At 15, my dad had started molesting me almost every single day at every opportunity he had. It suddenly stopped after he tried having actual sex with me and I made it clear I didn’t want that. He got shot down enough to stop molesting me for at least a year. I went through the age of 16 without being molested once. That’s an incredibly sad achievement to note and something no one should ever have to say, but I was being molested since childhood, so that really is something for me. It inevitably happened again after I turned 17 though. At least three times, but these times were different. For one, they each happened months apart from each other. Even before he started doing it daily, my dad would go no longer than four weeks without molesting me. And when he did it again when I was 17, he was no longer doing it confidently at first. It was a bit awkward, to be honest.

The first time was while I was sitting at a table doing homework. Out of nowhere, my dad comes up to me and asks if I needed help with it. I told him I was good, but then he asks if I could stand up for a minute. I asked him why, not making the connection what he was about to do again yet. He went “Just…” and gestured for me to stand. When I stood in front of him, he put both his hands on my waist for a moment. I asked him “What are you doing?” Still genuinely didn’t know somehow. He didn’t answer me, he just started undoing my pants, then I finally figured it out. He did it very slowly and both of us were tensed up. Me because I had froze out of fear and him, I’m thinking because he was waiting to see if I would tell him “No,” but I didn’t have it in me like always. He kept glancing up at me while he was lowering my pants too like if he was looking for any indication that I wanted him to stop. I did, but I was too scared to say it.

When he finally had my pants down, he again hesitated for a moment before kneeling down. He looked at my vagina and awkwardly joked “You still shave,” before letting out a chuckle. There was a bit of a stutter, though, so it sounded “Y-You still shave.” Again, indicating that he was feeling nervous. His little laugh was heavy and nervous too. He finally closed in and started licking. I gasped and just tilted my head back, shutting my eyes waiting for it to be over. When he was finished, he stood up with that satisfied look on his face he’d always have after making me cum. He asked me “How’d that feel?” I answered “Good,” flatly and without making eye contact. He noticed my lack of enthusiasm and said “Huh?” I repeated what I said louder and quicker. Out of fear, really. He stares at me for a few seconds, like he was in some kind of dismay. Then he let out a sigh and said he was going to work, even though it was a bit early for him to leave. I didn’t lie, it did feel good, but I didn’t enjoy it and I think the lack of enjoyment in my voice said it all for him.

It would be at least three months before he did it again. That next time was basically the same as the last. Starts off all slow and awkward and after giving me an orgasm, he appears to look for some sort of approval and when I don’t show it, he looks disappointed. I believe my dad was looking to make a regular thing out of it again. Perhaps he wanted to give having sex with me another shot. I don’t know. But he could tell I wasn’t enjoying it now. I actually hadn’t been enjoying it since I was 13, but I guess now my dad finally realized it too. Again, I admitted it felt good but I still didn’t want him to eat me out anymore. But because I was too scared to say no, acknowledging it felt good was kinda like saying “yes” without actually saying it. Guess he could only get off himself if I was enjoying it, but he knew I wasn’t.

The third time happened four months after the previous time, but he was a bit more confident about it this time. He straight up told me to take off my pants and sit on the couch for him like he usually would when initiating oral sex. The only thing that was off about this time is right before he started, he changed his mind about the couch and had us go to my bedroom where he had me lay down on my bed where he did it then. This was unusual because I don’t remember him ever switching up the location before. He’d have me reposition myself like sitting on a counter or table while I’d be standing or have me scoot to where he had better access, but never did he have me go from one room to another. Who knows what that was about?

Anyway, how confident he was that time terrified me. He even did this post-climax thing he’d do where he’d stay down there a bit longer to kiss the insides of my thighs. I thought this meant he was going to go back to doing it to me all the time again. I, of course, never had the willpower to stop it before and knew I wouldn’t again. I feared him trying to have sex with me again like I did when I was 15 and thought he would actually do it this time. He was going to take my virginity and I’d probably get pregnant with my own sibling. None of this ended up happening, but that’s what I was thinking. I was crushed. After he left for work that time, I cried to myself and just despised myself all over again for being so weak. I told myself once more that I deserved what was coming for being so pathetic. Just by reading this, I’m sure you can imagine how defeated I felt.

He didn’t start doing it regularly again, but he would do it again a little over two months later after I turned 18. That time, he told me that was going to be the last time. It ended up not being the last time since he did one more time when I was 20, but it’s interesting that he said that to me and did go for a long time without doing it again. I’ll write an entry on that time as well someday since there’s a bit more to it than that. It’s possible my might’ve done stuff to me in my sleep when I was 17 since I recall waking up with my clothes out of sorts a few times and feeling funny down there. I’m a heavy sleeper and know I slept through him doing stuff, though I would usually wake up when he’d go down on me in my sleep. I don’t know, but those are the three times I can remember when he did to me again at age 17.