4 years
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I wish I could say this to my parents in real life.

To My Sperm-Donor:
I may have lived with you for almost sixteen years which may be my whole life, but I despise you. I fid you revolting, I’ve known from a young age that you are a p********. You may have never done anything to me, but still, what’s you were convicted for in the past gives me nightmares because out of my whole family, my mother, and my two brothers, one half-sibling, you only listen to me. It disgusts me because I know you are a p******** and have ulterior motives.

To My Mother:
I do love you, you’ve been through s*** having to be with my Father. You two may not be married, or even together, but because of financial problems and your slightly kind heart he lives with us. I wish you’d just put the restraining order on him that you keep saying you’ll do, but don’t. You also aren’t free from my hatred, it may not be ever present, but it has been there before, and this is because I’ve always been more of a tomboy, and you’ve always wanted a daughter. You haven’t done anything excessive or violent, but your words and expectations hurt. You would pester me a lot when I was younger to wear something more girlish like a dress. You’ve also always threatened to give your own children up for adoption when we were just being petulant children. I know you’d never go through with it, but it still hurts hearing you say it.

To My Brothers:
I am not close to two of you, but you are still of blood relation to me. You all make fun of people who aren’t straight. You say you don’t care what there s******** is, but I know from how you speak, from you, that you aren’t accepting of them. Which is why I lie and say, “I’m straight” or say, “I’m asexual/aromantic” since I know that you don’t care if I feel romantic attraction or if I’m straight. However, even though I’m not a hundred percent sure since I’ve never been able to explore, and find myself. I believe I’m bisexual, I’ve felt things for both men and women, more so women, but still both genders. So, I’ve never come out with these thoughts to anyone with my paranoia and fear of persecution. You may be my brothers, but I wish that I could feel safe to be honest with you and the rest of our family.

To My Immediate Biological Relations:
I wish that I could only say nice things, but I can’t. You don’t even notice that I suffer from depression and anxiety,and that I have since I was nine, even if it was only in it’s early stages then. You didn’t notice my suicide attempt when I was twelve. I took thirteen sleeping pills at night, and went to my bed praying that God would let me die. I hoped, and wished I wouldn’t wake up, but I did. When I awoke my body was in pain, I barely lived. The next day or two after waking up I went to school even though I still didn’t feel well after my suicide attempt. I was in third period, science, and I was in and out of conciseness, my body was shaking, and my teacher got someone to come down and take my stuff. I was brought to the nurses office, Of course I wasn’t able to go home since our phone was down, so you my parents didn’t receive the calls. After school that day I went home, and when asked, “How was school?” I had replied, “It was okay.” It wasn’t okay, my body was in pain, and still healing from my suicide attempt. No one noticed me leave my room searching the house for a painless way to die, which happened at least two or three times. Of course I only attempted suicide once, however it is ever present in my mind. I sit in my room all day avoiding you all because no matter how much I actually care about you all (except my sperm-donor) I despise you just as much. When I do eventually become an adult, even if it’s a few years away (two-ish) and when I eventually move out I know for a fact I won’t make it a priority to stay in contact. I may be hiding all of this from you all, but I wish that someone, one person, at least noticed that I tried to commit suicide.

That’s all I have to say to you. Of course you’ll never see this, and even if you do, you won’t know I was the one who wrote this. So, as a hint, I’ll leave a signature that only only one of my brothers understands. Well, that is if they make the connection. Since, it isn’t my real name, and I might change this alias in the future, he amy not remember. So, you’ll never know it was me, but here I’ll add it anyways.

~Evanora

New Confession

I spent a lot of quality time over coffee with my MIL. We talked about anything under the sun for hours. Usually when my wife went out shopping or for lunch with her 2 sisters. One day she seemed abnormally quiet and when i asked what was on her mind she said that she was worried i would leave her daughter because she had heard from the other 2 that my wife had shut down s** in our marriage. She said that she knew i loved my wife but that it was clouding my judgement to accept a marriage witbout s**. I got pretty down about hearing the quiet part out loud at all even worse from my MIL who i had great trust in and respect for. She said that while she knew she should think of her daughter first she worried because she knew that i turned a blind eye to the topic and that she was also aware from the other two that my wife was making snide remarks about me m***********. She said she knew me well enough to know that i would never seek an affair but feared that that made me too vulnerable. As the conversation unfolded i admitted that i had considered paying for s** and she implored me to not do that because of risk of disease. Sad as it was i told her that my biggest reason for avoiding it was that all i would want from an e***** would be to be held and talked to while i masturbated but even then it would feel pathetic and lonely and i would not get the fulfillment of knowing i had given pleasure to someone else. She said she understood and we conversationally moved on to other topics.

Weeks went by and it did not come up again but we were rarely alone. But i should have expected she would bring it up again when the moment and privacy allowed. It was more embarassing for me because she said that one of my sisters in law told her that my wife had been making comments that i was being moody and quiet and that i should probably go to a h***** or j******* or something. I was actually angry about the fact that it was being talked about between the women and my MIL said that she got that but what i should be angry about was that my wife showed such disrespect and disregard to shame me to others especially her family. I had to admit she was right and she told me that both her other daughters had agreed to stop listening when my wife made such comments and to tell her to knock it off. I told her i felt really embarassed because this also meant that my SILs’ husbands doubtless knew my situation and all the comments as well. More weeks went by. The sisters go out shopping and my MIL and i are at her table again talking around the topic and she said the issue was not going to go away. I told her i got that but that there was no changing the situation. She left to go to the bathroom and when she came back as we talked about other things she eventually called me out on having been looking at her cleavage in the neck of her robe. I was so ashamed and tried to apologize but she actually laughed and told me to shut up because she had deliberately been showing her cleavage because she felt i deserved to get a peek at a woman occasionally. Then she did not say another word just looked at me and of course i could not stop looking now. It was not like she had huge breasts but the neck of the robe was open very low. I could not speak at all. She reached to the neck of her robe and pulled it more open and lower. All i could do was keep looking despite how awful i felt about what i was doing. She shrugged the robe off her shoulders revealing her breasts down almost to the n****** and by now i was so nervous and paralyzed sitting there trembling. She smiled at my facinated staring and thanked me fo4 the compliment. We sat there for what seemed forever until she spoke my name to get my attention, and just smiled and nodded at me and told me to not deny myself. Feeling so helpless and pathetic did not stop me from reaching under the table as i sat across from her and opening my pants to touch myself under the table. I was lost, slowly stroking myself as i stared at her breasts and sometimes able to look her in the eye. She told me to take my time and enjoy the view and what i was doing. She could tell when i was getting close, telling me to relax, to let it happen, and when she untied her robe and allowed it to fall off her shoulders and breasts completely i lost it and grabbed the edge of the table so tightly as my other hand milked my pleasure out of me. It was so emotional when she placed her hand on mine on the table edge as i moaned and emptied my desperate lust. When my contractions ended she continued to hold her hand on mine as i caught my breath. All i could do was look at her as she smiled, letting me keep looking as she sat there casually bare breasted and smoking a cigarette, eventually even lighting one for me then going to get me a washcloth then sat back across from me as i sheepishly cleaned myself and closed my pants and my face burned as she giggled as i cleaned my puddle off the floor under the table. She just watched as i rinsed the washcloth nervously and sat back down unable to even look at her. She reached over and stroked my cheek and told me to stop overthinking it. Then she asked me to not talk and to just listen. She told me to not read too much into this, but that it was something that yes felt like a betrayal of her daughter but that it was actually one of my SILs that had the idea and the other one convinced her it was a solution to the problem. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die but she made me promise to try to not be embarassed or ashamed and that the three of them (MIL and both SILs) were on my side so to speak. Otherwise there was no need to overtalk or overthink it whatsoever. Over the next months it happened regularly, my SILs simply told me the next time i saw them that they would never treat me badly but that i needed to be braced for the occasional discreet teasing about it in subtle private ways. The first few repeats were only at my MIL’s initiation, she would simply look at me across the table and smile at me and i would pleasure myself as she slowly bared her breasts. She was never impatient nor made me feel like it was a chore. She slowly began to ramp things up over time. I was so turned on by how she would sit there holding my eyes with hers smoking as i stroked myself. I felt like i would pass out the first time she told me to give it to her, to c u m for her. I obeyed as if hypnotized when she told me to stand up and let her watch. She always made it exciting every time. She started to seductively stroke her breasts as i did so. She started sitting close and eventually put my free hand in her breast. Eventually made a new rule that i be naked when i did it for her telling me i owed her the view. I barely kept my balance the first time she had me stand directly in front of her and held her breasts up and told me to milk myself onto them, even casually having a cigarette aftet as she had me clean her breasts with a washcloth. She eventually had me lay on the sofa as she sat across the room and watched me spend hours pleasuring my body for her. Eventually let me lay my head in her lap suckling and nuzzlimg her breasts as i stroked myself. I realized how emotionally addicted to her i was the day i sat at her table after her daughters left and after they left she walked into her own kitchen completely bare and had me follow her to the bathroom so i could touch myself while watching her shower. Even eventually as she lay covered in a bubble bath as i stood looking down at her and as i got close she lifted her torso to let me empty myself onto her wet breasts then had me watch as under the bubbles she pleasured herself while keeping my eyes locked to her eyes. I cherish the day she waited until they left so she could come into her own living room bare and kneel and watch me as i stroked myself for her to watch, then when she knew i was close, stood and took my hand and led me to her bed. She laid back with open thighs and reached up to me and pulled me close, her arms around my shoulders and her legs lockiing around me as i gasped when i entered her as she said it was ok, to just let it happen, we could take our time the next time.

I deeply value the time that both my sisters in law told me how much they cherished me bringing love and passion to their widowed mother’s life. How she had simply wanted to let me feel like a man again but how it had let her feel what a woman longed for again, a true lover for herself as much as her being my lover. After my MIL passed away those two sisters in law and i grieved together. One of them had divorced, and after several weeks tbey both sat me down and told me that she (the divorced one) wanted to fill their mother’s role in my life and i vowed to them both that i would do everything i could possibly do to bring her the joy that i had had with their mother. I am in my 60s now as they are and somehow it is even more fulfilling as time passes and my SIL and i are lovers just as equally as their mother and i were.

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