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My First Love...My Molester

Posted by Falula , in love, depression, abandonment, incest, molestation, long-term childhood sexual abuse 21 February 2013 · 129 views

Entry originally written 2/12/13...

We all lived in the same trailer park. His parents were managers there and he did odd jobs around the park. My earliest memories of him are when I was probably around 4-5 years old. He gave me marbles. When my parents separated/divorced he came around and helped my mom out by mowing the yard. He was married with two teenagers. His daughter even baby sat me a few times.

I was around 4 years old when the extra-marital relationship started between Chuck and my mother despite the fact that he was 18 years older than her. I remember as a child sneaking to watch them in the living room. They would kiss and make out. Even at this early time I remember him referring to "Herman" in his pocket. He called it a mouse, but it wasn't.


My mother was in college when she had me. She saw me as an interruption in her life. She did not love me. She didn't know how I guess. She cared for my physical needs, but I don't remember any affection or tenderness toward me. I know she was mentally ill, although I don't really know what her diagnosis was. She slept a lot. I remember as a child when I tried to get her attention, she'd shoo me away. She didn't want to be bothered.

My parents split because my dad was an alcoholic. To this day he claims I was "Daddy's Little Girl". That notion kind of rips my heart out because this resonates with me even though I don't have many memories of him from that period in my life. I think the idea of me being Daddy's Little Girl fits in the great puzzle of my life. It makes things easier to understand.


When Chuck came around he would pay attention to me. He would bring me trinkets. He would play and roughhouse with me. I remember vividly one time when he had to leave me wrapping my entire body around his leg begging him to stay or take me with him. I was around 5 or so.

When I was around 8-9 years old my mother and I lived with her parents. Chuck would come for visits when my grandparents were out for the night. That meant Chuck and mom would be in the bedroom and I would be stuck out in the living room forced to watch Little House on the Prairie. I hated that.

Around this time frame my grandfather and mother had a huge fight which resulted in my mother being banned from the house for over 20 years. Mom and I went to live with Chuck. I was 8 at the time. So he basically took us in when we didn't have anywhere to go.

I remember that Christmas of 1975. I was 8 years old. I know these dates because of the timing of my Great Aunt's death. Chuck and I went out to the woods to cut down a pine tree for Christmas. We got to roughhousing. He managed vending machines and always had a lot of quarters in his pockets. Somehow in the roughhousing his pants came down. I don't remember seeing his penis, but I saw his underwear. This wasn't an unusual thing anyway. My mom and chuck walked around in their underwear all the time. I do remember him letting me see a Hustler magazine.
He would take me to do fun things. We would go for drives or go fishing. He let me tag along for errands and such. He paid attention to me gave me affection. Neither of which I got much of from my mother. I remember from the beginning he would tuck me in and read me bedtime stories. I remember him reading "The Borrowers". He would caress my back as I drifted off to sleep. He would play this game where he would draw letters on my back and I'd have to guess what he was writing.

I must have been afraid of the dark or afraid of being alone. I'm not sure which, but I remember laying there at night afraid and calling out to him, "Chuck, come sit with me". He did and I would feel better.

I was around 9 years old remember the first time he had me jack him off. I remember it was fun watching it shoot toward the ceiling. I remember vividly the first time he touched my genital area. I remember looking at him confused with a questioning look. He shushed me reassuringly and said it was okay. He also admonished me not to tell anyone. "They wouldn't understand our special relationship and they would take him away to jail."

It wasn't until years and years later I realized the full profundity of the last part of that statement. See this piece of the puzzle fits in with the "Daddy's Little Girl" reference above. Although I don't have very many memories of my real father from that time in my life, I have this sense and resonation with the idea that I was "Daddy's Little Girl".

A big piece of the puzzle was discovered. A big chunk of the reason why was discovered. Why did I keep the secret so long? For my little psyche, the idea of him leaving was worse than death. From this perspective, my daddy had already left in a big way. I would be left with an uncaring and unloving mother. Who would love me?

So when, the notion was uttered that he would be taken away if the secret was revealed, there was no question and no second thought what had to be done. Utter, complete and unquestioning silence. I would not tell another soul until I was 20 years old when the relationship ended.

He brought me to my first orgasm. I experienced my first oral sex both on me and on him. As the years progressed ours developed into a full-fledged, sexual relationship. When I was 11 years old he began attempting penetration. By the time I was 12 I had fully lost my virginity to him. He introduced pornography into the picture which was used to plant ideas into my mind of things we could do. It was fun and titillating. It felt good. Yeah, sex feels good.

We kissed tenderly. When we had sex it felt like "making love". I loved him and he loved me. I did not question this. I felt this love and connection with him. I hurt when he hurt. I felt somehow I loved away his pain.

There were many pregnancy scares over the years. I was around 12 when he told my mother we needed a pregnancy test for me because he got excited and came on the sheets when he was in bed with me. Oh, the "sitting with me" became a permanent thing which stayed all the way until I was 20. That was our ritual every night. I would call out "Chuck, come sit with me" and he would every night.

We would go on drives, go for walks in the woods. He would take me out to teach me how to drive. Those things always included us having sex.

He made himself my entire universe. He isolated me to a great degree. From early on I was taught to fear the big bad world. That was pretty effective for me. That fear kept me from ever trying to run away. I was strongly discouraged from having friends over and certainly not allowed to go to anyone's house. He was skillful at fostering the wedge between my mother and me. He would console me after fights with my mother. She would say awful things to me and I'd lay in my room crying. He'd come to comfort me. I never had any respect for my mother. Of course, the situation was text-book where I felt like her equal because I was having sex with him. That set up a rivalry with her.

When I was 18 we thought I was pregnant. We seriously talked about running away together and having a life together. In the fall I went to college in Pensacola, FL. We lived in Orlando, FL at the time with his oldest child (we didn't have any other place to live). Yes, we thought I was pregnant but I went to school anyway. Within those first 6 weeks he sent me a handful of love letters. I've held onto those letters for all these years. I somehow knew to keep them as proof.

In this time-frame, within a few weeks of starting the semester, I experienced an extremely bad period. I am now beyond convinced it was indeed a miscarriage. At the time I was 18 and relatively inexperienced compared to now. I had such bad cramps I was doubled-over in my dorm bed with a heating pad on my lower stomach. I also passed this huge clump of something. Now, being over 40, I have the benefit of experience and know with some certainty that was a miscarriage because I have never had a period even close to that bad.

Within a couple of weeks, Chuck moved the family up to Pensacola to be close to me and of course the relationship continued. It was toward the end of our stay in Pensacola that things started to unravel. But that's another long story.

I have a huge lump into throat as I write this .... Because you could be talking about my own relationship with my abuser. Short on words but wanted to say to you "yep I understand exactly what you mean"

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