In 1962 when I was 10 years I was r*ped by a Roman Catholic priest. I tried to complain but it went no where. Nobody believed me and no police report was filed and I never got a medical exam. My parents thought I had deliberately harmed myself to fake evidence. That is how they explained the blood in my underwear. I won't bother trying to explain the psychological trauma. I shall summarize merely by saying it fucked my mind up pretty badly and I'll leave it at that.

Right after I turned 16 my mom offered me as a slave to the church to work for free as a volunteer to sell game cards for 25 cents each on Bingo! nights. She didn't word it that way though. To her I was doing my Christian duty to fund raise for the church. Bingo! was every Friday and Saturday night. I think it was also a way for her to keep me out of dating circulation. She implied that I would not be welcome to remain living at home if I didn't. So that November, on my birthday which was on a Friday, instead of having a birthday party, I worked for free from 5 pm to 11 pm. I thought I was working in the kitchen since I was under 18 but nobody showed up to sell the game tickets so the priest told me that if anyone asked I was 18.

So they handed me an apron with pockets. Quarters went into the left pocket. Dollar bills went into the middle pocket. Fives went into the right pocket. Tens went into my right rear pants pocket and twenties and twos went into my right rear pocket. I carried a cardboard tray with 500 tickets in it which amounted to $125 in revenue. That was quite a bit in 1968.

Nobody ever asked how old I was. I never told. I was of course just turned 16 as I said. After about 15 minutes I had sold half the box. It was a very popular game but as soon as the box was half empty nobody wanted to buy any tickets. It was some sort of superstition that I never did figure out. So I took the half empty box to the office where the priest sorted through and combined partial boxes until it looked like a new box filled with game pieces. Gamblers are funny, for some reason they think they have a better chance of winning if the box is brand new and full. They think the odds go down if the box is half empty. Meanwhile I had pockets filled with cash that I thought the priest was going to cash. He asked if I needed to use the rest room and suggested I do because I won't get a chance again until I came back again. I started to take the apron off and hand it to him for safe keeping and he told me to keep custody of the case until I got back from the rest room. When I got back I observed everything he did and realized he never counted the game pieces and had no idea how much cash I should have in my pockets. Also since part of my job was to pay out smaller prizes, free game tickets, $1, $5, and $10. that affects how much money I should have and the priest never kept track of any of that. I took no action that first night because I wanted to see how everything worked. But the next night, Saturday, when I saw it was the same priest I decided to try to skim a little. I took two dollars and stuffed it in my sock.

Nothing bad happened so the following Friday I skimmed a five dollar bill. When nothing happened I took ten. Within a couple of weeks I was skimming about $50 from every box of tickets a sold and that came to about $100 and hour or $600 a night or $1200 a week. So this went on for years. When I graduated from high school I had skimmed a total of over $156k. I had by then spent all of about $5k on such things as a car, TV, stereo, clothes etc. In the summers I worked a full time job Sun-Thur in a restaurant and that didn't pay hardly anything but I had to have a job to explain how I could buy things. My mother never questioned the math. On the day I graduated I had almost $153k total in a lock box I kept in a hole in the ceiling of my bedroom. After high school I went to a community college and earned my A.A. in general education then went on to ART school and studied art history, the subject most royalty study because it's an easy degree. You look at art read about art then write highly opinionated essays about the art. basically you B.S. your way to a B.A. The community college didn't cost much, I got grants for most of it because I had little actual income. When I transferred to the local state college I could still live at home and mom liked that.

I stopped skimming from the ticket sales when the old priest retired and was replaced by one who had studied accounting and business before going to the seminary. But that only happened just two months after I graduated with my art degree. Mom was happy to support me while I was in school so I had very low expenses. On graduation day I had big four stainless steel lock boxes in the ceiling with $96k in each for a total of $384k.

I should at this point say that the priest who ran Bingo! was not the same one who r*ped me. The one who r*ped me told me he knew I was a sissy faggot and knew I would like what he was going to do to me. He made me suck it then he fucked my ass. That is how I bled, from my ass being fucked. If he had waited two years I would actually have enjoyed sucking his dick and had he been more gentle and patient I would have enjoyed getting it up the ass. But not the way he did before I got to puberty. I later found out he did that with several other alter boys.

So as I said, the day I graduated from college I had no debt and I had squirreled away $384 thousand dollars. That was actually enough to retire on and then some. It was 1974 and you could buy a nice house for $30k. A new car could be had for about $5k and a really nice new car could be had for about $10. But I found that I couldn't spend a lot of it because I had no way to report it as income without being caught. Then I discovered the wonderful world of antiques. It seemed, at least in those days, that you could launder any money you wanted to if you had an all cash business and most businesses in those days were mostly cash. Antiques were the best because often they were stolen and nobody wanted to answer questions and few wanted to ask them. I rented out a store front and advertised antiques for sale. Then during the week I would buy out whole estates and sell the antiques in my shop. Pickers and others would bring me antiques to buy. I could claim any price paid and sold for in my records. So I just pretended I had a very lucrative antique shop and paid taxes accordingly. Now in case you think I should be reported to the I.R.S. I actually paid the appropriate tax on everything I stole as though I had earned it I just funneled it through my antique business to make it look like I earned it that way. Ironically I ended up doing better with antiques than with stealing. I retired in 1994 after twenty years in the business with $32 million to my name. I had multiple antique malls, shops and boutiques and imported tons of antiques from Europe for the American market. I never stole from anyone else again after I stole from the church. I should also point out that the average payout from the church pe*oph*le scandal was more than I stole from them if you calculate in attorney and court costs so I feel NO guilt and NO remorse and I'd do it again.

In 1995 I discovered that the priest who r**ed me had died. I went to his funeral and after everyone else left I pissed on his grave. Yes, I took it out and urinated all over his grave.

I did commit one other crime. After the creation of the sex offender's watch list I looked at it and found ex Roman Catholic priests listed. I hunted one down and found where he lived. I made friends with him. I found out he still liked little boys. Then I found out he had, AFTER he got out of jail for r*ping an 11 year old boy, found a 12 year old boy to victimize. He was in the process of grooming he boy which I observed by stalking him. I pretended I also liked little boys and he invited me to help him r*pe the 11 year old. He had him over his house and called me up to invite me over so I went. When I got there he was already getting his blow job from the boy who seemed to be very unhappy to be there. He invited me to take a turn. So I sat down and I looked into that terrified boys eyes and I asked if he really wanted to suck my dick. His eyes gave me all the answer I needed. I told the defrocked priest that I had been r*ped by one of his colleagues years earlier. He started to get nervous. I looked down at the boy who was kneeling between my legs waiting to have his mouth ra*ed. I asked the boy if he enjoyed sucking on the priest's dick and he said no and began to cry. I asked him if he thought the priest should be punished. He was too afraid to answer. So I took out my revolver which I had recently bought and had hid in my waistband and pointed it in the general direction of the priest. I told the boy that this monster was never going to hurt him again. It seemed the priest had blackmailed the boy into being his sex slave threatening to tell his parents that he had caught the boy kissing another boy. In those days it was better to submit to being a gay sex slave than to have your parents find out you are gay. So the boy submitted. I told the priest to remove his clothes and I told the boy to put on his. I told the boy he could decide the priest's fate. I offered him the choice of either I kill the priest, I hand the priest a knife and he can castrate himself or I can call the police and have him arrested for r*ping the boy. The boy said he didn't want the priest killed and didn't want the police called because they would then find out he had been doing gay things with a man and that was unbearable. So castration it was. The boy surprised me when he asked if he could first smash the guys balls with a hammer. The priest happened to have such a hammer in the kitchen drawer.

He protested quite a bit. But eventually he just stood there with his balls laying on the corner of the kitchen table while the boy smashed each one three times as hard as he could with the hammer. Of course in between hits the priest had to recover and compose himself. Then I told him to go get a kitchen knife and sharpen it which he did. He really did whine and cry and scream and complain a lot and that was before he lost his balls. I know he was in pain but the boy really didn't do THAT much damage with the hammer.

While holding the gun and with the boy standing next to me the priest took the knife and made a cut in his nut sack, reached in and pulled out his balls one at a time and cut off what connected them to his groin. He was now officially a eunuch. The boy told him to also cut off his dick which I wasn't going to have him do due to the bloody mess it would make. I told the boy that the priest would lose interest in r*ping anyone if he had no balls. After giving the priest some time to recover, about half an hour I told him to gather up everything of value that he had, money, his watch, his TV and stereo and VCR and give it to the boy as restitution. I told him if he EVER told anyone or EVER complained in any way and EVER had any contact with anyone under 18 again I would come back and we would be removing other body parts.

I drove the boy home and explained to his mother that the boy had worked a one time gig doing odd chores for a friend of mine and the loot was his payment. I praised the boy in front of his mother and told her he was a fine boy and then I even threw in that I noticed a girl looking at him and said I thought she liked him and he should go for it. I figured that by adding a heterosexual element to the conversation might distract from any suspicion his mother might have about the boy's sexuality. In 1995 preteen gay boys were not popular with their parents.

So my attorney informs me that in both situations the statute of limitations has run out and that I cannot be prosecuted. So if you are thinking about reporting any of the above good luck! Even if it hadn't I regret none of my actions. The Roman Catholic church is an evil institution, a secret society of pe*oph*les and thieves running gambling, blackmail and extortion. It's basically a gay mafia.

I ran into the boy years later. I didn't recognize him. He was all grown up and a good looking 20 something man. We hooked up a couple of times but then I lost track of him. He had graduated college and was on his way to law school. He was also a damned good kisser.