Molested By A Lousy Perv
I don't know exactly when it started, but some time when I started to get older I started to notice my grandpa would act wierd or otherwise be inappropriate. One of my cousins always told me to be careful around him, but never exactly told me why. Well, it became painfully clear during middle school why he always made things weary, he tried to feel me up my thigh as if I would ever have been okay with that. And if it wasn't that, it would be those leary eyes I was all too aware of now, or the constant attempts to look down my shirt of touch me somewhere else. He still tried to push the boundary but I had enough of it, I started to call him out on his antics or smack him, neither of which he liked but it made him stop. That was till high school, I was at a family wedding and I got tipsy enough off of what my parents allowed me to try. I got caught up, away from the party, pinned in a hallway by my grandpa trying to make a move again. I tried, like I really tried to inch pass him or brush him off, I didn't have it in me to fight like I would have, but he just was persistent. I caved, thinking it'll make him stop ever again, just this once. I hated every moment that he felt me up, I felt disgusted but I did whatever I thought would make it end faster, even if that meant jacking him off.. Yet like before, he kept trying to push those boundaries.. he tried to have sex with me, right there in the hall. I just wouldn't, I couldn't let him. So I caved, the only thing I knew that would end this fast enough.. I blew him. That dirty bastard got what he wanted one way or another. And as soon as I could, I got out of there and hid away in the party where I knew at least I was safe. Things though, with him, didn't improve. He started acting out again, getting bolder, and when that wasn't working, he tried cornering me again. I was disgusted with myself for what happened, hated him even more, but I wasn't going to cave again like that one time, I fought, and when he thought he could try to force his way, I hit back twice harder than I ever had before. After I broke one of his ribs with a hard kick, he finally, for the love of god, stopped messing with me. I wasn't some little girl or vulnerable drunk like he wanted, I was too much for him to handle, and he pushed me to those extremes. The rest of my family don't know, but at least none of them are surprised either why I want nothing to do with him either. By the time I got to college, his health already was taking a turn to the worst. I have no clue how he's doing now, but honestly he could rot in hell for all I know, the world would be better place for it.