Naked mom in shower

Catching your parents having sex can be really awkward, but you can cope with it by staying calm, not making a big deal out of it, and finding ways to keep it from happening again. The next time you see your parents, try making a joke about it to ease the tension. We literally walked in on my parents having sex, and my mom stops mid-hump and goes, 'Oh, we're just discussing the boxes.' They were having sex in my seven-year-old sister's bed. WTF." -- Gigi, 25 The same type of absurd explanations parents offer their kids when caught -- they were just playing their special game, or doing grownup CPR -- are going to come in handy now. "One morning, my robe and underwear were still on the floor next to the bed where they landed after a late-night sex session. My 5-year-old daughter wandered in to say good morning and asked why I ... Yes. How do I go about this? It was a horrible night. I was 7 years old. And obviously, I had no knowledge of sex. I was in the next room. I remember it very vividly. I heard sounds. Sounds of my mother in pain. I started crying. I did not k... Here's ONE Way to Deal With the Trauma of Overhearing Your Parents Having Sex Let's face it. If we all had to go through life without hearing our parents have sex, we'd probably be better people. 15 "I Caught My Parents Having Sex" Stories That Will Honestly Make You Cringe ... "After I caught my parents having sex, they said it was just an 'angry nap.'" ... he somehow thought it would be ... Yeah, oh and it wasn't just my parents my grandma and uncle too. Now before I'd like to add I'm a transgender man so I have sex a little differently then the average man, making this story extra weird. So I was at my parents for Thanksgiving with ... 3) 2 years ago. I had my girlfriend over, and we were hibbidying the jibbidy as the kids say. Then I hear my parents bed start to move above us (not bunkbeds, parents' bedroom was directly above me), and more muted unfos. Girlfriend: "Oh, that's sweet! Your parents still have sex!" Me: *stops having sex, weeps silently into pillow* Hi. I am a 16-year-old female and my parents are both 36 so they are not like super old or anything. I hear them having sex every weekend and sometimes during the week. The weird thing is, I don't just hear them, but I find myself listening in and get very aroused by the sounds and masturbate.

2020.09.19 18:52 Prestigious_Essay_31 Naked mom in shower

It was 2002. My parents had separated for a while to work on their marriage. My dad would come over to the house to just “talk” with my mom. It was almost a daily thing. My brother, whose 2 years younger, and me, would watch television in the first floor of the house when this occurred. One day, we were playing hide and seek. My brother never bothered to find me because he was addicted to some cartoon show at the time. I was in my parents room hiding in their closet. My parents then walked in. I saw my dad put a camera on the cabinet of the room and pressed record. My parents got naked and started having sex. This lasted about an hour. I was in the closet trying to not cry loud. Being 6 at the time, I didn’t know what sex was. I wanted to stop my dad because I thought he was hurting my mom. Once they were done, they went to shower together and that’s when I went to my brother and pretended nothing happened. Last night, my parents watched their sex tape and realized I was there the entire time. They knew they heard a noise and that it wasn’t just in their heads. They told me about it and I told them I saw what happened. They apologized and we just laughed about it. I’m glad it didn’t turn into a bigger issue, like it does for some people.
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2020.09.19 11:38 DoekaanET What your smash main says about you:

Mario: You easily suffer from choice paralysis and always make the most boring and default choice. Your favorite ice cream is vanilla, your favorite color is blue, your favorite animal is dog, and your favorite movie is The Godfather. If you were in Nazi Germany, you would 100% use the “just following orders” defense. You will go to Hell when you die. Inkling: Why don’t you have a seat? What were you planning when you came here tonight? King Dedede: You masturbate to Deviantart ironically. Meta Knight: You masturbate to Deviantart unironically. Peach: You’re the girlfriend of the guy who bought this game. You thought Link’s name was Zelda and Samus’ name was Metroid. After 15 minutes, you’re gonna want to go back to playing Mario Kart. Daisy: The same as Peach, except you’re a lesbian. Bayonetta: You have said “Rawr XD” at some point in your life, and use Facebook to post memes about depression. It’s getting impossible to tell where your stretch marks end and your self-harm scars begin. You are bisexual. Wolf: You are either currently 14 years old, or you were 14 years old when Brawl came out, and haven’t matured at all beyond that. You watch way too much anime, you’ll never improve as an artist, and your OTP sucks Corrin: You unironically own multiple anime figurines, a body pillow of your waifu, and a katana. You’re either a furry or have a shitty OC that’s half dragon, half demon, and half vampire. You either have autism or are just an oblivious asshole with no social skills, it’s hard to tell. Squirtle: You bought the Switch and this game on launch day. You threw a tantrum when Fox stopped showing Saturday morning cartoons. Your mom wishes you’d move out of the house. Ivysaur: You’ve got weird arm and back acne. You like to pretend you main all three of the Pokemon, but everyone can see right through you. You love cute animals, but if you ever tried to take care of one by yourself, it’d die in a week. Charizard: You are a basic ass bitch. You spent the first 5 matches spamming smash attacks and your side B. You’re the only one on this list who has gotten laid recently, but it doesn’t matter because you lasted a minute. Donkey Kong: You actually hate playing Smash, and everyone playing with you. You don’t play to win, you play to inspire the greatest amount of anger around you. You cannot go 48 hours without saying the N word. Hard R. Jigglypuff: You were born incomplete. Some piece of you is missing. Maybe it’s the part of your brain that dictates rational choice, or the part that controls empathy. Maybe it’s your impulse control. Maybe, just maybe, you were born without a soul. You started small, at first. Mice and squirrels, and then you grew bolder. Your neighbor’s cat had gotten outside. She would never find the poor thing. Your parents soon discovered what you did, and their punishments forced you to keep dormant your dark desires. You carried on with your life, feigning normalcy, a model student and son. That was until the day you met her. It was autumn, your first semester at college, your first time away from home. She stirred something in you. You took her out, flirted with her, bought her drinks, she was so pure and sweet, so trusting. You left with her, the intoxication swelling inside you both. She tripped, you caught her. You looked at her then. She was so beautiful, so alive. You cut her open. You cut her open because you had to know. Why was she so beautiful? How was she so alive? You cut and cut until she was no longer beautiful, no longer alive. You stared at what you had done, tears in your eyes, not from guilt or remorse, only the pure reflex, as though you knew you should cry, but didn’t understand why. When you came back down to a neutral calm, you disposed of the body, washed yourself of any and all evidence. You knew the first thing you needed to do was establish an alibi. You called up your roommate: “Hey” you said “Wanna hang out tonight?” Your roommate replied “Sure, my friend brought over his Switch, we’re gonna play Smash Ultimate.” You smiled, licking the final traces of viscera from your teeth, and said “Great, I’ll be there in 10.” Kirby: You are Masahiro Sakurai, desperately trying to convince everybody that your favorite boy is best. Put Mappy in the game you fucking cunt. Lucina: You are the comedic straightman of your group. You go through life with two moods, neutrality or exasperation at your louder, more fun friends. Your spirit animal is Squidward and, like Squidward, you are the top sad boy. At least your cats love you. Chrom: You’re the mouthbreathing kind of weeb. You have objectively bad taste. You either want Goku and Sora in Smash, or you want the entire roster replaced with other characters from Fire Emblem. Little Mac: You have a 2 digit IQ, and managing air combat is too much for you. You have eaten at least three Joycons since you started playing Smash. Your go-to excuses for losing are bad recovery moves and the helmet you’re forced to wear falling in front of your eyes. Robin: You have LARPed before. Ironically, considering the game your main comes from, your best friend is a Chrom main. You honestly can do better than hanging out with them, but then you’d have to find a new 4th for your D&D group. Sonic: You’re just a sad person. Either because you’ve got the specific kind of autism that develops in fans of Sonic the Hedgehog, or because you’ll inevitably be lumped in with those people. You know deep down the speed isn’t worth the pain you feel inside. You ask yourself why you keep playing, but you can never come to an answer. You can’t outrun your problems, Sonic main. Pichu: You didn’t know that your attacks did damage to you until someone pointed it out to you, and you didn’t want to look like an idiot, so you pretended like you knew that. In a panic, you came up with some lie about how Pichu is actually really good, and now you’re just sorta stuck with it. Pikachu: You are the boyfriend of a Peach main. You don’t actually like playing Pikachu that much, it’s just that whenever she gets bored playing, she’ll just sit and watch you play, but demand you play as Pikachu because “it’s so cute.” Even when you’re playing with your friends, and you really want to win, you curse yourself and choose Pikachu. Ness: You love Earthbound. You have also never played Earthbound, you just know it by reputation. You also love Undertale, and you probably voted it as game of the year when it came out. You like to think you’re really skilled at Ness, but when things get too hard, you just spam PK Fire and the baseball bat. You’re not impressing anyone. Fox: You played Smash Ultimate for 5 minutes, saw all the items and stages, got mad, and went back to Melee. You’re currently waiting for the Project M version of Ultimate. You get the saltiest out of everyone on the list. You have told someone who doesn’t like Dark Souls to git gud. Duck Hunt: You’re like a Donkey Kong main without the hate, or a Jigglypuff main without the urge to kill. When the Duck Hunt dog laughs at someone for not shooting all the ducks, you feel that on spiritual level. You are probably the happiest person on this list, which makes other people angry, and in turn, only makes you happier. Zelda: You secretly crossdress and are ashamed of it. Within 5 years, you’ll gradually become more and more comfortable with it, until you eventually become a really obnoxious drag queen. Like, the kind that only watches Ru Paul’s Drag Race and nothing else. Regardless, you spam Din’s Fire like a motherfucker, just like everyone else who plays Zelda. Link: You’re boring and suck ass. You play as Oddjob in Goldeneye and use the rocket launcher in Halo. There’s a good chance you’re the least skilled player on the list and don’t even know it. Your favorite skin is the Dark Link skin, because of course it fucking is. R.O.B: You have a video game collection that’s about the cost of a mortgage. You have at least 6 or 7 Game Gears, a fully functional arcade cabinet, and a R.O.B which you brag about whenever you play Smash with new people. If you could have one wish, it would be to work for Nintendo. Snake: You think gamers are the most oppressed minority, and the reason for why Quiet from MGSV is half-naked makes total sense and is genius writing. You respond to news stories about black criminals with something racist, and then cite average IQ scores to defend yourself. If there’s a comment section attached to this list, you’ll leave an angry comment about being called racist. Bowser: You’re a divorced dad in your 40s who bought a Switch to try to win your son’s affections for when he comes over on alternating weekends. You picked Bowser because you thought it would be cute to do Team Smash with him as Bowser and Bowser Jr., but whenever your kid comes over, he only ever plays something called Fortnite. You tried it out, and it was too scary and confusing, so now you just drink and play Smash because at least you recognize the characters. Your ex’s new husband is a better and more attentive lover than you ever will be. Mewtwo: Unlocking Mewtwo in Melee by spending a total of 20 hours in VS matches was the greatest accomplishment of your sad, pathetic life. Conversely, Mewtwo being replaced by Lucario in Brawl was the worst tragedy you have ever experienced. You got the Smash 4 DLC just to bring some meaning back into your life. Out of all the Pokemon mains, you are the only one who is still an avid Pokemon player. You are the most likely person on this list to kill yourself. Ike: You totally go to the gym all the time and drink all those protein shakes. For reals though this faggot is a slow faggot who couldn’t air recover if his life depended on it. Honest to god you might as well just admit your a fagot who just wants to pretend he’s Guts so you can make your peepee big. Or better yet you circlejerk on smashbros about how much Sakurai is biased. Captain Falcon: Loudest player on the list. Will scream Captain Falcon quotes and be one of the most frequent taunters. Is retarded, but only for attention. If anyone in the list is drunk right now, it’s you. If you get a KO with Falcon Punch, you will never shut the fuck up about it. Incineroar: You’re 10. You only picked this character because you picked Litten in Pokemon Sun or Moon. You only picked Litten because it was the Fire starter and you thought Fire was cooler than Grass or Water. Even you think it’s dumb that one of Incineroar’s special moves is a counter. You will either pick a different main or lose all of your friends. Simon: You are roughly 40 years old and racist. Not as racist as the Snake main, but still racist. The “deus vult” kind of racist. Despite this, you have a thing for Asian chicks. You have thought about joining the military at some point. You have unironically used the term “alpha” to describe yourself. Lucario: 75% chance you’re a furry. 20% chance you were a Mewtwo main in Melee and had to make do with Lucario in Brawl. 5% chance you’re really holding out for Goku to be in Smash, and play Lucario because he plays closest to how you imagine Goku would play. Ridley: You are an incredible piece of shit. Now that Ridley is in Smash, the new top characters on your wishlist are Master Hand and Master Chief. You don’t care about balance or thematic consistency, winning or losing, you are simply here to disrupt. You quit the game whenever you’re about to lose. Mr. Game and Watch: Shut the fuck up. You don’t main Mr. Game and Watch. Nobody mains Mr. Game and Watch. You spam B and then do side B whenever somebody gets too close. You first learned about the Game and Watch from Melee just like the rest of us. You’re not special. You’re NOTHING. Pit: You mained him in Brawl back when he was OP, and since he’s been nerfed, all you do is sit in the corner, spamming projectiles and the occasional side B when somebody gets too close. If the match has more than two players, you will guaranteed be the first to die. Wario: The most graceful winner on the list, which is faint praise, because they’re among the saddest in real life. They know they’re pathetic though, and that’s why they don’t get angry about losing. Will either kill themselves one day or die of a heart attack by age 50. Lucas: Even moreso than Ness mains, lies about playing the Mother games. Will do nothing but PK Freeze and PK Thunder. Will never, ever win, and will only ever cost you a victory. If they do manage to win, you’ve either found the top 1% of Smash players, or you’ve started the apocalypse. Ice Climbers: Like Duck Hunt mains, except you aren’t trying to troll anyone intentionally. You will forget how annoying your specials can be right up until after you’ve hit someone with them. Nobody is happy when you win, and you are definitely the least happy out of everyone. You just want everyone to get along. Don’t be such a damn pussy, pussy, you a damn pussy. Villager: You suck ass, but you’re the only one who doesn’t know it. You think Villager is better than he actually is, and you overemphasize how creepy he looks. You are the kind of person who thinks button mashing is a strategy, and that having having no strategy counts as “mind games.” You like creepypastas way too much. Mega Man: You are the least likely person on the list to have had sex, which is good because there’s a 50% chance you’re into little boys. You are also the person on the list who has played an NES game most recently. You complain about the number of characters with swords in the game, but it’s secretly because any decent player who mains one can beat you easily. Will sing along to the theme music whenever on the Wily’s Castle stage. Samus: You are the only one on the list who actively wants all items on. You alternate between spamming your charge shot, and spamming your grab. If you’re good, you will always get first. If not, you will always die first and bitch about it. Nobody knows who invited you over, but everyone secretly wishes you weren’t here. Dark Samus: You mained Samus and always picked her dark suit skin before Ultimate. Not even you asked for this character to be in Smash, and even you couldn’t really explain how they’re different from Dark Samus. When you tell someone you play Smash and they ask who your main is, you forget Dark Samus exists for a minute before telling them. Yoshi: There’s a 50% chance you are an actual child. If you’re not a child, then you either only play Smash for fun, or you are the best player on the list. Either way, it makes you among the saddest people on the list. You’re a good sport for the entire game, right up until you win by spitting them out as an egg right on the edge of the map. Wii Fit Trainer: You’re not actually good at Smash, you’re just good at improvising. You’re playing the game on the fly and just so happen to be lucking out every time you use the volley ball. There is a bone in your brain that compels you to yell “SALUTE THE SUN!” at least once per game. You definitely want to fuck the Wii Fit Trainer. Luigi: You are a down-to-earth, lovable loser who thinks Mario is too normal or obvious a choice. You legitimately find Luigi’s moves and animations to be funny and probably still laugh at Adam Sandler movies. Whenever you win a game, you take forever to press start just because you want to watch his victory pose for as long as possible. If you ever win with the kick taunt, then everybody you know literally hates you. Sheik: You are on both the LGBT and autism spectrums. You also have a Tumblr account. You met all of your friends online and have never talked to them in real life. You are unable to talk and play at the same time. You are probably really good at the game, but are still a sore loser, and will likely be the first to rage quit. Dr. Mario: You are a hipster that only picked Dr. Mario becomes nobody mains him. You pretend like you’ve always mained him, even though you used to main Link, and thought “why the fuck is Dr. Mario a character” when you saw him in Melee, just like the rest of us. You think it’s really cool that his side smash has lightning coming out of his hand but will never admit it. Richter: You embody all the negative traits of a Simon main, except you’re half as old and not OPENLY racist. Instead, you’re just really into metal and think you’re way more badass than you actually are. You own a Punisher t-shirt and have taken a picture of yourself posing with an assault rifle. You have the smallest dick out of everyone on the list. Diddy Kong: Your play style is the strategic equivalent of an infant slapping at a control. You will use the same move over an over again until it stops being effective, at which point you simply move onto a new one. You are the worst person to lose to. You will wake up one day realizing everybody hates you and not know why. This. This is why. Cloud: You only picked Cloud because you were excited to see him get added to Smash. You also will freely admit that fact with no shame whatsoever. You are the Chrom main’s only other friend besides the Robin main. You both bond over your love of anime boys and desire for Sora to be playable in Smash. You are easily the gayest player on the list. Mii Fighters: Either you’re playing as your actual Mii, in which case you have the lowest functioning level of autism on the list and are taking the game seriously, or you’re playing as a joke Mii, in which case you are guaranteed to have a fun time. It doesn’t matter either way, because you’ve never won a single game of Smash in your entire life. Roy: You’re like the Marth main, except you were also the kind of kid who had serious anger issues and screamed swear words at people in class when you were mad. You picked Roy over Marth because his special moves had fire. If Snake were playable in Melee, you would’ve picked him as your main. Olimar: You are the only person on the list who has ever played one of the Pikmin games all the way through. You are an eldritch abomination whose schemes and machinations are unknowable by man. You are the only one boring enough to pay attention to damage types. The ultimate irony of your playstyle is that you will die alone. Greninja: You are also 10. Your best friend is the Incineroar main, at least for now. If you don’t currently watch Naruto, you’re going to get way too into it very soon. You will make excuses and get salty every time you get hit, but you will brag and act like you’re the ultimate chessmaster every time you land a hit. You insist on playing with Final Smashes and no other items. Dark Pit: You’re right in the middle of a venn diagram between Ike main and Greninja main. You’re 13 years old. Everything you do and think is cool right now, you will look back on with embarrassment when in 5 years time. Unless you have actual autism, in which case you’ll never have a moment of self-realization. Instead, you’ll make really bad fan art of your favorite video game and cartoon characters. Ignorance is bliss. Toon Link: You are only the tiniest bit better than the Link main, and yet inexplicably aren’t nearly as hated as them. Lying comes as easily to you as breathing, and you do so without any semblance of guilt. You have a career in politics, Palutena: You pick your main in every game based on waifu status, and your playstyle is finding one combo you like and spamming it repeatedly. You play Skyrim with a mod that lets you play as a big-titted anime lady. You say you prefer subtitled anime to English dubs, but you actually don’t. Your taste in music is shit. Ryu: You’re insecure about playing a kid’s game and refuse to play as any characters that are cartoony, female, or a prettyboy. You won’t ever actually buy a Switch, because Nintendo is for babies, but you’ll still play it with your bros, because you’re the guy who calls people “bro.” You’re only playing as Ryu until they put in Goku or Master Chief. Ken: You’re confused about your sexuality and compensate for it by making overtly sexual statements and calling them jokes. You probably shit talk the most out of everyone else playing. You go to the gym just so you can talk about going to the gym. Bowser Jr. You’re one of the biggest Nintendo fanboys on the list, and got really excited when you saw that all of the other skins for Bowser Jr. were the Koopalings. You pretend like you know all of their names, but there’s always 1 or 2 that you keep forgetting. You can see what they look like in your mind but you can’t remember their name. You know they were all named after different musicians, but that doesn’t help you remember their names, because you know even less about the musicians than you do the characters, because the only thing you’re really knowledgeable about is pointless minutia about video games, and even now you’re proving how little impact that knowledge has on your life. If Nintendo did an NES Classic type deal for the N64 or the Gamecube, you would pay thousands of dollars for them, even though you’ve already got both consoles. Isabelle: You’re a mom that doesn’t actually play video games, you’re just doing this because your kid wanted somebody to play with. You picked the dog because she was cute. You’re either accidentally too good at the game, kick your kid’s ass, and make them cry, or you suck so hard that you’re actually less fun to fight against than the CPU. In 3 years, your kid will have moved on to FPS’ and you’ll look back on Smash with a mix of nostalgia and sadness, because your kid doesn’t want to play with you any more. You read James Patterson books, love win, and masturbate in the shower. Rosalina & Luma: You play the piano, harvest bull semen, or do something else outside of video games that requires two hands. You’re also big into RTS games. Something about controlling legions of forces, sending hundreds to their deaths, having so much power at your disposal awakens something deep inside of you. Even you leave off the “& Luma” part when talking about the character. Young Link: You are the token girl of a group of guys. Every single one of them wants to fuck you because you’re an average-looking girl who likes video games. You will be oblivious to all of it, and date some guy outside of your friend group. Half of them will start to resent you. All of them will be waiting for the opportunity to catch you at a vulnerable moment and have a one night stand with you. It will inevitably happen. It will be with the least shit guy of the group (which isn’t saying much) and ruin most of your interpersonal relationships. You also spend way too much money at conventions. Ganondorf: You are also the token girl of a group of guys, but you’re also a fat, butch lesbian. You try way too hard to be one of the guys, chug beers even though everybody else is drinking like normal, and you very blatantly burp and fart. You will continue to act like this into your 40s at which point your hair will be gray and permanently styled in a faux hawk. Despite all this, you will have the hottest wife out of everyone on this list. Zero Suit Samus: You picked her so you could play as her two-piece skin and masturbate with the screen paused, didn’t you? King K. Rool: You were the kind of kid who ate paste and would always demand first choice of characters because it was your birthday. You use the most OP options in any game but will say that something is unfair when it beats you. The only reason we’re letting you play with us is because mom says have to, and you’ll tell on us if we don’t. Shulk: You have an annoying voice. You don’t eat gluten, even though you don’t have any food allergies. You think all FPS games are stupid except for Overwatch. You use Tumblr slang in real life and have to ship every fictional character you come across. You’ve cried more recently than anyone else on the list, and you literally can’t even right now. Falco: You’re like a Fox main with less autism. In some ways, however, you are much worse than them. When you aren’t using Falco’s blaster to make enemies flinch, you’re telling women to kill themselves on the Internet. You are the guy who goes to the bar to go after women with low self-esteem. You definitely yell the N word during heated gaming moments. Pac-Man: You are the antithesis of the Mario main, and the type of person who always want to have new “experiences.” You will date a teenager and defend it to your friends by saying “age is just a number.” You also cheat on your partners and then act like you were the victim because you were “suffocating” by being expected to be monogamous. Your favorite food is some weird kind of pizza or burger that’s named after an Arcade Fire song and only available at a local restaurant whose name is a pun. Piranha Plant: Some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn. Joker: You decided you would main this character before you ever played them because you love JRPGs so much. You say “u mad bro?” to annoy people even though you have the worst anger management of anyone on the list. You unironically liked the game “Hatred” and will switch to Doomguy if he gets put in Smash. Random: You’re pretty cool.
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2020.09.18 19:17 EchoKitPup Naked mom shower in

I guess this could be considered entitledparents but it's mostly a rant from me. It just happened as well and I don't really have an outlet for anger so this is just so I don't bottle up any more emotions.
Anyways!
What happened was that I'm getting dressed for work. I work Monday to Fridays from 2 pm till 10:30 pm based on when third shift relieves me. I am sore and sluggish since I stay up a couple hours after I get home and eat dinner and play games with my boyfriend and several friends. Anyways, I was taking a shower and my mother started screeching my name and telling me to hurry up and she didn't know I was in the shower. She kept screeching my name until she came into her bathroom, my shower doesn't work, and told me to hurry up since it's almost 12. When I was done with my shower, I heard a male voice and I started to panic. My mother didn't tell me anyone was coming over and I had to dash from her room to mine without him seeing. I locked my bedroom doors and my mom started knocking on them and demanded me to clean my toilet and to open my doors before she broke them down. I was getting dressed for work and I told her that and she kept trying to open my doors even though they're locked because I may be into adult things but I don't want some Christian person that goes to my mother's church to see me naked.
Btw I'm pagan and absolutely loathe Christianity because my mother shoves it down my throat anytime she can and she has accused me of being lesbian before because "I don't have a womanly personality, I wear men's clothes, and I like Transformers". I may be demisexual but that doesn't give her the right to assume my sexuality and my intentions.
Thank you to whoever reads this. I'm saving up for a car and to move into an apartment because I can't be in this environment anymore. My mother stresses me out too much and yells at me about everything and she has done a lot worse but I have to continue getting ready for work. My hair doesn't tame itself and I don't know how to take care of it without brushing out the curls.
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2020.09.16 17:11 DamnDam Naked mom in shower

Your honor,
If it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.
You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today.
On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there’s a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance weird like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself “big mama”, because I knew I’d be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college.
The next thing I remember I was in a gurney in a hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in an admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party. When I was finally allowed to use the restroom, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my vagina and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don’t have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence.
Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me.
I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a little pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said “Rape Victim” and I thought something has really happened. My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it’s just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my vagina and anus, needles for shots, pills, had a nikon pointed right into my spread legs. I had long, pointed beaks inside me and had my vagina smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions.
After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don’t want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn’t know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else.
On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV because results don’t always show up immediately. But for now, I should go home and get back to my normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs, and then I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes.
My sister picked me up, face wet from tears and contorted in anguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I’m right here, I’m okay, everything’s okay, I’m right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let’s go home, let’s eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweats, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my vagina was sore and had become a strange, dark color from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours my sister held me.
My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, “I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?” I was horrified. That’s when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find my sister. Again, he asked me, “What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?” I said yes, and hung up to cry.
I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been raped behind a dumpster, but I don’t know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn’t real.
I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone. After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn’t talk, I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t interact with anyone, and I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For one week after the incident, I didn’t get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn’t just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt from the hospital in my drawer.
One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That’s when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn’t fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside of me. I don’t even know this person. I still don’t know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can’t be me.
This can’t be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings.
At the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in fetal position. By the way, he’s really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that’s what we’re doing. I’m good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end is where you list your extra-curriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that’ve happened.
The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it’s upsetting, just know that I’m okay, I’m right here, and I’m okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up. I was not okay.
The night after it happened, he said he didn’t know my name, said he wouldn’t be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn’t mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding up against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detective asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn’t know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me. Sometimes I think, if I hadn’t gone, then this never would’ve happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue.
The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub. Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us speaking, a back rub.
One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don’t remember, so how do I prove I didn’t like it.
I thought there’s no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He’s going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful attorney, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this sexual assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused.
I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn’t remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don’t know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation.
When I was told to be prepared in case we didn’t win, I said, I can’t prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don’t remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. That’s so damaging. His attorney constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn’t remember. That helplessness was traumatizing.
Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney’s questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his attorney saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, You didn’t notice any abrasions, right? This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The sexual assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering question like:
How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What’d you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I’d like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, we’ll let Brock fill it in.
I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who didn’t even take the time to ask me for my name, who had me naked a handful of minutes after seeing me. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don’t line up, she’s out of her mind, she’s practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he’s like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he’s having a really hard time right now.
And then it came time for him to testify. This is where I became revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn’t know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn’t feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember.
So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling onto the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered, oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so.
He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently I said yes. He’d asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don’t ask, Can I finger you? Usually there’s a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He’s in the clear.
Even in this story, there’s barely any dialogue; I only said a total of three words before he had me half naked on the ground. I have never been penetrated after three words. He didn’t claim to hear me speak one full sentence that night, so in the news when it says we “met”, I’m not sure I would go so far as to say that. Future reference, if you are confused about whether a girl can consent, see if she can speak an entire sentence. You couldn’t even do that. Just one coherent string of words. If she can’t do that, then no. Don’t touch her, just no. Not maybe, just no. Where was the confusion? This is common sense, human decency.
According to him, the only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don’t take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that’s why she wore the cardigan. If her bare ass and legs are rubbing the pinecones and needles, while the weight of you pushes into her, get off her.
Next in the story, two people approached you. You ran because you said you felt scared. I argue that you were scared because you’d be caught, not because you were scared of two terrifying Swedish grad students. The idea that you thought you were being attacked out of the blue was ludicrous. That it had nothing to do with you being on top my unconscious body. You were caught red handed, with no explanation. When they tackled you why didn’t [you] say, “Stop! Everything’s okay, go ask her, she’s right over there, she’ll tell you.” I mean you had just asked for my consent, right? I was awake, right? When the policeman arrived and interviewed the evil Swede who tackled you, he was crying so hard he couldn’t speak because of what he’d seen. Also, if you really did think they were dangerous, you just abandoned a half-naked girl to run and save yourself. No matter which way you frame it, it doesn’t make sense.
Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don’t know exactly when she became unconscious. And you’re right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn’t completely limp yet, fine. His guilt did not depend on him knowing the exact second that I became unconscious, that is never what this was about. I was slurring, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place. Brock stated, “At no time did I see that she was not responding. If at any time I thought she was not responding, I would have stopped immediately.” Here’s the thing; if your plan was to stop only when I was literally unresponsive, then you still do not understand. You didn’t even stop when I was unconscious anyway! Someone else stopped you. Two guys on bikes noticed I wasn’t moving in the dark and had to tackle you. How did you not notice while on top of me?
You said, you would have stopped and gotten help. You say that, but I want you to explain how you would’ve helped me, step by step, walk me through this. I want to know, if those evil Swedes had not found me, how the night would have played out. I am asking you; Would you have pulled my underwear back on over my boots? Untangled the necklace wrapped around my neck? Closed my legs, covered me? Tucked my bra back into my dress? Would you have helped me pick the needles from my hair? Asked if the abrasions on my neck and bottom hurt? Would you then go find a friend and say, Will you help me get her somewhere warm and soft? I don’t sleep when I think about the way it could have gone if the Swedes had never come. What would have happened to me? That’s what you’ll never have a good answer for, that’s what you can’t explain even after a year.
To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by guys for reasons unknown to you is sick, is demented, is selfish, is stupid. It shows that you were willing to go to any length, to discredit me, invalidate me, and explain why it was okay to hurt me. You tried unyieldingly to save yourself, your reputation, at my expense.
My family had to see pictures of my head strapped to a gurney full of pine needles, of my body in the dirt with my eyes closed, dress hiked up, limbs limp in the dark. And then even after that, my family had to listen to your attorney say, the pictures were after the fact, we can dismiss them. To say, yes her nurse confirmed there was redness and abrasions inside her, but that’s what happens when you finger someone, and he’s already admitted to that. To listen to him use my own sister against me. To listen him attempt to paint of a picture of me, the seductive party animal, as if somehow that would make it so that I had this coming for me. To listen to him say I sounded drunk on the phone because I’m silly and that’s my goofy way of speaking. To point out that in the voicemail, I said I would reward my boyfriend and we all know what I was thinking. I assure you my rewards program is non-transferable, especially to any nameless man that approaches me.
The point is, this is everything my family and I endured during the trial. This is everything I had to sit through silently, taking it, while he shaped the evening. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity and validity of this suffering. But in the end, his unsupported statements and his attorney’s twisted logic fooled no one. The truth won, the truth spoke for itself.
You are guilty. Twelve jurors convicted you guilty of three felony counts beyond reasonable doubt, that’s twelve votes per count, thirty-six yeses confirming guilt, that’s one hundred percent, unanimous guilt. And I thought finally it is over, finally he will own up to what he did, truly apologize, we will both move on and get better. Then I read your statement.
If you are hoping that one of my organs will implode from anger and I will die, I’m almost there. You are very close. Assault is not an accident. This is not a story of another drunk college hookup with poor decision making. Somehow, you still don’t get it. Somehow, you still sound confused.
I will now take this opportunity to read portions of the defendant’s statement and respond to them.
You said, “Being drunk I just couldn’t make the best decisions and neither could she.”
Alcohol is not an excuse. Is it a factor? Yes. But alcohol was not the one who stripped me, fingered me, had my head dragging against the ground, with me almost fully naked. Having too much to drink was an amateur mistake that I admit to, but it is not criminal. Everyone in this room has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much, or knows someone close to them who has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much. Regretting drinking is not the same as regretting sexual assault. We were both drunk, the difference is I did not take off your pants and underwear, touch you inappropriately, and run away. That’s the difference.
You said, If I wanted to get to know her, I should have asked for her number, rather than asking her to go back to my room.
I’m not mad because you didn’t ask for my number. Even if you did know me, I would not want [to] be in this situation. My own boyfriend knows me, but if he asked to finger me behind a dumpster, I would slap him. No girl wants to be in this situation. Nobody. I don’t care if you know their phone number or not.
You said, I stupidly thought it was okay for me to do what everyone around me was doing, which was drinking. I was wrong.
Again, you were not wrong for drinking. Everyone around you was not sexually assaulting me. You were wrong for doing what nobody else was doing, which was pushing your erect dick in your pants against my naked, defenseless body concealed in a dark area, where partygoers could no longer see or protect me, and own my sister could not find me. Sipping fireball is not your crime. Peeling off and discarding my underwear like a candy wrapper to insert your finger into my body, is where you went wrong. Why am I still explaining this.
You said, During the trial I didn’t want to victimize her at all. That was just my attorney and his way of approaching the case.
Your attorney is not your scapegoat, he represents you. Did your attorney say some incredulously infuriating, degrading things? Absolutely. He said you had an erection, because it was cold. I have no words.
You said, you are in the process of establishing a program for high school and college students in which you speak about your experience to “speak out against the college campus drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that.”
Speak out against campus drinking culture. That’s what we’re speaking out against? You think that’s what I’ve spent the past year fighting for? Not awareness about campus sexual assault, or rape, or learning to recognize consent. Campus drinking culture. Down with Jack Daniels. Down with Skyy Vodka. If you want talk to high school kids about drinking go to an AA meeting. You realize, having a drinking problem is different than drinking and then forcefully trying to have sex with someone? Show men how to respect women, not how to drink less.
Drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Goes along with that, like a side effect, like fries on the side of your order. Where does promiscuity even come into play? I don’t see headlines that read, Brock Turner, Guilty of drinking too much and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Campus [Sexual] Assault. There’s your first powerpoint slide.
I have done enough explaining. You do not get to shrug your shoulders and be confused anymore. You do not get to pretend that there were no red flags. You do not get to not know why you ran. You have been convicted of violating me with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is consuming alcohol. Do not talk about the sad way your life was upturned because alcohol made you do bad things. Figure out how to take responsibility for your own conduct.
Lastly you said, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin a life.
Ruin a life, one life, yours, you forgot about mine. Let me rephrase for you, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin two lives. You and me. You are the cause, I am the effect. You have dragged me through this hell with you, dipped me back into that night again and again. You knocked down both our towers, I collapsed at the same time you did. Your damage was concrete; stripped of titles, degrees, enrollment. My damage was internal, unseen, I carry it with me. You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.
See one thing we have in common is that we were both unable to get up in the morning. I am no stranger to suffering. You made me a victim. In newspapers my name was “unconscious intoxicated woman”, ten syllables, and nothing more than that. For a while, I believed that that was all I was. I had to force myself to relearn my real name, my identity. To relearn that this is not all that I am. That I am not just a drunk victim at a frat party found behind a dumpster, while you are the All-American swimmer at a top university, innocent until proven guilty, with so much at stake. I am a human being who has been irreversibly hurt, who waited a year to figure out if I was worth something.
My independence, natural joy, gentleness, and steady lifestyle I had been enjoying became distorted beyond recognition. I became closed off, angry, self-deprecating, tired, irritable, empty. The isolation at times was unbearable. You cannot give me back the life I had before that night either. While you worry about your shattered reputation, I refrigerated spoons every night so when I woke up, and my eyes were puffy from crying, I would hold the spoons to my eyes to lessen the swelling so that I could see. I showed up an hour late to work every morning, excused myself to cry in the stairwells, I can tell you all the best places in that building to cry where no one can hear you, the pain became so bad that I had to tell my boss I was leaving, I needed time because continuing day to day was not possible. I used my savings to go as far away as I could possibly be.
I can’t sleep alone at night without having a light on, like a five year old, because I have nightmares of being touched where I cannot wake up, I did this thing where I waited until the sun came up and I felt safe enough to sleep. For three months, I went to bed at six o’clock in the morning.
I used to pride myself on my independence, now I am afraid to go on walks in the evening, to attend social events with drinking among friends where I should be comfortable being. I have become a little barnacle always needing to be at someone’s side, to have my boyfriend standing next to me, sleeping beside me, protecting me. It is embarrassing how feeble I feel, how timidly I move through life, always guarded, ready to defend myself, ready to be angry.
You have no idea how hard I have worked to rebuild parts of me that are still weak. It took me eight months to even talk about what happened. I could no longer connect with friends, with everyone around me. I would scream at my boyfriend, my own family whenever they brought this up. You never let me forget what happened to me. At the of end of the hearing, the trial, I was too tired to speak. I would leave drained, silent. I would go home turn off my phone and for days I would not speak. You bought me a ticket to a planet where I lived by myself. Every time a new article [would] come out, I lived with the paranoia that my entire hometown would find out and know me as the girl who got assaulted. I didn’t want anyone’s pity and am still learning to accept victim as part of my identity. You made my own hometown an uncomfortable place to be.
Someday, you can pay me back for my ambulance ride and therapy. But you cannot give me back my sleepless nights. The way I have broken down sobbing uncontrollably if I’m watching a movie and a woman is harmed, to say it lightly, this experience has expanded my empathy for other victims. I have lost weight from stress, when people would comment I told them I’ve been running a lot lately. There are times I did not want to be touched. I have to relearn that I am not fragile, I am capable, I am wholesome, not just livid and weak.
I want to say this. All the crying, the hurting you have imposed on me, I can take it. But when I see my younger sister hurting, when she is unable to keep up in school, when she is deprived of joy, when she is not sleeping, when she is crying so hard on the phone she is barely breathing, telling me over and over she is sorry for leaving me alone that night, sorry sorry sorry, when she feels more guilt than you, then I do not forgive you. That night I had called her to try and find her, but you found me first. Your attorney’s closing statement began, “My sister said she was fine and who knows her better than her sister.” You tried to use my own sister against me. Your points of attack were so weak, so low, it was almost embarrassing. You do not touch her.
If you think I was spared, came out unscathed, that today I ride off into sunset, while you suffer the greatest blow, you are mistaken. Nobody wins. We have all been devastated, we have all been trying to find some meaning in all of this suffering.
You should have never done this to me. Secondly, you should have never made me fight so long to tell you, you should have never done this to me. But here we are. The damage is done, no one can undo it. And now we both have a choice. We can let this destroy us, I can remain angry and hurt and you can be in denial, or we can face it head on, I accept the pain, you accept the punishment, and we move on.
Your life is not over, you have decades of years ahead to rewrite your story. The world is huge, it is so much bigger than Palo Alto and Stanford, and you will make a space for yourself in it where you can be useful and happy. Right now your name is tainted, so I challenge you to make a new name for yourself, to do something so good for the world, it blows everyone away. You have a brain and a voice and a heart. Use them wisely. You possess immense love from your family. That alone can pull you out of anything. Mine has held me up through all of this. Yours will hold you and you will go on.
I believe, that one day, you will understand all of this better. I hope you will become a better more honest person who can properly use this story to prevent another story like this from ever happening again. I fully support your journey to healing, to rebuilding your life, because that is the only way you’ll begin to help others.
Now to address the sentencing. When I read the probation officer’s report, I was in disbelief, consumed by anger which eventually quieted down to profound sadness. My statements have been slimmed down to distortion and taken out of context. I fought hard during this trial and will not have the outcome minimized by a probation officer who attempted to evaluate my current state and my wishes in a fifteen minute conversation, the majority of which was spent answering questions I had about the legal system. The context is also important. Brock had yet to issue a statement, and I had not read his remarks.
My life has been on hold for over a year, a year of anger, anguish and uncertainty, until a jury of my peers rendered a judgment that validated the injustices I had endured. Had Brock admitted guilt and remorse and offered to settle early on, I would have considered a lighter sentence, respecting his honesty, grateful to be able to move our lives forward. Instead he took the risk of going to trial, added insult to injury and forced me to relive the hurt as details about my personal life and sexual assault were brutally dissected before the public. He pushed me and my family through a year of inexplicable, unnecessary suffering, and should face the consequences of challenging his crime, of putting my pain into question, of making us wait so long for justice.
I told the probation officer I do not want Brock to rot away in prison. I did not say he does not deserve to be behind bars. The probation officer’s recommendation of a year or less in county jail is a soft time-out, a mockery of the seriousness of his assaults, and of the consequences of the pain I have been forced to endure. I also told the probation officer that what I truly wanted was for Brock to get it, to understand and admit to his wrongdoing.
Unfortunately, after reading the defendant’s statement, I am severely disappointed and feel that he has failed to exhibit sincere remorse or responsibility for his conduct. I fully respected his right to a trial, but even after twelve jurors unanimously convicted him guilty of three felonies, all he has admitted to doing is ingesting alcohol. Someone who cannot take full accountability for his actions does not deserve a mitigating sentence. It is deeply offensive that he would try and dilute rape with a suggestion of promiscuity. By definition rape is the absence of promiscuity, rape is the absence of consent, and it perturbs me deeply that he can’t even see that distinction.
The probation officer factored in that the defendant is youthful and has no prior convictions. In my opinion, he is old enough to know what he did was wrong. When you are eighteen in this country you can go to war. When you are nineteen, you are old enough to pay the consequences for attempting to rape someone. He is young, but he is old enough to know better.
As this is a first offense I can see where leniency would beckon. On the other hand, as a society, we cannot forgive everyone’s first sexual assault or digital rape. It doesn’t make sense. The seriousness of rape has to be communicated clearly, we should not create a culture that suggests we learn that rape is wrong through trial and error. The consequences of sexual assault needs to be severe enough that people feel enough fear to exercise good judgment even if they are drunk, severe enough to be preventative. The fact that Brock was a star athlete at a prestigious university should not be seen as an entitlement to leniency, but as an opportunity to send a strong cultural message that sexual assault is against the law regardless of social class.
The probation officer weighed the fact that he has surrendered a hard earned swimming scholarship. If I had been sexually assaulted by an un-athletic guy from a community college, what would his sentence be? If a first time offender from an underprivileged background was accused of three felonies and displayed no accountability for his actions other than drinking, what would his sentence be? How fast he swims does not lessen the impact of what happened to me.
The Probation Officer has stated that this case, when compared to other crimes of similar nature, may be considered less serious due to the defendant’s level of intoxication. It felt serious. That’s all I’m going to say.
He is a lifetime sex registrant. That doesn’t expire. Just like what he did to me doesn’t expire, doesn’t just go away after a set number of years. It stays with me, it’s part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life.
A year has gone by and he has had lots of time on his hands. Has he been seeing a psychologist? What has he done in this past year to show he’s been progressing? If he says he wants to implement programs, what has he done to show for it?
Throughout incarceration I hope he is provided with appropriate therapy and resources to rebuild his life. I request that he educates himself about the issue of campus sexual assault. I hope he accepts proper punishment and pushes himself to reenter society as a better person.
To conclude, I want to say thank you. To everyone from the intern who made me oatmeal when I woke up at the hospital that morning, to the deputy who waited beside me, to the nurses who calmed me, to the detective who listened to me and never judged me, to my advocates who stood unwaveringly beside me, to my therapist who taught me to find courage in vulnerability, to my boss for being kind and understanding, to my incredible parents who teach me how to turn pain into strength, to my friends who remind me how to be happy, to my boyfriend who is patient and loving, to my unconquerable sister who is the other half of my heart, to Alaleh, my idol, who fought tirelessly and never doubted me. Thank you to everyone involved in the trial for their time and attention. Thank you to girls across the nation that wrote cards to my DA to give to me, so many strangers who cared for me.
Most importantly, thank you to the two men who saved me, who I have yet to meet. I sleep with two bicycles that I drew taped above my bed to remind myself there are heroes in this story. That we are looking out for one another. To have known all of these people, to have felt their protection and love, is something I will never forget.
And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. Although I can’t save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can’t be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you. Thank you.
submitted by DamnDam to PromptsJustforMe [link] [comments]


2020.09.16 09:20 MimosaPsychonaut Naked mom in shower

EDIT : TLDR ; it's all about getting to know yourself in a good way and for us taking psychs like 1P and 2CBFLY really helped with our inhibitions , dont get me wrong, there's was plenty of giggling throughout, even now when we do it, but it's much the normal life with a vanilla relationship and rose water couples stuff but sometimes with chains and pain and some psychs as well every now and then.
So I had plenty of covid anxiety and end up packing up and heading to the country side like a few days before total lockdown confinements back in like March. Took my chick and my mom with me, so we were in it for the long term based on the fact i'm quite particular about sanitation and my family's health. Great time though, outdoors plenty of garden, planted some cannabis seeds but mainly it was all about the vegetable patch and the fruit trees. Unfortunately my LSD order was like stuck in the post back in the city though. This is important later bear with me. Managed to figure out like 150g of weed as well for the trip so i basically never ran out as the only smoker in that household. Did a shitton of music stuff and bought a bunch of toys i still enjoy, but truly i wasnt all that content with my current set up and the chick i was with. Anywho, i was setting up this humanitarian organisation and i sent my friend a message all like "you'd be perfect for this as a national coordinator" because she was in a south american country at the time. She's really off handish all like "i'm not the type" and "it's not for me" even though she clearly is and i know she has plenty of time. Anywho my organisation starts to pick up steam and raises the stakes in a minor way some weeks later so i reach out again and she replies that she's just been through this whole thing and (edit : broke off her engagement) she might be on a flight back soon. By now it's towards the end of may so very much still under total lockdown orders. i'm like "uhm , sure, see you soon if you head back?"
A day or two later she's calling me all crying and hardly able to explain what's happened, i've know her for like 5 years but had only met her maybe 5 times at this point, last time i saw her was for her 28th birthday party two years ago she had invited me to her birthday but when i got there all dressed up and ready to party it was like her parents, aunts uncles, and a handful of close friends from her popular neihborhood. Seriously, who does that?
Two weeks later, a few days before confinement is lifted i travel a few hours back to the capital city because i have some kind of plumbing issues meeting with the plumber thing that i'm using as an excuse to basically go see my friend. She picks me up at the airport , i have a mask, visor, the whole thing, she's wearing a mask and a brown linen pencil dress with brass buttons and a green and brown leather and fur coat, black stilletos. cab it to my temporary appartment which is a wreak what after 3 months of not being there and leaving so quickly. We put my bags down and head to lunch.
but first, let's walk to post office to pick up my acid :-)
Over lunch she explains to me, loudly, among other catch ups that she was evacuated after being implicated in a drug and human trafficking (edit:) charge and she broke off her engagement partly due to the messages i had sent her , we're drinking pretty heavily i would say 2 bottles of wine and plenty of champagne to start. Anyway the subject eventually turns to drugs , and i'm like you know this envelope i just signed for has acid in it ? we open the thing up after asking the waiter for scissors and quick as the blink of an eye she's just had 150ugs of 1P-LSD ... i really dont like unplanned trips (usually) certainly i never drink then drop any sort of psychedelic drugs ever , tell you the truth i hardly take any drugs with people i hardly know, in public, at events, or even with others in general. i dont know anyone that takes psychedelics , i know maybe three or four people that smoke weed. Obviously i'm not gonna watch this beautiful woman take LSD for the first time and me not take 1P which i've never even tried myself.
t+15 We head back to my main apartment which is a few doors down from the temporary one and it's pristine, plants are all dead, but we've got plenty of lock down snacks, drinks, and other amenities , open the balcony, beautiful sunny day, amazing view on a historic landmark two parks and a river, i love dropping and chilling here hope you can tell. we get cosy "hey you want to take your heels off" "not a chance" . She's starting to grow on me :-)
T+40 the come up starts and hits hard
T+1.15 i have no motor skills which i'm not used to , cant fucking change the station from "jazz" on the radio, i start accepting my fate : 10 hours of jazz radio it is. i start noticing slight difference with "normal acid" appart from the stronger quicker come up : more "matte" earthy visuals more melancholic. we're smoking plenty of weed and talking the whole time, this chick is loud . Just running around the house enjoying the furniture and feeling like we were in some time long past due to the music and the iconic sunrays on the balcony.
T+3 she gets totally naked "im taking a cold shower" clothes and stilletos come off . i take my stilletos off too obviously , running after her and i dont know why but i did slap her butt , she turns around all like "dont do that, why did you do that, you ruined it", i'm devastated obviously not because i like having sex on acid (more on that later obviously) but because she's quite a looker thin as she is and ... coming out the shower she absolutely destroys the bathroom, living room with water but honestly i encourage it , i'm feeling very glam rock and she says "i feel like a pin up" indeed the visuals are very much beach / pin up esthetics, she sunbathes naked on the balcony.
I break up with my ex girlfriend, put her back in her old appartment give her like thousands of euros so she's independent. A couple weeks later after confinement was lifted my old/new friend basically moves in with me , this is like one day before we even sleep together (ffs! ^^) there's plenty more drug use in between mostly awful things i dont ever have near me like "white powder" people call coke and "mdma" which i prefer to space out way more than the two weeks or so we were pacing. So that day we did sleep together we're talking about sex and she really enjoys talking about sex and what she likes and doesnt like and she seems to know a whole lot about those topics. I'm like less tuned in i think but way back when in like highschool then in college i did like all these toys and had a small collection of them. She's clearly intrigued, i've disposed of them since but i'm like lets go shopping. Type "sex shop" in google maps, press a button head there in a cab laughing about it the whole time with eathother and also the driver (because he had "SEX SHOP" written as a destination). the whole way there i know very well there'll be no one else choosing sex toys but me, but which ones would she be into? i think i know :-) When we get there the first thing i pick out is the latest the pink vibrator, "here's a gift that's just for you" the rest being thing i would probably find fun to play with, all the heaviest chains and leather bounds , a paddle a whip another vibrator 760e on the mastercard, the ride back is more quiet though . when we get home there's no question about drugs or anything like that , she just wants to try on all the harnesses , at some point, dressed, she's got on this thick leather collar and she's like "i could wear this outside, right", honestly i find it a tiny bit tacky but she does look great and i'm kind of abiding by it, mostly trying to diffuse things. one thing leads to another, let's celebrate, some champagne gets poured, she's still clucking from before she got back but i'm not into shit white powder and she wants MD but it had barely been a few days and my mind is all i've got in this life so i'm like "i like mdma but what i dont like is how toxic it is and how ultimately insincere it really is like when someone's talking to you all you're really doing is waiting for them to finish so you can talk, kinda. I have this stuff called 2CB-FLY which i found way more profound empathogenically" . So we drop 2 "pellets" of 2CB-FLY each (which is the correct dose, nothing strong) .
t+0 we head out to procure amenities, she's wearing this thick black leather and red velvet collar, dolled up some , make up
t+30 we're feeling some alerts already
t+45 the come up on this stuff is the wierd most intense time dilation meaning you're doing plenty of stuff but when you check your watch it's not been that long
t+1.30 she's wearing this designer "play suit" and a collar with a leash, way too much make up from using my bathroom with no light (and on drugs), looks at me at says "i feel so beautiful right now" with the biggest most sincere smile i've ever seen . (and i've seen it plenty more times, since :-)
I'm pretty sure that was a legit coming out , at least that's how i've remembered it - what do you think about that?
Anyway the rest of the trip is just us giggling away and having a laugh with all the new toys most of which we end up breaking that night.
a few weeks and plenty of responsible drug use later , we're planning a trip together so obviously we pack some 2CBFLY, MiPT, DOC, LSD , and some weed just in case :-) well, it was the case about two weeks into the vaccation, we shared some of the pills with some friends we met and took the 2CBFLY ditched them and eventually went to a seperate hotel than where we were planned on it but no sex, great night though, i love her so much.
A week later: on our first day in spain. which one should we take? 1PLSD !
again, i'm not a big fan of acid in unfamilliar settings, let alone a foreign country on my first night in a city i've never been in. i like my comfort and familiar amenities lol great news folks we have a small travel collection of sex ustensils that we can pack like the whip, candles and binds.
T+4 and i'm starting in familiar territory with candles, but wait these candles are way hotter than my usual white wax candles and they were bought in a specialized store. good thing she's way more extreme than your usual amateur, we put these away pretty quickly, grab the whip and go on her behind until it's a light shade of red. Now she gets on top of me, and it's quite an event because the only other time i ever saw her on top of me she was all "bothered" or possible "embarrassed" ended up giggling and moving on to something else. So when she got on top of me then i really encouraged it knowing how hard (and easy) it is for her to do so. Sex like this is what it looks like all the time i'm cradling her but she's on top, everything is vanilla (including the acid) but at climax our bodies and minds literally fused at the cheek. Sex on acid is the wierdest thing, i had done it before but this one here was the most profound fusion thing ever. Not terribly comfortable at times but man we still talk about "fusing" and that one time in "Spain". Like our heads and bodies were fused , i could feel the skin between our faces like "conjoined twins". She says that's when we got married and it was the biggest orgasm of her life, i'm not all there like that : sex on acid is wierd as fuck.
I guess the point of the story is that for us, psychedelic drugs really helped us overcome addiction as well as help us discover some really embarrassing things about ourselves , which in the end we enjoy in responsible ways with eachother. Some people like to listen to infected mushroom and dance on acid others prefer shakira and bdsm. in the end the moral of the story is that the universe is ultimately immoral we're all just feeling our way through, just try not to hurt folks (unless it's out of love) and you'll be alright.
submitted by MimosaPsychonaut to 1P_LSD [link] [comments]


2020.09.15 18:39 Skinnygirl42 In naked mom shower

This is going to be long but I’ve never written about this and it feels good to get it out.
Hi Everyone, Almost ten years ago I was 20 years and got pregnant with my bf. I was on birth control and considered myself to be “very responsible” when it came to taking my birth control and not missing pills. Well I was quite the partier in college so I must have missed a pill one night. Me and my boyfriend at the time also had sex A LOT ( I know it only takes one time) but he was finishing inside me at least like 3 times in one night. I remember one week I just felt sick...almost like I had the flu and just generally run down but went to the campus doctor and no fever or any other symptoms. I remember I got back to my apartment and for some reason I just had like this feeling I was pregnant I know it sounds crazy but I knew something was off, I felt different. My period has always been irregular so I took pregnancy tests before that always came back negative, so I go to pee on the stick and there are the two blue lines telling me I’m pregnant. At that moment I knew I wasn’t having the child. It was my first semester in college, I just got my first apartment off campus with my best friend and a job where being pregnant is a little awkward (I worked at a famous “breastaurant”). I was also young and selfish, I was finally out on my own and felt like my life was just beginning and didn’t want a child to “ruin” it. Me and my boyfriend also just started dating and I didn’t know him well enough to know if he would be a good father, my mom raised me and my siblings as a single mom and I saw how hard it was and just knew I didn’t have the strength to do that. So after taking the test I consult with my boyfriend (at the time he 100% supported the idea) he didn’t want to be a parent either. Next day I go to my local Planned Parenthood and they confirm the pregnancy and I tell them what I want to do. They gave me references for clinics since they didn’t preform abortions there, they also gave the option of the abortion pill since I was only about 6-8 weeks along. After talking with a co-worker (ps all my coworkers were amazing when they found out my situation, many opened up to me that they had an abortion too and I didn’t feel as alone) who had both a surgical and medical abortion she told me to do the surgical. I was too scared to try the pills and I’m also pretty squeamish so the thought of pushing out an unborn fetus into my toilet horrified me and I was really scared of the pain. Fast forward two days and I’m at the clinic with my bf for my appointment. The center I went to was in city and you had to be checked in by security at multiple check points due to fanatical pro-lifers (luckily for me there were no protestors outside the clinic that day so didn’t have to worry about being harassed.) We sat in the waiting room until they called us back for payment and the quick counseling thing they do (honestly I don’t remember that part or the questions they asked). The procedure probably cost somewhere between 300-400 because I chose the general anesthesia, I had insurance but I was under my moms plan and she is totally totally against abortion, to this day I’ve never told her about it and probably never will because she would disown me and it would really hurt her. So after we paid they take me back to different waiting room to get my bloodwork and ultrasound. I’m squeamish and haven’t had blood work done in about 10 years so for whatever reason I’m just sitting in the second waiting room crying ( from fear and just the whole situation I’m in) and another woman in the waiting room comes to sit next to me puts her arm on my shoulder and goes “first time? You’ll be okay”. Having her there made me feel so much better and I stopped crying, thank you kind soul. To be honest the kindness and compassion complete strangers were showing each other at the place makes me tear up right now, kinda like we were all there for each other. So bloodwork and ultrasound are done and it’s time for me to go downstairs to get ready for surgery. I get naked and put the gown and shower cap thing on and go to my bed to wait for me to be called. There were probably about 6 beds in this room with curtains for privacy, so they called my name and I go into the operating room. Now before I keep going with my story, let me tell you that every nurse and doctor who worked at this facility was an absolute angel. Something about these people just made you feel like you were going to be okay and they just put me at ease. I have never ever seen a whole group of healthcare workers who were all such amazing compassionate people. They put my IV in and told me to imagine a nice beach relaxing scene and to countdown to 5. This was my first time going under so I was terrified. I think I got to three before I was out, I was only out for 5 minutes (doctor said I was wheezing under anesthesia but I was also a smoker at the time, I’ve gone under since then for a much longer surgery after I quit smoking and didn’t have any issues). I woke up, was not in any pain with a pad in my underwear and small spot of blood. So they wheel me back to my bed and I can’t remember how long I sat there but it wasn’t really long and then I was discharged and sent home. When I walked out the clinic doors I had a huge sense of relief, almost like a high, but it also could have been the drugs. Picked up my prescriptions at the pharmacy and went home and just relaxed. I went back to my local PP for a week later for a follow up appointment and everything was fine. So overall my experience was I guess the best it could be? Fast forward almost 10 years later,Now do I regret it? Looking back almost ten years later yes and no. No because I’m able to live my life as I please on my own terms, people with kids can’t do that and obviously being child free in my 20s and having no huge responsibilities and living only for yourself is amazing. Now here comes the parts I regret...I do regret that I made a selfish decision, since in my case I really got pregnant from being irresponsible one night with my pills. I did take the easy way out, I’m not going to deny it. There were people who were younger than I was and had less than me who had their babies despite how hard it would be. I do sometimes wish I was a strong as those women. I always thought that if I had a baby early my life would be ruined and I would be destined to hard life of poverty but many people I know who had kids actually are doing just as well if not better than my peers. They all have homes, jobs, and got a college education. Another thing I struggle with is I was raised catholic, I’m not a really religious person, I don’t go to church and all that but I do believe in God and some kind of afterlife. Which makes me think I’m probably going to hell because yea God forgives but I don’t know how truly “sorry” I am, another huge fear with afterlife is possibly seeing your unborn child ( I know this sounds fucking crazy but these are somethings I think about.) Now this isn’t an obsessive thought, it just something that comes across my mind every once and a while. I’m not depressed about my decision or anything like that. Maybe one day I will completely come to terms with it. That being said I don’t want the last part of my story to scare you or make it sounds like I’m trying to sway you to keep your kid. That is your decision I was just want to be 100% transparent on everything I felt and feel. It is a permanent decision that you might think differently about years later. Good luck ladies and remember this is YOUR decision only, NEVER let anyone make this decision for you. Find someone who can support you, more women than you think have had this procedure done. If you made it this far thank you for taking the time to read my experience and I wish the best for you. ❤️
Wow it felt good to let that out.
submitted by Skinnygirl42 to abortion [link] [comments]


2020.09.14 08:23 looneymoon21 Naked mom in shower

TRIGGER WARNING: physical punishments. Mention of self harm and suicide. I (20F) grew up in what I call an unhealthy environment. Anytime I talk about it to anyone I am never able to call it abusive. I’m not sure why but it makes me so uncomfortable. Maybe someone could help me figure out why or how to get over that.
So a lot happened in my childhood. I’m going to start with what I remember even though I’ve been told stories about when I was a baby/toddler that would definitely be traumatizing. First off, I have a brother who is a few years older than me. We were taken away from my mom (dad had left years before) when I was maybe 5/6. We were placed in foster care for a while before my grandma picked us up. Foster care was not fun at all. We were constantly picked on by the other kids (two girls I think they were bio kids of the foster mom but I’m not sure)
Anyways we were with my grandma for maybe a year or less before my dad decided he would take us in. So he picked us up (with his new girlfriend) and we moved to a place that was 6 hours away from our grandma. We were really excited. My dad had a room for each of us and his girlfriend was nice. Once the social worker left, things changed a bit. My dad informed us that his friend (a man about my dads age) would be moving in with us and he would be getting my room. So my brother and I would share (we were about 7 and 10 not a big deal.) well things were ok for a bit. I noticed some weird things like the time my stepmom once too casually asked my brother and I if we prefer her or our real mom (who we hadn’t seen in like over a year) and my brother immediately said he preferred my stepmom and she had a smug smile about it before looking at me expectantly.
The problem with this question was that she asked it in Spanish and I didn’t understand Spanish too well yet so I asked for some clarification. My brother misunderstood and thought I was choosing our real mom and got mad at me. My stepmom watched this little argument and then when I started to cry she laughed. I threatened to run away and left the house (as 7 year olds do) and she followed me out laughing the whole time as I cried harder and harder and got scared cuz I didn’t know what way to go. That was the first warning I guess.
Once my stepmom got pregnant, the real issues began. Suddenly everyone was hitting me. My brother was hitting me but he always hit me so whatever. But now my stepmom was hitting me and yelling at me for everything (example includes one time when I didn’t want to eat soup and she held me down on the bed while she spanked me and yelled) My dad was fine with this and he would hit me with his belt sometimes as well.
Also I got hit my a car around this time and I remember my stepmom telling me it was my fault and I was stupid and being mad at me for it (I slipped on ice and slid into the street as a car was passing) (this is also when I could no longer share a room with my brother so from this age until about 14 I slept on the couch in the living room- then I was allowed to sleep in the room again once it became my sisters)
This post is getting long im sorry but I’m going to list some more:
I’ve been hit with a vacuum chord(stepmom), belts (stepmom, dad) , shoes(stepmom),slapped (stepmom), punched (brother), chased with a knife (brother), kicked (stepmom), haiears pulled (stepmom,dad) to name what I can remember off the top of my head (not counting the little things like pinched and pushed etc)
When I was about 10 I decided it would be a good idea to become vegetarian (am to this day actually) and well it gave my stepmom a new punishment.
She would try to shove raw frozen meat down my throat. This happened multiple times and was a constant threat for about three years. (My brother was kicked out around this time because of always arguing with my stepmom. He went to live with our mom)
My dad didn’t care about any of this. He even encouraged her. A few times she would have me down on the floor and would kick and hit me while I cried and my dad and their daughter watched and ate their dinner.
I wasn’t allowed to have friends. If I did have any and I tried to go out with them my dad would call the police.
My grades were extremely important. Anything less than an A meant I was failing (no I’m not Asian don’t ask)
I started running in middle school and was very good at it but if I came in any place other than first my dad would be angry and threaten to not let me run anymore.
This is around when I became very depressed. I started to self harm at the age of 12. I seriously considered suicide at age 13 (attempted I guess you would say but I didn’t go through with it) and again at 16 (again attempted but did not go through with it- I was a wuss)
When I started puberty my stepmom made it her mission to remind how ugly I was. When I would shower (they were timed too I could only take 10-15 minutes or she would drag me out) she would come in randomly and laugh at my naked body while I cried and begged her to leave. My dad also would introduce me to people as “the one that came out ugly”
When I was 14 my stepmom decided I was done living off them for free so she made me get a job and start paying her rent (not a lot but still) and that I wasn’t allowed to eat her family’s food anymore (if I wanted to eat I had to buy it or make it myself)
Anytime I would cry or talk back or start to get emotional she would record me so that she could laugh at it in front of me.
She was always telling me how she was stuck with me because no one else wanted me. How she would dance on my grave when I died (I was suicidal and would self harm)
At 16 I started rebelling by staying out late and leaving early (I was usually gone from about 7am to 2 am) so they decided to kick me out. After my junior year of high school I was sent to live with my mom (6 hours away). However they kicked me out a few days before my mom could come get me so I spent about three days couch surfing with all my stuff at a friends house (who was hesitant to let me because they had already had the cops called on them by my dad)
All this and I had to also endure the fact that they had a great reputation around town. People would tell me how lucky I was to have my dad and how great he is. It always made me want to scream and cry but I couldn’t. I tried therapy but my dad ruined that too because the therapist wanted to meet him and decided he was a great person.
All this but it wasn’t all bad. I had a house to live in. I had clothes and food (mostly) and I was sometimes invited on trips with them, I was always told happy birthday even when I didn’t get anything and sometimes I got Christmas presents. My dad would give me money sometimes if I hid it from my stepmom and we had some good times. It’s thinking about the good times that make me feel like crying because I wish there were more and the thought of them makes me realize that it wasn’t all bad and that I still care about them. They raised me. They taught me a lot. There’s so much I left out. I wasn’t the best person either. I would take money from them (for food and personal hygiene things - I wasn’t allowed to use my stepmoms stuff for my periods) and I didn’t always listen. I would sneak around and act out but they put up with me for a long time.
And I know so many people out there who have actually been abused and it feels wrong to say I was. I was really lucky actually when I think about things other people go through. My mom was actually abused and it feels weird to put myself in the same category as her. I don’t feel like an abuse victim or a survivor. I just feel like it was kinda messed up but now that part of life is over.
Should I be calling this abuse? Or was it just a crappy childhood? I’m sorry this post was so long. Keep in mind I’m no angel either so I don’t know. I don’t know if I could ever refer to my childhood as abusive.
submitted by looneymoon21 to offmychest [link] [comments]


2020.09.14 04:38 Asianguy2385 Naked mom in shower

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submitted by Asianguy2385 to u/Asianguy2385 [link] [comments]


2020.09.10 23:58 Diamond_Angels Naked mom in shower

Warming this is rather long.
Recently my mother-in-law needed help with taking care of her elderly father so my wife and I decided to pack up and move down south. We are now all living under one roof. My mother in law sleeps in her own room she shares with her husband across the hall from my room. To the left of my room that I share with my wife (obviously) and to the right of her room is a linen closet full of towels and sheets and we even keep a box of trash bags in there. Well my wife reminded me that it was trash night and so like a good husband I got up and left my room. My mother-in-laws room was shut. I started to take care of a trash barrel we keep in the hall way and I opened the linen closet and my mother in law at the same time opens her bedroom door. Completely naked full frontal. We just stood there hesitating. I couldn't help but stare and she did nothing to cover herself up for at least 20 seconds. That's when my wife from our bedroom which was left wide open calls out "don't forget the trash in the bathroom." That's when my mother in law shut her bedroom door and I took care of the chores and went on my phone maybe an hour later and I text her.
I told her "not to worry." She replied "worried about what?" And I said "worry that I seen you naked." And she doesn't reply. Till around 12am I get a text from her. Saying "what exactly did you see?" I replied what I saw, I was fully honest. I mean she knew what I had seen. And then I apologized for the accident and she said no need to apologise. If you don't say anything I won't either. And I told her "of course I won't say anything my wife your daughter would probably be a little upset even though It was an accident right?" And she replied "yes, of course an accident..." So I asked her what was the meaning of her "..." And she simply said she hasn't gotten laid since Xmas last year and it was a real rush when I seen her exposed. She also said she was caught off guard and really didn't know I was going to be standing there. That she got startled and froze but that the rush was so immense and hot that she couldn't and didn't want to hide herself. She said that if I didn't say anything about it to anyone maybe she'll accidentally be exposed more often.
I honestly didn't know what to say so I just used a 🙂 emoji and a 🙄🤔😳 and we stopped texting. We usually never text anyways. This all happened maybe 4 months ago. We've all been living together now since February 7th 2020 and I have officially had to start keeping count how many accidental occurrences of when I seen my mother in law walking around the house completely naked. Her husband in their room and for some reason he says nothing. And how many times I'll be laying in bed facing away from my bedroom window and facing the door and my door be open and my mother in law's husband will leave to go to the bathroom or to work and he'll forget to shut his door and at times, and one time of the few that it's occurred I literally seen my mother in law laying in her bed reading a book but she purposely uncovers herself from under the sheets and she's wearing nothing but pink panties. Boobs just hanging out like if noone was home at all.
My wife too tends to leave the bedroom and forget to shut the door behind her and I'm always getting up now to shut the bedroom door and my wife asks me why I keep closing the door I tell her I'm trying to keep the AC air in and not let it out another time my excuse was that I just really like my privacy which is not a lie but my wife really, really thinks that I don't like her parents and that Im not trying to make an effort to get to know them.
Now Recently (yesterday) my wife was drinking a soda And i asked her where she got it because we don't keep soda in the house, and she said "I got it from mom, if you want one go ask her shes alone in her room. I was like NOPE lol. Now my wife's questioning me about why I don't seem to talk to her parents and try to be more friends with them since we're all living together and all and she'd like us to get to know each other. 😳😐😐😐
I told her I don't have anything against them "I just feel awkward cause they are YOUR parents and you and i have an age difference and from the start they didn't approve of us being together and they say their ok with us now but I still feel like things are weird." Which is all true. My wife's alot younger than me. Her mom's closer to my age. Anyways since February I've seen her mom naked 9 times now. And I'm not sure what to do. I mean I'm starting to wonder when's the next time I'll see her naked. Like a game or something. Everytime I see her dressed in my own mind I subconsciously think it's a relief she's dressed but also a "dang she's dressed" feeling.
My mother in law is very attractive and has great tits. Nice, nice body and she likes to sometimes acts funny and does little things like paint a portrait of a sunset and gift it to us or she gets so excited when she comes home from the store and she got us candy and wants to see our reaction because she'll buy my wife's favorite candy as a child etc just little things like that. Sometimes she comes into our room wearing no bra and just a really tight short short PJ top with winnie the pooh in the front and she'll come in saying "don't look keep your eyes closed or look away I want to talk to my daughter about something" so I'll face our tv and try to watch tv while they talk but the angle the room is set up I can perfectly see their reflection on the TV and she sometimes likes to try to tickle my wife and give her kisses all over just to get her to laugh and all I'm seeing is this amazing view of her butt up in the air wearing hipster panties sometimes a thong and she's bending over right behind me doggie style tickling my wife or sometimes just talking to her and I get so turned on at what I'm seeing and at times I imagine myself just turning around and sliding myself in her and hope that my wife's ok with it and that she's ok with it and hoping that as I trust deep in her that she starts to make out with my wife (her daughter) one time she was wearing special panties that had a slit in the crotch area so when she was bending over I can see her hole and I call it her "heaven". Butt hole and vagina hole just sitting there waiting for me and I'm trying so hard to not be unfaithful. I stood up and slowly not facing them I went to the bathroom to shower. A cold one lol I had hoped to come out the shower to find just my wife in my room 😂 My wife and I have had 3sums with her best friend in the past so it's like deja vu to me and I'm not sure if she's down for some [M-d] action. as of today my wife is at work and so is her dad. My mother in law and I have the house to ourselves and I'm in my room door shut not locked. And I'm hoping but not hoping about what could happen and shouldn't. Mother in law could be sleeping for all I know. But she could be awake and naked and waiting to see if I make a move or something. Actually now I hear her pacing back and forth in the hallway. 😐
submitted by Diamond_Angels to u/Diamond_Angels [link] [comments]


2020.09.10 21:35 WetArmor Naked mom in shower

I’m so glad this sub exists. I feel like locking your bedroom door is something most people have always been able to do even as kids, so I feel a little childish for being all excited about getting to do it now, but hey, it’s called “Congrats Like I’m 5” for a reason I guess!
Anyway, I have never ever had a lock or other kind of privacy mechanism on my bedroom door. Growing up my parents were very paranoid helicopters; even though I was homeschooled, never went anywhere without my parents, had no friends and didn’t know anyone outside of my family and close neighbors, thus having no means to do anything they would disapprove of (like drugs or whatever) they for some reason still felt like they needed to have 24/7 unobstructed access to my room or else I would get into trouble somehow. I wasn’t even allowed to close my door all the way (except for very briefly when I was getting dressed) for most of my childhood until I was about 17. Whenever I would ask for a lock or even just to shut my door to have some quiet, I was scolded because they assumed I must have something to hide if I was trying to keep them out of my room. When the worst thing I ever actually had to hide as a child was that sometimes I would stay up late to sneakily watch Robot Chicken when I wasn’t allowed to.
I am a young adult now, 21 next month. My mom has gotten much better and is mellowed out, she is not paranoid and restrictive anymore and she respects my privacy, so I can close my door and she will tap on it or call out if she needs to come in/wants to talk to me. My dad, however, has not made the same strides. He sometimes calls out like my mom, but more often than not he either comes right in with no warning at all, or “knocks” by lightly brushing his fingers against the door and then immediately comes in without waiting for a response. He has walked in on me in the middle of getting dressed or having just got out of the shower several times and has almost caught me masturbating once or twice (thank god for my quick reflexes). He gets explosively angry when I react by getting upset because he thinks I’m overreacting to “just an accident” (even though this happens often and he still doesn’t care to knock properly) and something something “I pay for the house so I can go wherever I want whenever I want”. It’s not so much he thinks I personally don’t deserve privacy, but he is a narcissist who is just incapable of considering the idea that other people have feelings and autonomy like he does. Regardless, I don’t trust him to knock!
I recently started working at a Home Depot so I have access to all kinds of fun home improvement doodads, including doorknobs of all kinds. The other day I took the relevant measurements of my door, did the research, and found a bed/bath doorknob we stock that would fit, was the right color finish, and has one of those little keyless turn-locks. It was only $10 so last night I bought it during my overnight shift, and I just now finished installing it this afternoon, which was a surprisingly easy process. I can finally lock my bedroom door!! Now I can get dressed, masturbate, lounge around my bedroom naked if I feel like it, and I never have to worry about getting walked in on EVER again!! It feels so good to turn that little lock and know that NO ONE is coming in, not even my bull-in-a-china-shop dad. It can still be opened from outside with a coin in case of an emergency, but no one can just burst in if I don’t want them to and that’s all I wanted. I’m so happy! I had to share my joy!
submitted by WetArmor to CongratsLikeImFive [link] [comments]


2020.09.10 18:40 Vider22 Naked mom in shower

TL;DR at bottom. So, this all started when my mom was screaming at my sister because she has not been doing any homework. I knew she was going a bit too far, so I stopped her and asked "why are your screaming so loud?" To which she responded with a literal life lesson and I just went to the bathroom and took a piss. While I was peeing, my mom tried opening the door and entering. The thing is, I don't like anyone seeing me naked. I never get naked around them, and I even shower with my underwear on. So I just slammed back the door in retaliation, but it was too late. She was pushing far more power than I could have stopped, so she just overpowered me. I put my pp back in my pants right as she was about to see it, and I pissed my pants a little bit. When I got out of the bathroom, I literally said to my mom "go to hell." After that, my mom began screaming at me all the things she's done for us, and began crying at the end, then ran into the kitchen. Now she's non stop crying. And dad is coming home in an hour. Send help.
TL;DR: pissy-pants makes mom cry
Edit: forgot to say I have explosive anger so I have literal breakdowns over small things
submitted by Vider22 to tifu [link] [comments]