I had no idea what I was getting myself into. God only protects you when you obey Him, and any marriage is successful with Him in it. I was dumb enough to think I could make it work. I was terrified enough of both the real and existential repercussions of my sin to get married without even telling my own mother I was pregnant. There was only one option in those situations. I hardly knew him, really, but that didn’t matter. Shortly after, I found out I was pregnant. Men have uncontrollable, biological needs. If you consent once, you’ve consented forever, right? I mean, how is he supposed to know if I don’t want to anymore? If someone had told me that just because I’m sleeping in the same room with a penis, that doesn’t make me obligated to have sex with it-or that I could actually say yes one time, no the next time, and yes another time-I would have thought they had lost their marbles. You either asked for it verbally, with your body language, your clothing, or you were somewhere you shouldn’t be in the first place. In my world, there was no such thing as non-consensual sex. Let me backtrack to this concept of consent for a moment.
![gay twink cum dumpster gay twink cum dumpster](https://cc.boyfriendtv.com/thumbs/bftv-full/2019-03/f6/a7096a3f6c441a683324c2471e62f0d33.mp4-full-3.jpg)
Or did we? Looking back I wonder: was that sex, or was that rape? While I was unable to move, or feel, or talk, he climbed on top of me, and we had sex again. I don’t remember how long it lasted, just that all I could do was lie there on the floor in the living room and wait for it to pass. I was awake, but I couldn’t move my body. He apologized for the “mix-up,” then laughed and said, “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I certainly didn’t feel any more pain. Who would do something like that on purpose? He said it was dark in the kitchen, so he must have “accidentally” gotten one of his mother’s prescription anxiety pills, and I was dumb enough to believe him. My head went a little foggy, like I was floating in the air, and then I noticed I couldn’t move my arms or legs. After a few minutes I started to feel numb. He disappeared for a moment, then brought back a pill and a glass of water. I was still in pain from my injuries, so I asked if he had any Tylenol. A while later I had gone over to watch movies. There I was, stranded in a small town, laid up with crutches, bored, horny, and trying to get the hang of this whole sex thing, so I met up with this guy via mutual friends. No hurricanes or mass shootings for me, though, just a car accident. I was a sermon example waiting to happen. I was “slipping into sin.” I went to the movies, wore pants, shaved above the knee, and exposed my collarbone in public- you know the routine.Īnd you know what happens next.
![gay twink cum dumpster gay twink cum dumpster](https://meningayporn.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Our-young-bitch-boy-cum-dumpsters-011-gay-porn-pics.jpg)
![gay twink cum dumpster gay twink cum dumpster](https://icdn03.kingtwinks.com/62160/3107958_2.jpg)
I had just finished Bible college had grown weary of all the rules. Consent was not a word in my vocabulary- neither was “no.” I knew nothing about alcohol, nothing about drugs, and even though I had just lost my virginity, I still knew absolutely nothing about sex. I had the street smarts of a five-year-old. “ Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth” (Heb 12:6).Įven though I was in my mid-twenties when it started, I was gullible as hell. So when those two worlds collided, I found myself trapped at the center of them, without a voice, too ashamed to tell anyone, and unable to see a way out.
![gay twink cum dumpster gay twink cum dumpster](https://sexpicsgayporn.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/DeviantOtter-Dom-buddy-kinky-straight-dude-bi-curious-sexy-strap-on-dildo-fucking-dudes-gay-escort-cock-pound-ass-hole-001-tube-download-torrent-gallery-photo.jpg)
Growing up, there were two things we just didn’t discuss: domestic violence and sex. This wasn’t easy to write, but I hope it helps some victims out there know they’re not alone, or better understand what they’re going through, and I hope it helps those who haven’t experienced abuse to be more mindful of how they talk and think about it. We’re okay saying “I was abused and survived,” but we’re not yet brave enough to say “It’s still a problem for me right now.” That’s why I decided to publish this as me, not a pseudonym as I originally planned to do, and why I’ve decided to talk about some things I’m still dealing with right now, not just what happened in my past.