This is My Sex Life

This started when I was fairly young. I knew that something is different about me. I reckon every experience, how it felt, how much I want it over and over again.

Age 6, I was sexually molested by my older male cousin. He was 10. Playing house in their small apartment in Iloilo City. He would be touching my breasts, tickling my nipples, kissing me with tongue and brushing his instrument in my delicate organ.

Age 7, in my grandmother's ancestral home. My older female cousin would come and play with me. Playing with our tongues, through long kisses. There were two of them.

Age 7, I played in the fields where small huts are present for grains to be put under the sun before milling. There was my other older male cousin. He would lay me in a sack of rice and meddled me. Do you call it that way if I approved of it?

Age 8, this is where I presently live. Andrew, an altar boy, would grab me and take me to a dark place where no one can see us. It was in the gardens of our parish. There he would give me long and hard kisses without a tongue. That confused me as my first love.

Age 10, it's my time to take advantage. I played with my younger cousin when we transferred to Laguna. I do sleepovers and touched her insides. I trust she loved it. She never said a word. She just took all my french kisses until we fell asleep.

Age 12, I had my first official boyfriend. A boy living in the province. I want to go ahead but stopped myself. I got scared, seems he was more aggressive wanting to kiss me right away and touch me. It was out of my comfort zone. It had to end.

Age 13, his name was Mon. He was older. I adored him. He is respectful and a true gentleman. As much as I want to experience real sex- it did not happen. It was frustrating at the same time admirable. It ended. I found someone else.

Age 14, this guy Jacob, I yearned for too long. Not it a million years I imagine that he would go for me. I was in love with him. Real love. His face brightens my day. His eyes melt the insides of me. His touch and kisses were heavens. Maybe I was so in love that he left me.

At age 15, I met my husband, Mark. He loved me. He has his personality that I felt confident with. I was tired of looking and experience love when I know that he truly loved me. Making effort in every way he can. It was a peaceful relationship after a few months of holding back. We did it. I do not remember how erotic it was. Or if it is in any way. I only remembered Mark crying when he saw blood in the sheets. We did every day, in his car, in the bathroom everywhere we can. I got pregnant. Then things did go well. We fell apart.