Hi there, I am a 17 year old male and I was sexually assaulted first on my 8th birthday. My parents were away at a conference and I was staying at my cousins house, where I had a party. The party finished early, around 8 O' Clock, I think. When my friends were all gone home, all that was left in the house was me and my 19 year old cousin, who was minding me.
That night, he told me that my parents said I had to take a shower, as usual on Saturday night. I went upstairs and undressed. I then took my shower and went back to the bedroom. My cousin was in there on the bed, naked. He told me not to dry myself any further. He layed me on the bed and kneeled over me, caressing my penis. I pleaded with him to leave me alone, but he said he would hurt me if I didnt stay quiet. He was rubbing my penis and started oiling it. He made me get an erection, and he asked me if I was feeling good. He was licking my whole body. He then proceeded to put my sack of balls in his mouth and chew on them. I was crying a lot. I said I would tell my Mom, he warned me though. He took me out to the shower and wet me. He then brought me back in and placed me over his lap where he oiled his fingers and began to shove them up my butt. I was crying and moaning, I will never forget it. He turned me over on to the bed then and started to shove his oiled ! penis ( I'm not sure whether it had a condom or not) up my butt. I was roaring with pain, his penis was so big and me butt was so small. He was loving this. he made me put on my shiny tracksuit then and he yet again shoved his penis up my butt.
My butthole was sore for days afterwards, and my testicle sack. this continued about once every two months afterwards, until the age of 10, when he went to America.
I am now 17, and I still think about it. I never told anyone, but I have coped very well. I am gay now and I am addicted to gay sex. I have one night stands with gay people almost once a week. I feel like a slut after these but I still continue.
Thanks for listening.
This is not a short story, as my life has not been easy.
When I was 5 years old my parents seperated due to the fact that my father cheated on my mother along with many other things. My mom and I immediately moved out and my brother stayed with my father and we would switch weekends...
Well my mother was only a bartender so times were tough for her and I. We moved into half of a duplex with a friend of hers, a male friend, with whom a relationship quickly developed. I don't have many memories of him and the ones I do have, have only come back to me in the past 5 or so years... I remember he used to do cocaine. Pretty much right in front of me. I can remember the mirror with the lines on it and the razor blade sitting on the edge. I remember a couple beatings.. and I remember one specific incident where they were still in bed and I was watching tv. A friend of his stopped by and I opened the door, and then proceeded to get get him and wake him up. He got mad that I woke him up, so he chased me around the room with scissors while he was totally nude. Very scary for me.
There was another incident I remember clearly as well.. My bedroom was the walk in closet in their room, as it was only a one room place. I was terrified of the dark and my mom had bought me a beautiful porcelain night light that was an Angel.. Well he got mad one night and said the light was keeping him up and it was time I grew up etc, so he smashed it on the wall above my head... I don't remember what went down exactly but we soon moved out. Maybe my mother had finally had enough???
So next we moved into a bedroom that we rented from a man who owned this large house... he had all the bedrooms rented out. He lived there alone (except for his daughter visiting on weekends) and I guess he needed the extra income. My mom started dating the man in the bedroom directly next to ours. He lived there with his son. I liked him. I trusted him. We had a lot of fun.
There was one night my mom couldn't find a sitter. So she asked him to stay and watch me. He said he was happy too, and they knew I wouldn't mind because I loved him so much. I don't remember a whole lot from that evening.. at some point I was either told to take a bath to get ready for bed or I did so on my own.. Then I went and I threw on one of my mom's t-shirts as a nightshirt and I sat up on the bed watching tv. Next thing I know he's watching tv with me rubbing my back... then his hand slides lower to my butt.. This was weirding me out but I was kinda frozen scared.. didn't know what to say or do. It progressed from there.. Soon I was laying on my back and his fingers were inside of me. And his tongue. I remember he kept asking me if it felt good and if I liked it. It didn't, and I didn't, but I don't remember what I said. He also kept looking out the window, scared he was going to get caught I guess.. At one point he stopped and went into his bedroom leaving me there crying and shaking.
He came back in nothing but a pair of zebra striped bikin underwear. I screamed at him that I didn't want anymore and to leave me alone and go back to his bedroom. And he did. And apparently he went to sleep. I laid in my bedroom sobbing and wishing someone would come home... Then my brother and his (the molester's) son came into the room. They had been downstairs the whole time and I had forgotten.. I should have yelled louder while he was doing it to me. Anyways, my brother asked what was wrong and I whispered in his ear what happened... He told the other boy who didn't believe his father would do that and he left the room. I don't know where he went. My brother then went and called my mom at the bar.
I dont' know how much time elapsed between the call and her arrival, but it seemed like she was there instantly. She burst into his room and kicked him hard a couple times and then she called the police. I don't remember anything else from that night. I don't know much about the trial either, all I know is I got shafted again, this time by the judge. I wasn't allowed to testify, they thought I was too young. But I wanted to. And he only got sentenced to counseling. No jail time.
Anyways... From there we moved back in with my father and my brother. I guess my parents wanted to work things out on my behalf.. I think it was even suggested to them by a social worker.I remember spending many nights awake.. or laying awake until my parents were asleep and sneaking in to sleep on their floor... When my dad would wake up he would be mad.. so the next night I would sneak in and sleep buried in their dirty laundry pile.. to a six year old this seems pretty sly, but he still found me. I was spending a lot of time with my brother. He was my hero. He came to me that night when I was hurting so much.
Then what happened next I still have never figured out... When I was about 6 or 7 my brother started molesting me. I don't know how he could do this. He was 7 years older than me, and I loved him more than anything. He told me that what we were doing was wrong. It was my fault, and if I told I would go to jail because brothers and sisters weren't supposed to do that. I believed him. He obviously knew what he was talking about, he was older and wiser, and he's the one that saved me from the other man... right? Wrong.
Anyways, I let this go on for about 2 or 3 years because I was scared. Then one day it stopped. I was 9. When I was ten I went and spent the night at a close family friend's house. I was good friends with her son, Chris who was 14 ish. He molested me that night. I was beginning to think something was wrong with me. I went home the next day and immediately told my mother. I don't know what happened from there. I know for a while my mother stayed friends with his mother and that upset me.
So anyways, I started having nightmares about the stuff with my brother. They would wake me up every night and I would tell myself, if I have this nightmare one more time I will tell my mom. Well I did that for a year or two before I finally wrote a letter to my mom and told her. Shit went down. Police came and everything. I told them I didn't want to press charges. Stupid me. I still wanted to love my brother for some reason and didn't want him in jail. He continued to live with us for a while. On and off. Until a year ago I tried to love him, like him, and even look up to him. I tried to protect him and tell people he wasn't doing that to his daughters. I don't know if he has ever touched them or not.. but so help me God if I ever find out that he has.
I was in therapy for 13 years, from age 5 until I was 18. I am 19 now. I can't tell you much about therapy.. from age 8 and up I didn't use her for what I should have.. I was very quiet about the important things. She dind't find out I was suicidal until I tried. All the while my brother was molesting me I never told her until I told my mother those several years later... She did help me with a couple big things though.
When I was 13 I wrote a letter to the first man.. I told him what I thought of him. What I thought of what he did, etc. And I asked for a face to face confrontation so I could tell him in person what scum he was. We had to go through a lot of legal rig-a-ma-role to get that meeting but when I was 17 I finally had my meeting. It was the most powerful thing I could have ever done for myself. I almost didn't.. It was also the most terrifying. I got a lot of emotional help through it from my friends, my mom, my boyfriend (who is now my husband), and the rest of my support net. He cried. He apologized. I told him I am not his victim anymore nor will I ever be again. I am a survivor.
Someday I will be able to confront my brother and when I do I will be even more empowered. I am a happily married woman now, something I thought I never would be. It took a lot for me to trust and love. But my husband is so good to me, so supportive and so understanding. He would move the moon for me if I asked him to. It took me my whole life to get to where I am, but I am happy. Nothing that happened to me was my fault nor should I ever feel like it was. I am a SURVIVOR. NOT a victim.
im: I AM TAT2ED
Please bear with me, as I've never written about this and I don't really know how to start. I was physically and verbally abused by my mother growing up, although I know she didn't realize that what she was doing was abuse. you see, she grew up in a different country, and was taught that it was good for a child to be beaten. I forgive her for it, even though I know that a lot of my current problems are because of the abuse she put me through. Because of the way I was raised, I am a very submissive person. This hurts me in a lot of ways, mainly because I cannot say no. when I was 6 years old, my next door neighbor began to molest me, and this lasted until I was 13. He was only a couple years older than me, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Thankfully, I don't really remember much about those years, except for the final episode. All those years had been just touching, penetration with only the fingers and objects, but the last time he finally forced me to give him oral sex. Afterwards, I felt so very dirty and ashamed. And then he stopped talking to me for 3 months, when made me do it again, and then not again until a few months ago. He is now dating one of my housemates, and I am forced to spend much of my time with him. He says he doesn't remember ever doing anything to me.
When I was 13, I thought I was finally safe from that kind of abuse, but I was wrong. My best friend and I went to the movies with her brother and her mother's boyfriend. This man was at least 42 years old, and I had always been a little wary of him. I would catch him leering at me, and he would try to touch me. At the movies, I was forced to sit next to him as he molested me throughout the entire film. Later on that year, I began dating a man I thought was 19 but who turned out to be 23. He would hit me and force me to perform oral sex on him, but thankfully never made me have intercourse.
When I was 15, I dated a boy 2 years older than me. He was 6'4", weighed more than 250 pounds, and was very abusive. He wouldn't let me speak or even look at him when we were in school, and I wasn't allowed to tell anyone we were seeing each other. When we were alone, he'd force me to pleasure him in all manner of ways, and would beat and cut me. Either I was completely submissive to him or I'd be dead.
Since then, I have been easily coerced into doing sexual things, a lot of times with men I barely know at all. I have given more blowjobs than I can possibly count, and yet oddly enough, was able to hold out on losing my virginity to actual penetration until I was 18. It happened on September 3, 1999, 3 days into my freshman year at college. This man (Tony) was my "best" friend's boyfriend's best friend, and I'd hung out with him several times before, so I felt I could trust him. It was his birthday, so to celebrate, the 4 of us bought a couple of cases of beer and set about drinking in my friend's dorm room. I got very very drunk. I had to sleep on the floor with Tony, sharing a blanket. I was almost asleep when he started fondling me. I was too drunk to say anything or even move. Soon, he had removed my pants and began to force intercourse on me. He kept a hand on my mouth and threatened me if I made any noise. The pain was incredible. When he was done, he rolled over and passed out. I got up and there was blood everywhere. I was so ashamed that I had let him do that to me that I just cleaned it up and tried to sleep. The next morning, my friend and her boyfriend left, leaving me alone with Tony. He then forced me to perform oral sex on him. Afterwards, I ran to my dorm as fast as I could to shower him off of me. I blamed myself because I hadn't said no when he started, I hadn't struggled enough, I didn't fight enough. I was just too scared. I was also worried because he hadn't used protection. What if he had gotten me pregnant or had given me an STD? I was too ashamed to tell anyone.
Soon after, my "best" friend stopped talking to me. I soon learned that she was spreading rumors about me, saying I was a slut, that I had forced HIM, all manner of things. I was devastated. I went into a huge depression. I'd always had a depressive personality, but it became extreme. I began skipping classes, withdrawing from the people around me. Eventually I started cutting myself. I failed out of college.
It's been a year and a half since then. I'm now 20 years old. I've tried killing myself twice since I was 12. I still cut myself, but no one knows, or if they suspect, they won't admit it. I've never told my parents about my experiences. No one knows the whole story. I'm trying to cope with everything in my life, but it gets harder and harder. I keep falling into abusive relationships, both physically and mentally. I still cut myself. I sleep with pretty much anyone who shows an interest. I can't seem to say no. Last month, at a party in my own house, I was raped by two guys in my own bed. I didn't tell anyone.
I'm trying to cope but it's very hard. I have friends, but I don't trust any of them completely. I drink too much, and I've begun to experiment with drugs. I'm suicidal. I worry about myself, but I can't make myself stop. I'm on anti-depressants now, and the dosage is steadily increasing. I hope to start therapy soon. Hopefully then I will be able to talk to someone and begin to heal. But I don't know. I'm scared that it will never go away.