This doesn't come naturally to me.
So I'm just going to do it.
When talking about problems in my life, I like to bend the story a little. Not to make them sound worse or to make them sound better, in fact. I don't know why I did it.

Ever since I was a toddler, I have been playing with other people's genitals. I don't consider this to be sexual, because obviously at this age it doesn't really matter.

Yes, even when I was 7 years old, I was touching other boy's weenies and putting them in my mouth, and all kinds of stupid things.

At one point, my much older teenage cousin (I was nine, maybe ten) offered to allow me to touch him down below, and I did.

Then when I was eleven, I always told the story that I was 'molested'. And the truth is, my older friend was - I guess - trying to take advantage of me, but I had already known the ropes.

I wanted it.
And I know i did, I just don't like admiting it.
I wanted sex with another boy, so badly.
I then went on to another boy, then another, and another, and before i knew it my life was consumed by it until about age 15.

Then I started to notice younger boys, and they turned me on.
Four years have passed, and I thought the whole attraction to boys things had passed, and that I was just gay, but I'm sad to say, I also, lied about that. And to this day I may have fantasies about a 12 year old boy coming on to me.

Coming to these realization scares me.
No one tricked me.
No one molested me.
I have no one to blame, which means, somewhere along the lines, it's all my fault. I find a hard time living with that realization.