Fishing Trips

The first time I was molested I was 4. I went on a fishing trip with my family, my fathers best friend and his sons. When everyone was down at the doc I was left alone with the other mans oldest son, we were very close and I always considered him to be my older brother. We were playing hide and seek and messing around when he started telling me I was cute and touchingly face a lot and saying he could just kiss me. I remember saying no and not knowing how to react really. I was too little to know what was going on. Then began to guilt me and when I continued to resist he forcibly insert erred his penis into my mouth. After he had finished he grabbed his fishing gear and went down to the doc like nothing happened.

These kinds of fishing trips continued till I was 9. They stopped when he graduated high school and our families kind of drifted apart. I was so relieved. I felt like it was finally over and I could forget any of it ever happened.

Some years passed and by now I was 13 and I had graduated 8th grade. My dad decided to stop by his friends house since he hadn’t seen him in forever. I don’t know why I didn’t think anything of it. The father and his son was home and the plan was for me to sit in the house and watch tv while they went out on the ranch and hunted. Since I wasn’t going to be alone with the son I didn’t think anything of it. The three of them went out and I watched tv like usual.

Then the son came back and he sat down next to me. I felt a burning anger and resentment and I asked him why he did that to me when I was younger. He sat there quietly for awhile then he turned and faced me and started to move towards me telling me I was a slut and that I wanted it. Then he began to take my clothes off. I was crying begging him to stop. He grabbed my neck and began whispering that I wanted it into my ear. I cried out, it hurt, I continued to cry out and he continued to rape me. When he finished he said if I ever said anything he would kill me. I believed him.

A year went by before I saw him again. After I did I told my best friend it had happened. He urged me to tell someone about it but I refused. I went on keeping it a secret and hiding.

I didn’t go back to that house till I wad 15 with my dad again. I wouldn’t have gone if I had known he was still there. I thought he’d left. But while my dad was out he came up behind me and it happened again. This time I was in a relationship. I hated myself for it. I felt like I had cheated on him. I couldn’t live with myself and I felt like I didn’t want too.

I told my boyfriend about it months later and he was nothing but absolutely supportive. He makes me feel safe and its a comfort zone. I still have to find out how to do that on my own. I hope my story in some way helps you, if not thank you still because sharing it has helped me.