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Life Story - part 3 by coneyislandking on Sun Feb 23, 2014 10:18 pm
I remember once hanging out with the older boys in my neighborhood. They asked me if I wanted to be a part of their club, and of course I said yes. They told me to be in their club I had to let one of them suck my genitals. The one to go down on me was someone I was never close with, who I never got to know. He was particularly rowdy, and I believe he came from a very out of control family environment. Some part of me says I wasn't allowed to play with him. Maybe I coerced my younger friends into also joining this club, and word got around to our parents. I did let him suck my genitals, and part of me remembers this very vividly. It didn't feel good or bad, it just felt like something. Maybe my younger friends refused to let him do it, and told their parents. I don't remember.
Oh god. I'm accessing a memory I usually glaze over or merge with later experiences. I had a scab on my knee that left a scar that is still there, and I am remembering how I got it. I normally said it happened when this girl ran me over with her bike when I dumped her.. but that was when I was 8 or 9 and when I lived at a different house.
I got the scab on my knee because I was attacked by a boy in my neighborhood. Boys are of course prone to rough house, but I was never interested in that until I was like 13. I can't remember who the boy was. It was either the boy who sucked me off or my best friend. Unknown at this time, I have a collagen disorder which makes my skin fragile and prone to scarring, so it might not have been as violent as I remember. I didn't know how to fight, so I tried to get away and I screamed for help, crying. I remember my best friend's father telling me I had to man-up, but I refused this.
I got a scab on my knee that really stressed me out. It was so gross looking. I felt like I was permanently disfigured. One day, when my mom was out, I sat in my basement and scratched the scab off as much as I could. I spent a lot of time by myself as a child, so I didn't have any supervision except for my grandma, who was upstairs on the phone. I got the scab off except for live skin that was holding it on. Mortified, I crept upstairs and grabbed a pair of scissors. I remember being a little scared to cut it off. I remember positioning myself so my grandma could see what I was about to do. She was quick to jump off the phone and save me from what I was about to do.
I will add more eventually.~
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