My first exposure to pornography happened when I was six years old. My older brother and I were down at the local elementary school riding our bikes around the parking lot and messing around. It was on a weekend during summer break. There was no one else around except for these two hippies who were hanging out on the jungle gym. We didn’t pay much attention to them until they called us over to show us something.
One guy opened up a Penthouse and showed us some very explicit pictures of nude women, which I can still recall. It wasn’t a traumatic experience. But it was very sharp. It left a rock solid imprint on my mind. Crystal clear. It was strange and somewhat pleasurable, but I wouldn’t call it erotic. I was too young to even know what that was or have any of those kinds of feelings.
We went home and told my mom what had happened. Well, she just flipped. She went down to the school grounds looking for these two guys. They had disappeared by this time, but left this material scattered all over the playground like they were disseminating this stuff everywhere. She went around collecting the stuff and throwing it away. I didn’t understand why she was so upset because it was just, you know, naked boobies or whatever. To me it wasn’t even a real huge deal. But my mom’s intense reaction, and the fact that we never talked about it, left a strong imprint on me.
After a while my curiosity about porn just kind of died off. Sexual thoughts took a back seat to other things, like being part of a little club with some of the neighborhood boys, riding bikes, having BB gun wars, getting involved with sports and school, and that sort of thing. It wasn’t until one summer, seven years later when I was thirteen years old, that I saw some more porn.
It was a hot summer. My parents would go off to work and leave my brother and me at home with enormous tasks to do on our ranch. We hated it. The way that we rebelled and killed time was to watch a porn video my brother had recorded off a decoded XXX channel and a Playboy channel at my cousin’s house.
We knew pornography was taboo because of my mom’s reaction to it after the playground incident. We also knew that we had to hide what we did, because if we got caught watching this stuff, there would be hell to pay. I watched it anyway, partly because my brother said it was great, and also because I was now old enough to get a good sexual rush when doing it. At first I couldn’t masturbate, didn’t know how. But it didn’t take long to move into it. My first orgasm came from looking at that videotape.
Soon, instead of being upset and dreading all the chores they were making us do, we were enjoying it when my parents left. The desire for the hunt and the fantasy kicked in at that point. Even when my parents were home I’d be replaying the videos in my mind. I began masturbating daily, multiple times a day. I know now that my behavior was compulsive. At the time, of course, I had no clue what I was doing. All I knew is that it felt good and it was something I wanted to do as often as possible.
That was the starting point and my interest in porn continued from then on pretty much unrelenting. Every opportunity that I had to get more material, whether X-rated magazines or videos, I would take. If I was over at a friend’s house and his parents were gone I’d suggest we find his dad’s porn. By the time my parents realized I had an issue with porn, the root was already there, very strong. Their lectures were like water off a duck’s back. I’d put on the face, the fagade that I was sorry and wouldn’t ever do it again—blah, blah, blah. The next day, of course, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on some more porn.
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he morning Brad pedaled his bike to the school playground with his brother, he had no way of knowing he would have his first exposure to a substance that would become the focus of his sexual energy as an adolescent and that would later result in compromising his sense of integrity and almost costing him his marriage.