Keith, who teaches in a fashionable American private school, is of interest as he has been both the younger, and the older, partner in a paedophile relationship. He writes:
I myself was loved by a man when he was twenty-six and I was thirteen. Having read that, many critics would immediately carp, ‘Aha –- he learned to be a pederast by the example of this older man.’ Nothing could be further from the truth, for I can remember looking lasciviously at an age-mate’s rear when I was a mere five years old; and I got caught looking at the other “parts” of a different age-mate, in a different city, when I was eight. What I did learn from this man, however, was that sex was fun and an emotional attachment made it all even better. I believe that he taught me, at least in my beginning stages, how to love another person. I was a pederast long before I met him!
I have always been very active, sexually. When I wasn’t playing doctor with friends, I was developing my fantasy life and wondering what it would be like to grow hair “down there”. When I did mature, at about age twelve and a half, it was like the world was beginning to make sense, to take on purpose and meaning. Other people were beginning to become very important to me, and in turn, they were noticing me as an individual person, no longer a “child” to be lumped together with all the other kids. My adolescence was a most invigorating experience; I found that I enjoyed the company of both girls and boys, and that my response to boys was tinged with excitement and a certain mysterious feeling which still, at thirty-four, evades description.
I regard my meeting with Mr S., then aged twenty-six, as a critical turning point in my love-life. Until then, sex was fun, felt good and left me only moderately guilty. The guilt was probably a result of a very prudish rearing, which for a time had me believing that “if it was fun, it was bad.” This was not the exclusive fault of my parents, but was rather my understanding of what everyone I knew was telling me. Fortunately, I suppose, specific sex acts were never discussed as such in my family and I soon realised that I was feeling guilty not because I was doing something wrong, but only because if I were to get caught, my parents would be disappointed. I had a persistent and pervasive feeling that what I was doing was right for me and I decided that my only responsibility was to keep my activities unknown to my parents, for they simply wouldn’t understand.
Mr S. co-operated in this subterfuge, to my delight, and once I approached him (yes –- I approached him) with my thirteen-year-old impatience for intimacy, he told no one, responded positively to my shaky advances (didn’t even laugh at me!) and simply embraced me, in every sense of the word, surrounding me with flexible yet steady security and self-assuredness. He fed my ego with compliments, opened up my knowledge of a gay society which I had no idea existed, and proved to me that I was not the only one in the world who was planning to make a career of the sexual activities which were “only a phase” in all my buddies.
Here was a masculine adult man (happily married, even), who was interested in doing with me what I was already finding exciting with my boy-friends. And through this relationship a new dimension was added to my experience which had not occurred to me before tenderness, affection and love. It may well be that the tenderness, affection and love were actually more my contribution than his -– it’s difficult to say from this distance in time. But it doesn’t really matter; the important thing is that he allowed and encouraged affection, which was two-way from the start, and it became an integral part of the relationship. This affection was, in its way, just as satisfying as the ecstatic orgasms that punctuated our days and nights together.
I regard this man, this relationship as a turning point because I was never the same after knowing him for two years. I was more in tune with myself after that…