::teleports anaamika a lollipop::
I should state that my husband does know about stuff like that, but it’s very abstract. I never go into details. I just keep it as “more than two partners in a night” kind of vague. We’re not lying to one another, he’s just not interested in knowing how many times a stranger made me come. And I’m not interested in that info from him, either.
And I gotta say: losing your virginity at 9? Doesn’t that cross the line from “losing one’s virginity” to “child sexual abuse”?
I lost mine at 12 and I think now that’s way too young.
Me neither.
Nothing.
I was about that age and I was not abused. I fooled around with neighbor boys (some of them early teens), gave my first blowjob at about 7-8. I should clarify that I don’t count anything before I was 17 in my total sexual partner numbers…shoud have mentioned that in the other thread…
To answer to OP of this thread though, no, there is nothing in my past that I either haven’t or wouldn’t tell my SO.
Then why did you send us all those woolen scarves for Christmas?
According to him, puberty kicked in when he was 9, and he became sexually active right away, with both adults and other kids. At the time he didn’t think of it as abuse, just people wanting to make him feel good.
I think that’s probably what adults say to kids they’re molesting.
If there was one sexual thing nobody should know…
I probably wouldn’t post it on an internet message board. 
I’m beginning to wonder whether it would be a good idea to tall my (hypothetical) partner that I have one of the the most boring sexual pasts imaginable. Given some of the other things people have mentioned, I’m not sure I would be believed.
Maybe I should make something up…
Naah.
My wife actually said she liked inexperienced men because she could teach them a few things and get them to please her easier (like training a dog to your liking I guess).
That’s true, to a degree. My last boyfriend before my husband was an 18-year-old virgin when I got hold of him (I was 23 at the time, and this was after my slutty week). Very malleable, but eventually I broke up with him precisely because he never came up with any ideas on his own - I felt like his teacher rather than his partner, and that’s not what I was after.
Exactly.
I’ve only had two sexual partners, so with the first one there was nothing not to tell. And the second, well, I can honestly say I told her everything, and considering what she told me during and after our relationship, I really can’t figure out anything you could possibly be hiding. If she tells me all of that, what wouldn’t she tell me?
I’m pretty much the same way. There’s stuff I don’t bring up, but it’s not like I’m going to refuse to answer direct questions about it if someone with legitimate reason to want to know cares to ask them.
Details of sexual experiences are rarely included in legitimate reason to know; I have a fairly distinct sense of privacy and respect for others, even though it goes in atypical places. That I have sex, or that I have kinky sex, or whatever, is not private information; it’s pretty generally known that it happens and sometimes when. The specific stuff I did last night with one partner isn’t the other partner’s damn business, and asking about it would be awfully rude and voyeuristic in my book.
OK, here’s my story…not quite as wild as the OP, but a definite secret-keeper, and definitely sexual.
What??? I hear gasps from the readers. The fundamentalist Orthodox Jew has a dirty sexual secret? Worry not, my faithful fans, this is 100% Kosher.
For those of you not aware, by Jewish law, a wife who has menstruated must wait a week after her bleeding stops and then immerse in a Mikvah that night(ritual pool of water). If a married couple is Torah-observant and in love, the wife will make a point of going to the Mikvah immediately as soon as possible.
Well, five months after my wife and I were married, my wife’s Mikvah night fell out on…
…the night of my sister’s wedding.
Well, we were (and still are) very much in love, so even for that we weren’t going to delay our Mikvah visit till the next night. As the Chuppah (actual religious wedding rite) was just about to begin, knowing that we would have only been faces in the crowd and our absence would not be conspicuous, we slipped out, ran for our car, drove to the nearest Mikvah, she did her thing, and we drove back. By the time we returned, the ceremony was over, the meal had begun, and our absence was noted…they had been looking for us for family pictures after the Chuppah. Our excuse was that my wife gets very emotional at weddings, had been crying, and needed to re-apply her makeup (which she did have to do, since she had just come from a full-body immersion in water, so that made the excuse pretty credible). Only two close friends of my wife (until now) know that we were not, in fact, in the crowd at my sister’s Chuppah.
POSTSCRIPT:
It was on that night that our first child was conceived.
Recently, my wife and I were sitting together with my parents and we mentioned how our childrens’ arrivals had caused us to miss family celebrations. We mentioned that our 3rd child’s birth made my wife miss my brother’s wedding, and our 5th child’s birth made her miss my cousin’s Bar Mitzvah. Then I added, “Oh, and (1st child) made us miss a family wedding as well.”
My wife and I had never had to try so hard to hold in our laughter than at this very private (I pray my parents don’t lurk) inside joke.
A nice story in all of this dirt!
At age 23, went to a BBQ at the Michigan farmhouse of a couple of friends of mine (I worked with the guy, was good friends with the lady) with my roommate, a female. My own boyfriend didn’t like this couple and declined to attend with me. After a night of some very hard partying including ingestion of a variety of substances, it was clear my roomie was in no condition to drive herself, and me, home. There were some other party-goers in the same boat, so everyone was assigned a bedroom in this huge old house, and off to sleep they all went—somehow I had remained a little less blasted out of my mind than everyone else, so I stayed up to help with dishes. Host offered me a bit of cocaine and while I declined, he did not. In short order it was Host and myself alone with everyone else in bed, and we proceeded to have sex in every way imaginable all over the house (and I mean everywhere!), except in the bedrooms of course. All the rest of the night. Even outside, in his car. The coke had made him permanently stiff, and we certainly lost count of how many times and places he made me orgasm. When dawn was breaking, he STILL wanted to continue, but I had to finally beg off and pretend to go to bed.
In the AM, his woman came into the kitchen to make coffee for some of the guests who’d stayed and were now up. I overheard her complain about Host failing to come to bed and “give her any” the previous night, and couldn’t help but snigger.
How the entire rest of the house never heard us I cannot imagine to this day, but no one ever knew (until I told the roommate, about a month later). The worst part was facing this guy at work the next Monday, as the girls at work and I had always dismissed him as “too much of a cold fish” to ever be a boyfriend candidate or good lover.
I’m here to tell you, we could not have been more wrong!
A year later, I meet a guy who invites me to a BBQ with his extended family after a few dates. It was a full pig roast and kegger at another farmhouse just out of town. I was nervous, and I guess I drank a bit too much rather too quickly…I apparently stripped naked in front of all his aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, grandparents and siblings, and went skinny-dipping in the family pool. After which, I attempted to give him a blow job in front of all and sundry, which he gently rebuffed and quickly steered me into his truck and took me home. Gee, he had sure never turned one down before, and I was more than happy to tell his family this, as he was pouring me into the front seat.
The next day he asked me to marry him! I declined, finally and at long last embarrassed beyond endurance.
I won’t tell current b/f either of these tales, but he does wonder why I frequently refuse to go to BBQs with him.
–Beck
Wait. You did all of this in front of his family and he still proposed? And you said no?
Well, yes I did. Do all of that.
And yes, he proposed. He had been surrounded by fairly tame girls all his life in the sheltered little town where he grew up (this was the early '80’s after all), and I guess I shocked him into the realization that there was a “wild side” out there somewhere, available to him. He was VERY attracted to that. He really liked my impetuosity. He liked my unpredictability. He liked my spirit.
(I think he just liked my blow jobs.)
He also realized I was dead drunk, and forgave me my indiscretions, even in front of his family. In retrospect, I think he enjoyed that I had shocked them out of their complacency a bit.
But in all honesty, he was too much of a sheltered child for me, and looked to me to keep his life from being boring and staid just a little too much. He always deferred to me to decide what we’d do next. Who could live up to that much pressure in the long run?
And I am right, he’d be completely and absolutely bored & disappointed with me by now.
–Beck
I’m pretty much with Kairos on this. I’ll tell my BF pretty much everything and trust that he won’t judge me too harshly. If he does, well, maybe he’s not for me. The one thing I won’t do is get into comparisons. That’s just tacky and never works out. No answer is right. “You’re the BEST” isn’t believed and anything else leads to hurt feelings.
Humm - I almost feel like I need to make up some stories not to tell anybody.
No kidding/ 