And It Was Wrong

Afraid and Outnumbered

I was about to turn sixteen, and had only ever tried kissing and some heavy petting. I was at a summer program, and had become friends with a group of boys and girls around my age, all of whom I thought were really grown up and cool. A bunch of us made plans to sneak out after curfew and meet up down at the soccer field to smoke cigarettes. A bunch of girls were supposed to go with me but when I got to the field there were only boys, which made me a little nervous. I had a crush on one of the boys, so when he wanted to take a walk across the grass with me I was excited and hoped that we would kiss. I had been carrying some condoms around all summer, pretending like I knew how to use them, trying to seem mature like my cool new friends.

We walked across the field, and he kissed me. I remember thinking that he must like me and I was happy that he had picked me out of all the other (prettier)girls at the program. He asked me to give him a blowjob. I had never even given a handjob before and was nervous and uncomfortable but I didn't want to seem like a prude or make him stop liking me so I asked if he would wear the condom (he did) and started to go down on him.
I looked up after a few seconds and realized that at least five of the other boys had come over to our side of the field and were watching from about ten or so yards away. I felt very uncomfortable and scared and realized that I was very outnumbered. I had already experienced being physically abused and overpowered by my aggressive father, so I knew that if I ran or fought back not only did I have little chance of getting away successfully, but I might also incite violence, which I feared above all else.

I weighed my options and chose to be passive, considering it my best chance to escape relatively unscathed. This boy I liked had sex with me. I had said no several times and told him I was uncomfortable with the whole situation, but all he did was make sure his friends didn't come any closer. I was scared, so I just did what he asked. He wore the condom, which to this day I'm grateful for. I don't think he even knew it was rape.

he walked away when he was done, and I was getting ready to go when another boy came over and told me to stay undressed. I remember fumbling to see if I had another condom. I pretended to be ok with it so they would have no reason to harm me. Years of emotional and physical abuse had already drilled into me the idea that if I was good and did exactly what they wanted, they would not hurt me. This other boy have sex with me as well. I remember him telling me that the first boy had said that "the hardest part was getting it in". I was clenched and frozen but as far as I remember nothing really hurt much. I had already left my body and was just focused on getting it over with and getting back to my room. The other boys watched the whole time.

I knew people would not believe that I had not wanted this. The rest of the summer everyone called me a slut. I told my best friend I had wanted to do it because I didn't want to get the boys in trouble and was afraid even she wouldn't take my side. I told no one until age 18 when I finally confessed to my mother what had happened.

And it was wrong.

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