Thanks to my mom dwelling on these instances, they’ve been playing over in my head a lot lately, so I may as well vent about them now.

When I was 18 and 20 were the last couple of times my dad molested me. The time he did it when I was 18, he had already done it two or three months before when I had been 17. That age of which he did it three times, but he wasn’t as confident about it anymore. It became awkward, even for him. Though that last time he was more confident like he had been when he was doing it to me every day when I was 15. That frightened me because I thought he was going to start doing it more often again and I would be too scared to stop it like always. Luckily for me, it didn’t happen for regularly, but he did to it again a short time later.

One night, he woke me up in the middle of the night. I don’t remember where my mom was, but she wasn’t home so it was just me and him. Him actually waking me up before molesting me was unusual as he’d usually just get right to it and I would wake up to him in the middle of eating me out or doing things to my body. I didn’t even suspect anything when he woke me up. I asked what was wrong and he said nothing. He pulled my sheets off of me and started lowering my pants. I knew what this meant and then just laid there frozen like I always would.

That night, he made me climax the most times he ever had in a single day or night. Before, I remember him giving me maybe five or six orgasms in one day. I’m not even exaggerating when I say I had probably ten or more orgasms that night. I remember him doing two or three in a row, then stopping to let me rest for a while, even though he’d still be down there kissing my vagina or around it, before doing it a few more times. It got to where I couldn’t even hardly feel anything down there and wasn’t making any sounds until I’d start cumming again. Even then, just a series of rapid breaths were all I could get out. I don’t know how long that went on. Maybe an hour or so. But it felt like forever to me.

When he finally stopped, he sat up and asked me if I was okay. I just nodded, not making eye contact with him. But I wasn’t. I was exhausted and I felt so disgusting. How many times I had just been eaten out, it didn’t even feel good anymore. Just uncomfortable. Then my dad outright told me “I’m not going to do this to you anymore,” before he left. I didn’t think much of it or believe it at the time, but he did stop for a couple years, at least. I’m not sure what brought that on. The fact that my dad did it so many times that night makes me think he had planned to stop and that was his way of making the most of it before finally stopping. As for why he did decide to stop, I have no idea.

He did do it once more though. The last time was when I was 20, shortly before I moved out of the house. He too was going to be moving out shortly as my mom and had recently divorced (for reasons unrelated to him molesting me since my mom never knew until very recently), but she let him stay there until he could find his own place. That time, he again came to me in the middle of the night. He didn’t wake me up this time, so I woke up to him going down on me. No words were said this time. I had orgasm, he stopped for a little bit before continuing before I had another. Almost immediately after, he just got up and left. Didn’t even make eye contact with me, just came in to do what he did and that was that.

While I do believe he had intended to make the time when I was 18 the very last time as he said, I believe he did it again that time because he knew we were both going to be moving out and he probably wouldn’t have another opportunity to give me oral sex ever again, so he got two more times in. After both of those times, although I had to endure it again, I quickly suppressed the memories and forgot about it. As always, it was like it didn’t happen the next day for years. I already made an entry on how my relationship with my dad was when I would see him after he stopped molesting me. To keep it brief, that too was just like nothing had ever happened between us.

I’m very lucky that my dad moved someplace that was miles away. It likely would have happened again if he lived closer.