I grew up with nine siblings – 5 step siblings, 2 half siblings and 2 full blood siblings. The first house we all lived in together was 3 stories tall with a walk out garage/basement (which is rare for California) and a lot of rooms.
I was given my own room in this house, but my step siblings who were mostly all 5+ years older than me, also lived there. I don’t remember connecting with any of them at this point, I think I was too young. But this was the point where I saw my first pornography.
In the garage/basement was an old computer. My brother and sister and one step sister were crowded around the monitor. I was behind them, ignored as usual. For some reason they looked up horse porn, and that was my first introduction to sex.
Before all this, I was obsessed with masturbation, even if I didn’t know exactly what that was. At my mom’s house (after the divorce) my mother would catch me masturbating and admonish me, “Little girls don’t do that!” I didn’t understand it, it just felt good. Later in life my father would tell me that my mother accused him of molesting me as an infant because I somehow had genital warts before the age of 4 years old. I don’t remember being molested at that age, but I would believe it.
After the horse porn incident all the younger kids would dog pile onto our step brother, Kyle, and joke that he was into horses. He never got mad, but he did not like this made-up fact. I think joking about Kyle having sex opened the doors in my mind to the idea of having sex with him, even as young as I was (around 8-10).
There was one incident, I believe I was 13, I was disciplining one of our dogs. I stood over the dog, legs on either side of him (he was a small/medium sized dog) and I lightly swatted his butt and said, “No, Kotey, bad!” Kyle was at the dinner table and said, “I wish I was that dog right now.”
Time moved on and I grew up. I grew closer to Kyle. We had the same birthday 8 years apart, we loved hanging on the couch together while he programmed or I read. We would game in the same room together even when not on the same game.
One day, I was tired, so I laid down in Kyle’s bed. This wasn’t unusual for our family, we were always lying in each other’s bed.
This is where it gets complicated. I was maybe 14-15 and I considered myself a nymphomaniac at this time. I was masturbating a lot (multiple times a day for lengthy times each time), I was looking at a lot of porn and I was role playing sex on the internet. When I got my first vibrator I would block out days specifically for masturbating all day.
Was I attracted to Kyle because I was in love with him, or was it because I had a high sex drive? Was I too young to know the difference?
So I was tired. I crawled into Kyle’s bed and fell asleep. Eventually, Kyle got into bed with me. I woke up but pretended to be asleep and turned to him to embrace him. He put his hands on me and we had sex. After that we had sex whenever we could. He would sometimes come downstairs to my room and wake me up in the middle of the night, begging for sex.
Kyle was always kind and gentle to me. He never hurt me and it didn’t feel like he manipulated me. From my point of view, I knew what I was doing. I had consumed a lot of sexual content at this point and had already had sex with a guy before Kyle.
At some point, Kyle confessed to putting a camera in my shower. He showed me multiple videos of me masturbating in the shower (as well as nude drawings he had done of me). He told me once I looked directly into the hole that he hid the camera, and he thought he was caught.
The funny thing was, I 100% thought there WAS a camera in the ceiling hole, however I wrote it off as me being paranoid.
I’m not sure how long the “affair” lasted. A year? Six months? But one evening Kyle and I were having sex and my brother came home. He heard us having sex and assumed I was Kyle’s girlfriend. But then my brother caught me sneaking out of Kyle’s room.
This is something I’m not proud of. I gave my alcoholic brother a small bottle of whiskey to bribe him not to tell our parents. He ended up telling them and I gaslit him, saying that never happened. Our parents believed me. Many years later my brother would use this affair as fodder for his arguments with our father.
Eventually I ended the affair. I told Kyle it wasn’t appropriate for us as step-siblings to be together. He lost it. He cried and yelled (not at me) and spoke to me less and less until eventually we never spoke again.
So. Was I raped? Statutorily, yes. Do I consider it rape? No. I loved Kyle, or at least what I thought love was at the time. He and I spent every minute we could together for so long and I don’t remember a single negative thing about the whole ordeal.
I found out later that he did the same thing to my sister who is four years older. I was never close enough to my sister to ask, but I always wondered – was I first? Or did she neglect to warn me for whatever reason?
I never spoke to Kyle after that. I left California and he got married and moved to Sweden or something.
I don’t know how I feel about it all. Society demands that I be a victim, that I cower back with eyes watery and a meek voice. I don’t feel like that for sure, but I’m not sure how to feel. I get uncomfortable using new showers and I used to have boyfriends check the showers for me in strange places. This invasion of my privacy was probably the most traumatizing part.
As for my family, my mom doesn’t know and my dad doesn’t care. I don’t think I’ll ever discuss it with them because they have this strange, permanent painting of me up in their heads, staying young while I age. Like Dorian Gray except its just a normal painting. (Here’s a picture of me when I’m older!)
I guess that’s all I have to say for now.
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