Abused as a Child. 1948-1957

Two entries in another Blog

When I was five my father beat me. My mother nursed my sister. And I sat and watched, and then she pulled me into nurse too. Finally, she pulled on my woody while my sister nursed or I did. She called it her woody, and she increased her abuse of me directly proportional to the violence of my father towards the three of us. My mother and father made it all uglier by participating with other adults in a dysfunctional sexual relationship. I don't remember the first time I was actually inside my mother, my sister or my mother's lesbian friend. This continued until I was 14, and no one ever caught it. My parents are dead. My step father is dead. My mother's lesbian lover is dead. I have been writing about his for ten years.
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Masturbation is God

Shame. I love to masturbate. No guilt. I made my sheets thick with semen by the age of twelve and I imagine my mother washing them, as I saw her once, smelling them, and smiling. Then she leaned against the washing machine.

There is never shame in pleasure experienced between mutually vulnerable adults. Children change the equation. NO SHAME TO THE CHILD. The Adults, who were probably abused as children, bear the shame but not because masturbation is wrong, but the exploitation of children is criminal and more than shame.