What was my first experience with sex? Well, I was 12 years old…yes 12! I had just started babysitting at a neighbor’s down the street. They had a long bookshelf filled with all kinds of books we never had at our house. I swear this paperback book jumped off the shelf! It had a beautiful woman and a man, more handsome than I had ever seen, holding each other with looks of desire. I started flipping through the pages and found a part where the man and woman had sex, but didn’t exactly explain how they did it. Remember, I was twelve but I started having all of these tingly feelings! I had never read anything that made me feel like this before! This was great! The only books we had in our house were the Bible that was never opened and books by Erma Bombeck and Laura Ingalls Wilder. So, this was the type of story that went with masturbating! Don’t even tell me you didn’t masturbate when you were a little kid. We all did!
A whole new world of sex was open to me. So I went home and that night I wrote a story to get that feeling again. I had always loved writing in my journal so this was going to be great! After a while, the sex wasn’t that big of a deal. I put my sex writings away in my special private stash and forgot about them.
One night after dinner I was sitting on the living room floor next to my father who was sitting in his chair while he drank something golden from his cut crystal glass and my three toddler siblings were jumping on the sofa while eating lollipops. Andy Williams was singing on the TV and everything was calm. This next part seemed to blindside me as things were going along fine. My mother came blasting into the living room holding the pages of my story shrieking, “What the hell is this disgusting piece of porn!” Yes, she had snooped into my stuff and was screaming at me in front of my father and the other kids. “Where did you learn this disgusting garbage?!” she screamed. “I always knew you were a slut. Are you out there doing these things you wrote about?” I stood up trying to get between her and my father. “Mom, what are you talking about? Stop?” The kids on the sofa were huddled together crying while my father kept sipping his drink, looked up and said, “For Christ sake, Judy shut up.”
My mother could not be stopped. She was on a roll and had vulnerable prey to destroy. My mouth was dry, I was choking on my words to get her to stop embarrassing me. The little kids didn’t know what was happening but they hated when Mom was mean to me.
“Richard, you should read some of this filth I found.” “No!” I choked out. With all my shamed, broken heart, I begged her to give me my writings and let me throw them out.
“They walked along the beach arm in arm looking at each other with longing in their eyes. He asked her to go to his bungalow.” I didn’t know what a bungalow was and she knew it. “Once inside his lair”...Lair? “He swept her up in a mad embrace and kissed her more passionately than she had ever been kissed before. They made their way to his bedroom.” “Mom, stop!” I begged her. I could tell she loved my humiliation. Yes, this really happened! “They fell on the bed and tore each other’s clothes off. With the heat of the moment he entered her womb.” Stop laughing! I don’t know, I’m Catholic. It made sense to me. I know it’s funny, but it wasn’t funny at the time. My father yelled at her again to shut up while everyone kept crying, including me. Dad looked at me and said, “Let’s go for a drive.” He had never done anything like that before. He was protecting me from her for the first time. I followed him out to the garage with Mom close behind. I ran to the car as fast as I could with Dad already in bellowing, “Get in!” I was almost in when I looked up to see Mom’s sick, ridiculing face leaning out the kitchen door. She said, “Be careful you don’t let any one enter your womb!”