Taboo Family Sex Stories

Taboo Family Sex Stories
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In September 2000 my daughter was nearly 13 and had just started secondary school. She had always got on well with other children and worked hard. But after a couple of months things began to change. She started wearing lots of make-up. The school was a stone's throw away, but friends began calling for her as early as 7.30am. Next my older daughter spotted her hanging about in the local park with some lads from school who introduced the girls they befriended to older boys and men. I was very alarmed. Then she started missing certain lessons, sometimes whole days.
When she started disappearing overnight, I trawled the streets looking for her. I had no control over her. Sometimes she would say she was going to have an early night, then she'd turn on the shower and climb out the bathroom window. Once when she disappeared, I went through the park looking for her and asked a teenage boy if he'd seen her. I was horrified when he said, "Yes, all the prostitutes hang out by the bowling green."
I confronted my daughter. "That's not true," she said. "Those boys are my boyfriends."
As far as she was concerned, she was doing what she wanted to do and I was hindering her. Money didn't seem to be changing hands, but the girls were getting drink and drugs and mobile phones. The men flattered them into believing they loved them as part of a process of grooming them to have sex with lots of different men, some in their 30s and 40s. People ask me why I use the word "grooming" rather than referring to them as paedophiles, but most of these men haven't been convicted.
I felt as if my daughter was sliding away from me and I'd never be able to get her back. Every minute of every day became a nightmare. I couldn't eat, sleep or function properly, and I could see no way back. Every time she disappeared, I thought I'd never see her alive again. If a girl is over 13, she has to be the complainant in a case of sexual assault. Because this was happening outside the house, there was nothing I could do. The worst thing, as a mother, was not being able to prevent my daughter from being abused.
At the end of 2001, a year after her first disappearance, I put her into care. She didn't want to go, but I could no longer cope. My lowest point was the first time I visited her. Seeing her and having to walk away was unbearable. Everything exploded while she was in care, and I had a breakdown.
My nephew killed himself unexpectedly during this time. My daughter and I attended the funeral, and were both extremely upset. Afterwards, I took my daughter firmly by the shoulders and said to her, "You'll never know how many times I thought I'd be going to your funeral."
Then I walked away. She seemed to turn some sort of corner that day, and so did I. She started to realise what she was doing to herself and I could see for the first time that she needed me. I think I had to feel as low as it was possible to feel before I found the strength to fight what was happening to her and other girls.
I started campaigning with Ann Cryer, the MP for Keighley, for a change in the law to make hearsay evidence admissible in grooming cases, a change we secured last year. I'm proud of what I achieved and my daughter is proud of me, too.
After two years in care, she came back to live with me, went back to college, got qualifications. At times she feels down about what happened to her, which she now recognises as abuse. Last year Channel 4 made a programme about the grooming issue in this area and, although some white men were involved, the BNP hijacked it as a race issue: Asians exploiting white girls. I was furious because this is not a race issue.
The men live locally and we see them from time to time. They call my daughter names, and me, too, if I'm with her. I say to them, "I'm not frightened of any of you." My daughter calls out, "I've moved on with my life and it's a shame you can't move on with yours." Our relationship is better than it has ever been. We talk to each other and if she goes out with friends, she leaves a note on the fridge telling me where she's gone and when she'll be back. It's fantastic to get those notes.
· Do you have a story to tell? Email: experience@theguardian.com

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The intimate, the harrowing, the sweet, the surprising — the human.
Because there are easier ways to save on Mother’s Day cards.
The author is a writer, performer and visual artist based in Melbourne, Australia.
My marriage is splintering. My baby’s just over a year old and my toddler nearly 3. They wake every single night — my older boy is asthmatic — and I’m the one who gets up to help them. My mother has a loving bond with my boys, and it’s good to have another pair of hands and someone to talk to. The tension between me and my husband escalates daily. He wants sex. I want to sleep for 200 years. He sulks.
It’s late. We’ve had visitors, we’ve been drinking. I’m demented with exhaustion and stress. The baby needs a bottle and the toddler demands a hug. My husband sits on the couch and my mother’s on the floor in front of him. There’s an undercurrent, something unspoken, between them. He’s massaging her shoulders. While I get my sons fed and ready for bed, I can see the massage is becoming something else. My husband and my mother are making out, in front of me, in my living room. Unable to deal with it, I ignore them. I should throw a pot of cold water over them, throw them out of the house and out of my life, but I’m so tired my face is falling off and my bones are crumbling, and this is too outrageous to even acknowledge.
“Fuck ’em,” I think. “They deserve each other.” I take myself off to bed but can’t sleep. I hear the door to the spare room where my mother sleeps open and close. I hear them go in. Eventually, my husband comes into our bedroom.
In the morning my husband goes to work, and my mother and I pretend nothing has happened. This is the way of things in our family: hysterics when the cat’s tail gets caught in the door, but if your 16-year-old son takes off into the night in crisis or your 18-year-old daughter slashes her wrists, we don’t talk about it, it didn’t happen. Ours isn’t the only family like this, but with us the habit of denial runs especially deep.
Later, a friend asked, “Why don’t you have it out with her?” (My husband, by then, long gone .) Impossible — she’s pathologically incapable of assuming responsibility and would resort to attacking, crying or inventing excuses. Occasionally I’ve alluded to that night. Last year she wrote telling me she didn’t have sexual intercourse with my husband, and it was painful and unfair to be “falsely accused.”
It took a lot for me to understand my mother, and even more to forgive her.
When I told her I was writing this essay, she responded, “You do what you want to do. I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done, but I can’t go back to change anything.”
Then I got a second letter, begging me not to cut her out of my life, that she would always love me unconditionally. I answered, pointing out that whether or not penetration took place is entirely beside the point, and if I were going to cut her out of my life I would have done so already. One reason I didn’t is that my sons deserve to have a grandmother who adores them, so I chose to protect their relationship with her.
It took a lot for me to understand my mother, and even more to forgive her, but I’ve learned to see her behavior in a wider context. My mother’s been competing with other women all her life — starting with her own mother over her father’s affections, with me over my father, my boyfriends, my husband, and with her friends over any man around. She’s such a flawed bundle of insecurities that she even needed her children to find her sexually attractive, imposing herself on us in ways so murkily inappropriate we were left demolished, muted, unable to form any kind of response.
Such dysfunction, such emotional disconnection, such narcissism speaks of damage that goes very deep. “I can’t remember anything from before the age of 7,” she said once. “What does that tell you?” I asked, but she remained silent.
Yet. My mother is a warm, charming woman with a playful, accommodating nature; as long as you’re not one of her offspring in emotional distress, she’s generous, kind and helpful. And she’s proud of me — even if she’s never known where she stops and where I begin: “I bathe in reflected glory” is a favorite saying of hers.
Despite the things she’s done, she loves me, tainted though that love is. As long as I play happy and keep my pain to myself, we get on famously. I can stay connected to her because I see her clearly. I know what to expect, and, more importantly, what not to. I treasure the good things we retain. But I can never trust her, and love only goes so far without trust.
Buddhism teaches that our parents give us a body, and the rest is up to us. The spiritual teacher Miguel Ruiz established four agreements for a good life, and the second is: “Take nothing personally. People do what they do because of themselves.” The night she slept with my husband, my mother was driven by her ruined child-self, by the unformed, needy part of her that can’t know right from wrong. In healing my life, I’ve drawn on the wisdom and support offered by friends, daily meditation and practicing self-awareness without judgment — quiet noticing, if you will. My mother may never address the traumas she suffered — or those she caused in my life — but I choose compassion over anger, reflection over recrimination.

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Birthday Party – Family Short Story Photo credit: schmitee from morguefile.com
Once upon a time when I was in school I remember my best friend called me late night on Saturday to invite me on her birthday next day. I was very happy and very excited to go there but I needed to take permission from my parents. I went to my Papa’s room and slowly asked him,
“Papa tomorrow is my best friends birthday and I really want to go.”
Papa said, “OK I dont mind but ask your mom.”
Suddenly she replied, “What do you want.”
I was like shocked, “Mom how do you know that I need to say something.”
She said, “The way you are talking shows that” and she smiled.
I asked her, “Mom, I want to go tomorrow.”
She said, “OK you can go but u have to be back before 10.”
Then my preparations started. I made 1 card for my friend and start selecting cloths for the party, and finally everything completed and I went to sleep and only one thing was there in my mind all the time THE PARTY. I was waiting for the night to end and the party to begin.
Next morning my Mom was surprise to see me, no alarm, no Mom’s warning just I woke up by myself. The whole day had passed and now its party time. My father dropped me to my friends place and said me that he will be back at 10.
I enjoyed a lot at party. My friend loved that card which I made for her and everybody in the party loved my dress. I was on cloud nine. We had dinner, we played so many games and it was 10 finally. I remembered my Mom’s advice that I should be back till 10. I came out and start searching for my dad, but i could not be able to find him. I was so worried and scared, everybody was inside, I was alone there. I waited there for 5 to 10 min but waiting alone seems to be more than the time. I started walking, I thought at least I can go home by walking as my home was 20 min away from my friends place. As I was walking I was weeping as I have never walked alone on the road that too at night.
Suddenly I heard some one calling something. I was scared and I started walking fast. I thought some goon was there or some ghost… As i was walking fast I heard someone walking fast behind me. I started running and crying, then I saw some cars parked there. I hid behind those cars. I saw one shadow searching for me. I prayed to god to save me and to help me to reach home. After sometime I could not see that shadow. I came out slowly and ran towards my home. Finally I reached home. I hugged my mom and I started crying. She started asking so many questions what happened,why you are crying and all but I was unable to answer any of them.
After sometime I relaxed and said everything to mom. She got scared and while we were discussing my father came and asked what happened. As soon as I started telling him my story he said,
“I saw you and I was screaming at you but you were running away from me and suddenly you disappeared. I was searching you there. I came late there as my tyre got puncture.”
My mom bursted out laughing and told my dad everything, I was shocked to hear that and felt relieved. My father hugged me and said,
My mom said, “You should be calm and strong in every situation.”
But they said they are really happy and proud of me that I came home. That day I slept with my parents and really felt very safe and secure. Next day I went to school I told my friends everything that happened with me last night they heard everything and were surprise that I bravely face everything..
So that was the best party and adventurous night and great response from everyone… I loved that…

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