Living With The Guilt Part 1

Chapter 117

Living With The Guilt

Part 1

It was 2 am When Mom and I climbed into her private tub after a marathon of sex. She asked me if I regretted doing it. I wanted to say yes, but I shook my head no, telling her I loved her or I wouldn’t have done in the first place. Yet I still felt something inside of me telling me that this shouldn’t have happened. I wasn’t sure if it was the voices inside my head or something else. Either way, I said no until I could work it out.

I needed a promise from her, so I ignored the voices and gave her a private sensual bath. Something I had always wanted to give her. No sex, just simple bath the same kind of bath my adoptive parents have given me over the years I had lived with them. “Mom,” I said. “I want you to promise me that you will never have sex with Aaron. I feel if you do it will destroy everything you have accomplished to get him to trust you and love you. He’s only 13 and will be 14 in January. Besides if you do you are more likely to get caught by Jim and my sisters because unlike me he lives at home.

“I don’t care who you have sex with, I am willing to keep doing so as long as you never touch my brother or have sex with him and that includes stimulating him orally or by hand unless he asks you too. If not I will tell my adoptive parents how Jim tried to kill me the other night voiding your agreement with them that no harm will come to me. I don’t want to use that or threaten you with it, but I want you to know I am serious. Aaron was not raised in my lifestyle and I don’t want to force him into it just so you can have sex with him. I am sorry and I love you very much, but I am asking you pleases don’t, when you can have me anytime you want me, and anyone else that is a member of the Garden club or has signed my Dads agreement all except for Aaron.”

She promised me and I knew she would keep it. I hated the fact I just blackmailed her, she lifted me out of the tub so she could do me orally and took it all… right on down to the hilt. She pulled it out long enough to tell me she had always wanted to have sex with my Dad, not Jim, my Dad; I moaned that he to would very much like to have sex with her as well as my Mom. 

She smiled up to me gave me her word that she and I will be having lots of sex. I groaned inward, but it was either that or my brother, I knew I was going to hell, but I had no doubt I wouldn’t be going alone. I only hoped my father would be there watching us having sex, realizing she has chosen to have sex with me and many others because he had thrown her way like garbage. There was no hand, book, that could help me, and Jeff has seen fit to abandon me or give me advice.

Because it was 3 am I didn’t bother going back to my room, knowing most likely that Jody was or Cindy was still with Greg, but I was wrong. Greg was waiting for me on my mother’s bed, he said. “Bro I thought you died in there. And wanted to know if you wanted to finish what we started earlier with your Mom.”

Mom was more than willing even though she just had sex with me for nearly five hours and had just finished me orally not more than twenty minutes ago, she was still very horny. I dug deep inside myself to find any reserves left in my tank. I took a breast as Greg took the other as my Mom climbed on the bed. She wanted both of us in the worst way. But I needed time to regenerate she didn’t care I wasn’t quite hard enough; I was hard enough to play spider-love. She opened a box flavored condoms ripping the top off while Greg and I got into position. She slipped us both inside of her.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, all I know I was alone in my room, not my mother's room, covered up and my head on a pillow when I woke. With a knock on the door telling me breakfast would be ready in 2 hours. Landon was dressed in his waist robe as he opened the window curtains to let the sun in. I looked at my watch and it said it was 9 am on Saturday morning. I groaned wondering how I even survived the night.

I got out of bed and put on a new clean waist robe with a tiger on it and my name sewed in across the bottom. It was a set of five tailor-made for me as well as five full robes with the same design on the back and with Garden Club logo on the pocket hung neatly in my closet with my new wardrobe; my new membership card no bigger than a driver license with magnetic strip on the back sitting on the table near my bed, with several new pills, that I didn’t recognize.

According to Landon, I was the last one of his charges that still needed to be bathed and made ready to work before breakfast. He gave me gave a cold glass of water for the pills telling me what each pill was for and prescribed by Stringum’s Doctor after all the tests of blood work and my nectar.  Most of them were a stronger dose of vitamin’s that my adoptive Mom was giving me. Two of them were to help slow the damage to my nerves system that had died or was dying because of all the abuse not being able to feel anything in certain spots on my body. And to help make my bones stronger and fight the arthritis that was already present.

The rest were vitamins to help fight diseases from flu and colds basically a stronger consecrate of Vitamin A, Vitamin C, Vitamin E, Vitamin P, Vitamin B 2, Vitamin B 6, Iron, Zinc, Folic acid. All I do know ever since I started this regiment of pills. It was a rarity that I ever got sick and had tons more energy. You can find all of these at a local drug store or health food store. The last pill was the horny pill and even that was an upgraded version. I followed Landon down to the big tub and climbed in with him. I was used to being bathed by someone like my adoptive parents and my sisters. So being bathed by my manservant didn’t bother me.

Unlike everyone else, he asked if he could stimulate me, or would I prefer one of the ladies to do it for me. I was already over my head and Landon had taken really good care of me and my mother. When he reached over for the brush and sponge to bathe me I surprised him by taking him orally. He pulled it out of my mouth and stood me up; I gave him a silly grin and apologized. Thinking I had just insulted him for not asking his permission first thinking he was going to slap me across the face. I was about to apologize again when he pulled me close and kissed me, so passionate I moaned. He hadn’t released me as he slowly lifted me out of the tub and leaned my back, letting my legs and feet dangle in the water as he climbed on top of me.

Having him come up between my legs before he released me. Telling me he had been wanting to taste me ever since he found out I was the best thing on the menu, next to Greg. From not only Stringum and Dave but all the girls I had been with recently and my mermaids. He took his tongue down my neck all the way down to both my n*****s. I moaned. “I love to have sex with lots of girls, but I also like to have a good penis just as much.”

He came back up to my mouth leaving me breathless, before whispering in my ear as nibbled on my ear lobes. Telling me all the things he was going to do to me. I only moaned. “I hope you let me do the same, I hadn’t had a good penis since yesterday afternoon and I am hungry.” My Mom and Dad had taught me never turn down sex or a good penis and I wasn’t going to let those voices in as I made love to his and bathed him before he bathed me.

Today we're all having breakfast on the patio by the pool, all the girls and ladies were topless including my mother all wearing a waist robe. My mother had me take a seat next to her with Greg on the other side. The first thing my mother did was slip her hand under my robe finding I wasn’t hard yet, which only meant I had been well taken care of, and I was, believe me.

Mom whispered in my ear and apologized for wearing me out last night. That I fell asleep during sex last night; stating that Landon carried me to bed so she and Greg could continue on where we had left off. She said not even a thunderstorm woke me as they waited to hear me scream and fight my demons as Landon stood guard with a tranquilizer so strong it would put an elephant to sleep, but I didn’t even stir.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing knowing that all it would take was to wear me out so completely with sex that thunderstorm had no effect. Worst my mother knew about it. True I had given her permission to have sex with me as long she kept her promises not to touch my bother physically or sexually, in some ways that worried me.

I don’t know why I cared if she did, but I guess in so ways something told me what I was doing was wrong, but it was too late for me it wasn’t too late for Aaron. I had also hoped if Aaron wasn’t doing the things I was doing. My father would lay off him and spend all that anger on me, the only one that could take it and defend myself against him.

Stupid I know. Yet I had everything I needed. I had a family that loved me just as much as the Downing’s and my mother for the first time in my life, she wanted me to be happy. So I had decided to sacrifice myself to keep Aaron safe, I would do anything. Again if I knew by doing so I would be making a big mistake, because I couldn’t let go when the time came to do so. Life would have been so much different, I would have had more of a happy life and all the love a person like me could only imagine.

Whereas now, 47 years later I have no family; not even relatives that want anything to do with me. I spent those last 25 years working, going to school just to forget that mistake. To forget my past, I had lost count on how many times I had tried to kill myself, because I couldn’t forget and because I was alone, and nobody cares. All they see is me a loser or worst. Because of them, the things I had done are disgusting because I have no regrets of doing them.

Stating if given the chance I would still do them, and tell everyone else to go to hell, I wasn’t raised or taught like they were. That sex was bad, masturbation is bad, kissing is bad, being with a woman or guy is bad; being loved by anyone is bad. Yet they think highly of my father for abusing me and my brother, the fact that he tried to kill me almost on a daily bases growing up. Now they are telling me I should forget and move on. Let it go, kiss and makeup.

Yes, I was stupid, to think they would care. I can’t move on there is no place to move on to. I am stuck here because of my mistake and have trapped myself with the one person that sees me as a meal ticket. I made a promise I should have never made to my grandmother. To make sure her son Don had food in his mouth, a roof over his head. Because she knew that everyone else in the family would turn away from him when she was gone and buried. I owed her a debt that can never be repaid. The only way out is death.

If only I knew what I would be sacrificing I would have said no. I am sorry, but the answer is no, I like my life, I like being loved. I am sorry I can not stay. Packed my bags and got in the car with the Rothwell’s, leaving everyone I had thought loved me. When in reality they didn’t and moved on hanging me out too dry.

I knew my Grandmother would have forgiven me, in fact at the time she told me to go and be happy; knowing I would most likely never see her again. I only stayed because of Aaron and my mother. Yet within three years Aaron was gone and married, within a year of my 25th birthday my mother moved in with my sister Susan and I was never allowed to see her.

To me these are my best days of my life as I sit around a table with my friends, my mother and lots of beautiful woman wanting to share themselves with me, locked away from the world, locked away from their bigotry, locked away from them judging me. Some say I was the one being sexually molested against my will because I was taught that this was ok, this is what being loved feels like.

They truly have no idea what I felt; they have no idea that this is what I wanted.  I had lived the nightmare of being physically abused by my parents, I lived bouncing around from one foster home to another. I know what hate and being shunned feels like from my relatives, the LDS Church. Who tell me it’s my fault, not theirs when telling me if I only I came to them sooner they would stop it from happening.

I spit in their face, because I did, on several occasions, but all they do is nothing, but quote scripture, tell me to pray, read their scriptures. Always telling me to repent, telling me that families are forever. That my parents loved me and weren’t abusing me, or if they were they needed counseling and needed to repent and pray. Which is their standard line when they are just trying to get go so they can forget, or see what’s in front of them, seeing the lies ignore the problems, dismissing it as not their problem let someone else handle it.

They don’t understand that I don’t have anything to repent of. I have no regrets and I am not sorry for any of it. I was happy, I truly was. Unlike now where they judge me and condemn me because I was and it was against their teachings. It’s all my fault because I didn’t go on a mission, it’s my fault for not marrying by the time I was 25. My reasons why only condemn me, so they shun me. Telling me what I want is against God and against the church.

If I only knew when I was seating at that table for breakfast that Saturday morning; I would have said to my mother, “Sorry but I think it is best we never see each other again. Kiss my brother goodbye and my Grandmother. Go back to your husband and forget me.” Like the world today has. I would put her in the car myself and waited for my adoptive parents and told them my father tried to kill me, voiding my mother’s part of the open adoption contract.

But I didn’t, instead, I grabbed one of her breasts while Greg took the other and taking a hand each and slipped it under her robe and played with her sweet spot. Telling her all the things Greg and I were going to do to her when the next opportunity came for us to be alone with her. I had my chance to do just that several times to tell them my father tried to kill me, and it would have been the last time she would have seen me. Instead, I kept them from knowing so my mother and my brother could visit me and I them as well as my grandmother begging me not tell them. Hoping in time like my mother he too would change. Yet that never happened he still wants me dead.

But because of the promises my mother made to me regarding Aaron when regarding having sex with him or stimulating him orally or by hand. He eased up on him over the years, he didn’t do a one-eighty, but he never really loved him either and nor did he touch him when I moved back home permanently, but I still had the Rothwell’s and I kept the Rothwell name. My mother made sure that they stayed in my life because it wasn’t their fault what happened to me. It was Shawn’s, Arthur’s and Crawford’s, as well as few other boys. I will get to that I promise.

I moved out the day I graduated from high school. By then Aaron was old enough to take care of himself, but I was a reminder of things not to be, not do, not to have, he wanted him to be like him an abuser, but Aaron said no. He told him to go to hell. Maybe that was because of my sacrifice, I wanted something different for him. I wanted him to have a normal life something I never would have. There is saying ‘Normal is overrated and boring.’ At least he had one where I didn’t.

He went on a forced LDS mission because of my father pushing it on him because I didn’t go on one for whatever reason stating it was because of things I was doing, unable to accept the fact it was because of all the Physical abuse and the mental abuse I couldn’t go and the health reason caused by him as I suffered physically and mentally. Not because I had sex, it was because of him and my mother. It was because of him I never married, because I was afraid of being like him with the high odds that I would abuse my wife and my children, I chose not to for those reasons.

I did not want that for my family and I didn’t want him anywhere near my children. Knowing that like my sister Susan he and she abuse’s her own children, they physically abuse them. This time they had learned from their mistakes by never letting them out of their sight, never allowed to go to school, instead are home-schooled where they can beat them whenever they liked and as often as they liked; drugging them to keep them under control. 

Never allowed to leave the house without them, afraid that if they did people would find out; my mother too was known to abuses them like she had done with me and Aaron when we were growing up. She may not be able to touch me and Aaron, but her Grandchildren were a whole different story. Aaron too never had children and Becky was incapable of having any for medical reasons, God had seen fit not give her eggs so she could not procreate.