It was there my whole life and I never knew.

When I was 8 (or 9, I don't recall) one of my cousins (who was the same age, a few months younger), who was visiting, brought me outside to our backyard. I lived with my grandparents at the time who barely monitored me so they had no idea of anything. He told me to follow him outside, and whispered to me that he wanted to teach me about this thing called "sex". I had no clue what that was. He knew it was inappropriate because he whispered whenever he talked about it and looked back at the house to make sure no one was out. I followed him to our backyard pool, and we both went in. This was so no one could see us. He knew no one was allowed to see us, it was a private activity. He was too young himself to really understand how to explain it. He flashed his genitals at me. I had no idea why he did that, but I wanted to play along, and I did the same. Then, he started thrusting against me, and I thrusted against him. We were both clothed, but we held each other and did this, and made noises. At the time, I didn't understand at all what the point of it was. The knowledge gap was real. Even though he was too young to properly articulate, he knew what he was doing, and I didn't understand at all. Nothing like this happened between us again, though my memory is hazy. Yet, after the incident, I couldn't get it out of my head. Then, he made thrusting motions in the pool. He made noises. I didn't get it, but I still wanted to play along. I mimicked him. I remember feeling "off" when I did so, I immediately knew in my gut that it wasn't something I should be seen doing - but he told me this. I remember trying to reenact what had been done to me on inanimate objects - my own plushies, maybe some other things, I still don't quite remember. Even though I don't remember enjoying it, I felt compelled to do it. It was buzzing around in my mind. I couldn't get it out, it was like my brain latched onto it. When I got my first laptop, I was 9 by that point. That is when I had the internet, and that is when I could look up what "sex" was. It opened up an enormous world of explicit material to me. It became a compulsion to look at. I didn't learn to use it for pleasure until later, so at this young of an age, I merely looked at it, so much of it. It became a thing I'd do several times a week, looking at explicit artwork. Despite being asexual and having a lower-than-average libido, it effectively made me hypersexual. Constant thoughts about sex, intrusive thoughts, maladaptive daydreams (sometimes tactile), obsessive talks about sexual topics, roleplays, priding myself for having a "dirty mind" at a young age, and of course, compulsively looking at explicit material. I continued to look at explicit material for the rest of my life. I dissociated my sexuality and sexual interests from myself. I refused to integrate them into me. My brain subconsciously became obsessed with sex, but also terrified of it. It traumatized me deeper than I could've ever thought. I was taken advantage of online by people when I was a minor (some were even adults), but I always thought it was okay. It wasn't. I thought my thoughts and cognitive distortions were normal. They weren't. None of it was normal. I never told anyone. Only now do I realize my relationship with sexuality is beyond distorted. It's shattered. It gave me deep-rooted phobias. I learned recently that someone very close to me who I thought wasn't sexual at all actually was, and it put something deep inside of me into complete shock. It caused me to develop PTSD symptoms over time, because I had years upon years of completely unprocessed sexual trauma and it managed to single-handedly rip all of it out of the depths. Not once did I realize, until now, at 20 years old, that I got molested, and that what happened to me wasn't right. I have been traumatized in multiple ways growing up, but this is the one thing that never, ever got processed. It's all destroying me now. It's so hard to move on. It all makes me feel subhuman, and like I'm living in a twilight zone of sorts.