This slowly became a pleasure of mine and eventually I started masturbating in bed while they did it. I am now a recovering sex addict and insomniac who is trying to stop seeing escorts. There may or may not be some causal connection. Yesterday while I was staying up very late into the night, at around 4am or so, I suddenly remembered something from my childhood that I have not thought about in a very long time.
And the fact that it had been almost forgotten, or repressed I guess, kind of shocked me. Until I was about 15 years old, I slept with my parents, on their bed, in their room.
My older siblings had their own rooms but given that I was the youngest, my family was poor, and the house was very small, the only space for me was really their room. It was a large bed and I would sleep on one side and my parents would sleep together beside me, with my mom in the middle.
It was like this since I could remember. I never told anyone at school or invited my friends home for fear of embarrassment that I did not have my own bed or room. My dad worked late so my mom and I would usually be in bed by the time he came home, and I would be fast asleep by the time he joined us. One night, when I was around 10 years old, I woke up in the middle of the night at about 2am. The bed was shaking and I heard some noises.
At first it sounded like sucking noises repeatedly. The kind you hear when you put a suction cup on a window and then pull it off, again and again.
And then I heard my parents whispering. So I laid there -- I had been facing the wall with my back towards them -- just staring at the wall. Then I heard them get up and walk away to the washroom.
They returned a few minutes later, came to bed and fell asleep. My mom put her arm around me and I just remember feeling really worried at this point. They fell asleep almost immediately but I just laid there thinking about what had happened. I went to school as usual and avoided talking to her.
That night I remember not wanting to go to bed. I was worried that whatever had happened would repeat itself, I would wake up and that I would have to pretend to be asleep, and might get in trouble if caught. I felt a little better that way.
My mom was asleep though. Sure enough, my dad got home, had his dinner in the kitchen, and eventually got into bed. My mom was still asleep.
A few minutes later I felt him rolling on to his side and wrap his arm around my mom and me. I suddenly felt a wave of fear and anxiety crashing into me. I heard my mom sleepily grunt and return her hand around me. I felt cautiously optimistic for an instant. Then my dad placed his hand on her shoulder, from what I could figure without actually seeing it, and kind of pulled my mom away from me, forcibly, and towards him. Now her arm was no longer around me and I could no longer feel her pressed against my back.
I was alone and I think I had tears rolling out of my eyes soon after but I dared not make a sound. I felt the mattress flexing around a little and then the rest of the night was the same as the one before. I started feeling the mattress bounce and hearing similar noises.
And then they both got up, went to the bathroom and returned. I stayed awake for a long while not being able to sleep before I dozed off. But this time, the fact that I had felt my dad tear my mom away from me, when she had initially refused to turn around, worried me a lot. I was thinking that he was forcing her to do something against her will and there was nothing she could do about it. I felt like I should help her and tell him to stop bothering her but I was too afraid to do any such thing.
This made me feel guilty. I remember that I would try to stay awake making excuses because I hated going to that bed now. And when my mom eventually would drag me to bed and wrap her arm around me, spooning, I would now hold her arm firmly with my hand. And when my dad would try to pull her away, I would just hold onto it a little firmly while pretending to be asleep.
Sometimes he would just pull her harder and I would let go. And other times, and this was when I felt the worst, my mom would remove my hand with her other hand and then roll away.
On those nights I felt betrayed. After a couple weeks of this, I started being able to fall asleep before my dad got home and sleep through it on most nights. Some nights I would wake up and stay awake until it finished.
The remaining is more of a blur to me as this went on until I was But I remember a few things here and there. I remember trying to turn around slowly, still pretending to be asleep, hoping that this would make them stop. I only tried this a few nights and I remember that my mom would immediately hold my shoulder with one hand and push it back towards the wall.
Some nights she kept one hand pressed against my back or on my shoulder, holding it in place, while the bed kept bouncing. My mom replied that no, nothing was moving and that I should close my eyes and go back to sleep. I also asked her about this,very subtly, once in the morning, and she just casually dismissed the question. She would very firmly reply that I should close my eyes and turn back towards the wall.
And if I refused and insisted, my dad would chime in and tell me the same thing angrily. A few times, he reached over and forcibly turned me over to my side and told me to close my eyes and get back to sleep. These things intimidated me and usually led me to stay awake for the rest of the night.
I learned about sex very vaguely less than a year after the first occurrence from a friend at school. By the time I was 12, I realized that my parents were having sex.
This was a strange time for me because I had a lot of mixed feelings by then. It was no longer just fear and anxiety, and it changed from time to time. It excited me, the sounds and the motion, knowing that a couple were having sex just a few inches away from me.
On nights when my mom kept her hand on me as they were having sex, it felt thrilling. I looked forward to it sometimes and on some nights I just wanted to sleep because I had school the next morning. Some nights, as before, I laid there quietly sobbing, and angry that they would never give me a break.
This felt good to me. Soon after I also discovered masturbation from a book at the library. Some nights I went as far as touching myself slowly, usually just rubbing my penis from outside my pants quietly. And on nights when I felt daring, I pulled my blanket up, put my hands in my pants and started stroking while my parents were having sex. I had to stop this after a while though because I started ejaculating at climax, after a year of masturbating.
It had been just dry orgasms before. I should note that I never explicitly pictured or tried to picture my mom or my dad for that matter while I was masturbating. Even when it was in bed, it was more of the fact that two people were having sex right behind me.
That alone turned me on. Just stroking it was enough. And later, when I started having visual fantasies, I would just picture cute classmates, hot celebrities or girls I had seen in porn.
When I was 15 my parents got separated and my dad left. For a while I shared the bed with just my mom. I no longer had to worry about or look forward to my parents having sex in the same bed as me. And later we moved to a different place, my siblings moved out, and I got my own room and bed. These are very private moments that I had somehow completely forgotten until last night.
Last night, as most nights, I stayed up very late. I have been somewhat of an insomniac for the last couple years.
I sleep whenever I feel like sleeping, usually around 4am, and wake up in the afternoon. And some nights, when I feel bored, I watch porn. I watched porn, masturbated, went to clean up and suddenly I remembered all of this. I am, however, addicted to sex. Again this is very embarrassing and private but I think I want to share it. I feel incredibly shy around girls in my regular life.
Since last month, I have been trying very hard to stop. The time between the ages of 10 and 15 were really confusing to me because of having to share the same bed with my parents. At times I was genuinely concerned about the safety and wellbeing of my mother and myself. And later on, as I became more knowledgeable, this became my dirty little secret. I would feel very guilty about enjoying it and even touching myself.