Sex and Pussy; A Journey Through the Decades Part 9

I was learning a lot about pussy, none of it I was willing to cop to.  I remained religiously pious, only allowing my pussy to be used within a relationship which had the potential to lead to marriage, though none of them ultimately did.  I still clung to the deep hope that Gordon and I would eventually be a couple, after he grew up some more.  My religious piety was about to take a turn to the dark side, as my self worth would plummet from recent revelations.  The newly found memory and Ron's escalating abuse of both me and the girls were setting me on a path of self destruction. 

The girls were becoming increasingly reluctant to go on visitation.   They were so terrified of visitation, my eldest hid in a closet, curled up in the fetal position and begged not to go.  There wasn't anything I could do, they wouldn't tell my why they didn't want to go, but seeing my seven year old daughter that terrified was causing me great concern.  When they would go off on their weekend for visitation, I would head off to the bar.  I had to do something to ease the pain of their absence.  I could not imagine what he might be doing to them to cause them such fear.  I had them in counseling as well, but they weren't telling the counselors anything at this point.  I remained at the bar the entire weekend, going home only to sleep, change clothing and apply more makeup.  I spent my time dancing my troubles away. 

One weekend, the pain was more than I could bear.  Some guy paid me attention all night long and I didn't want to go home yet again.  The silence was deafening, even in my sleep.  It had an accusatory sound to it.  I wasn't protecting my precious girls and the accusations were reverberating in my head.  I couldn't do it.  I went home with him, this time trading pussy for comfort.  I don't remember participating much in sex, but it was the first time I learned what "going in the back door" meant!  It really hurt, but I let him do it anyway without complaint.  He even had a roommate and they had separate beds in the same bedroom.  The roommate wasn't there, maybe he hung a sock on the door.  I didn't care what he did.  My body no longer felt like my own.  I spent the night with him and he wanted me to stay with him the next day.  I declined.  I went straight to Amber's house, disgusted with myself.  I was now officially a "slut."   

I walked into her house and burst into tears.  She asked what was wrong and I told her I had a one night stand!  I was devastated.  I had officially become the dreaded slut.  She smiled and said "let's go get some pie."  Amber taught me a slice of pie with a good friend can make you feel better about anything. By the time we were done with our pie, she had me laughing.  She didn’t have the same religious piety regarding sex that I did.   I'm not sure her viewpoint on it was entirely healthy, but she was sexually healthier than I was.  At least she didn't feel the shame I did about it.  This one night stand was the beginning of a descent into many one night stands.  I couldn't handle the demands of an actual relationship, but I wanted comfort in the arms of a man, even if it was only for a few hours.  I learned my pussy wasn't golden at all.  In fact, to my shock and surprise, every woman had one.  Any man could find it whenever he wanted.  All he had to do was to find a soul splintered and damaged enough they were willing to trade it for a few hours of attention.  That became my life for a while. 

Gordon was still calling me intermittently, and I was still hanging onto the fantasy love would one day conquer all.  There came a time when my girls told me just enough about what was going on that I decided to go on the run.  I moved and left no forwarding address or phone.  I intentionally didn't let Gordon know where I was either.  That effectively ended his hold on me.  I could finally go about and live my own life, free of the fantasy.  I have never left a forwarding address since, though these days it is much easier to find someone.  If you are online in any capacity, you will leave a digital footprint.  My address here is available online for anyone to see.  They shouldn't be allowed to do that.  I never gave permission for it, that much is certain.  Had that been the case nearly thirty years ago, I would have had a much more difficult time of disappearing.   

This was a dark time for me.  I was learning just how worthless I was, because I was taught that my pussy was what defined me as a woman.  Here I was so desperate for comfort I was giving it away to anyone who offered it to me.  I didn't want it to blossom into a relationship.  I was learning to separate sex from love.  It would still take me a long time to come to a complete resolution of this, to come to a place where I could own my own sexuality without shame. That's what I was taught, that if my pussy wasn't owned by one man, then there would be shame.  The sexual assaults reinforced that my pussy really wasn't mine at all.  I was completely worthless, and that is how I felt.  I couldn't find a middle ground between worthless and religious piety with regard to my precious and dirty pussy.  I had a lot to learn and it would take years of healing from the childhood sexual assaults and the rapes in order to come to an understanding of what my sexuality was, and how to be comfortable with it.   

Now I have to digress a bit here, because there is a secret I am keeping regarding my sexuality.  I was also attracted to girls.  It started in junior high. There were a couple of girls in school I thought were just beautiful.  I wanted nothing more than to run my fingers through their hair, to stroke their face, to hug them.  I knew nothing about sex then, I just thought they were exceptionally pretty.  I wanted to be near them, to soak up the flowery smells in their hair.  All I knew was girls weren't supposed to be attracted to girls, so the thought of dating one wasn't even on my radar.  I didn't know what this meant, but it was going to play out in later years.  My attraction to girls didn't stop at junior high, there were some in high school as well.  It would be a lifelong attraction I couldn't begin to act upon.  I usually learn things pretty quickly, but since sex was shrouded in such mystery it would take me a lifetime to learn that sexuality is more fluid than set.  I have come to think we are all born bisexual, but how we grow, develop and perceive our sexuality and gender as well as genetic factors will eventually determine our sexual orientation.  Some of us weren't born to any sexual orientation.  We followed the sexual path we were given.   

I can't tell you how many partners I have had over my life, but it has been more than I can count on two hands.  Once I hit thirty, I decided that wasn't important any longer.  There were other things human beings needed, and sex was one way to get them.  Sex served a multitude of purposes, not just procreation or love.  Love could be a sexual expression, or as in the case of my children, it didn't have to be.  Sex could be done with or without having to love someone or want to be with them.  I was also beginning to believe we were not meant to be monogamous creatures, but polysexual.  I was conflicted.  I wanted a monogamous partner, but I couldn't imagine having a single sexual partner throughout my entire life.  I've learned so much from having multiple partners! I was still religious, and the observations I was making regarding sexuality did not align with what the church was teaching.  It seemed to me the church didn't know much about sex and pussy at all.  Amber was trying to get me to see sex not in any religious format, but as an activity, much like going swimming or shopping.  I was a long way away from that.   

Once I came out of my depression, and my girls were safe, I decided to ignore the conflicts I had with my pussy.  I was a master at hiding things from myself; it had become an art form, really.  So that's what I did, I ignored it.  It brought a measure of peace to my life, and allowed me to maintain a piety pussy if not a golden one.  Piety was something I determined, not the church.  I had begun to break free of the constraints upon my pussy the church imposed on me.  I had found out there is no such thing as a golden pussy, like I had been taught in school.  Pretty much everything I had been taught in sex education was a lie.  I had spent a significant part of my adult life trying to live up to the lies we were taught, and all it caused me was pain and conflict.  It was time to break new ground.