DDLG Lifestyle

It took me approximately 10 years to fully understand the trauma and how to get past it in a healthy way. The distorted idea of sexuality .

Pinpointing the exact age of when most of my traumas occurred is nearly imposible to recall. I remember tidbits of some traumas and other traumas I remember vividly. My father; rest in peace, was in one way or another involved in the lifestyle. I didn’t entirely know how but now that I’m older I’m able to put things into some prospective. My entire family was wrapped up in cartels. My mom ended up in jail, my father was on the run. We managed to hide in a 3rd class hotel in a small city Deep South of Mexico. It was thousands of miles from the U.S and the perfect place to hide from both the Mexican government and the U.S. He was alway a hustler so he knew his way around.

Every weekend, my dad would make plans with his friends. He would drag my brother and I with him to these cantinas where sex workers would serve us drinks, provide company and entertainment and in many occasions, they’d come back to the hotel with where we each had our own separate room. My brother jumped on the sex boat quickly while I would politely decline. I felt like I wasn’t quite ready to engage in any sexual activity with anyone. I wanted my first time to be very special. Special like my mom described it. First love, first kiss, romantic, beautiful. What my dad was offering smelled like cigarettes, alcohol and cheap perfume. It wasn’t enticing.

One night, my father called a group of girls to our table and one of the ladies was kept me company. I humor her because I felt like I needed to be polite, a gentleman and respectful. My father then decided that it was time to go back to the hotel. My father spoke all the necessary lingo to conduct a business transaction and leads her into my room. I was sitting at the edge of the bed, nervous, shaking, replaying scenarios of how the night was going to end. She walked in and closed the door behind her. Took one good look at me and asked, “are you ok?”. She saw my hesitation and smiled, sat next to me by the bed, looked over by the little table where a deck of playing cards sat and asked; “You play cards?” “Yes” I replied. “Let’s Play!” She responded. I jumped out the bed and grabbed the deck, pulled them out and started shuffling the cards. We played cards for hours. She told me about her private life and her struggles. She was a single mom trying to make ends meet. She also made me promise I wouldn’t share her real name and personal information. I felt special. As if I knew something nobody else did. She trusted me!

It became a routine, we had arranged it. Every time I’d show up with my dad to the same cantina, either she would sit next to me and come back with me to the hotel, or another girl in the group who knew about me would. The scam went on for almost a year.

One day my father decided to hangout at a new bar in another town. Unfamiliar with anyone there I felt experienced enough to choose someone nice. Someone who I can trust. Keep in mind I’m 12 ok!

I found that someone. A 22 year old young beautiful girl. She said I was funny and handsome lol. We laughed and joked and I even flirted a little bit. At the end of the night we madd way back to the hotel. She discussed business with my father and off she goes into my room.

This time I had already pulled up a chair and sat by the small table. She closes the door behind her and before I had a chance to say anything, she tells me she was going to rinse up. I was nervous. It was someone new. She came out of the restroom with a towel wrapped around her waist. I became nervous and asked her asked if she wanted to play cards. She politely declined and approached me, grabbed my hand, put it on her breast and gave me a kiss. I froze. I then asked her to sit down with me. I went on to explain that I was a virgin, that I had never had sex before and that I wasn’t ready. I explained my intentions. She became invested. I told her what I had been doing for nearly a year and that I didn’t have a problem with her just hanging out and still make money. She refused. She yelled “I am getting paid for a service. If you don’t fuck me I’m telling your father. Take your clothes off:” I refused and begged her to understand me. She walked out of the room naked, knocked on my dads door and told him everything. My father was furious! A few minutes later, my father walks in with her and one of the two girls that had walked in with him. Tells them both, “do not let him leave this room until he’s lost his virginity”

I’m scared. Im shaking.

They ripped off my shirt and bit me all over my arms, chest and stomach trying to pull down my pants. Everything slowed down. I Can hear every noise down the hallway, their laughs became just background noise. I kept thinking; “any minute my dad is going to bang on that door and shit is going to get real.” I gave up. I stopped.

Something switched in my mind. I was that this was going to happen. There was no way out. Slowly I began to fill my heart with rage. I felt something I had never felt before, power, strength, primal instinct. I took over. I kept them in the room all night and the following day until around 4:30 p.m. They begged me to stop a few times but I didn’t listen. I was too angry to care.

When it was all over I got up and locked myself in the restroom until they left. I overheard one of them in the hallway speaking to my father. “DONT worry, your son isn’t gay”. My mind was filled with so much confusion and I can now best describe that feeling as a negative drop. I sat on the floor of the shower and cried my ass off trying to wash my body clean. Recreating the scene over and over again. When I got out of the room, my father greeted me with a hug and smile. He told me he was proud of me. I smiled back at him and told him I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

In my mind, their persistent desire to want to make me cum became my strength. Literally the only thing they couldn’t take away from me and they didn’t! They couldn’t. I choose not to give them that satisfaction, and I held tight to that for years. Nobody would ever take that away from me! Other times I’d wait until I was alone again to masturbate and release alone, only to break down and cry.

The few times I shared my story with the boys, their reaction came with no surprise. “you are so lucky. I wish my dad would’ve done that to me.” Among other things. I’d dismiss it with a laugh and a “you’re right”. Something felt broken inside. I certainly didn’t assume that how I was doing things was the right way. But I also didn’t care. I was angry at myself mostly.