Sometimes I get so physically sick just from thinking about the past. I never wanted to grow up, and I never wanted to lose so many people. My stomach

13 years

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Sometimes I get so physically sick just from thinking about the past. I never wanted to grow up, and I never wanted to lose so many people. My stomach hurts and this is starting to interfere with my life. I feel so ridiculous because life goes on and everything changes, but I don’t want it to.

New Confession

Started going to an adult book store with booths about a year after my wife passed.I had never had a gay experience. A first I went to get sucked for releif . One night as I set down a pretty good size hard on was shoved threw the hole from the next booth. At first I just set there and stared at it. I couldnt stop looking at it. It was like a magnet and soon I was holding it in my hand.
My head started down like I couldnt stop myself and the next minute I had it in my mouth. Somehow I knew what to do although I had never done it bf.In no time I heard a loud grund from the other booth and my mouth was filling with c**. I didnt know what to do.I thought about spitting it out but instead swallowed it
I am hooked and spend way to much time there sucking any c*** that comes thru the hole. I have no idea how many loads I have swallowed there I am hooked and cant stop. Its worse than a drug.

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There are not enough characters to express how exhausted I am with my life. I am a closeted homosexual living in a country where I cannot express myself freely, and it’s killing me. Every day, I feel like my true self is slowly disappearing while I continue trying to fit the part. I have to if I want to survive. You know what they do with people like me here. Everyone around me seems to be moving on with their lives, getting married, settling down, and building a life. It’s heartbreaking knowing that I can’t ever have that, at least not the way I want to. My parents are nosy and keep hinting at me getting married. I get extremely uncomfortable at even the suggestion of it. I keep postponing myself. I keep hiding. I keep myself from experiencing life. I am dead, not alive. And that is my problem. I keep asking myself until when? How long until I experience my first? How long until I can finally breathe? How long until I am truly free?