It Started Slowly

by Sherry

Through the years with help of counseling I answered a lot of my own questions myself. My biggest issue is my need to tell. My reasons for not telling were fueled with fear. I was never able to get justice for myself. Not be saved. My father is now eighty five and to tell him now would serve no purpose. His own father, my Grand Father molested me often as a very small child. Here is the reason I never told.

I was between two years of age till almost five years when it occurred. I realize now I did not have the vocabulary to tell. Not all people can remember back so young, but when things are done that confuse you. You remember.

As I got older, it was more of knowing it was not happening anymore. My Daddy didn't do those things. I know my dad. If I had told, Daddy would have murder his own father. He would be in prison for it. I wouldn't have a Daddy if I told. My sisters nine years later would never been born and my mother destroyed in the process. My older brother and I would have to live with it.

Thought I would be free when the old bastard died but my brain won't forget. I never buried it. Triggers can happen anytime over something simple and I flash back. The smells of an unclean body effects me sexually. Beard stubble. Heavy out loud breathing during sex. The smell of semen, the taste, it all has to be blocked in order for sex to be a pleasurable experience. I am sixty one now and never really enjoyed sex. I did my best to fake it well. Never had that young burning desire for it.

This is the beginning. Approximately 1957, we lived at the foot of a mountain in Alabama. My grand parents lived up the mountain. It was a two lane blacktop road that was very steep with a bluff on one side. It frighten me a lot. Grandpa and Grandma lived in what used to be a share croppers house. Tin roof, one bed room and a coal burning stove in the living room. I would sleep with Mom and Dad in the bedroom. Grandma's bed was in the living room.

It started slowly. The trust my family members had in him was beyond reproach. They would leave him to babysit me. At first he would play a game, old maid or checkers with me. First I would be on his lap. He didn't touch me then but wanted me to touch him. He wore overalls with no underwear and would put my hand inside and tell me to touch it. Soft sweaty things were there and something else and it would be hard and get sticky icky. He did not show it to me till later on.

The stuff is on my hand and it smelled. He would wipe it off with a bandana. I don't remember what he said to me that kept me quiet. What can a two/three year old child explain. This was happening in the their house. It advanced to Grandma's bed and now he was having me stand over his face and give me oral sex. He would ask me if it felt good, is it ok? Sometimes his rough beard would hurt me and he sucked till I cried out.

Sometimes he would pull it out of his overall zipper and rub it on me till he ejaculated on me. That was the first time I saw that part of it. He would tell me to lick it but it smelled and I would barely stick my tongue out and do it. He wanted me to suck on it like a sucker. Only the top part would go in. It made me gag from the taste and smells.

If the adults did not go anywhere, he would say let's go see the baby cow and goats in the barn. We would see the animals then take me up to the loft. He knew I loved to go fishing and on the way through the pastures there was an abandoned barn, or just do in it the tall grass away from the house so no one would see. If I cried, no one would hear. Sometimes I cried. He never penetrated me. He presented all of it too me and would put his hand over mine and show me how he wanted me to proceed.

I do not remember how many times we did this. When I was almost four years of age, my father got a job in Missouri and we moved to St. Louis. It stopped. When I got a little older this began to make more and more sense to me. It finally made enough sense that I new it was a bad thing. The shame was there first.

I've got to go now and don't know if I retrieve this and continue later. Possibly to be continued...

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