It was summer time. 1965?
I think I was seven years old. Not really sure. It really bothers me that I donít know.
My oldest brother is ten years older than me. Did I look up to him?ÖI canít really say.
I donít have any real memory of him outside of the abuse.
I canít even see his face back then.
I can see every other part of his body vividly.
He took me upstairs that summer probably twelve to fifteen times.
He was so incredibly bold. We had ten people in our family.
How did he dare to do that? In our own house?
It was all for him.
Both of us completely naked.
We bathed together in our large, claw-footed tub.
I watched him pee many times.
One time I noticed he had shaved all his pubic hair. I asked him why.
Often I rubbed his thighs with a piece of fur he kept hidden in the closet while he jacked off.
He would ejaculate and run to the bathroom to clean up.
Many times weíd dress up in ďdiapersĒ he made for us both out of pillow cases.
He sucked me, over and over again. I was too young to get off.
He asked me to suck him. It was so big. Too big for my mouth. I didnít enjoy it.
I remember the musky taste.
He turned me on my stomach and rubbed his penis between my butt cheeks.
He never penetrated.
Weíd get dressed.
It was over.
I donít remember anything before or after.
I canít even see him at the dinner table.
One time my sister walked in the room and caught us with our pants on the floor.
Silence.
We stared at her.
She walked away.
I think thatís when it ended. She never told. Mom and Dad never knew a thing.

I talked to him about itÖ40 years laterÖhe said he figured I didnít remember.
He acted like he didnít remember what we did.
I know better.



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"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." - Ralph Waldo Emerson