The Big I

Okay, now that I've told you about me, I need to offer a disclaimer. I wish that I could have it say this at the beginning of the site, but if you are offended by frank, adult discussions of sexuality (i.e. me being smutty) you probably should leave now. Because I'm about to offer an additional disclaimer and it might offend you.

Good, that's taken care of. Now, if you are not offended by sex but are offended by incest, leave. Because that's the lion's share of this blog.

There, I've said it. The FBI can track me down now. I am involved in an incestuous relationship, several in fact. My father and I have been making love since I was old enough to know better. Everyone in my immediate family knows this, largely because... well, let me step back for a minute.

My parents believe that sex is an act which can be useful (they have four kids; I'm the third) but also pleasurable. Sex can be an expression of love between people, regardless of their relationship. So from an early age, they taught us (the kids) that sex was a part of life and could be enjoyed between any group of people who wished to express love or to simply enjoy themselves. It's kind of a return-to-nature type thing with them; animals do it and aren't ashamed, so why should humans be?

I don't really expect people to understand, and neither does my family, which is why we don't let our little secret out. There are people who know, and people who probably suspect, but we keep it under wraps. I've never felt particularly strange about it, the way I guess I might if one day I'd just jumped into bed with my father as an adult. It's just like any other part of being a family for us.

So yes, I sleep with my father. I also make love with my younger brother and my two older sisters. They all make love with each other too, and my mother joins in as well. We're a big, loving family. I've never been happier or had better sex than with my family because we all love each other. And I've never been forced into sex with any family member. My sisters and I know that my mother isn't interested in bisexuality, and we would never force her to be intimate with us. Likewise, my father and brother aren't bisexual either, and they don't make love. My parents' relationship is rock solid, and the kids know that Mom and Dad like to have their own lovemaking, just as Mom and Dad don't try to join in when they aren't invited. I could go on, but hopefully you get the picture.

I think it's a perfectly healthy way to live. It hasn't stopped the kids from going out and finding fulfillment with other people, and it hasn't made our family all about sex. In fact, our family isn't all about sex, any more than a family that watches The Cosby Show together every night is all about Bill Cosby. It's a leisure activity that we enjoy.

I guess I'm expecting people to judge me when I say these things because it's normal. If you didn't grow up the way I did, you probably think my parents are horrible people who molested their children. I don't believe in child molestation; it's wrong, just as wrong as rape. Small children should not be raped any more than adults should be. But I guess molestation is in the eye of the beholder, and I don't feel molested. It hasn't scarred me, although I guess it has made me a little more accepting as far as sexuality is concerned.

So judge away, I guess. There's nothing I can do to make you stop. But by the same token, you can't really convince me that I'm wrong, or that the love I experience in my family is wrong. Believe me, I've heard lots of arguments, and all I can say is that I know what I know. My family loves each other, mentally, spiritually, and yes, physically, and I wouldn't change that for the world.