Sex Stories Man Boy

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Sex Stories Man Boy
Home » From men » Stories of men’s experience
— Man, age 37, sexually abused from age 4-18

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My overwhelming sense of loneliness and isolation, that there was something particularly wrong with me, wasn’t helped when I started looking around for some information about being raped. I couldn’t find any first hand accounts from guys about what happened, what it was like for them and how they managed to survive. It just made me feel worse. [1]
This section of Living Well includes stories of men’s experiences of sexual abuse. These personal accounts have been supplied by men who have experienced child sexual abuse or sexual assault. As the above quote indicates, personal testimonies that describe the experience and learning of men who have been subjected to child sexual abuse or sexual assault can provide acknowledgement, direction and hope at a time when a man is doing it tough. It can be useful to read accounts of how sexual abuse or sexual assault has affected men along with details of what they have found helpful. Such accounts can make a man feel less alone and keep at bay thoughts that there is something particularly wrong with him (see the following quote). At Living Well, we are aware that the media and much professional literature is dominated by stories of damage and therefore are particularly interested in stories that invite hope into men’s lives.
The media image of guys who have been abused is often that his whole life is wrecked. This doesn’t give us hope. Because basically, we need inspirational work and stories to be told, because otherwise we get the sense that we can’t deal with things, that we don’t have it within ourselves. It’s sort of like a constant underestimation of our ability to deal with things, and to find peace in the midst of it all, in the midst of the pain and suffering.
Please remember to prioritise your own well being when reading the attached personal accounts of men’s experiences of sexual abuse and assault. We invite you to take care of yourself:
Below are some questions that you might wish to consider whilst reading the attached material:
As an evolving resource, Living Well is interested in stories that encourage connections within and between people. We welcome contributions from you as men, as partners, friends or family members that provide some account of the impact of experiences of sexual abuse or sexual assault on your life, along with what you have found encouraging of hope. We recognise when inviting personal contributions that you might have no interest in writing anything down, or spending any more time thinking about what has occurred. In that case, please don’t. It may be, however, that you have been considering writing something either for your self or for someone else.
When I started writing my life story it seemed to make it more real. It was tough yet it also became a way of sorting things out in my head… If, after reading some of what I have put in here, someone goes through less of the bullshit that I went through then all well and good.
If you are able to offer something for others to read there is no expectation you should provide a comprehensive life story. You may choose instead to highlight things to look out for, how a particular problem appeared at a particular time and how you dealt with it. We would encourage you to take care to only provide information that you feel okay with sharing. The following questions are intended as a possible guide only. You might want to start with where you are at now and don’t forget there is no need to provide details of the abuse or assault.
Should you choose to contribute an account of your experience and learning to the Living Well resource we ask that you please read the ‘Practical considerations’ section below. This should ensure you are aware of the word limit (1200 words), your rights, and the legal constraints Living Well has to abide by.
The ripple effects of sexual abuse or sexual assault are not confined to a person who has been directly victimised. Sexual abuse and sexual assault can have a profound impact on the lives of partners, friends and family members. The secrecy, shame and guilt associated with sexual violence can isolate partners, friends and family members. It can stop them from accessing support with respect to problems they are experiencing in their relationships and lives. The willingness of partner’s friends and family members to contribute accounts of their experiences is therefore very much appreciated. Again, in putting together your personal account the following questions are intended as a guide only.
The support and encouragement offered by many partners, friends and family, along with the personal struggles that can be evoked are not often spoken about publicly. It is with this in mind that we invite you to consider providing some account of your experience.
If you are considering submitting material to Living Well, it is important that you are aware of your rights as well as the constraints and possible uses that can be made of material published on the internet.
If you have decided to share your story, you can do so from our online form at this page .
Acknowledgements : [1] O’Leary , P.J. (2003) ‘Men who were sexually abused as children.’ Doctoral Thesis, Flinders University: Adelaide.
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We are not broken. It is something that has changed my life and I know that; but it did not break me.

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I was 19 when I first had full-on sex with another man. I was at college, living in dorms, and the experience—aside from the usual horrifying awkwardness and somewhat spontaneity of the occasion—was completely and utterly unremarkable aside from one thing: the guy I slept with identified as straight.
The whole thing went down near the end of my freshman year at a party, at which people from the whole dorm floor were drunk and celebrating, carelessly streaming in and out of each other’s rooms, following the various different pop songs until one room took their fancy. I can remember, although I'd had some drinks, sitting alone in my friend’s room on a single bed, the mattress overly springy and with a coarse plastic coating, attempting to stream a song over our dorm’s spotty Internet connection.
It was late (or early, depending on your outlook on the world) when I was joined by the boy who was living in the room next to mine, way back on the other side of the building. He was clearly intoxicated, but it was a party after all and who was I, quite drunk myself, to judge. The minutiae of exactly how things developed from us being together in that room to us having slightly unsuccessful sex in a bathroom in a different corridor have since escaped me. All I know is that one moment we were talking and the next minute, well... we weren’t. I didn’t tell him that I’d never had sex with someone before; instead, saturated with vodka and inflated by nerves, I was swept up in the motions.
Before that night, I had hardly been a nun. When I was a teenager, I was precocious and restless. As the only out young gay kid at my school, I took the advancement of my sexual experiences into my own hands and I did what we all do: I bought a fake ID and hit the gay clubs. Out on the scene I had thrilling and, now looking back, precarious hook ups with guys, going far but never all the way. I know now as LGBTQ people we can define exactly what constitutes sex for ourselves, but when you’re young and your only sex education comes in the shape of illegally downloaded Sean Cody videos, penetration seems like the end all be all.
Still, as I grew into my late-teens, venues started to crack down harder on underage drinking, and it soon became increasingly difficult to go and hook up with guys much older than myself. I felt, in my increasingly anxious and deflated state, that I was being left behind. My first year at college, apart from being grueling mentally, was hardly a sexual smorgasbord of one-night-stands and hook-ups. Instead, I reverted to my teenage years, pining after straight boys who I knew I had no chance in hell with... until that night.
I’d love to say that I felt empowered by fucking my first guy, but the whole experience left a lot to be desired. While I knew it wouldn’t be like a gay college erotica I’d read on Nifty.org (gay canon, really), I rather naively wasn’t expecting the fall out. The boy told his then-girlfriend (who I knew about), saying I had come on to him but that nothing had really happened. Although one thing I can vividly remember was that it was quite literally the other way around, the visceral shock of being somewhat shoved back in the closet and denied the celebratory expungement of my virginity was palpable.
For the next year, we’d hook-up on and off, usually at 3 a.m. after we’d been out partying. We’d meet surreptitiously in dark and make out in the cold British weather on a park bench before venturing back to his place to have sex. And while at the beginning I felt like I had the upper hand in the situation—I was the one who was out and comfortable in my sexuality, right?—after each time we met became more secretive and more dirty, I began to feel secretive, dirty, and most of all shameful . I’m not sure whether I really fell for the guy or not, but I do know that at the end of it he was just using me to get off.
I never learned whether the boy I lost my virginity to was struggling with his sexuality. I think, when I look back now and occasionally find myself tumbling through his Facebook page, that he wasn’t. I believe it was just sex, or at least that’s what I have tell myself now to avoid slipping into a memory induced k-hole. I realize I fell into that old gay adage of placing my feelings on a person who, for whatever reason, was never going to invest them back in me. Worst of all, though, the shame attached to the memories of those first times marred how I would approach sex for years.
It was listening to Years & Years’ new song “Sanctify,” and seeing the band’s out gay singer Olly Alexander talk about how the song was inspired his sexual trysts with straight men, that I realized that these feelings are way more common than people let on. Sure, I know all about gay guys having sex with straight guys, but it felt reassuring to see him describe the “saint and sinner role” he embodied during those experiences, and to hear the uncertainty and melancholy weaved into the song.
More than anything though, was the repeated lyrical mantra of “I won’t be ashamed.” Because as queer people, we’re buried in lifetime’s worth of shame so vivid and searing that oftentimes it’s crippling. Bursting through that shame is our badge of honor, our beautifully united experience. And maybe, like the song says, that does sanctify our sex lives and makes us just a little bit holy.
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Dear NAMBLA,

When I was 13 years old I had my first sexual experience with someone
older: my adult camp counselor. He had been my counselor for
three years, was a school teacher somewhere, and was very kind to me.

My first year in camp I was very home-sick and this kind and gentle man
would hold me close to him, in private, and allow me dignity as I cried
onto his shoulder. He held me, stroked my back but in no way did
he take "advantage" of me.

Over the next two years I had my parents request this man, whom I
believed to have been in his late 30s, to be my counselor because I
liked him and thought he was a very nice man.

During my third and final year I began having sexual desires for him,
wanted him to kiss me, and tried to give him several hints. While
other boys were working their way towards medals and projects they
could take home, my project was to climb in bed with this man.

My chance finally came on a rainy night after all of us went to
bed. I could not sleep and instead I went into his private
quarters where he invited me to climb under the sheets.

He finally took the chance and fondled me finally kissing then sucking
me over and over again. It was the most exciting sexual
experience I have ever had.

The next day and for the final week of camp we reacted toward each
other as if nothing had happened. I left camp never to see or
hear from him again.

As a gay man in my early 30s I am not now attracted to children but to
older men; perhaps thinking of my counselor. But my case is one
to refute the charges that once molested as a child, a person grows up
to be a molester of his own. I was not molested. I was
loved and I feel I am better for it.

Sincerely,

Brian

 Personal
Experience / Stories
of Man/Boy Love

 Letters addressed to the NAMBLA Bulletin

From
the NAMBLA Bulletin, Vol. 12 , No. 8, Pg. 15, Oct
1991 .

Personal
Experience

Stories
of Man/Boy Love




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