When I met Don, I was 17 and he was 21. I knew he was the guy I would marry. He had beautiful eyes, and he came from an upper middle class family, while I grew up in a single parent home and we didn't have much. He lived about an hour from me, so I found a job near his parent's home, and we found an apartment and moved in together. Things were okay - we had our problems, but managed to work them out. One night, he confessed to me that he and one of his friends experimented with oral sex, and he cried, told me that he was sorry and that he would never do that again - his friend was another guy... then he said that we should get married as soon as possible. We got married 14 months after we moved in together, and things went bad - I found out who he was and what he was capable of.
Shortly after we were married, he invited a friend over. This was the same friend that he had experimented with. We had dinner and a few drinks. After dinner, we watched a movie and my husband encouraged me to drink more - odd, because he didn't like for me to drink... Eventually, I became very drunk and my husband told me that I should go to bed, so I did - and I passed out. While I was sleeping, my husbands friend got bed with me - and because I was passed out and incoherent, I assumed it was my husband. He began carressing my breasts and taking my clothes off. A few minutes later, my husband also got into bed with us. When I realized what was happening, I began to cry and told them to stop - that I didn't want to do this, but they didn't stop. Not only was I too drunk to defend myself, but there were two of them. My husband was instructing his friend and telling me that he liked to see me have sex with other men... they both had sex with me, and then went on to have oral sex between them... and my husband wanted me to watch... I closed my eyes and waited for them to finish, all the while hoping I was having a bad dream. I eventually fell back to sleep - I don't know if it was the shock or the alcohol, probably both - and when I woke up the next morning, they were both still in the bed with me. I got up and locked myself in the bathroom, took a shower and went and sat silently in the living room. They were awake when I came out of the bathroom, and after seeing me, his friend decided he should leave. After he left my husband stood and looked at me for what seemed like hours, and then finally asked if I enjoyed myself... I couldn't believe what I was hearing - he said he did it for me because he thought his penis was too small and thought I would like his friend's because it was big. I hated him, his friend and myself. I started to cry and he told me that he was sorry and that it would never happen again - he lied. Don was not a drinker - he hated alcohol, so he never drank. He did these things sober - not that it would have been acceptable if he were drunk, but he KNEW what he was doing... and, yes, I should have known better than to ever get drunk around him, but I did. And he did this to me three more times, once with the same friend, and twice with another. It stopped for a few years, but then one night we went out with a few of our friends, and when we got home, he anally raped me. That time, I made up my mind that I was leaving and I refused to believe any more of his "I'm sorry, it will never happen again" lies. I was taking a class for my job when I decided that I was going to leave, and told him that as soon as I was done with my class, I was leaving him. We had a 4 year old son at the time, so I had to stay until I finished or I would have had to leave my son with him. He didn't believe me and started telling me that he wanted me to sleep with his cousin - that his cousin had expressed an interest. I stayed away as often as possible, and slept on the couch, never drank any alcohol and was able to get through my class and leave him.
I tried to talk to people - the class I had taken was a private security course - some of which was taught by police officers. I asked one of them if a man could rape his wife and he said no - that if they are married, it isn't rape - this was 1995. My son was diagnosed with ADHD and was seeing a psychologist (I was separated, but not yet divorced) and the psychologist asked me why I was getting divorced, so I told him. He asked me why I got drunk and that I should have known better - my fault for getting drunk. We got a divorce, (dissolution really) I didn't want to relive all of it, so I didn't bring up the rapes in the divorce - I just wanted to get it over with and get away from him, and after talking to my sons psycholgist, I was sure a judge would tell me that it was my fault. After my divorce, I talked to a lawyer about it - his exact words (I will NEVER forget them) were "There's a bar next door, and a couch in the other room!" I talked to a now ex-boyfriend about it, and he got upset with me and said "you did that for Don, but you won't do it for me."
More recently, I lost my job, I couldn't afford my apartment so I moved to a house my sister owns - which happens to be 13 miles across the state line. My ex sued me for custody of my son, and because I couldn't bring up the sexual abuse, he won... when I found out that he was awarded custody, I did the worst thing I could have done - I asked my current boyfriend to take me out, I got drunk (about 15 beers). We went to stay at his friends house because we were both drunk, and I passed out on the couch. He went to get us some pillows from one of the kids rooms, and decided to sleep there (the kids were sleeping in the living room), and because I was already asleep, he left me on the couch. Well, there was another guy there (not his friend, but his friend's friend), and it happened... only this time, I thought he was my boyfriend and I didn't protest (they are built about the same). I don't remember much, but I do remember saying my boyfriends name because my back was hurting from the way I was lying on the couch, and I told him that. Most of that night is unclear - I woke up off and on for a few seconds each time... like a strobe light effect if that makes sense. The next morning, my boyfriend woke me up and noticed that my sweater and bra were pulled up and asked me about it. I told him that he did that last night and he just looked at me. Then when I got up to go to the bathroom, I had to put my panties back on (I was weraing a skirt) and he made a growling sound and asked why I had my panties off. I still didn't realize that he was serious. We left then and he drove my car back to my house - I was still drunk and asleep, and he woke me to tell me that my engine cuts out at 110 miles an hour, then when we pulled up to my house, he got out of my car, got in his truck and left. I thought it was strange, but I knew he had to get his kids, so I thought he was just in a hurry. He came back about 10 minutes later and stared at me for a long time, then asked me what went on last night. I asked him if he didn't remember and that's when he told me that he had gone to get us some pillows but decided to sleep in one of the beds because it was empty and told me that it was NOT him that I had been with. I lost my mind... because I had gone back to bed when he came back, he laid next to me and we held each other and cried for a long time, and then he told me that "Jimmy" had been accused of raping a girl less than a year before at a New Year's Eve party at the same friends house but when they went to court, she said she had lied. He blamed himself for what happened because he "should have known better than to leave me alone when "Jimmy" was around." He kept apologizing over and over. We have spent the last 3 months trying to help each other cope.
I still sit and wonder what I am doing wrong - why does this keep happening to me? Honestly, I don't drink too often, and I enjoy it most of the time when I do, and I don't want to give up the things that I enjoy because of what other people do - should I have to?
I still don't have my son back - no one cares about what is in his best interest. He is living with a bisexual rapist, and I am scared for him... read my web page to find out more...
I've barely told anyone this...
When I was 14 (I'm 18 now) I went to a party with my older sister. I remember I kept begging her to take me because I had a crush on one of her guy friends. She said she would take me as long as I didn't do "anything stupid" to embarrass her. That was the least of my worries that night.
When we got there, I saw the guy I liked (Peter) and my sister and I talked with him for a while until her then-boyfriend showed up and she went to go hang out with him. Peter and I talked a lot after she left, and we ended up getting along really well. We danced a lot, and let me tell you, he was an awesome dancer. He was also really hot, drove a flashy car, and he played on the football team at our high school. When you're a 14 year old freshman, a guy like that talking to you is a dream come true.
He asked me if I wanted to go for a drive because the party had started getting really wild, and I think he noticed that I was a little freaked out by all the sudden drinking and people smoking marijuana. I agreed and we went out and got in his car. We drove through a McDonald's drive-thru about ten minutes away from the party, and then parked on the side of the road to eat our apple pies.
Peter told me that he thought I was beautiful and that he wanted to kiss me. I let him. At that point all I had ever done was kiss a boy, and it was better than the other kisses I had received! Then, he started rubbing my thighs (I was wearing a skirt). I took his hand off my thigh, and he asked why I did that. I told him I didn't want him to, and I asked him why he did it. "Because you're sexy" was his reply, and then he put his hand back, but this time he shoved it all the way up my skirt and tried to stick his hand in my panties. I got scared and I told him to please stop one more time, but instead he jumped on top of me and started choking me. I was crying and trying to scream, but every time I opened my mouth he squeezed my neck harder. He was calling me "bitch" and "whore" and saying "you know you want this, don't deny it, you slut." He ordered me to put the seat back while he took down his pants, and I did because he still had one hand at my throat and I was afraid he'd! kill me. First he made me touch him, and then he took off my panties and gave me oral sex. When he started doing that, I kicked him in the stomach, and he got so mad that he stopped and started punching me in the face and neck. Then he raped me. It was the worst pain I've ever felt, both physically and emotionally. He raped me three times. After the last time, he made me give him oral sex, and then he gave it to me again. He said he wanted to feel me come, so I faked it so he'd leave me alone. I learned to fake an orgasm at 14 years old.
The worst part about all of this is that we were parked on the side of the road, and four cars drove by during my attack, and no one stopped because no one knew what was going on. After he was done with me, he said he was going to drive me home, and if I didn't let him he'd "rape my ass until it bled everywhere." Not that there wasn't already enough blood. So he drove me home (thank God my sister wasn't home yet, I didn't want her to see me like I was). I remember running out of his car without a second glance and going in my house (and thank God my parents were in bed), going in my room, and passing out until the next morning.
The only person that knows what happened is my school counselor, but even she doesn't know the whole story (I didn't tell her that it was Peter who raped me because I was too terrified of her taking action and him hurting me again). Most of the bruises I received when he attacked me were on my neck and shoulders, so I hid them easily, and I covered up most of the ones on my face with make-up.
I'm in college now and I am doing pretty good...I haven't had problems dating, but when I first had CONSENSUAL sex I was very frightened, but fortunately the guy I was with knew I had been "abused" (I didn't tell him how or when) and was very understanding. I see a counselor twice a month and it helps a lot. And I hope I someday get the courage to tell my story to more people.
Well my story starts when I four and a half years old. I had a "stepcousin" who use to make me do things that I didn't want to. Things like lie there while he performed oral sex and urinated on me. He would touch me and try to put his penis in me. The thing is that he was only a year older than I was. When I think back I get the idea that his cousin was doing those things to him because a little bit after I turned six he had sex with me.
His name is Baron, we called him "Uncle Baron" since he was around when we were born. His dad had been dating my grandmother twelve years before I was born and six years after. One day my mom sent me in the back of the house to put somethings away, as I was coming back I stopped by his bedroom and he told me to come in. He told me to close and lock the door behind me. I did. He called me closer to him. I went. I didn't feel uncomfortable or anything until he told me to pull down my pants. I asked him why. His voice changed and he told me to "just do it" I did. He was about 16 or 17 at the time.
He got down off of the bed where he had been sitting and pulled down his jeans. He told me to come closer and I did. He told me "don't cry it's not going to hurt" Well it did. I felt him pushing his penis in me then I couldn't describe the pain I was feeling as sharp pains, I thought to myself that it felt like he was shocking me, I thought that he had electricity in him. I didn't really pay attention after that. I didn't "come back" until I felt him pulling out. There was blood, which I thought was his and semen. That is the last thing that I remeber.
After that I was molested every year until I was 10 by someone different with the exceptions of the age nine. I didn't tell anyone until I was 15. I didn't tell on everyone then. I became very depressed and I tried killing myself around six times. I couldn't figure out why I was doing these things until I was 19. I hated my self for "letting" those men and boys d! o those things to me. I didn't hate them, I didn't blame them at all. I blamed myself. I try not to now and I'm now trying to develop a relationship with God because He has helped me a lot through this. Well this is my story and I'm thankful that you took the time out to read it.