My therapist recently helped me learn that when I was being molested at age 15, that was the hardest time for me throughout my 20 years of being molested by my father. It’s been lingering in my head for the past few days and I’ve been wanting to vent about it, but also don’t just for how graphic it’s going to be when I do. But I’m getting tired of thinking about it now so I’m going to do it.

My dad had been giving me oral sex since age 8 and did it once a week until I was 13. By that point, I had come to realize how horribly wrong it all was, but I didn’t have the courage to put a stop to it. But my dad started doing it less after I turned 13. It went from once a week to once every few weeks or so. I had hoped he would do it less and less before finally stopping on his own. I can’t help but roll my eyes at myself as I’m typing this for how sorely mistaken I was.

After I turned 15, he started doing it a lot more often. He had gotten a job where he’d work from 4 PM to past midnight. I would get home from school around 2 and my mom would work until 5. My dad always had two hours alone with me and during those times after school is when it would usually happen from then on. He would either come on to me after a while or he’d start as soon as I walked through the door. But when he would get started, he would often eat me out multiple times. I remember him doing it more than once occasionally before, but it became the new normal. When he’d start, I always knew it likely wasn’t going to be the only time he was going to do it that day.

He started doing it at night more often too. Before, that was also something he would do occasionally, but now he had more of a window to do it since he was coming home past midnight while my mom would be asleep. I remember one time he had given me four orgasms during the day and I felt so dirty and tired after it was over. I was glad it was over for that day, at least. Then later that night, I wake up to him down between my legs again where he gave me another. Those days were really hard because he was already eating me out so many times and then he’d do it once more when I couldn’t see it coming. Of course, my mom was always none the wiser to it.

Before, I had noticed my dad looking at me differently. I would see his eyes glancing up and down my body, especially my breasts. He would tell me things like how I was looking very beautiful that day. Those were hardly flattering coming from him because I knew he was saying it out of lust. When I was 14, he accidentally(?) walked in on me in the laundry room as I was folding clothes. I didn’t have a shirt on, so he saw me in my bra. He said sorry at first, but then started staring. I just froze. He then had me sit on top of dryer and went down on me right there. When he finished, he told me I was growing into a lovey young woman and said he’d have to get used to seeing me like that. I’m not sure what that meant, but the reason I mention that was because I believe at that point was when he really started lusting after me and thus, started doing it more.

He also started doing things to my body. Sometimes he would start by lifting up my shirt to start at my breasts, fondling them and putting his mouth on them before eventually going lower. He started masturbating as well. Usually while he would go down on me and having it so we both came at the same time. But a few times, he’d have me stand in front him in nothing but my underwear while he kissed all up and down my body and masturbated. When he ejaculated, he usually did it on a kleenex, but sometimes he’d get it on me. He’d either get his semen on my body or directly on my vagina.

I have no memory of him ever masturbating himself before then. I think before, it had been about pleasuring me more than him. Obviously he enjoyed giving me oral sex, but I don’t even remember him looking aroused when he would. It’s like the main objective was getting me off, but now it was about him getting off too. That’s when I started becoming scared that he was going to start having sex with me. He was already laying on top of me and grinding his pelvis on me while he’d go at my breasts. Him shooting his load on my vagina was probably him wanting to cum inside of me.

I became dead inside. I could go on like normal when it wasn’t happening, but when it did, I was just lifeless. I did everything he’d tell me to do. When he’d start with the oral sex, I’d shut my eyes and just take it. I had come to accept that this was my life now and also that I just didn’t have the courage to stop it. I never felt more dirty, getting multiple orgasms every day and by my own father. There were many times where after my dad would leave for work, I would just cry my eyes out for an hour but try to pick myself up before my mom got home. Sometimes I was unable to and she’d see that I was crying. I’d lie and said I just had a bad day at school. I was getting increasingly fearful that my dad was going to take my virginity. But then I’d tell myself I deserve it for being so weak.

One time, he almost did. This also became the last time for a long time. It was during the usual routine of him being buried between my legs. I think he already made me climax once and this was him about to do it again. He was masturbating himself and as I was getting close to cumming again, he stood up and was about to mount me. When his erect penis neared my vagina, I nearly screamed “Dad!” He stopped himself and said “What?” I didn’t answer but he could see how scared I was. Then he let out a sigh and pulled his pants up. He told me “Sorry,” and then “I’m sorry, alright?” He left early for work and then he stopped doing it for over a year.

I’m not sure what was going through my dad’s head at that moment. Maybe all that time, he thought I was still enjoying it too and when he saw I wasn’t, he felt shot down. Maybe he always knew I hadn’t been enjoying it for some time but once he saw at that moment how much I wasn’t, he felt bad. Maybe my saying “dad” gave him an epiphany and he realized he was just about to have sex with his own daughter and came to his senses at how messed up this whole thing was. I have no idea. Not that it really matters, but one can’t help but wonder sometimes.

When it did finally stop (for now), sure I was relieved but at the same time, I became angry with myself again. All it took was me letting him know I didn’t want it and just like that, it was over! I was mad at myself for not telling him “no” sooner, like it could have ended a long time ago if I had just been brave enough. I’d tell myself more stupid things like I really did deserve it for being so spineless. I’ve since learned it’s pointless and counterproductive to ponder all of that. What happened happened and that’s all that’s important, not the “what could have”.

I might have a vague memory of my dad saying something to me about it shortly after it stopped. I don’t know why I can’t remember, but apart from maybe that time, I don’t recall us ever talking about it after. He just stopped going down on me and over time, we just forgot about it like it never happened. Though he would do it again a few more times later, but that was it for a while. Suffice it to say, this is going to be hard to talk about out loud with my therapist tomorrow from writing this entry, but hopefully writing about it here prepares me for it. I’ll be sure to write about how it went. At least now you know all the details - why it’s going to be hard to discuss.

Thanks for reading all the same.