I was almost trafficked!

I may have mentioned this before, but when I was 11 years old and at the height of whatever boyish pre-pubesecent beauty I once had, my family lived for a year in a city with a warm climate so I was almost always in nothing but shorts and a skimpy t-shirt. We went frequently to a local cafeteria and a waiter there was smitten with me. He called me "Mr. Beautiful" and would seek me out whenever I would be assigned such tasks as filling up everyone's waters and thus away from my family for a minute or two. Since I enjoyed the attention of this waiter, I would eagerly volunteer for such tasks and he would inevitably approach. Now, of course, I realize that he was a trafficker attempting to traffick me. For better or worse, he never succeeded in trafficking me, although I did often speculate in my amateurish boyish way what it would have been like had he in fact succeeded in trafficking me. My cock would get hard at ill-formed visions of traffic, but I didn't know what to do about it. The article was great piece of writing, btw. It gives me some hope. The child abuse (or as is it now called the "trafficking") industry essentially started with misplaced hysteria over boys -- but boys being the ornery, mecurial creatures that they are, are either hard to traffic or a bit too enthusiastic about it. But the anti-traffickers require bodies and cases; now that the obvious sources of boy trafficking (Catholic churches, Boy Scouts, boy choirs, boys schools) have pretty much been wrung dry, the anti-trafficking industry needs to seek out richer seams. So the focus has switched. The Epsteins of the world, catering to the Bill Clintons, Prince Andrews, and Donald Trumps, offer far juicier targets than this lonely parish priest or that Little League coach with inadequate hand control. We predicted it. They started with us but have now moved on to everyone. And ultimately, when everyone is a pedophile, no one is. SR