liquids down my throat. I had no choice, I had to swallow. They closed the drapes and turned out the light and shut the door. About 2 hours later of just lying there I needed to pee badly. They came in asking "what?

I'll be good I promise" I said.

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I realized I was speaking to my friends as if they were my parents. Then they laughed and said "go on, pee. We'll be back soon". I heard the front door of the house close.

I struggled and struggled against the ropes but I couldn't get them off no matter how hard I tried. Then it happened, I couldn't hold it any longer. The warm rush of pee into the Goodnite felt strangely nice. I laid there in the pee while it went cold. A couple of minutes later the front door opened again. They opened the door, opened the drapes and the window. I moaned. Have you peed yet" they asked.

They untied my legs and I struggled this time and actually kicked Alex in the nose.

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He looked at me with tears in his eyes "ohhhhhh your gonna get it" he said. He pinned my legs down. I was so shocked I had kicked my friend in the nose that I didn't even struggle anymore.

I said "ok". Alex let my legs go and Mitchell slid down the sopping wet Goodnite. He got a wipe and and wiped me down then powdered me. Alex just laughed.

A SLEEPOVER TO REMEMBER. Rate This Story: Excellent Very Good Good Fair Poor: "Are you gonna be a good boy or a you gonna be a naughty good" Alex asked. I said "ok". Alex let my legs go and Mitchell slid down the sopping wet Goodnite. He got a wipe and and wiped me down then powdered me. "Hahaha I can't believe I'm doing this" Alex and. Stories by Gymnopedies. Listed below are stories written and presented by Gymnopedies. You can either browse down the page, or click on the title of the story to be taken to a brief description of that story. Clicking on a story's banner will take you to the story itself. The Corps (ongoing) Family Album (ongoing) The Agency (ongoing). Apr 16,   The neighbor boy came into my room and asked if I knew anything about sex. Editor's note: This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual abuse.

Mitchell picked my legs up and slid a diaper under them and lowered my butt down onto it. Alex pulled the diaper sooooo tight up over my legs then did the tapes up. Again with the drinks except this time I got my hands untied and legs untied.

But I was denied my clothes. I got to walk around in just my diaper and have some pizza. Then it was time for my "afternoon sleep" and they tied me up again and left the room. I actually fell asleep. I woke up to Mitchell and Alex saying "get up quick, quick mom's home". They untied me and got me up but Alex's mom was to quick. She took one look at me and the ropes on the bed and said "well you guys have had fun haven't you?

Mitchell I am ringing your mother. Well I had a fun day that next day tormenting my friends. Since birth, I had been Michelle Brechbill. Daughter of Judy. Granddaughter of Evelyn and Glenn.

Boys & Strangers in Public Restrooms: Two Stories

Now, with the flick of a pen, I was Mooch a nickname Lundquist, daughter of Gary, new student at his out-of-state school. In no one seemed to question any of this.

No one seemed to care that my school records displayed a different name or that Gary was not my legal guardian.

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We weren't even related. He was just my mother's boyfriend. But social norms dictate that we do not insert ourselves into other people's personal lives. Being polite means keeping one's mouth shut. My classroom was on the first floor of the elementary building - just a staircase away from Gary.

Every day at 3 p. Inevitably, a few of his favored year-old students would still be hanging around - joking with him or sitting on his lap. Some days Gary would oversee an after-school activity. The gifted and talented club was invitation only - Gary's invitation, that is. Trouble was: Gary had no real training or authority to be administering IQ tests.

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Instead, he gave kids a short multiple-choice test, the Mickey Mouse kind sold in bookstores. Then, based on his findings, he labeled certain kids - the kids he liked and wanted to spend more time with - as "gifted.

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I was gifted, according to Gary. This was a real convenience, as he demanded I join his, and only his, after-school clubs. He signed me up for his drama club too and encouraged me to sing in the school talent contest.

A boy carries bread on his head to sell on a hilltop overlooking Kabul April 20, Boy dancers owned by rich Afghans suffer years of sexual abuse and being lent out to other men before they Author: Will Everett. Through these stories, we can gain insights into the nature of man/boy relationships in various manifestations and social settings. Fiction, non-fiction, and fictionalized accounts based on true stories, all impart truths that are elided and suppressed in the popular media. Jul 29,   This story may contain swearing hot scenes ;) What happens when a 16 year old girl is going to take care of 5 famous boys that are absolutely gorgeous and sweet will she fall in love with one of them?or will she hate her new job she might become famous because she can sing and dance in the story.

On the night of the show, various kids performed their acts, and the winner was chosen based on audience response. Gary was among the judges who awarded me first prize.

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After that, I was given the lead in all the school plays that he directed. To the other parents, I suppose it seemed that Gary was harmlessly lauding his new daughter. In a certain way, he was. Not because he actually thought I was gifted or talented.

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Gary was a narcissist, and narcissists view their families as extensions of themselves, as trophies. Gary believed he was superior, so it was imperative that the world see his daughter as superior too. Behind closed doors it was a different story.

Apr 16,   8 year old boys (and girls), are however, at the age when they are becoming very curious about the bodies of the opposite sex. That is prime "playing doctor" and "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" age. A boy that age is very likely to sneak a look at a woman or girl in the bathroom. There is nothing sexual about it.

Gary treated me with a dizzying blend of over-involvement, neglect, overindulgence and cruelty. With Svengali-like skill, he quickly took over every ct of my life, dictating what I wore, to whom I talked, even what toys I used. He also strove to monopolize my time - an easy accomplishment since my mother left for work before I awoke and didn't return until evening.

During the school year, this meant Gary had me all to himself for an hour each morning and at least three hours every afternoon. Once summer came, he had me all day, every day, all to himself. This meant being subjected to daily "training sessions" - intense periods when I was explicitly instructed on how to behave and think like a slave. Much like a dog must be trained to sit, to stay, to heel, practitioners of sadomasochism believe a sex slave must be trained in how to speak, sit, serve.

In short, like a dog, she must be taught total obedience. Gary's dungeon was in the basement. Instead, he left a series of nails and hooks attached to the ceiling beams, which could quickly and easily hold a harness, a rope or some other type of bondage device. While much of Gary's paraphernalia had to be kept hidden, I could tell he also had some fun in displaying a few tools of his trade.

The dog cage, for instance, was left in plain sight - folded up in a cluttered corner where it appeared to be waiting for the next garage sale. He also kept a wooden paddle hanging on the wall of his home office, which he jokingly told guests was for "errant children.

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Nor did most people realize that he kept a set of metal handcuffs in his desk drawer, right next to a stun gun and his handgun. I can't remember being threatened with the gun - although it may have happened.

The boys groomed for exploitation

Due to amnesia, as well as the normal forgetfulness of memory, there are many details about my abuse I can't recall. I know this because, over the years, eyewitnesses have told stories about my abuse that I cannot personally remember.

I do, however, remember Gary threatening me with the stun gun repeatedly. He even used it on me once.

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Once was all it took. For after experiencing the excruciating, utterly indescribable pain it inflicted, I never, ever wanted to experience it again.

When he wasn't hurting me, he lavished me with parental attention. On the long drives to and from school, he would initiate conversations about history, politics and art.

We ate nearly every meal together while he instructed me on things like table manners and ethnic cuisine. He gave me my first typewriter and influenced my decisions to become both a writer and psychologist. He took the time to open up the world for me. He was my first and most significant mentor. Under my mother's care, I'd been neglected and deprived. She was constantly at work, leaving me alone and lonely.

Gary preyed on that loneliness. Like any skilled pedophile, he identified what I needed, and he gave it to me. He made me feel special, talented, smart. Even sexually, staying on Gary's good side had its advantages.

These stories are those of ordinary men and women from our society. Some of them are teachers, some of them are doctors, some sweep roads and some tend homes. They all have something in common they love boys. This love is emotional and spiritual for some and also sexual for some others but it is a deep and true passion that exists unchosen but. An examination of how boys construct their stories of first sexual experiences can also provide insight into how they view themselves as partners and sexual agents. The purpose of this analysis was to examine narratives of first sex among young boys recruited from an urban area with high rates of early sexual onset and worldparadebooks.com by: 9. Mar 22,   At 8 Years Old, My Mother's Boyfriend Made Me His Sex Slave Nearly every day at 4 p.m., for years, he would summon me to bed. His acts were unthinkable, but now I'm ready to talk.

For once he felt I had become sufficiently trained and submissive, most of the torture tapered off. Afternoons in the basement were replaced by the bedroom. And his fervor to cause me pain was replaced with a passion to bring me pleasure. I suspect it made him feel powerful - like more of a man. Nearly every day at 4 p.

The weird part, of course, was that his "lover" was just under four feet tall and weighed less than 60 pounds. There was also the inconvenient fact that his official lover, my mother, refused to vanish. Unable to ditch her physically, he did it emotionally instead. Every evening, he locked himself in his home office.

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