It happened when I was 6.
I was staying with my favorite,”good” grandma-my Dad’s Mom. She was amazing,self-less person,a survivor who raised 3 kids on her own during WW2 and achieved quite high status in her career during the time when women were not at all considered “management” material in Russia AND in a Muslim dominated city as well,where women (even non-Muslim) meant to “know their place”- raising the kids/cleaning/cooking/looking after their husbands-that whole “barefoot and pregnant” mentality.
My grandma’s name was Evdokia and she is and always has been my role model and inspiration. In fact (and I realize this sounds a bit silly), I firmly believe that she is “watching over me” to this day, trying to help me through all life’s trials and tribulations.
She died young-in her late 50’s,working overtime and giving her all trying to help her children. She deserves a separate chapter,which I will definitely write.
The flat where my grandma lived was somewhat typical of Russian housing of that era-it was originally build in early 1900’s, rectangular in shape,2 stories high,with flats/rooms running around the perimeter and forming a courtyard in the middle. There was a big ornate iron gate at the entrance into the courtyard. Before revolution it was probably some sort of boarding house/ rental flats. After the revolution it was appropriated by the government (like everything else) and individual flats were given to citizens.
Although,thanks to the old design, all flats were roomy and had very high ceilings (4-5 meters) and large windows,many were not equipped with private toilets. There were  communal toilets/showers downstairs for everyone. My grandma  (and many others) used a bucket for toileting purposes and then just took it downstairs and emptied it into one of the communal toilets. Grandma even had a special wooden stool build, with an opening in the middle and nice soft padding around it,so you didn’t have to crouch over the bucket-just sat on the “throne”!
To get to certain flats,one had to enter the “main” door,then go along the corridor,where other flats were located.
Clearly,because of the design of the building,everyone knew each other and each other’s business. Friendships and alliances were formed.
One of my grandma’s best friends (a woman about her own age) lived in a downstairs flat with her husband. The two visited each other often to “borrow some sugar”,exchange knitting patters or just for a cuppa and a chat.
One evening Shura (that was friend’s name) was over at my grandma’s place. I was playing and women were looking at some knitting. Shura realised that she needed something from her flat and my grandma sent me to fetch it.
It was winter, 7pm, already dark outside. I run downstairs and knocked on Shura’s door. Her husband (whom I’ve met on many occasions previously) opened the door wearing boxer shorts and a “wife-beater”singlet. I told him that I was sent to get whatever it was (I honestly cannot remember). He invited me in.
As he led me deeper into their flat,the feeling of uneasiness grew inside me. The flat was dark, no lights were on and he had very funny look on his face and the smell of alcohol on his breath. But I was only 6 and brought up to respect and obey my elders,so I followed.
Somehow he maneuvered himself behind me and,before I knew it,his hands were under my dress,caressing me,sliding down and rubbing me over my panties. I froze. He wasn’t hurting me and he wasn’t restraining me, and  he was an adult and authority and I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t know what to do and how to act.
He kept saying something about “playing a game”,asking me if I like games. I said yes. He then slid his finger under my panties,touching me all over,but not penetrating.
And then it happened:he pulled out his penis and asked me to touch it. And he forced my hand on it. It was revolting!! Big and hairy and smelly! It looked huge and scary to me. I was only 6 years old. I was terrified and helpless.
I kept trying to move forward,out of his grasp,but he held on to me. He then proceeded telling me that it would be fun to see what happens if he put “his thing” into “my thing”. I just vigorously shook my head and tried to pull away. He said “OK,OK”, but still forced my hand on his penis again and kept rubbing my vagina.
That went on for a few minutes, until I asked for whatever it was Shura needed again and he must have realised that someone (his wife,most likely) will come looking for me if I’m not back soon.
He told me not to tell anyone and that this is “our secret” ( pedophiles are so repetitive:this line must be used millions of times all over the world).
I grabbed whatever I came for and run out. I was shaken. I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking that if I told my grandma and Shura,I would be in trouble. I sensed that what happened was wrong, but I thought it was ME who’s done something wrong.
I went upstairs and just sat on grandma’s couch quietly. After a few minutes she asked me if I was alright. I said yes and pretended to watch TV.
I’ve never told anyone about that episode. I know now that my grandma would,in all likelihood,kill (quite literally) that bastard and go to jail for it. So in a way, I’m glad I didn’t. I avoided any situation where I would be alone with that guy again,which wasn’t hard,as I didn’t live with that grandma (I lived with my other,evil one,on the other side of town),only visited occasionally.
Men are predators by nature. And as such,they have what I call “a point of no return”. That is when their ugly self-serving instincts completely take over and they are absolutely unable to stop. They know what they’re doing is wrong,that there might and will be consequences,but at that very moment all they can think about is satisfying their primary urges and serving their dicks. Nothing but brutal physical force can stop them when it’s happening. No amount of begging or reasoning. Their brain is shut down.
I am a woman and pride myself on the fact that I can stop at any point. It doesn’t matter how intoxicated I am,how horny or overcome with lust and what stage of coitus I am in. I understand that someone can change their mind unexpectedly and inexplicably at any time “before” or “during”,as humans are very complex beings. “No” means “no” to me.
I’ve had sex with quite a few people, but it was always,always because they really wanted to be in bed with me. I don’t take advantage of drunk and emotionally vulnerable. I would never “trick” someone into having sex. In fact, I hardly ever initiate sex-I wait for the other person to clearly indicate (with either words or actions) that it is,indeed,what they want.
I also don’t have “recreational” sex (you know, when you do it “just for the heck of it”) with women,because for me to truly enjoy it, I need to have an emotional connection with the person,otherwise it feels just like work (as in what I do for a living)  and I never want it to be like that with women.
That’s what separates me from the predators that are male species.