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I like a girl. A lot. I mean – its a long, drawn out love story – that started when I was in 9th standard – and it went on to grow like a little, beautiful bittersweet pain that I have – I knew that I never had a shot at a beautiful girl like her in my entire life – but I gathered enough courage (2 years after), and when I was in 11th standard – I failed my class, and I had to repeat that year. During the most lowest point of my life – I opened my mouth and talked to her (didn’t open up by talking about my feelings though). She talked to me – and we became wonderful friends for each other. It was a time of failure for me – but not once did she judge me for that – and instead she picked me up from the hollowed out darkness. She had moved onto her final year in high school and I had two more years. So, I knew that she would go away from the school – and I knew I had no time – so I opened my mouth – and spilled out the truth. To my surprise, she reciprocated the feeling – and I realized that she liked me too. It was beautiful. But, not two months later – she pushed me away – she didn’t give me a reason, and instead she just said that she didn’t want to be in my life and pushed me away. It took a toll, but I was in high school and didn’t want to build on it. She went away, and I started to cope with it. I moved from friends to friends to find my place – and I found a girl as my pen-pal, and tried to fill her void. She was a good friend though, but I knew that I was missing something. By that time, my college started and I got involved with another girl. It wasn’t right to say that I got into a relationship after thought – I jumped in, knowing that I didn’t move on from my high school crush, and I knew that I had to. It wasn’t a perfect relationship – she was abusive, sometimes controlling, sometimes sympathetic, and because of my saviour complex – she said that she was a r*** victim when she was a kid, and that she didn’t tell it to anyone of her life – not even her parents. I tried to give faith – and wanted to bring happiness to her life – little did I know that she was slowly isolating me from my friends – and manipulating me into becoming someone I was not. For 5 years I was stuck in that relationship – not realizing that I was. During these periods – there were occassionally physically intimate moments – but nothing to the point that it became penetrative s**. I knew that I had to break up with her. She slapped me when I opened up about my past crushes and relationships, she refused to let me hang out with my friends, she hated it when I spent time with my family, saying that I never spent time with her – mind you, all throughout college- I didn’t make a single friend, other than whom I was already a friend before, because of the nagging fear of what she might react. She could manipulate me with emotional blackmail – she would sometime call me in the middle of the day of a holiday, saying that she wanted to see me, and if I refused, she would threaten to cut her wrist or jump off a building. I forced myself to be whoever she wanted me to be, just to make sure she didn’t hurt herself. She stopped doing that – when I was completely shut off from others and I was only available to her. After some time, after my college finished, I got a job and this is when I realized that I had shoved all my feelings and acts aside to make her happy. Somewhere it was my saviour complex to help a r*** victim to become a better human being. And after a long drawn out thought, I decided to break up with her – which she responded by saying that I took advantage of her emotional instability – and that if I wanted to break up with her – I shouldn’t have become physically intimate. She tortured me for a long time – almost three months – my job performance started dipping, and I hate going back home from the place where I work, because she lives in the same city. She refused to break up with me – and initially begged, then shouted, and then threatened that if I didn’t get back with her – she would inform her parents of this – and put all the blame on me.

I don’t know whether she would break up with me. Because out of the blue, my high school crush told me that she had pushed me away because she didn’t want to know that her father was preying upon her s*******. It was a daunting thing to open up to me, obviously, but i know that if she had gathered enough courage to tell it to me – I knew I would’ve made her happy as I could. Instead, I jumped onto another relationship that is tearing me down, and I don’t want my high school crush to hate me.

All of this is breaking my heart – and I just want my high school crush to know what I did in my own life, but I am too afraid to say it – she deserves a better guy than me, and I know that I am too outside of her league. If I tell what happened with me and my ex, I know she would stop talking to me – and that is for the good. I don’t know when I will tell her. But I hope that she is happy.

I am not a bad guy, I know that. I just made bad decisions in my life. It breaks my heart for it.

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I lost my virginity to my mother, but it was not like it was loving or e***** or passionate. It was not a loving thing. I was a late bloomer and knew nothing about my own body or s e x. It was just her and me. I was 14 and had recently experienced my first w********. I was confused by all that but afraid to ask her. She found it on the sheets and waa disgusted and derogatory about it. She accused me of whatever m a s tur bation was (i did not know) and got otk bare bottol spanked. I was made to wear diapers to bed so that i did not mess the sheets. This was in cloth diaper days, so guess what, as soft as they were i accidentally discovered how it felt to sleep on my stomach and grind my hips against the mattress. An important point is that my g e n i t a ls had not really developed as far as growing larger, so a cloth diaper easily contained me when aroused. She just kept getting angry and spanking me. Ended up forced to sleep in her bed because she was tired of washing diapers and did not trust me not to abuse ot degrade myself. So over time i began to attach to the brief glimpses of her dressing or u*********. What little i saw was fascinating. I could not risk grinding to get off sleeping in her bed. And the spankings were rough. Rarely bruised but extended and very painful, i usually ended up in tears. One day i was walking down the hall to the bathroom and passed her (“our”) bedroom door, it was half closed. I saw her standing in front of a full length mirror, only in panyhose, her back was to me at an angle but i saw her reflected in the mirror. Bare breasted modest breasts, very large prominent n******, broad hips, classically shaped bottom. I stood there frozen and gawking as her hand was fondling her breasts and one of her hands slid down into her pantyhose and was moving. I felt something i could not describe and instinct had me opening my pants and touching myself. Not stroking just fondling myself. No surprise she notices me and gets angry, storms over to me, snatches me into her room, angtily calling me dirty filthy etc. Tells me it was not fair that she had to go without because of being a single mother and she wasnt going to go without any more because of me. Said i was hopeless and an abomination and she was sick and tired of having to watch over me when i would nevrr change. Told me to stand there and watch like a dirty sicko if i wanted to watch so bad and could not control myself. So i stood there afraid to touch myself with her right there in front of me and i watched confused as my mother resumed pleasing her body as if i were not there. I went back and forth between directly watching her and watching her reflection. She only noticed me again when she had caught her breath and saw i was fondling myself still, and she mocked me and called me pathetic for being whatever a dirty little j******* was and not being able to even do that right. She screamed at me to get out and i ran crying. She only ever mentioned it by telling me i was going back to my bed and still sleeping in diapers. I ground myself to climax over and over night after night and she ended up making me do all my laundry. Things changed after that. She fed and clothed me but i only existed after that. She pretended i did not exist and began no longer caring about closing doors or what she wore or did not wear. Told me i was going to be dirty and look so why should she not get to act as she wished and hidjng herself as a woman from my disgusting peeping. Over time it was not uncommon for me to walk by her open bedroom door and see her openly mas tur bating in many ways. Yes i always watched. Yes i always fondled myself. But i had not actually mas tur bated to o r g a sm yet. That came one day when i stood watching an extended period of her self pleasure as i was still fondling myself watching from her bedroom door. She got angry and called me pathetic that i couldnt even be good at abusing my body like a creep. She got a bath towel and laid it on the floor and made me stand on it and instructed me to take my p e n i s between my thumb and finger and directed me how to pleasure myself with my own hand. It was earth shattering as i had that o r g a sm and barely kept my feet. All she said was to make sure the towel was in the laundry. After that it was unspoken. If i saw her mastur bating, i got a towel to stand on when i watched. She would sometimee be naked or nearly so in the house and i would get a towel and do my thing and she paid veru little attention to me. It evolved to me even standing right by her bed and even kneeling on her bed watching closer. One day i forgot to get a towel and was kneeling beside her and came so fast it was on the sheets and across her stomach. She was very angry and i had to get a towel and clean her then change and wash her sheets too. We went through a period where i was pleasuring myself so much that i would watch but did not finish myself and would go to my room to finish. One day she found me touching myself and seemed genuinely worried that i was isolating myself and was degraded with the threat that i was never going to be a man. That hurt and angered me. There came a day when i was atypically bold and knelt between her legs watching very close and curiousity got the best of me. I reached out and touched the dark hair between her legs. She froze looking at me but did not say a word and i began to touch snd investigate more. She continues to fondle her breasts and even reached down and spread herself wide open. See that she asked me? That is what a real man wants not always jerking himself like a little boy. She even instructed me as i touched her. I assisted in her climax for the first time. After she even said it was a shame i did not have a real man’s body. She even tolerated me touching myself and squirtng on her belly and between her legs. This time she was gentle verbally. Asked me to get a towel and clean her up. The next time i did not act fearful. I got just as close and touched like i wanted. My world changed when she reached for me and pulled me onto her and had me rub against her. But she also mocked.me for how fast it happened and for not even being big enough or last long enough to get it inside. I was so hurt and angry. That night she woke when i climbed on her bed while she slept. I still remember how i hated her words. Look at you trying to be a man and take what you want. Just do what you are going to do with that dirty little thing and let me sleep. Not a word as i lay on her fumblimg for entry until she reached down and guided me into her. I was only just big eniugh to enter and get past the ring of muscle. It was unreal amd draining as i quickly climaxed inside her wet heat. Wben she told me to leave and go back to bed i knew i would be back. I was never allowed to stay the night in her bed but most nights i would walk in and she would just open her legs and tell me to do what i needed to do. I cannot imagine how many times this happened day after day. Silent resentful s** with grudging consent. All during high school. Frequently on the way to and from work when i got a job and moved out. Holidays. I would go over and she would be in the kitchen cooking and not even miss a beat. She would be wearing a dress and i would enter and stand behind her g**** her breasts and grind my hips against her and she would put her elbows on the counter, and i would grind against her spurting between her cheeks or thighs since even as an adult i am too small to enter from behind at all. Always told just do what you are going to do. All of it silent even as i cleaned her of my pathetic sin with a towel. Evem now when i pleasure myself i still see her looking at me with contempt, hear her telling me to just do what i need to do with that dirty little thing. I got therapy and finally broke free of my s***** addiction to her. But she is still the only one that i have had s** with and i am in my 40s now. I pay an e***** to hold me and be momny as i touch myself and she calls me her pathetic dirty little sicko and j*******.