MY UNCLE RAPED ME

My uncle was never guilty by looks. He was one of the handsomest men I ever came across. He was well built, vast in so may areas of knowledge, stout and always bespectacled. Moreover, it was he who was my Sunday school teacher. Dad and mom never suspected anything about our cordial and intimate relationship; to them it was just the usual uncle-niece relationship, no strings attached, so they believed. Unknown to them that the number of lap sitting, name teasing and intensive tutoring was generating deep emotional attachment within me for my uncle. The way he looked at my sprouting breast, developing hips and beaded waist use to make me suspicious of him, but little birds don’t yell, for the law is a cobweb, only small insects are caught, at least so it was held.
Dad and mom had trusted my uncle so much that they sometimes vacated the home for weeks leaving me under the care of my uncle. He often used such days to gratify his animal desires by always inserting his big rod into my mouth to suck as if it were some costly lollipop bought for a twelve year old kid. This he often did with the threat that if I tell anyone, God will be so much angry with me. How could I have doubted my uncle? He was the Sunday school teacher with a direct link with God and he knew His likes and dislikes? But those were just the tip of the iceberg. 

>The odd and uneventful happened that Sunday as we just drove back from church in our family Mercedes Ben 4 matic. The earth was giving out a somewhat baking smell having been bathed in a heavy down pour and it was still drizzling. The weather was very cold and freezing and the grasses clung to each other for warmth. I wasn’t excluded from this slap by nature. I was clothed in my heavy winter clothes.
We entered our house and my uncle immediately dashed into the kitchen to prepare hot water for my bath. Thereafter, he prepared my lunch, for my parents were not to take breakfast before going to church. After all the preparations and the eating, he called me into his room and sat me at his side. 

He started revising that day’s Sunday school lesson. Later, his hands dropped to my laps sending chills all over my body. I had forseen this coming but I had the strength of a termite fighting a hen so, silence was my only comforter. He started fiddling with my breast and then he suckled from it as if I were his mother having pulled down all that I had worn against all my aimless struggle. I began to feel an intense pain bordered on pleasure in between my laps. He spread my legs and began to lick from the fountain of my youth, my treasured island. I gave out a yell, but his big palms were rather too big to allow for an escape of my yell.

All my screaming and yelling were but sighs. Alas! I gave in. He thrust me with the strength of a bear making it looked as if my intestines were coming out. I felt an intense pain in between my thighs which nearly crippled me. After he had gratified himself at the peril of a twelve year old child, he spit his natural milk all over my face and thus, threatening me that if I tell anybody, I would miss heaven. I loved God, I had always wanted to meet him someday so, I took in all he said as gospel so that I might not miss heaven. But God was dead that day or rather, he was too fast asleep to hear my loud screaming. I never knew that the road to heaven for a twelve year old child was that rough. I never told my parent my story, the beautiful images painted about heaven were still fresh on my mind, thus I opted in for silence in order to make it to such a beautiful home. Or maybe, I wasn’t the right person to tell the story, since no one will believe such a fabricated story against a honest and god-fearing uncle by a daring and stubborn twelve years old child….

©copyright loveday mcjolly .May 2018 all rights reserved.

Written by loveday mcjolly.

Email: lovedaymcjolly4@yahoo.com

Facebook username: Ekeke, Loveday Mcjolly

Phone contact: 07064814062

Loveday Mcjolly.

Also read Tale of a lone sniper

About Onyeneke Abel

I am a writer, freelancer, ghostwriter, content developer. Okay hold on and think of any thing that has to do with a pen and paper. Yeah hold on. That's me in your thoughts. I am anything that has to do with a pen and paper!

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