When I was five and he was eight and his brother was fourteen, I thought they were my best friends. They were my neighbors. I saw them every day. One time they told me to get in the shed and on my knees. I thought it was a game. The younger one put his penis inside my mouth, and though he couldn't get hard, he kept it up till I said stop. The brother applauded. Told me I did good. They said it was because they loved me. I got prodded and touched, kissed, things put in my mouth, all because they loved me. I cried and felt terrified of boys because of love.
My boyfriend couldn't understand why I didn't want sexual stuff. He didn't get it. I was 14, he was 16. I should want it. He forced blowjobs and touching and never let me keep him from going under clothes. I would cry. Say I didn't want it. He said I SHOULD, because of love.
My current boyfriend is sweet and nice. We are good together. But he messed up one time. We were making love, but I felt sore, and said I didn't want to do it again. He thought I was joking. He went in again. I cried. He freaked out and got off and apologized, but I felt scarred again. He's been sexual a lot longer than me, and he doesn't get "no". Now he finally does and he's careful with me, but I cry every time we have sex, because sex is so scary and holds bad memories, all because I have been "loved".
Because of love, I'm afraid that I'm only good as long as my body functions. Because of love, I hate orgasming and feel dirty all over. Because of love, I continue with sexual acts even if I don't want it because I don't want to upset anyone.