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Daughter Cunny
I Was 10 When My Grandfather Touched Me “Down There”. My Parents Were Just Upstairs.
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Partnered Post | Joycelyn Tan
8 Jul 2022
It happened when I was 10. It’s not like most stories that you might have read about; there was no struggling, no screaming, no taunting or violence. It was silent—mostly because I had no idea what was going on.
It didn’t happen in an alleyway, or in a sleazy motel room. Not even in my own bedroom. It was in a dusty half-lit store pantry on the ground floor of my grandfather’s house. With about 9 other relatives on the first floor. It happened when I wasn’t alone.
Was it frightening? Hardly. If anything, it was confusing. I was only 10.
I grew up in a conservative home. I didn’t know the word ‘f*ck’ until I was 15. I only understood its meaning a whole year later. And yet now we have 8-year-olds using the word in grammatically correct sentences. My parents were traditional in their ways (and very strict).
I never once asked them, “Mommy, where do babies come from?” Maybe I wasn’t quite an inquisitive child. I knew there was a hole somewhere in my nether regions but I thought it was just for peeing.
So when grandfather asked me to follow him into the pantry and put his hands down my panties, I just stood there like the good doll I was while he sat on a stool behind me. He was gentle. But determined. Quick—before anyone else came into the kitchen—but long enough for me to remember his stubby beard rubbing against my neck.
I can’t remember when I realised the disturbing intentions of his action. Maybe it was when I discovered porn by accident. Maybe it was when I studied Chapter 4 of Science in Form 3. Maybe it was during “girl talk” with my guy friends in school.
But even before I figured it out, I knew my grandfather did something bad. Bad enough for my parents to tell me to avoid going near him when we visit after I told them about how he touched me “down there”. However, in my 10-year-old mind, it couldn’t have been that bad since they never confronted him about it. There wasn’t any big hoo-ha or dramatic family intervention. They simply told me not to tell anyone about it—sorry, mom and dad, for this.
In their defence, they couldn’t have prevented it. Not before it happened anyway. They couldn’t have known that they shouldn’t leave me alone downstairs while they chatted happily just several metres away. They couldn’t have known that they should have told me from a young age to “scream for help and run if someone touches you here or here “. And for that, I’ve never blamed them.
That’s not the case for my grandfather. Although I listened to my parents and avoided him, it was out of obedience and ignorance. Not because I actually understood why I should. And when I finally did many years later, I hated him for it. Which is a difficult task to do even after all these years.
It might be because it’s hard to hate someone who’s been dead for at least 10 years (I don’t keep count of the exact number). There’s only so much hate that you can give to a dead person because you can’t really do anything about it.
I don’t have any extraordinary lesson for you, other than the predictable ones. Educate your children so that their understanding of “down there” is not lacking; be observant so that any changes in your child’s behaviour doesn’t go by unnoticed; and do something when your child confides in you so that they know they can trust you.
Because not every case of child sexual abuse and molestation is about a child kicking and screaming.
Sometimes it’s a silent one, not because they are unafraid, but because they are confused, unaware, and simply just don’t know any better.
I consider myself very lucky. It only happened once and I was still ignorant. Nevertheless I’m in no way belittling it. I’ve heard of horrific experiences from victims of abuse, and even if it happened once, twice, or many times, there is always one similarity between them—they will be affected.
I sometimes wish that my parents did make a big deal out of it. I wish my relatives knew what a creep grandfather was.
On the other hand, I’m relieved that they didn’t. I can’t imagine having to face the embarrassment and the humiliation. More importantly, I also can’t imagine handling the rejection if they all knew but still did nothing about it. Or worse still, didn’t believe me.
Am I traumatised and never able to trust men again? Not quite. I am, after all, happily married. But till this day, I can’t stand stubby beards.
Editor’s note: This article is in response to the sudden (but very necessary) interest in the ugly truth of child sexual abuse cases in Malaysia . The writer would like to remain anonymous; however she’d like to remind readers that if they have a sexually abused child, it’s your responsibility to make them feel secure and accepted. Lodge a police report, or seek professional advice from a child psychologist/counsellor. Let them know that they are significant and that their well-being matters.
Feature image adapted from http://www.doctorinsta.com/
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Vulcan Post aims to be the knowledge hub of Singapore and Malaysia.
© 2021 GRVTY Media Pte. Ltd. (UEN 201431998C.)
Vulcan Post aims to be the knowledge hub of Singapore and Malaysia.
© 2021 GRVTY Media Pte. Ltd. (UEN 201431998C.)
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Literotica: 5 websites to quench your online erotica thirst
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Websites like Literotica to get you hot and bothered. (Pexels)
Literotica, and other sites like it, will fill your evenings with erotic passion.
Imagine this: You’re at home and in the mood for some sexual mischief with erotica.
Except you’re alone under the covers and you don’t quite know how to satisfy those urges.
You’ve tried a couple of sites already, but it’s just not doing it for you this time. Sure, the internet has trillions of options when it comes to sexual fantasies, but it’s easy to get lost in the mix.
Without realising, you end up scrolling through the pages of Google for hours but, much like Bono, you still can’t find what you’re looking for.
Let’s consider something new, something exciting, something that will bring us that oh-so-personal release.
Videos are fun, but you’ve been there done that and it might be time to switch things up. Why not try to titillate your mind with some words instead of images? Rather than seeing the hairy butts of ageing actors, why not imagine your own, fictitious, perfect bottom?
Well, consider this our gift to you: A shortcut to the wonderful and inventive world of online erotica, where imagination is your only restrain (unless you’re into bondage, of course). This selection of erotica sites will hopefully save you some precious minutes next time you’re bored of Pornhub, YouPorn or GayForIt.
It is the place for free erotic fiction, and there are many websites that you can go to.
Needless to say these steamy reads are for 18+ only. Underaged readers need not apply.
When it comes to online erotica, Literotica is a titan of the genre – the clue is literally in the name. It leads the field like a Russian dominatrix, offering thousands of erotic stories with hundreds of tags that explore every sexual fantasy.
From vanilla to hardcore BDSM to everything in-between, we guarantee you’ll find something to float your boat to completion. It even has audiobooks for those who’d rather lie back and relax.
One of the most popular genre tags of this site is actually literotica cheating in which there’s an erotic story about cheating partners. Some people have some naught fantasies, it seems. No judgements here.
Literotica lesbian and Literotica gay erotica are also very popular on the site. There are many Literotica tags to pick from.
Of course, if you want some fiction erotica that caters to the LGBT+ community, PinkNews has you covered too, pals. Just head over to Nifty for some hot gay, lesbian, bi and plus action . With 23,000-plus stories, we guarantee it’ll leave your little gay heart satisfied. You won’t be disappointed with Nifty .
Bright Desire also features a wide range of free sex stories open to everyone, with a focus on what often missing in porn : the fun of it all. Not only is Bright Desire sex-positive, but it also offers videos and erotic stories that are all about passion, intimacy and straight up pleasure.
Much like Literotica, Lush Stories is a leader of the genre. Ghost sex? Check. Sex through portals? Check. Watersports sex? Check and check. Sexy ghosts playing water polo?
Probably. With 51,018 stories and counting, plus some 198,898 blog posts and 3,041,349 forum posts, we’d be surprised if you don’t find something that toasts your buns on there. Lush Stories works as a social network, too, giving you the chance to connect with other readers and maybe write your own stories.
Celebs you didn’t know have an LGBT sibling
Slightly differing from Literotica, this next website Sssh is operated by women for women—and we’re not complaining. It counts thousands of erotic stories, as well as sexy sex education articles so that you know the best way to do you.
Looking for something a little bit more refined? Erotic Review actually has editors that make sure you only read the best erotic stories out there. No typos or poor grammar here. It’ll satisfy your inner nitpicker and the most high-brow of your fantasies.
Have fun reading the erotic literature, my darlings. Happy Reading!
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By LeaGrover ,
May 15, 2015 at 11:00 am
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from Zack's Media Blog by Zack Isaacs-Raz posted today at 11:00 am
from The Amused Curmudgeon by badjack posted Friday at 1:41 pm
from Raising Teens Right by Colleen Sall posted Friday at 10:53 am
from I've Got The Hippy Shakes by Howard Moore posted Friday at 6:11 am
from Count Gregula's Crypt by Countess Gregula posted Thursday at 3:00 pm
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It's like the couch potato version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith.
We’ve been getting a lot of packages, recently. Friends have been sending cookies, cards, groceries, shoes, books, and (of course!) toys for the kids. Their favorite package so far contained these stretchy, blinking, yoyo animal things.
There was one for each of the girls. I distributed a bunny to RH, a purple deer to SI, and an orange deer to DD. All the kids were ecstatic with their new toys, and ran off to play.
It was a matter of hours before disaster struck, in the form of one of SI’s deer’s antlers being torn off. She was devastated. She came up to me, her lip quivering, begging me to glue the antler back on.
I looked at the bit of silicone in her hand, and I doubted it was possible. Silicone has a tendency to dissolve unless you’ve got the right glue, and I sure didn’t have the right glue. I kindly told her I was afraid that I couldn’t glue it on, and that it was okay- the deer still blinked and all that, but she was not pleased. And then, inspiration struck.
“You know SI, only boy deer have antlers. Maybe yours is a girl deer. I could cut off the OTHER antler, and then she’d be a girl!”
SI was thrilled . I cut off the other antler, and set both amputated parts on my desk. DD came running.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean, your boy deer might like to get married to SI’s girl deer…” What I didn’t say was, “Without the antlers, this looks like a lobotomized labradoodle.”
“I want her to be a girl!!!” DD demanded, and after a moment’s paralysis (I mean, who just up and RUINS a brand new toy???????) I chopped off a second pair of antlers. I set them on my desk with the first.
At just-barely-not-three-yet, she’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. After all, her toy was a RABBIT. Not a jackalope. There were no antlers to remove.
“It can be a girl or a boy, sweetie. Bunnies all kind of look the same.”
She glowered at me with the sort of indignation only a toddler can muster. “I WANT IT TO BE A GIRL!”
“Fine! It’s already a girl! See? No antlers!”
Shit . I picked up the toy, and rolled it around in my hands. I had noticed the little nub of silicone on the bottom, from when it had been sealed around the blinking LED light inside. I opened my mouth without really thinking.
“It is a boy! See this right there? Boy!” I put it in her hands, and walked away, my mother snickering behind me. RH lost it.
There are some moments in life when you find yourself saying things with a straight face that your middle school self would die laughing over.
“Fine then, bring it to my desk and I’ll cut off its penis.”
She was delighted. The little nub- maybe three millimeters long snipped off easily with a pair of scissors, and I placed it on my desk with the antlers. By this time, DD and SI had noticed they too had little nubs on the bottoms of their toys. At five and a half, they noticed the warning signs that their mother’s patience was wearing thin, and DD took the lead in approaching me cautiously.
“Mommy?” she said sweetly, “Will you please cut off all our penises?”
I blinked at her grinning face. She was even batting her eyelashes, the manipulative little monster.
And then I said what is to date the strangest thing I have ever said to my daughters.
“Yes, sweetheart, I’d be happy to cut off ALL your penises.”
I sat at my desk and carefully added two tiny phalluses to the heap of dismembered toy parts on my desk. And the children were THRILLED.
“Thank you so much, mommy! Thank you for cutting off my penis!”
“Me too! Thank you for cutting off MY penis!”
I made to move the heap of discarded organs to the trash, but the children stopped me. “Can I see my penis?”
I gave up. “Okay, great, just crowd around mommy’s desk and play with your penises all you want.”
No, maybe that was the strangest thing I’d ever said to my daughters.
Oh, they loved their penises. My daughters discovered in less than ten seconds what all their male friends had learned from birth- your penis is more fun to play with than your toys.
So I left the little pile of penises on my desk for days. Every few hours, RH would wander up to me where I sat, on the phone with doctors office, most of the time, and ask loudly, “Can I play with my sister’s penis?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” I’d mumble, and she’d pick up the orange, purple, or yellow nub in turn.
“Mommy! My sister’s penis is so SQUISHY!”
At least once, the nurse on the other end of the phone had an inexplicable coughing fit.
It only took a few days to happen, but RH started referring to all the parts in the pile as ‘penises,’ and only another day or two to start taking the penises for walks. “Can I take my penis for a walk?” “Yes, sure,” I’d answer, while the pharmacist on the phone stopped short mid sentence.
Penises started turning up in odd locations.
“Mommy, my penis fell under the table.”
“Mommy? Can I take my penis to the playground?”
“Mommy, I got my penis stuck under the DVD player!”
These are problems I never anticipated with three girls.
And then yesterday, I walked into the foyer and saw a strange sight.”Sweetie?” I asked my youngest daughter, “What’s that?”
“IT’S MY PENIS!” she squealed. “IT’S MY PENIS ON THE CEILING!”
Now we’re having regular conversations about appropriate places to put your penis, what it’s safe or acceptable to do with your penis, and generally how to take care of your penis and keep it safe.
I never expected that part of motherhood was going to be keeping a heap of filthy, torn, miniature dongs on my desk. But I look on the bright side. At least they’re not in the DVD player.
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