maipenraikhap.org 2.5

I was a six-year-old boy when my Uncle Arthur started molesting me. He used to make me get naked with him, and then he would French-kiss me while touching my butt and my weewee. My uncle also forced me to lie down naked on the old sofa in the basement. Then he would put his big weewee between my thighs or my butt cheeks and rub it there until he shot his sticky milk. After a while, he taught me to stroke his boner with my two hands and how to lick the big plum-like head until he shot his sticky milk in my mouth and force me to swallow it almost every day. I didn’t know that it was wrong, so I didn’t mind doing it.

My mom was single and always in a big rush because of her job, so she never talked to me about “bad touching.” I was practically raised by Uncle Arthur and Aunt Sandra and only saw my mom late at night and on the weekends.

When Aunt Sandra was home (most of the time), my uncle would abuse me in the basement. He lied to her, telling her that he was teaching me carpentry at his small improvised workshop. She was a timid and submissive woman and didn’t doubt him. The couch where Uncle Arthur molested me had old torn upholstery that felt sticky and itchy, and I got a rash on my hairless pubic area and my tummy from lying down on it. Aunt Sandra noticed my rash when she was giving me a bath, so my uncle started to bring clean sheets down to the basement to put over the couch.

My uncle used to bathe with me when my aunt wasn’t home. He would aim the shower head’s stream into my butt and force me to spread my cheeks so the water would get inside. He would also shove a finger in my butthole and rub liquid soap in there. It hurt the first time he did this, but I got used to it after a while.

The basement was pretty cold during the winter, but my uncle still forced me to undress for him. He only allowed me to wear socks and mittens to warm up my extremities. Those days I almost felt grateful when he lay on top of me and smothered me under his big burly body. It was suffocating, but at least it kept me warm.

He also taught me to talk dirty to him and made me repeat the same things over and over again for his pleasure, like “I’m a little fag,” “I love your cock,” “Cum in my mouth, please,” and “I’m a cumdump.” I didn’t know yet exactly what those words meant.

One day Aunt Sandra found out that my uncle had been sexually abusing me. I don’t know how she caught wind of it because I don’t remember her ever walking in on us. Maybe she peeked very discreetly, or perhaps she became suspicious of the circumstances. The fact is that there was a terrible fight between them about it. I was about eight years old then.

I watched TV in the living room while Aunt Sandra and Uncle Arthur were arguing in their bedroom with the door closed. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but at some point, I noticed that my uncle was raising his voice and speaking aggressively. Then I heard him slap Aunt Sandra a few times, and then there were some slamming noises like he was shoving her against the door.

Aunt Sandra left their room crying, ran inside the guest room, and locked it. Uncle Arthur went after her and started banging on the door.

“If you don’t open this fucking door right now, I’m gonna kick it down and beat the shit out of you”!

Aunt Sandra let Uncle Arthur in, and then he started telling her that he was doing nothing wrong.

“He’s just a little faggot. He loves cock.”

He warned my aunt that he would beat her up for real if she told anyone about it, especially my mom (his sister). He made me go into the guest room and tell my aunt that “I loved cock.” I did as he told me, as I’d been repeating those words for a couple of years now. My aunt looked scared and shocked as I said what my uncle told me to say. Her face was red and a little swollen from the beating.

After that day, I started to suspect something was wrong with what my uncle was doing to me. He kept telling me it was all normal, but it was hard to believe him, having seen my aunt’s reaction and how he made such a big deal about keeping it a secret from my mom. He kept telling me that Aunt Sandra was a “jealous dumb bitch” and what we had was “special.”

After that fight, my uncle stopped taking me down to the basement. He started to molest me in his bedroom, on the same bed where he slept with Aunt Sandra. She pleaded with him a few times to quit doing it, but he slapped her and yelled at her every time. So she stopped trying to interfere and just stayed in the kitchen or the guest room while Uncle Arthur abused me. She barely talked to me anymore, and she couldn’t even look me in the eye.

I started to feel ashamed of doing those things, especially French-kissing him. I was beginning to realize that that way of kissing was something daddies and mommies did. I learned that from TV and movies because I hardly ever spent time with my mom and didn’t have a dad in real life.

I also learned the meaning of the words “fag,” “cocksucker,” and “cumdump” from my friends at school and saw how they were used as insults. As such, I was getting ashamed of saying those phrases that my uncle liked me to say.

But my reluctance did nothing but further encourage him. He seemed to get off on humiliating me. He started to cum all over my face, making a big mess every time. He bought and made me wear girl’s panties. I cried my eyes out the first time my uncle forced me to wear pink lacy panties. He did not care. He kept pushing his dick down my throat to muffle my crying. Then he sat on his bed and made me kneel on the floor and suck his cock until he ejaculated all over my face and chest. Then he sat me on his lap, and we watched cartoons together while he rubbed his cum into my body. I often watched cartoons when he molested me. I guess he wanted me to associate sex with him with something fun, but it backfired. I got ashamed every time I saw a cartoon character.

When I was ten, my uncle decided that I was big enough to take his cock in my ass. First, we went into the bathroom, and he washed my ass hole with the showerhead and his finger. Then he made me get on all fours on his bed and poured some sort of oil in my butthole and rubbed it in with his finger.

He attempted to push his dick in, but it was way too thick for me. I cried and tried to escape by crawling away from him, but he held my waist tight and kept pulling me towards him. He just continued to push hard until he finally managed to penetrate me, causing me agonizing pain. I couldn’t see what was going on behind me, but I knew he only managed to get a little over the tip in. After jerking and sucking his cock so many times, I had a pretty good estimate of its length.

As I cried because of all the pain and humiliation, my uncle made me beg him to “fuck my bitch boy pussy”. His cock wasn’t even halfway in, and I already couldn’t handle it, but he still forced me to act like I wanted more. He shot his sperm inside my ass and pulled his cock out when he was done with me. I was still crying because it felt like my asshole was all stretched out and would never go back to normal. He lay down with me afterward, French kissing me as if what had happened was romantic or something.

After that, he fucked me every day. By the end of the month, I was accommodating his entire cock in my ass. Still painfully, but not as much. I no longer cried when he fucked me.

Shortly after getting used to being fucked in the ass by Uncle Arthur, two things happened in school that soured everything again.

First, there was this fight that I overheard, where one of the boys threatened the other, yelling, “I’m gonna fuck you in the ass.”

That really made me self-conscious and ashamed. It was not my first time hearing those words since my uncle often said some variation to me when he fucked me, but for some reason, this time, it really stuck with me. Then, later that same week, my school counselor gave a talk about strangers and inappropriate touching. Everything he mentioned had happened to me. The only difference was that it wasn’t a stranger doing it. It was my uncle. The counselor kept repeating the word “inappropriate” and reminding us that we should refuse to do those things and tell an adult.

For the first time, I tried to physically curb my uncle’s advances. First, he wanted to kiss me, so I turned my head away and covered my mouth. He wanted me to suck his dick, but I refused to open my mouth. He started to get upset and curse at me. Then he told me he was going to fuck me.

I replied, “No, it’s inappropriate,” and kept holding on to my shorts.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He yanked my shorts down with one quick motion. When I realized that I couldn’t stop him and that would happen anyway, I told him I didn’t want to, and I would tell my mom. When he heard me say that, my uncle slowed down and tried to bargain with me. He told me that he loved me and would be nice to me and make me feel good. I did not believe him, and I was determined not to cooperate. Uncle Arthur slapped me across the face real hard.

“Did you see what I did to your aunt? Do you want me to do the same for you? Do you?”

Once he threatened me, I stopped offering resistance and complied. He fucked me again, but he was indeed “nicer” as he’d promised. Well, as kind as a rapist can be anyway. He stopped penetrating me when I whined too much, and he allowed me to take a break when I was too sore. He also stopped humiliating me with his cum and forcing me to wear panties.

As the days went by, I started to make peace with the fact that I wasn’t going to escape him. I started getting used to being fucked by my uncle, then I started feeling okay, and finally, I began to enjoy it a little bit.

My “pussy” loosened up enough that it could take Uncle Arthur’s cock without giving me pain unless he was slamming extra hard or not using enough lube. I started noticing how good his cock felt, rubbing on my insides and massaging my prostate. Tragically, I was beginning to enjoy being fucked.

This was confusing because I now enjoyed the sex, even though I still feared and resented my uncle. I really looked forward to being penetrated in my “pussy,” but I couldn’t stop feeling animosity towards my uncle. I often tried to close my eyes and imagine it was someone else fucking me without success. After all the things he had done to me, I knew him in such detail. His body, his touch, his smell—everything about him were imprinted in my memory, and I hated all of it.

When I was almost twelve, puberty kicked in, and I had my first orgasm while being fucked. I guess my uncle assumed that I enjoyed being fucked from seeing me cum. He started treating me a lot more gently because of that. That’s when I learned that making him happy would result in less suffering for me, so I went back to wearing panties for him, just because I knew he liked it. I’d lie down beside him on the bed, stroking and licking his cock while he caressed my chest and my panties-clad butt. He’d often interrupt and French kiss me for a couple of minutes, then let me resume. We started doing a lot of foreplay before penetration.

When I turned fourteen, my mom stopped dropping me off at Uncle Arthur’s on her way to work because now she trusted me to be home alone. Now my uncle was arriving home from work and no longer finding his fuck toy waiting for him. I was finally allowed some peace and not being subjected to his abuse.

I’d lived over half of my life being trained by my uncle, and my puberty hormones were making me crave sex. I had no experience interacting with other men except sexually, and the high school jock boys soon made me their little faggot. I was getting the cock I needed.

I am the fuckhole and cumdump my uncle trained me to be.