I was a young kid that knew nothing about sex.
I thought it was basically just kissing, like I saw on TV.
I remember once asking my father what “adultery” was, to which his only reply was, “It’s a great sin.”
In middle school, specifically during the 8th grade, I got to know more about reproductive parts and what they were called in our culture.
My friend and I—whom my mother made be befriend because he was “well-behaved”—used to frequent each other’s houses for private lessons.
He asked me one time before the lesson started about masturbation—something I knew nothing about.
He insisted on doing it in front of me.
Then he caressed my body, but nothing happened because I hadn’t hit puberty yet.
We had sex after that day.
I refused to be the dominant one because I thought it would be a graver sin.
Our sexual encounters became frequent, and each time I learned something new.
Our sexual connection grew stronger and stronger.
I battled with my conscience to the point of tears, but I always ended up back at square one.
Along came a new friend, and the three of us started having sexual relations—two at a time.
I always chose to be the submissive partner, as a way of making myself feel less guilty.
Their male parts were bigger than mine.
That’s what made me believe that I wasn’t “man” enough.
My body was soft.
I had little facial hair.
I appeared to have breasts.
And my skin was smooth.
I hadn’t yet matured.
My family had a part in this.
Maybe because my father was always busy.
Or perhaps because of the way they constantly yelled at me for talking too much.
“You talk a lot like women,” they’d say.
I started believing that I had a feminine body because of the size and roundness of my behind.
I was fed these ideas by my friend who just wanted to keep sleeping with me.
Those two relationships were purely sexual.
There wasn’t any sort of intimacy.
On the contrary, they were sometimes physically violent to the point where I got an anal fissure.
My life was caught in between a conflict between guilt and pleasure.
Both relationships came to an end when I went to college.
There I made a new friend who was addicted to porn and masturbation.
It was the first time I watched porn.
We didn’t have sex, but he’s the one that introduced me to porn.
He also looked down on women.
I experienced being with a girl for the first time.
I was nervous because I didn’t know anything about it.
I didn’t know what her body would be like.
I was aggressive at first, but she was understanding and helped things go smoothly.
The way I viewed myself changed to the better, so did the way I viewed women and sex in general.
There are still some traces of my past relationships.
I still, for example, prefer being dominated by my female partner.
I’m single now. I live abroad for work.
What remains of the past is that I’m still addicted to porn and masturbation.