I was twelve, my sister was seven and most of the other victims - all girls - were 7-8. The molester was a next door boy of 16. Always sexual intercourse, never oral. I spent my childhood trying to keep him off my little sister while at the same time keeping everyone's secrets - mine, my sister's and my molester's.
It took me years to learn the damage it caused. It taught me to carry an exquisite sense of self-doubt, to compulsively keep secrets even when there was absolutely no dishonesty or need to do so, and to quietly allow others to step into the power positions in my life. See my thread on
Patterns for an example.