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A CHERISHED MEMORY

I visited a number of confession websites on topics relating to i***** and feel compelled to add my own confession. While my own situation happened many years ago, it continues to trouble me while at the same time providing me with the memory of a singularly enjoyable event. Of course, this event was s******* related and involved the loss of my virginity to a very special person. I will now describe what transpired to bring forth this confession.

I was 14-years-old at the time. My mother had been to a wedding party and came home not quite drunk, but close to it. Apparently, wines and liquors were flowing like water at the party and she had indulged herself to the extent that a friend had to drive her home. Normally, she is a moderate drinker but the wedding was for someone special and she celebrated it with many toasts to the bride. I helped her into the house and to her bedroom, where she started to undress. She seemed to be oblivious to my presence because she removed one garment after another and when she got to her bra, she just took it off and let her t*** drop out. I was stunned because she is such a conservative woman who dresses accordingly and reveals little of her body to others, including me. Being middle-aged and quite heavy-set, it came as no surprise that her t*** were so large. They were beautiful to look at and it was embarrassing because I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I wanted to touch and hold them and play with her n****** but, of course, I just stared and stared. Now t****** and still wearing the black slacks that she wore to the party, she stopped u********* and crawled into bed and fell asleep. I surmised that she must have been close to passing out at this point.

Later that night, after a shower, I returned to see if she was okay. I was still very h**** from seeing her t*** and I stood over her and gently pulled off her covers. She was lying on her back with her slacks on. As I stared down at her, I fantasized about mounting her on top, sticking my p**** into her crotch and pretending to have s** with her. My classmates were always talking about wanting to f*** so and so, and here I was thinking about f****** my mother. It was a pretty weird idea but it was only a fantasy. However, I had learned about the s** act in Health Class at school so I knew how to do it, although I was a virgin. In addition, Mom and I were living alone, as she was divorced, so I knew that nobody would know what I did. So I changed my mind and made the fateful decision to pull off her slacks and p****** so that I could see her completely naked. I wanted to see her c*** and feel it. I knew that this opportunity would probably never happen again and I had to act. I removed them without waking her but found that the extensive pubic hair at her crotch prevented me from seeing her c***. Frustrated, I spread her legs wide apart and then raised one leg up high. It worked and I could not only see her c*** but also her vaginal opening. I was so excited and my heart was pounding so hard that I decided that I would penetrate my mother, regardless of the consequences. I immediately got into bed with her, positioned my body up against hers and pressed my p**** against her vaginal opening. As it slipped into her, I instinctively started rhythmic pumping. I knew that I was f****** my mother and that I absolutely wanted to do it. I came inside her after about five minutes and then pulled out, leaving a pool of s**** under her crotch. I covered her up and left the room.

The next morning my mother had slept off the alcohol and she vowed never to drink as much again. Since she was acting her normal self, I guessed that she didn’t know that her son had fucked her the previous night and that he had lost his virginity to her. I think she would have been horrified if she had known the truth given how conservative she is about s**. She might even have said that I raped her. In any event, the s***** intimacy that we had, whether or not she was aware of it, provided me with a lasting, wonderful memory that I cherish.

BWN

New Confession

A letter I did not get to write. By Carmen Portugal

Principal Mark Fenwick
Michael Power-St. Joseph High School
105 Eringate DriveEtobicoke,
ON M9C 3Z7

From: Carmen Portugal, Grade 13 Student

September 25, 1995

Regarding: Deceptive Conduct, Breach of Confidentiality, and Harassment by School Chaplain

Dear Principal Fenwick,

I am writing this letter to formally report a deeply distressing incident involving the school chaplain, Sister Marie Howorth, and my guidance counselor. This situation was handled with complete deception, violated my privacy, and has caused me such severe psychological harm that I no longer feel safe at school. Recently, I published a poem in the school newspaper honoring Jane Slovensko, a former student who passed away suddenly of an illness in the 1980s. I wrote this piece out of genuine admiration for her memory and a desire to celebrate a bright light in our school’s history.

On the morning of September 25, 1995, I received a chaplaincy to meet with Sister Marie Howorth. I had no idea what the appointment was for. There was no need to wait for Sister Marie Howorth. She appeared at my class door for everyone to see at 9:30am and summoned me directly out of my classroom for the unsolicited meeting. When I asked her what the meeting was about, she dismissed my question, saying, “Oh, just something.” In light of what followed, this response was a deliberate deception. I was misled into her office under false pretenses and forced into a private conversation about family trauma. Without warning. Without my consent. As an 18 year old, this is a violation of my autonomy.

As soon as the meeting began, Sister Marie Howorth immediately attacked my character, telling me, “You know you wear a mask.” She did not explain to me what she meant by this statement, leaving me to feel judged, confused, and defensive before she even explained why I was there. This unprovoked, highly damaging psychological label had an immediate negative impact on me. She then proceeded to ambush me with my private family history. She did not tell me how she knew this information until I asked, at which point she revealed it was my guidance counselor who told her. Sister Marie Howorth looked at me and asked directly: “Carmen, you wrote in your poem that Jane’s death was sudden. Now Carmen, your father died, was that sudden?” This question was unconscionably cruel and a profound violation of my emotional safety. To hear those words from a school chaplain—someone representing spiritual care and the authority of God—felt like a clinical cross-examination and a predatory ambush. It was a complete violation of my boundaries to have my private childhood history dragged into the light without my permission, stripped of context, and used against me like an interrogation tactic. The question was cruel because it reduced my genuine artistic inspiration and admiration for Jane into a cheap, traumatic stereotype. By forcing a jarring, completely false comparison between Jane’s tragic death and my own past, Sister Marie Howorth attempted to rewrite my reality. She completely invalidated my real intentions, treating my talent not as a gift, but as a symptom of damage. She used my father’s history as a weapon to dissect my mind, rather than treating me with basic human decency. When I tried to explain my poem, Sister Marie Howorth refused to listen. At one point, I got so upset by her aggressive tone that I told her I was sorry I ever wrote the poem. Sister Marie Howorth saw my acute distress, yet she completely ignored my pain and continued to ask me prodding questions in regard to why I noticed Jane, saying, “What made you notice Jane? There must have been something that made you notice her.” I refused to answer Sister Marie Howorth because I knew she was only trying to pathologize me.

There was absolutely no excuse for Sister Marie Howorth to treat me this way. If she had a concern with me, or if someone else on staff did, this was entirely the wrong way to address it. Here is why:

She chose deception over transparency: If a chaplain is genuinely concerned about a student’s emotional well-being, they approach them with honesty. Sneaking me out of class under false pretenses and hiding how she obtained my private records destroyed any possibility of pastoral trust.

She substituted counseling with an interrogation: True care requires listening. Instead of asking me how I was doing, she came to the meeting with a preconceived verdict. She tried to force my life into her own narrative, completely ignoring my actual thoughts and experiences.

She weaponized a student’s distress: When a student becomes so visibly upset that they regret their own creative work, a responsible educator stops. Continuing to probe and press a student who is in acute distress is not guidance; it is psychological harassment.

This interaction has caused me severe harm in the following ways:

Severe Loss of Safety: I am writing to tell you directly that as a result of this incident, I do not feel safe at school. I now feel constantly watched, evaluated based on gossip, and unsafe walking the hallways.

Deception and Emotional Distress: Being summoned out of class under a lie, immediately told I “wear a mask” without explanation, and then interrogated while visibly upset was a traumatic experience. Sister Marie Howorth chose to press into my boundaries rather than offer pastoral care.

Breach of Confidentiality: My guidance counselor had no ethical right to share my personal family file with the chaplain, and Sister Marie Howorth had no right to weaponize that information to ambush me

Censorship of My Voice: Because of this invasive behavior, I feel I must completely stop contributing to the school newspaper or expressing myself creatively just to protect myself from the staff.

Sister Marie Howorth’s approach was an interrogation that violated my rights as an 18-year-old student. I request an immediate formal meeting with you to address this breach of safety, hold the counselor accountable for sharing my file, and ensure Sister Marie Howorth is instructed to never approach me again.

Sincerely,

Carmen Portugal
Grade 13 Student

PS The Toronto Catholic District School Board takes my side: Sister Marie should not have asked me about my father’s death, saying that if I didn’t disclose his death to her, she did not have a right to ask. They also verified that Sister Marie Howorth was in the wrong to ask me prodding questions and her comment about me “wearing a mask” was indeed an inappropriate comment to say to a student. In all, Sister Marie Howorth’s approach to me went against trauma informed practices (and basic human compassion that any atheist garbage man could recognize)

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