I have thought about my confusion for a long time. Decades. Many times from the victim position. I find that odd as I do not place myself in that position or category, generally speaking in my pedestrian life. But when I reach back and look at my upbringing, As 18 years old male I did not have the clarity to realize my father’s failures objectively. I was constantly hungering for his approval and attention, clouding my understandings of his short comings and struggles. I have far more clarity at 61 years old.
With a father who was oblivious, who didn’t recognize his son as a boy who needed his attention, and when he did it was a competition, I begin to see where my attraction to older males as a younger male resonated. When I think back how my father was always naked at home, a self proclaimed home nudist, and how he flaunted his nakedness. It wasn’t always appropriate. He presented himself in ways that seemed erotic or lewd by conventional wisdom. Seeing him aroused in the bath or on the couch, always intrigued me. I was captivated by his size. I would run to my room and think about what I saw, comparing myself to him physically, and becoming aroused by what I saw. I was given no proper boundaries. I was not taught delay of gratification.
It’s no wonder the first older guy who showed me attention, showed me his cock, and gave me affection, seduced me quickly. I ran to the attention he offered. I readily accepted his sexual demands as attention and affection, believing this was intimacy. One day he held a pair of pink panties in front of me and asked me to put them on, I asked, “Can I sit on your lap?” I thought he could fix my past pain and hurt. I believed he would offer me the love and affection I never had. But really he wanted to see my hard cock tent the front of those soft panties. He wanted my hands bound, as he teased me. making me beg for release. Not much different than my father.
I had mother who doted over her son, making excuse at times for her husband’s short comings. Her unwillingness to free of herself of her own insecurities, delivering them upon me. Does that say something.? Does it reveal her submissive nature? She allowed my father to take liberties with her body in front of me, by openly accepting the terms of his dominance.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, is that what they say? Or does it just make you damaged?