It Went On For 6 YearsI posted this story in another group but I think it belongs here more. So I am copying and pastig it here.
I was molested by my uncle from when I was 6 years old until I was 12. I remember exactly how it started. He was painting the fence at grampa's house. Me and my cousin Kathy asked if we could help. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Uncle Rick was kneeling down next to me. He started rubbing my leg, high up on my thigh. Every once in a while he would slide a finger up under the leg of my shorts. I didn't say anything so I guess it made him bolder. He started by slipping his finger up under my panties, then he started touching my vagina. I guess I didn't like it because I remember whispering to him "why don't you do it to Kathy" meaning why don't you touch her instead of me. And I must have somehow sensed it was wrong or a secret because I was whispering so no one else would hear. He whispered back "I can't, she's not wearing shorts". That first time lasted maybe 20 or 30 minutes with him fingering my slit. I don't think I liked it but it didn't hurt or anything.
This went on maybe a couple times a month until I was twelve. Kathy was my age so I went over there a lot to play with her. They lived just down the street from us. Uncle Rick was there quite a bit. It didn't happen all the time I saw Uncle Rick, not even most of the time, just once in a while. It happened a lot so most of the times the memory just scrambles all together. I can only specifically recall a few incidents.
Once it was winter, me Rick and Kathy were sitting in the back of a car (grammy's car I think). I don't know why we were in the car - it was parked in grampas driveway. We had a blanket over our laps cause it was cold. Rick put his hand down my pants and was touching me, rubbing me with his fingers. Kathy had no idea he was doing it. I guess I didn't mind cause I didn't try to stop him. Later that day all three of us were upstairs in Kathy's room playing. Kathy needed to go to the bathroom. While she was in the bathroom he tried to touch me but I didn't want him to. I kept saying no. He would say "Please! just let me play with you" That's what he called it 'playing' with me. I said "I let you play with me in the car". He said "That was before. Just let me play with you until Kathy gets back". I don't know why but I let him put his hand down my pants and touch me until Kathy came out of the bathroom. It was probably only two or three minutes.
I think most of the time I didn't like it but some of the time it actually felt good so I guess that's why I let him keep doing it to me. Some times it hurt when he put his finger in too far. I really didn't like that. He never tried to f * uck me or make me suck him off or anything. He would just finger me and some times lick me down there. I'm really ashamed when I think of that because I really liked when he licked me. It felt really good. I would think of his licking me as my reward for letting him touch me. I feel really embarrassed and ashamed to admit that.
Most of the time I went over there to visit with Kathy but sometimes I would go over when Kathy wasn't there and let him do it to me. I remember the first time I touched him. I was 9. Rick and I were alone in the house. We were playing some board game (not sure which - maybe Sorry or something like that). He sat next to me. We played for a while before he undid my pants and started touching me. We kept playing the game all the while he was fingering me. I guess I just ignored it like always. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. This was the first time I'd ever seen one. He took my hand and wrapped it around his hard c*ck. I just sat there holding onto it while we played the game and he continued touching me. Every time I would take my hand away he would put it back on his thing. After a few times I stopped even trying to let go and just sat there holding it. I realize now he was hoping I would stroke him but I was 9, I didn't know anything about that stuff. I'm surprised (and happy) he didn't show me what he wanted me to do, I probably would have done what he wanted. I only touched his penis a couple times. I didn't like it, it made me feel dirty.
One of the last times he molested me I was twelve. He was out in the back woods shooting an air rifle. Kathy and I went out to see if we could shoot too. I don't recall if we were shooting at targets or cans or what. We would all take turns taking 20 shots each in a turn. When Kathy was shooting he would touch me, of course we were standing behind her so she couldn't see us. He would rub my butt and my crotch through my clothes. I think it was fall cuz I was wearing long pants, a t-shirt, and a light jacket with snaps on the front instead of zipper or buttons (You'll see why I remember that in a little bit). I was starting to develop and had very small breasts. I didn't wear a bra back then. He would touch my breasts through my coat. He tried to unsnap my coat and for some reason it wouldn't unsnap. I don't know why I did it but I unsnapped it for him so he could get at my boobs. During Kathy's last turn he was rubbing my butt and actually put his hand down my t-shirt so he could touch my breasts directly. Right after that we got called in because my mother called and I had to go home for dinner. That was the only time he ever touched my boobs not through my clothes.
The last time he ever touched me he was standing behind me rubbing my bum and fondling me through my shirt he whispered in my ear "I'd really like to rape you" or "I really wish I could rape you" - maybe he said the "F" word instead of rape but that's the way I remember it. I got really scared and I never went back there again. He moved to another state a few years ago so I don't have to see him but I don't get to see Kathy anymore either.
I get really ashamed that I liked it some times and that some times I would go over there just so he could touch and lick me. I am crying now remembering what he did and that I let him and some times wanted him to. I feel like such a sl*t when I think of it.
It didn't happen all of the time or even most of the time. Just once in a while. Most of the time Uncle Rick was a great guy and fun to hang out with. I've never told anybody what happened.
I know I didn't have it as bad as some of the stories I've read on here. I don't think my experiences have ruined my life. I don't dwell on it all the time but sometimes I lie awake at night and think about it with shame and disgust. I don't know why I'm more ashamed and disgusted with myself and not him. I blame myself for not saying something when it first happened or not saying 'No!'. I could have stopped it but I didn't. It was my fault.