Not So Common Twist On Sexual Assault… Child On Child Sex Abuse, And Foster Care, My Own Story

Just a disclaimer here… I am normally a little better about editing and content… but this was rather difficult, not so much to write, but to finish writing. To go back and read, to clean it up… I think I was subconsciously delaying publication, with my failure to finish editing…. so if I missed some stuff, I am sorry.. I hope I have at least been coherent enough to make my point, if there was one to make.

Alan

Yes, this is a true story, my true story.

He Was Six, But It Was Still Molestation, Still Sexual Abuse… Just At The Hands Of A Child

I was 6 years old, a first grader, lying in bed, trying to go back to sleep. it was way to early to be up yet, before dawn, and I was trying to get the boy to leave me alone, and go back to his bed. It was a Saturday, the one day I got to sleep in.

the boy, was a foster child my parents had taken in. He was 6 as well, but had missed the birthday cut off to start first grade. So he was a few months younger than I. We shared a large bedroom, with beds on opposite ends of them room

On this particular cold night/early morning, he waspestering me to get in bedwith me, alternating between complaining of cold, to being afraid, but to no avail, I wasn’t having it , and told him to go back to his bed

I rolled over, done with the conversation, and went back to sleep.

Only the boy wasn’t going back to bed, at least not his bed. He waited until I had fallen asleep, and crawled into my bed anyway.

slowly, he creeped closer until he was snuggling, cuddling me. though as a 6 year old, I didnt know what spooning was, that’s what he was doing. though i pushed him aside when I woke, i let him stay, but insisted he quit touching me. However, he persisited in my sleep, until i awoke with him, rubbing and fondling my genitals.

Now of course, I awoke, in shock and shoved him away, insisted he leave my bed. He then proceeded to start crying, more whine wailing, really. It started to get loud, and I didn’t want mom to get up, and whuup on us for being awake. Trust me, the fear of maybe, we might get in trouble for what he was doing was one thing. The trouble we would absolutely get in, If we woke mom up. , well that was certain, absolute, and legendary. No, waking mom up. Was definitely not a good option.. Unless, the house was on fire…

So I relented,and allowed him to sleep in my bed if he would just keep his hands to himself. he was apologetic, claimed it was accidental, that he was sleeping too, didn’t know he was doing it..

All calmed down, mom didnt wake up, i was good, lets just go back to sleep.

Except he wasn’t done. this time i woke, not only to him fondling me, he had his hands fully inside my underwear, indeed, he had them pulled down, and, I have to admit, I was arroused, though that word certainly wasn’t in my vocabulary at the time. I was only six at the time, but my little pecker was wide awake.

I was confused, I pushed him away, yelled at him, but I was really confused. he reached back in, groping, ad whispered, “I wanna play mommy and daddy.”

What?”, I said, thinking I hadn’t’ understood.

“I wanna play mommy and daddy, I ‘ll be the mommy”, he repeated, and went back to rubbing my genitals.

I stopped him again, but hadn’t thrown him off the bed yet. He was pleading, that he just wanted to play mommy and daddy, that there was nothing wrong with it. We were just pretending to be grownups.

I was at a total loss, I mean, I hadn’t seen, or even heard of any of the stuff he was doing..

He said it was a game we play, its ok. I didnt think, again, I was 6, to ask with whom he had played this game before,. That certainly might have explained alot.

He sat there and told me things I had no business knowing, I got my birds and the bees talk from a 6 year old! And, he was startlingly accurate, in retrospect, for a 6 year old. I mean, the only part he got wrong, was that you don’t pee in the girls vagina(yes, he knew the word vagina), it is, quite a different ejaculate entirely, but he had the mechanics down, believe me.

He said boys stick their peepee in the vagina, and peed in it. Nothing to say about where babies come from, as I recollect, or whether he had knowlege os sex leading to babies. I don’t think so, but it was a pretty mind blowing morning, so some shit could have got past me… but he sure wanted to do some humping, and seemed to know what he was doing.

Now me, I thought he was crazy. Just another attention getting story. I wanted to get some sleep….. Pee in the girl? Please! And Humping? What for? Remember I was as naive as they come, I cannot stress this enough. I had no idea what he was talking about, had no clue what sex was, why it was, or whether the boy knew what he was talking about or not.

I really, just wannted to go back to sleep. I was certainly blown away by , and yeas, curious, about what he had made my peepee do… that was new. Sure, I had gotten hard ons before, 7 , 6, 5, hell 4 year olds do.. But i wasnt yet versed on the idea of doing it on purpose, nor how to do it. I suppose THAT changed that day.

But I was just super naive, and apparently, either my parents were too,or the State hadn’t made my parents aware of the trauma’s this kid really had suffered. I can’t imagine, if my parents had known that he was capable of this, we wouldn’t have been sharing a room, if he was even there. We actually had a spare room, so it wasn’t a case of space. They want us to stay in the same room, so we could socialize, bond… I don’t think this is the kind of bonding my parents had in mind, at least fer fuck sakes, I hope not!

But I have digressed… naivete aside, I was tired, so , as he continued to plead with me, beg me, to play this humping game. To play mommy and daddy with him, “please, Please be The daddy!’ Please” Please Hump Mommy Please daddy, Please?”…

At this point, I am just ready to go to sleep. He promises that he will go back to his bed, promises to leave me alone, if i will only, play the game wih him for a few minutes. Says it helps him sleep, helps him calm down .

I am so tired, and confused that I relent. “Fine” I said, “just a couple minutes… what do I do?”

He explained, humping the pillow, to really, to show me what to do. Why do I have to be the daddy?” I ask. “What’s the difference?”

“I just really like to be the mommy,” he said excitedly “Most people like to be the daddy. He gets to do the humping!” He gets to be on top, gets to hump. but I like the mommy..I like to get humped better. But you, you will like humping, I can tell!” He eagerly scooted down on the bed, trying to get below me. he reached up for me, attempting to pull me down on top of him.

Thinking back on that statement in this moment…. my god… he told me right there, he had done this before. had seen others do this before…..

… but I was 6. I was tired… and if giving this weird kid a few humps was going to get me back to sleep, I guess I was just going to have to play along. I was going to have to try this humping game, if I was ever going to get any sleep.

So I climbed up above him, and was, I dont know,goingg to do push ups i guess, i was still pretty confused as to why.. but hey…

When he stopped me, “Wait, we need to be naked!”

Woah! What? I am thinking. “No way!”, I exclaim, as I flip back down to sitting on the bed.

“Yeah”, he said, “we need to be naked”

‘No way”, I said, “no way!”

I know that this is wrong, I know we will get in trouble, no way! weird wrestling thing, in bed? That I can buy. But naked? No, No, No… Not with my mom, no way, I know, without knowing why, that that would not be ok… that would be trouble.

“No way”, I repeated.

“Yeah, naked, skin to skin”, he said.

“What?” That took the shocK level even further, Skin to skin… touching? I mean, I guess naked implied that, but.. when he vocalized it.. And in vocalizing, had an almost dreaming tone to it, like he was picturing it.

“Yeah”, he continued, “touching, and humping..”

‘No way……., No way! Go , go , go! go back to your bed!” I reacted, physically shoving him off of the bed this time.

“Wait! Wait… ok, ok… just wait..” he pleaded, “not skin to skin, a blanket, uh, uh uh a sheet, between us..! What about that… a sheet. Please, i swear, just a few minutes, and i will go back to my bed i swear!!”

A blanket?

between us,one of us under the blanket,one of us on top

like if I were laying in bed and you jumped on me, in you r underwear then why do we need to be naked?

You just have to, oh.. it doesn’t work right

If you aren’t naked the game just doesn’t work!!

he was almost hysterical tears by now, sitting on the floor, crying

Again, i relented.. “A blanket, a blanket then..”

I was really wondering why in the Hell my parents brought this kid into our house… not for the obvious reason, that he was molesting me… no, because the annoying shit wouldnt let me get to sleep!..

so we undress, he lays down, pulling the blanket over him, and I lay on top of the blanket, and after giggling, and figgeting for a few seconds, tried to do the hump thing he wanted me to do.

He was thrusting upward at me, rhythmically, and yet frantically, and as I was trying to adjust, trying to figure out what to do, he reached around with both hands, to grab my butt, yanking me down on him..

I freaked, and just as I was pushing myself off of him, and recoiling backwards… I become aware that My Mom had come into The room and was howling for us to STOP!!!!

Yeah

Woah…

Time, for the briefest of moments, went slow, and I could only hear my mom, as if she were far away. Down some hallway, faintly calling to me.

Now, I knew she was there, I could feel her presence, her hands upon me, but, for some reason, the blood was rushing to my head with such force, I was literally deafened.

I remember her yelling, again, I KNEW she was yelling,could see it in her face, even here it in her tone, I had just had really muffled volume.

But I knew what she was saying, I just remenber being puzzled by something shielding my ears from the full wrath of my mom’s verbal assault at that moment. She was going on about how it was a sin, and it was sinful. That she couldn’t believe her precious boy, was doing this, all the while ripping us bodily from the bed, one of us, by the wrist in each hand, being dragged by mom down the hallway, and to the kitchen table. I remember briefly trying to explain that it wasn’t my fault, that it was the boy’s idea, but was cut off by that look that said , “say another word, and I will rip out your tongue”, along with a ‘Dont you dare! you know better, you were raised better, we have taught you better!”

She sat us down, one on each side of the table, on two person benches we had.

The table was in the dining area off the kitchen, with a big bautiful picture window, a good five feet across, and five feet tall, looking out over our front yard, and out into the street.

It was a really beautiful view, Fall’s morning condensation at the corners of the window.The blinds were wide open, to let in the morning sunlight. Wide open view of the world, and a wide open view of us inside, to the whole wide world out there, this fine 5 am in the morning….

Why is that important you ask?

because mom hadn’t paused to dress us before she dragged us out to the table. Nope. There we were, buck naked six year olds, sitting in their like puppy dogs in the window. I had never noticed the exposure of that window, until I sat in front of it naked, I’ll tell you what. I don’t think I ever noticed that people might see in, before that…. i sure as hell was aware of it after…

Yup naked as jay birds. Said if we wanted to be dirty, filthy, naughy little boys, we could just show the whole world, let everyone see. if we had no shame, no shame enough to do what we had done!

Why would we have any shame about being naked, she asked? we didnt need any clothes at all. We had no right to any shame, after the way we were acting. We could sit there thru breakfast. Eat naked.

She didnt care. In fact, now that I think about it, “You boys can sit there naked until your father gets home from work. let him see you, all naked and shameless, sitting in the picture window when he comes to the door!” That was the plan then.

I tried again to plead my case, only to get a, “shut your mouth but for eating! Not another word, until your father gets home!”again, with that look that said, “no more threats, physical harm is next!”

So, I returned to my eggs

Which I hated by the way, more than anything, just hated scrambled eggs!.. so I sat there and pushed eggs around my plate, waiting for dad to get home…. naked.. in the window.

Thing is, they had taught me better, she was right, in a way… I had been taught about right and wrong…. But,I had no knowlege at all, not even of the good, with which to reference. I was simply a kid learning a new game… perhaps, had I some inkling, some sort of knowlege at all… not so much the birds and the bees, but maybe… I don’t know, maybe some warning that people werent supposed to touch you there at all…. I was a wrestler, so inadvertent touching had happened. But not much more than a ‘hey, not OK to hit, or grab there’, had happened. No real explanation, just that it was verboten, it could hurt, etc..

I really think my parents were a bit pie eyed, when it came to foster care. They really thought it was giving back to the community, helpingout.. and, if they were to be truthful, someone told them that taking in foster kids might help mom and dad conceive. Mom had quite a few miscarriages. They really wanted siblings for me, and thought foster kids might get mom or dad, or both, better chemically primed to conceive. Couldn’t, hurt, right?….

Well… I guess… maybe it did…hurt, that is…. I hurt….. not as bad as I used to… but I hurt. Hurt deeply before though. Not right away.. well, thats not true, that kind of shame cuts deep… but no,it was later, that I really felt shame, feltpain. it was when I was actually learning about sex, ya know later, maybe 4th, or 5th grade… maybe it was 3rd, maybe it was 6th. But, when the realization that what i had been emulting… and that perhaps I was emulating homosexual behavior? Was I homosexual? Is that why I did it?

Was I asking for it?

Was I asking for it because I was gay?

Dare I even admit it happened?

If I admit it am I gay?

Though I was on top, he pulled me there, wanted me there, he was the aggressor. Will anyone believe me?

Can I be a victim, because he had me on top?

would that have been a concern, had I been a girl? Why?

he had me playing the boy, can a boy be raped, by a boy below him?

Can the passive rape?

Can the predator want to be dominated?

Can the predator, order, control, without force, his victim?

Can the victim, that might escape, but fears trying, really be a victim?

Is it easier to victimize, those that dont even understand their victimhood?

Keep in mind, views on homosexuality have changed drastically since 1975.

So did my questions.. and the fear inherent within these questions, and their answers.

Still wondering if I might be gay… and if I was, was I doing a disservice to my gay friends, by not acknowledging it. Yeah, that is deep I was internalizing this, from a pretty young age.

I sure didn’t think i was gay. I was open to it, at least I think. I really didn’t’ have the urges, so, not having to suppress them, or not suppress, I suppose I don’t really know. I really, just wasn’t. And trust me, there were opportunities… offers… Hell, I could have made some real fuckin’ money.. badompdomp, get it? ‘fuck’in money?

It just wasn’t something I could pull off. wasn’t something I could fake

But… could I ever rule it out? Being gay? Because, that one time, when I was six, another boy touched my penis and made it get hard?

Might have been helpful, if mom and dad had actually talked to us about i, beyond moms crazy filthy boy rant when she caught us. maybe they would have got at the root of what went on, the root of the boy learned this stuff in the first place.

I dont know, maybe they did. I know the boy didn’t last past the next week. The state came and took him away, to be placed with another family. Would they warn that other family, any better than my parents were warned?

Or did my parent’s tell them? I doubt that could have really told them much, because as I said, I never got a chance to explain it from my side, that is for sure. So unless they confronted the boy, and he copped to it all before they could interrogate me, they never bothered with getting the full story.

I know this, because, as I said, Mom had pulled the old, “wait til your father gets home’ routine, and upon his getting home, he was so appalled at her putting us on display like that it was more than he could take or compute.

He immediately sent us to our room to get dressed, and go back to bed. It was never, to my knowlege, spoken of again. at least with me. as I said, mom and dad must have said something to each other, but they never mentioned it to us again. Maybe mom, in her denial, didnt ask, because, she didn’t know much, and didn’t want to know more. it is, a pattern I saw later in life with her, to be sure. Wish she had taken a different tack this time, or perhaps, had seen more, so she’d have had no choice. Then again, maybe not… She had become a Mormon… she might have fucked me up even more!

Ya see I am pretty sure denial was the real answer. Because, as I said, the boy was sent to live with another family. And, another child, was sent to live with us.

I just cannot fathom, that if they really knew what went on, that they would have any more dealings with foster care at all. But they did. We had two more foster children, over my grade school years.

I mean, they can’t have said, “oops, this one molested our kid. they cant all be bad, let’s get two more… Imean, we got our bad one out of the way, right?”

That would be ludicrous, right?

And, even if they were cavalier with my safety, did they tell the State ALL of their suspicions? How could they, since they couldn’t tell them the facts, never having gotten them.

I have three small children, all 7 and under…… if a foster kid caused that kind of ruckus with my kids…. it would be the last foster kid.

Why wasn’t that the case with my parents?

The only logical answer, is that mom, really didn’t see anything, and was afraid to find out what she didn’t see… blocked out the possibility anything worse could have happened.

The real villain here though, was the State of Oregon, specifically their foster care system, at least as it was in 1974.

What the fuck were they thinking? I know that my parents knew SOMETHING was wrong with the boys family life, I mean, why else would he end up on permanent placement?

I remember my parents referring to the boys parents, and extended family members, as monsters, as evil. That they hoped that the boy would never be plaaced back with ANY of his family. They hoped he would get outright adopted. At least initially, tey had wanted to be the ones to adopt him, give me a younger brother.

So they knew enough to not want him to go back to his sick family, but were unaware, or in denial, about what the boy had seen. What he boy may have done, may have participated in, previously…

But ya know what? Ya know who DID know? The State, that’s who. They knew, and they let my mom not ask the right questions. They knew, and let my mom endanger me with her naivete anyway.

I do remember, converstations overheard later, at holidays, i believe, where some far flung relative asked where the foster kid from last year had gotten off to, only to be shushed, and have it explained in another room.

Though unable to eavesdrop on the entirety of the converstation, I did here this part, the “no, no argument, in fact, they came and picked him up the very next day”

The way I see it, the state knew he might be a problem, and was ready to take him, perhaps had himlabled as a problem child to begin with. That would make sense, dad was in Law enforcement, Mom and dad were Mormon..

I could see my parents nutting up, “oh hell, we can handle whatever kid you send oyr way…” I can just see it… over-confidence/arrogance/naivete… whatever you want to call it.

And the state pulled a,”Oh Yeah, try this…” Glad they decided to punish my parents arrogance,by taking away my innocense,by marking, scarring, changing me,for life…..

Thanx anonymous State of Oregon employee….

Thankfully, I had my kids late in life, no way you can have the same effect on the lives of my children, retirement being what it is…. Still..

How many other kids were endangered, or hurt, by children placed by the state?

Has anyone even researched how many children get abused, not in the foster care system, but by those IN the foster care system?

Can’t imagine it’s a study they would want to make public, but still. given my experience, I think I have a right to know… I think we all have a right to know….

How many children, per year, are molested by children in foster care, children that are wards of the state?

If, one is harmed, by a ward of the state, who, is liable?

Who is responsible?

Who, is culpable?

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