same story I told in therapy group, but I’ll add a detail about my brother.”
“How did you experiment?”
“Well, with the prostitute, I couldn’t the first time, and with the other three, it was masturbation.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Well, no. I did it out of force. I tried to kill myself after failing with the prostitute and the Colombian.”
“Were you forced to do it? Well, yes and no. With the prostitute, it was my cousin who was a doctor trying to cure me of homosexuality.”
“In this culture, finding a virgin boy, in the sense that he hasn’t had penetration or a good fuck, is not common. And I’ll be honest with you. I’m 42 years old and you’re 17. The most logical thing would be for me to fuck you good, so you can’t walk for two weeks, and send you back to your university tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what to say. They say that hurts like hell, but the thing is, I really like you a lot.”
“That’s what I was planning to do, but now I can’t.”
“Do you no longer like me?”
“No, quite the opposite. You’re messing with my head.
When you talk about the abuse you’ve experienced, what they’ve done to you, and you say it without me seeing any resentment, any bitterness, it breaks my heart. What your brother did, the sexual abuse, is unforgivable. Your sister is crazier than a goat. Your father is worse than mine.
You’re so sweet, so innocent. I could never hurt you, and I promise you that no one else will either.”