This is a rewrite of the first story that I ever posted to an X-rated adult website. I can only hope that you will find it worth reading. And I realize that some of you may also find this story to be shocking and disturbing, and possibly even disgusting. However, I will not apologize for my having candidly written about one of the most important "sexual events" that ever took place in my life.
Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away
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I'm a middle-aged housewife and mother, and I have a "dirty little secret" that I want to share with you.
On a hot and sunny Sunday afternoon, back when I was a young lady, an older boy named Freddy unexpectedly cornered me in a residential bathroom. And then he sexually molested me for an extended period of time, before he finally fucked me.
And I didn't do anything to try to stop Freddy from having sex with me. I didn't try to talk him out of it. I didn't put up a fight, or scream for help, or try to run away from him.
Instead, I cooperated with Freddy the whole time, as I was letting him take my virginity. In fact, to be honest with you, I actually did a lot more than just "cooperate" with him. But before I continue on with my story, I need to take a moment in order to give you a little more background information.
I was born in 1953 into a lower middle class Hispanic family of Mexican origin. But I just happen to have hazel eyes and very light, olive-toned skin. And so my European looks have always made me stand out like a sore thumb whenever I was around the rest of my immediate family, who were all much darker-skinned than I am.
I was very much a tomboy kind of girl back then, although I never wore overalls. And I was much more comfortable being around boys, than I was hanging out with other girls my age, because all of my closest friends during that time in my life just happened to be boys. However, despite my tomboyish ways, I was--and still am--completely heterosexual.
And by the time I was in my second year of junior high, my boobs were already way too big, as far as I was concerned. They easily filled out a B-cup size bra, and were beginning to bulge out over the tops of the bra cups. And they were still growing even bigger. But I also hated bras at the time. And so I didn't normally wear one when I was at home. I tended to save those stupidly-uncomfortable bras for when I was out in public.
However, just because I didn't like wearing a bra, didn't mean that I wasn't disappointed with the size and the look of my own breasts--because I was. I was very self-conscious about them too. I used to go out of my way to wear over-sized, loose-fitting blouses and T-shirts in an effort to try to keep my unattractive, saggy boobs concealed as best as I could. And the truth is that I was very envious of all the other girls at school who had been blessed with the types of small perky breasts that I had always wanted.
Now that you have a little bit of background information on me, here's how my unforeseen sexual encounter with Freddy took place:
Freddy's mother, Maria, was a close friend of the family. She was down on her luck and was trying to get back on her feet again, while she and her teenage son were temporarily living in the small guest house located in the back yard of my family's home.
Freddy's real name was Alfredo, but everyone just called him Freddy. He was a very dark-skinned Hispanic boy. In fact, Freddy was so dark-skinned that, even though his facial features looked Mexican-American, his body (from the neck down) looked like it easily could have belonged to a black guy, instead of a Chicano.
Of course, I knew Freddy pretty well, but I didn't like him very much at all as a person. And my dislike for him had very little to do with his looks. In fact, I have to admit that Freddy wasn't an ugly-looking guy at all. He was about 5' 8" tall and had an athlete's slender, muscular type of body. But it was Freddy's smart-alecky personality that I couldn't stand. I thought he acted like a real jerk most of the time.
The house I lived in when I was growing up was small, and especially so for a family of six. There was me, my mother and father, my older sister, my younger brother, and my little sister, all packed into that 850-square-foot home.
So I used to go to Maria's even-smaller house out in the back yard to watch television by myself on Sundays, in order to take a break from my not-so-small family for a while. Freddy and his mother would normally be at church on Sundays. And Maria actually encouraged me to spend some much-needed "alone time" in her little house, whenever she and her son were away at church.
However, on this one particular Sunday, I didn't know it yet, but I wasn't alone in the little guest house.
During a TV commercial, I went to use the only bathroom in the house. It was pretty small for a full bath, and it was located immediately off the equally-small living room at the very front of the house, where I had been watching TV. After I had finished relieving myself, I opened the bathroom door to leave. And there was Freddy, standing in the doorway, intentionally blocking my exit from the bathroom.
I got very scared, and I quickly backed away from Freddy. He was at least 6 inches taller than me, and physically much bigger than I was. He was also three years older than me. And although I can't divulge just how young I was at the time, what I can tell you is that puberty hadn't become a distant memory for me yet.
Freddy had me cornered in the small bathroom, and I could tell from the no-nonsense look on his face that he was "up to no good." And I realized that Freddy wanted something "naughty" from me. Why else would he have chosen to corner me in the bathroom?
A thousand different thoughts raced through my mind, one right after another. For example, I thought about how Freddy had to have been waiting right outside the bathroom door the whole time that I was peeing, and about how he must have been intentionally listening to me, as my urine was splashing into the toilet bowl underneath me.
At first, I assumed that Freddy probably wanted to see my boobs. I knew that the boys at school always seemed to make such a big deal out of seeing a girl's breasts. So when Freddy initially blocked my exit from the bathroom, I began to mentally prepare myself for what I thought would be me taking off my blouse and showing him my bare breasts.
And because of how I felt about my own breasts, that thought truly terrified me! At the time, I was literally ashamed to let any boy see what my bare breasts looked like--much less a real jerk, like Freddy.
But I also knew that Freddy most likely wasn't going to give me a choice in the matter. If he wanted to see my titties, then I had to be prepared to suck it up, and show "my girls" to him. And I figured that Freddy would probably look at my droopy boobs for a little while, and that he might even touch them and feel them. Then after he did that, I naively assumed that he would simply let me leave the bathroom.
But it turned out that Freddy wasn't interested in my breasts at all.
Freddy stepped into the small bathroom with me, which automatically made me back up even farther. Then in a soft-but-serious tone of voice, he told me in Spanish to pull down my pants, "Baja tus pantalones."
I just stopped dead in my tracks and stood there for a moment, staring at him in disbelief. I'm sure that I must have looked like a deer in the headlights.
Hearing that "baja tus pantalones" phrase come out of Freddy's mouth put me into a state of momentary shock. But at the same time, I was also very relieved that I wasn't going to have to show Freddy my boobs, as I had originally assumed.
"What's the matter with you? Didn't you hear me?" Freddy asked, as he took another small step towards me, and then quickly added, much more forcefully this time (and in English, instead of Spanish), "Pull down your pants!"
I thought to myself, Well okay, so Freddy wants to see my panties, instead of my boobs. I guess that's not so bad. If I go ahead and show him my panties, maybe that'll make him happy, and he'll let me leave.
And believe it or not, the idea of me showing Freddy my panties didn't really bother me too terribly much. After all, I had been happily showing my panties to boys--as well as to other girls--throughout my entire childhood. It was something that just naturally happened whenever I was at the school playground, and climbing around on the monkey bars, or swinging on the swing set, or sliding down those long metal slides--and doing all of that kind of very physical stuff while wearing a dress or a skirt.
Keep in mind that, back in those days, we girls weren't allowed to wear pants or shorts to school. In fact, the only time that I was allowed to wear shorts in grade school was during my P.E. classes. The bottom line was that, during my grade school years, every boy that I ever played with out on a playground got to see my panty-covered pudendum and/or my panty-covered butt. And at the time, we girls simply took all this "panty-showing" stuff in stride, because that was just the way that things were for us back then.
So, upon hearing Freddy's "strong request," I undid the top button and zipper of my pants, and pulled my pants down around my thighs, leaving my white cotton panties in place. Then I stood back up straight and let Freddy get a good look at my cheap, very-plain panties.
"¡Baja tus bragas, también!" Freddy barked out at me in Spanish, ordering me to "pull down my panties, too," as soon as he realized that I had mistakenly assumed that the reason why he had told me to pull my pants down, was because he wanted to see my panties.
I thought to myself, Oh my God! Freddy doesn't care about seeing my panties. He wants to see my pussy! And I just know he's not gonna let me leave, unless I show him my pussy. So I guess I'd better just go ahead and get it over with...
Letting Freddy see my panties was one thing. But letting him see my bare pussy was a totally different ballgame. My heart started racing, and felt like it went right up into my throat. I was breathing so fast and shallow that I initially felt like I was going to pass out. I was definitely freaking out! And I found it hard to believe that what Freddy was really wanting, was for me to show him my pussy.
But there was one thing that I found even harder to believe. Despite my high level of anxiety at the time, the more I thought about pulling my panties down and showing my bare pussy to Freddy, the more I found myself actually wanting to go ahead and show it to him. It would be the "naughtiest" thing that I had ever done in my entire life so far. But ironically, thanks to my rebellious nature, that very thought--in and of itself--only made me want to go ahead and do it even more.
After taking a couple of deep breaths to try to calm myself down a little bit, I placed a hand on either side of my hips, stuck my thumbs down inside the elastic waistband of my panties, and very slowly pulled my panties down around the middle of my thighs. Then I slowly straightened back up and let Freddy get his first look at my hairy pussy.
And yes, I did say my "hairy pussy." At this point in my life, my entire genital area was still in its natural, pristine state. What I mean by that is that my pussy had yet to be groomed by any kind of hair-cutting tools, like scissors, or a straight razor. I didn't even shave my bikini line back then (although I did keep my armpits and my legs clean-shaven). And thanks to my Mexican-American heritage, my dark-brown patch of pubic hair was thick enough that, for all practical purposes, it just about hid my entire pussy mound from Freddy's view. But that fact wouldn't end up making any difference in the long run.
Freddy's eyes were glued to the front of my hairy crotch as he unzipped his pants. Then he pulled his pants and his white jockey shorts down around the middle of his thighs, to expose his whole "package" to me.
That caught me totally by surprise. But even so, I found that I couldn't take my eyes off of Freddy's bare, alien-looking "thing," which was already partially-erect by the time that I caught my first glimpse of it. At the same time, I was still feeling pretty embarrassed by Freddy's constant pussy-staring, and I didn't know what was going to happen next.
"Quiero que juegues con mi verga," Freddy calmly told me in Spanish. And I understood exactly what he was saying to me. Freddy had just told me that he wanted me to play with his dick.
He continued to stare at my crotch, while he slowly approached me. And I backed away from him just a little bit farther.
Then Freddy verbally threatened me in Spanglish. He said, "If you try to run away or scream, I'll tell your parents 'lo que hiciste' (what you did). I'll tell them that you asked me to come into 'el baño contigo' (the bathroom with you), and that you pulled your pants down 'para mostrarme tu panocha' (to show me your pussy), and then you begged me to pull down my pants so that you could play with my 'verga' (dick)."
After hearing Freddy's threat, and letting it sink in for a moment, I felt backed into a corner in more ways than one. I quickly decided that it was in my best interest for me to go ahead and cooperate with Freddy. After all, his bare alien-looking genitals intrigued me so much, that I couldn't stop staring at them, no matter how hard I tried. Believe it or not, it also helped to put me a little more at ease, when I saw that the whole crotch area surrounding Freddy's circumcised dick was just about as hairy as mine was. It was about the only thing that our two genitals had in common.
And I naturally began to rationalize the whole situation. I asked myself when else would I ever get the chance to actually touch and feel a guy's bare "thing"? That's the term I preferred to use for "penis," even though I knew that it was also called a "dick," or a "wiener"--or in Freddy's case, a "verga" (which is a Spanish slang term for "cock"). And back then, I even liked to refer to my own pussy as being my "thing." I guess I just liked to use the word "thing" a lot.
Freddy left the bathroom door wide-open, as he moved up close to me, to stand right in front of me, face-to-face. I reached across, and I tentatively touched and felt Freddy's dick and his balls with my fingertips for a minute or two, while he just stood there and watched me.
Then he took my hand and placed it around the shaft of his growing dick, and he showed me exactly how he wanted me to slowly and repeatedly squeeze his penis.
Once I had begun squeezing and actively feeling out his dick on my own, Freddy told me that I could go ahead and feel his "huevos" (balls) too, if I wanted. And so I did.
Now, when it comes to guys, I have always been attracted to very light-skinned, Hispanic or Anglo guys--especially to blonds and redheads. So I thought that Freddy's dark-brown-skinned penis was pretty ugly-looking. However, that still didn't stop the sight and feel of it from turning me on. How could I not become sexually aroused? I had never had my hands on a boy's sexually-mature penis before.
Fortunately for me, the look and feel of Freddy's balls turned me on much more than his dick did. I really don't know why Freddy's balls were turning me on so much that day. I just know that they did.
Looking back on it all now, perhaps it was because I didn't know at the time why boys had testicles hanging down in a thin, "skin-sack thing" underneath the base of their penises. But I knew those testicles were called "balls," because the boys at school were always making such a big deal about having them (as if having balls was something that made boys special somehow). And I knew that guys' balls always came in pairs, and that the Mexican slang word "huevos" (literally meaning "eggs") described the actual shape of a guy's testicles much better than the English slang word "balls" did. However, the reason for the existence of those two, elliptical-shaped testicles hanging down inside that "skin-sack thing" between a guy's legs was a totally mystery to me back then--which only served to make them even more exciting and intriguing to me.
So despite my anxiety, it didn't take long for me to become aroused. And I felt that all-too-familiar tingling sensation down between my legs, while I was fondling Freddy's sexy balls and massaging his dick. And naturally, I could feel my clitoris becoming erect, as it was faithfully responding to all of this extreme mental sexual arousal. And my initial feelings of embarrassment were magically going away.
Freddy reached his hand across towards my bare crotch. That didn't really surprise me at this point, because I had been expecting him to do that. After all, I was already playing with his "thing." It was only natural that he would want to play with mine too.
However, that realization on my part still didn't stop me from instinctively wincing and pressing my thighs tightly together when Freddy's fingers first touched that most-private area of my body. Not since I was a four-or-five-year-old child had anyone--other than myself, or my family doctor--ever laid a hand on or near my bare pussy.
Freddy immediately began to feel out the very front part of my hairy pubic area with his hand. And then he reached down between my legs and started massaging my entire pussy mound with the tips of his fingers. And that felt good to me. And so my thigh muscles started to relax, and my legs automatically spread apart a little bit. Just far enough to give Freddy easier access to my pussy.
Then Freddy inserted his fingers into the front of my slit. And he began running his fingers up and down along my crack, and also massaging the hood-covered head of my clitoris with his fingertips. And of course, that felt incredibly good to me too. So good that, within a matter of a few seconds, I was no longer feeling very scared of Freddy at all. And that was because Freddy's persistent stimulation of my clit and my inner pussy lips was just about to make me cum.
"Oh, yeah. That's it," I heard Freddy remark to himself under his breath, as he felt my already-moist pussy crack become noticeably wetter. Of course, my very first orgasms are always mild. But just as soon as that very first mild orgasm was over with, there was a part of me that quickly began to feel "okay" with the idea of letting Freddy feel out my pussy. In fact, the truth is that, at this point in our encounter, I found myself actually wanting Freddy to keep on playing with my pussy.
It's amazing how much even a mild orgasm can change a girl's whole way of thinking. Freddy's dark-brown-skinned penis wasn't looking quite so ugly and unattractive to me any more. In fact, it was really starting to turn me on a lot more. While I was squeezing and feeling out his dick, I especially liked the way that the loose outer skin could easily be moved up and down along the inner shaft, similar to the way that the hood of my own clitoris works. And I would be a complete liar if I told you that I wasn't equally fascinated by the look and feel of the much-lighter-skinned, pinkish-purple head of Freddy's penis, with that cute little slit at the very tip of it, that I already knew was the male version of a piss-hole. Because I was.
When Freddy had first cornered me in the bathroom and told me to pull down my pants and my panties, I realized that he was going to force himself on me and sexually molest me in some way or another. And I initially hated him for that.
But now, with my first orgasm under my belt and a nice moist pussy between my legs, I found myself having a hard time staying angry with Freddy about his having forced me into having sex with him. I mean, how could I continue being upset with someone who had just made me cum, and feel so incredibly good?
My legs automatically spread apart a little bit more. Mind you, I didn't intentionally spread my legs farther apart. They just kind of moved apart, all on their own, which of course gave Freddy's hand and fingers easy access to my entire pussy mound. And Freddy took his time, while he was methodically feeling out the various parts of my pussy.
Freddy handled my pussy in a fairly rough and awkward manner, compared to the way that I would handle my own pussy, whenever I was masturbating. However, that rough and awkward handling of my pussy by Freddy, only served to turn me on even more. And I continued to experience mild-to-moderate orgasmic sensations.
It didn't take very long at all for Freddy to get bolder and begin sticking the tip of his finger up into my fuck-hole. And he moved his finger all around just inside of my vaginal entrance, as he was eagerly exploring it.
At this point, I was standing in front of the bathtub. I was facing the doorway, with my back towards the tub, and the heels of my feet just inches away from the edge of the tub. The toilet was on my left, and the bathroom wall was on my right. Freddy was standing directly in front of me, facing me. His much-taller-and-wider body was totally blocking the bathroom doorway from my view.
"I need you to move over here," Freddy said, patting his left hand against the bathroom wall, across from the toilet. Of course, I immediately complied with this latest "request." And Freddy quickly pivoted around to once again stand directly in front of me, facing me.
"Now go ahead and lean back against the wall," Freddy suggested. "Okay, that's good," he said a few moments later, praising me for my prompt cooperation.
"Now I want you to spread your legs far apart," Freddy demanded in a very even, serious voice. And just like an obedient dog faithfully responding to its master, I spread my thighs apart as far as they would go, with my pants and panties still wrapped around the middle of my thighs, and stretched taut between them.
And that's when Freddy began sticking his fingers up deep inside of my baby-making hole. At first, it was just one finger at a time. But it didn't take long before he had two fingers inside of me at the same time. And he moved his fingers all around inside of my vagina, as he was eagerly exploring every part of my vaginal canal that he could reach.
Luckily, I didn't have an intact hymen at the time. So for me, there was no pain or bleeding involved. Also, from the time that I had first started masturbating with my hands, I have always loved sticking my fingers up into my own vagina. So I was very comfortable with the feeling of having fingers up inside of me. Not only that, but I just happened to have a large vagina for a girl of my petite body-size. So I was completely okay with the vaginal penetration by Freddy's fingers that was taking place down between my legs. In fact, I was much more than just "okay" with it. I was enjoying the heck out of it!
And I felt very guilty about the fact that I was actually enjoying myself throughout this "mutual genital fondling" phase of my sexual encounter with Freddy. Being the "good Catholic girl" that I was, I knew that what Freddy and I were doing together was wrong, and "very naughty." But, ironically, that very realization on my part, had only served to make the whole experience seem even more sexy and erotic for me at the time, just like the rush or high that a person gets from doing taboo things.
Meanwhile, as I was fondling Freddy's dick and balls, his dick had quickly grown much bigger, and had become very firm and erect, right in my own hands. And of course, his stiff penis was now jutting out from his body, so that the tip of it was perpetually pointing directly at me.
And just like with most guys, Freddy's dick-shaft wasn't perfectly straight either. His dick had a noticeable bowed-upward curve to it, giving it somewhat of a banana shape, but without quite as much curve to it as a real banana would have.
Freddy's dick looked quite intimidating, to say the least. His fully-erect penis was at least 7 inches long--or maybe even a little bit longer than that--which put it somewhere towards the top of the range of what would be considered an average-size erect penis. But of course, I didn't know that back then. Freddy's dick sure seemed gigantic to me at the time!
I just kept on alternating between squeezing Freddy's dick, and playing with his balls. But as I became more and more comfortable with the whole situation, I automatically found myself spending more and more time fondling Freddy's balls, instead of squeezing his dick. I couldn't help the fact that, even with a few mild orgasms under my belt, Freddy's balls still excited me more than his dick did.
Freddy started deliberately thrusting two of his held-together fingers in and out of my vagina. He did it slowly at first. But then he kept on speeding up, until he was finally shoving his fingers in and out of my baby-making hole so fast, that the palm of his hand was slapping up against my mound, on each inward thrust.
The rhythmic, wet flesh-against-flesh slapping sound was so loud, that it literally echoed off the tiled walls of the small bathroom. And it was the most uniquely-erotic sound that I had ever heard.
Freddy didn't know it yet, but he had managed to "hit the mother lode." You see, when it comes to sex and masturbation, I am definitely a G-spot kind of girl. My G-spot-induced orgasms tend to be strong and very satisfying orgasms. And during these strong orgasms, I have always been a real gusher.
While Freddy continued finger-fucking the crap out of me, I struggled to maintain my balance, as my own orgasmic sensations rapidly overwhelmed me. It was a good thing that I was leaning up against the bathroom wall with my upper back, just like Freddy had "requested."
I took my hand off of Freddy's balls, grabbed hold of his dick, closed my eyes and braced myself for what I knew was inevitably going to happen. I knew that I was getting ready to have one of my strong, gushing G-spot orgasms. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that they were actually called "orgasms." But that still didn't prevent me from experiencing them in all their full-blown glory, and enjoying the hell out of "the ride."
As I hit my brick wall of a climax, I remember that I let out an involuntary, breathy gasp of, "Oh, God!" I bit down hard on my lower lip, and whimpered through my nose. And I began squirting multiple spurts of clear, watery cum-fluid (at the time, I assumed it was urine) all over the slapping palm of Freddy's thrusting hand, as the strong orgasmic sensations quickly overwhelmed me, and temporarily whisked me away to that special euphoric level that exists between consciousness and unconsciousness.
After that first strong G-spot orgasm subsided, I felt so embarrassed about my having just "pissed" all over Freddy's hand. And I felt even more embarrassed about the fact that I had just orgasmed my ass off right in front of him. But there was absolutely nothing that I could do about it.
Besides, as Freddy kept on energetically finger-fucking my vagina, it didn't take me very long at all before I found myself on the brink of yet another strong orgasm.
And I also became aware of the pungent odor that was now wafting up into the air from down between my spread-apart legs, and quickly filling the small bathroom with that unique, pheromone-laden, "fishy aroma" that was emanating from my own sopping-wet pussy crack.
And if I could smell it, I knew that Freddy could smell it too. That thought turned me on like crazy, and took me right over the top! I bit down on my lower lip again and whimpered through my nose, just like I had done during that first strong orgasm, as I tried my best to keep from screaming out.
But when this second strong orgasm hit, I didn't squirt very much. Instead, I gushed. Over and over again. I had to struggle, just to keep my balance and stay on my feet, as I felt my thick cum-juices gushing out of my orgasmically-pulsating pussy.
After that second strong G-spot orgasm finally came to an end, Freddy kept on relentlessly finger-fucking me hard and fast for I don't know how long. All I know is that Freddy's super-energetic finger-fucking lasted long enough for me to experience at least one or two more very strong orgasms, with their accompanying pussy-cum ejaculations. To be honest, I wasn't really keeping track of how many strong orgasms I was having, because I was way too busy "enjoying the ride."
And then, all of the sudden, Freddy just quit finger-fucking me, and pulled his cum-soaked fingers completely out of my sopping-wet vagina.
That's when I finally opened my eyes, and looked at Freddy for a moment. And when I saw him look down at his own penis, I immediately realized that, due to the fact that I was too busy orgasming my ass off, I hadn't been actively playing with his dick, like he had wanted me to do.
Instead, I had been firmly hanging onto Freddy's erect dick, like it was some kind of handle. And I was actually using it to help me keep my balance during my strong orgasms, while I was getting finger-fucked by Freddy.
I looked down at Freddy's huge, blood-engorged "thing," and I could see that the very tip of his dick was wet with a transparent fluid that was obviously leaking out of his piss-hole slit. And that didn't alarm or shock me at all. At the time, I simply assumed that this transparent fluid was some of Freddy's urine. So naturally, I began squeezing Freddy's dick again.
But this time, Freddy stopped me by grabbing hold of my wrist and pulling my hand away from his dick. He placed my hand directly onto my own pussy, before he let go of my wrist, and said, "Now open it up, and show it to me."
At that moment I realized that Freddy hadn't actually seen what my pussy really looked like. And I knew exactly what he was wanting me to do.
So I reached down into my crotch with my other hand, and placed one hand on each side of my mound. I dug my fingers into the front of my crack, carefully inserting my fingertips in between my two, long, thin, flared-out inner pussy lips. And I pulled the crack of my pussy wide-apart, while also pulling upward on my fleshy outer labia at the same time. This automatically caused my whole clitoris to prominently jut out at the very front of my crack. And I could see my dark-red, glistening, totally-exposed, pea-size clit-head peeking out from under its long, narrow hood. While holding my hands in that position, I tilted my pelvis back to let Freddy get a good look at my wide-open pussy.
But Freddy's response was not the one that I was expecting. It turned out that Freddy didn't really care about trying to get a good look at my now-wide-open pussy crack.
Instead, he reached down and grabbed the shaft of his own dick. I was staring at his "gigantic" leaky dick, as he quickly moved in very close to me, and said, "That's good. Now just keep on holding it open like that for me."
Then he bent his knees a little bit, and buried the head of his fully-erect penis into the front of my wide-open crack, as I watched the tip of his dick disappear down between my legs. I could hardly believe what I was witnessing with my own eyes.
Freddy guided his dick with his hand, as he deliberately rubbed the head of it back and forth along the front part of my crack, and against my clit. And it didn't take long at all for me to realize that the large, firm, velvety head of Freddy's dick felt wonderful inside the crack of my sopping-wet pussy. I guess that I instinctively sensed that an erect penis just felt "right" somehow. It felt like it "belonged" in the crack of my pussy.
Then Freddy inserted the freshly-lubricated head of his dick up into my vaginal entrance. And as soon as he had his whole dick-head up inside of my vagina, he froze for several seconds, and didn't try to penetrate me any deeper than he already had.
And I felt his dick-head throb inside me, as it drastically expanded and got bigger for just a moment, and then quickly contracted back down to its previous size. That surprised me, but it also made me giggle nervously in response to the strange sensation I was experiencing down between my legs. And at this point, I was still finding it hard to believe that Freddy actually had the end of his long, stiff, swollen-up "thing" stuck up inside of the "big hole" at the rear of my "thing."
I looked up at Freddy's face, and he wasn't smiling or laughing at all. Instead, he had this very serious, intense look on his face that I will never forget. I quickly stopped my giggling and looked down at our two touching genitals. And I focused my attention on making sure that I kept holding my pussy crack wide-open for Freddy's dick.
Once he had his dick-head up inside of my vagina, Freddy finally let go of his dick-shaft and placed his hands on my hips, one on each side. And he firmly held onto my pelvis.
Then he began rocking his hips back and forth, very slowly at first, and then steadily speeding up.
The irony here is that I didn't even know what "fucking" was (even though I had heard that word being used by some of the kids at school). I was very naive and innocent for my age.
Back in those days, there were no school-sponsored sex education classes for me to attend. And so I was pretty much left to learn about sex on my own, from wherever I could find the information. And thanks to my strict Spanish Roman-Catholic upbringing--in conjunction with my two parents, who steadfastly refused to discuss things like "the birds and the bees" with me--I lived a very sheltered life, and therefore didn't have much access to that kind of information.
However, I still did manage to learn a few things anyway.
For instance, I knew that a baby comes out of the woman's body, down between her legs, through a very special hole, called a "birth canal." And I knew that all girls have birth canals down between their legs, and that that's what made them girls, instead of boys.
And by the time that I reached puberty, I had managed to figure out that the large orifice at the very rear of my pussy crack was actually my birth canal. But I used to call it my "big hole," in an effort to distinguish it from my other two, much-smaller, below-the-waist "holes" (my piss-hole and my ass-hole). And I knew that I had always enjoyed sticking my fingers up inside of my "big hole" when I was masturbating, because it had always felt really good to me, whenever I did that. And I knew that my other two below-the-waist "holes" existed to perform specific bodily functions. I urinated through my piss-hole, and I defecated through my ass-hole. But the true sexual purpose and function of my third below-the-waist "hole" (my "big hole") was a real mystery to me--and especially so, once I had begun menstruating.
As far as boys go, I had seen my little brother naked on numerous occasions. And therefore, I already knew that the "thing" down between his legs didn't look anything like the "thing" down between my legs. And my mother had told me that the "thing" down between my little brother's legs was called a "penis." And I have to admit that I was literally fascinated by penises and scrotums ever since the very first time that I finally got the chance to curiously touch and play with my little brother's small immature penis and scrotum, while I was changing his diaper without anyone else around to see how "naughty" I was being.
But other than me knowing that the hairy "thing" down between my legs was called a "pussy" (by the way, I learned that term from some of the more vulgar boys at my school), and that my pussy had bled once a month like clockwork ever since I was 11 years old (just for the record, my very first menstrual period scared the crap out of me!--and it also made me a huge fan of tampons), and that the "thing" down between Freddy's legs was called a "dick" or a "penis," and that a guy's normally-flaccid penis could "grow" and become very stiff (I had seen my fair share of unplanned "tent poles" poking out at the front of boys' swimsuit crotches at the swimming pool from time to time), I really didn't know too much more than that about sex. And so, I honestly believed at the time, that all Freddy was doing to me that Sunday afternoon in the bathroom, was just rubbing his dick against my pussy.
There was also another reason why I thought that Freddy was just rubbing his dick against my pussy, and that was because he really was rubbing his dick against my pussy. Due to the fact that Freddy was much taller than me--as well as the fact that we were in a standing-up, face-to-face position--even though his knees were bent, and my pelvis was tilted forward, Freddy was still having a hard time getting his penis underneath my vulva. So although the head of Freddy's dick was entering my vagina, the shaft of his dick was almost parallel to the bathroom floor. This meant that the topside of his dick-shaft was pressed snugly along the crack of my pussy, and it was firmly rubbing up against my clit, as he was thrusting away at my vagina. About the only thing that was actually helping Freddy's dick-head to penetrate me in this standing-up position, was the banana-style, sweeping-upward curve in his long dick-shaft.
As Freddy's thrusting gradually got faster and faster, he reach around and grabbed hold of my butt cheeks with his hands. He pulled my whole pelvis towards his, as he pressed his own hips forward towards mine.
At some point, the head of his dick finally worked its way far enough inside me that it simply moved back and forth, while remaining inside my vagina, instead of repeatedly penetrating my vaginal entrance, like it had been doing up until now. Freddy was now fucking me in the way that a guy would normally fuck a girl--except that we were both still standing up, face-to-face.
And that wonderful protruding ridge that surrounded the rear of Freddy's dick-head was being rubbed back and forth directly against the G-spot area inside my vagina. And that felt nothing less than incredible to me!
Freddy squeezed my butt over and over again, while he was humping away at my no-longer-virgin vagina at a moderate pace. My hands were still in between our two pubic bones, as I tried as best as I could to keep holding my pussy crack wide-open for Freddy. But that was quickly turning into a losing battle.
Freddy all of the sudden shoved his dick even deeper into my vagina, without any warning. And naturally, that shocked and surprised me. I instantly reacted by taking in a very quick and loud gasp of air. And Freddy immediately began thrusting his piston-like dick in and out of my pussy like a madman.
I was glad that I was leaning back against the wall, because I had to struggle to keep my balance, and stay on my feet. This super-energetic humping on Freddy's part only lasted for maybe 20 to 30 seconds or so, before Freddy made one final very strong deep thrust, which actually lifted me up onto the balls of my feet and caused me to let out a short, loud, totally-involuntary, high-pitched squeal.
Then Freddy kept his hips pressed forward, as he simply held his penis very still inside of my vagina. My hands were squeezed flat in between our two tightly-pressed-together pubic bones, and I remember the feeling of having Freddy's coarse, thick pubic hair against the back of my hands.
And I almost-instantly became aware of a very strange sensation of pressure deep inside of my vagina. But surprisingly, it didn't hurt at all. Instead, it felt really good to me. And I had never felt anything quite like it before, in my entire life.
Of course, looking back on it all now, I realize that this wonderful sensation of deep vaginal pressure that I was experiencing that day in bathroom was being caused by the blood-engorged head of Freddy's long penis being pressed right up against the firm neck of my uterus (my cervix). But at the time, I had no idea why Freddy's "thing" was making my abdomen feel so strange to me deep down inside. I just knew that it was.
I heard Freddy let out that breathy little "cum-grunt" that guys tend to make, right before they start to ejaculate. Of course, at the time, I had never heard a guy's cum-grunt before. And so I had absolutely no idea why that single, soft, short "ahh" sound had come out of Freddy's mouth. I mean, of course I could tell that it was a sigh of relief on Freddy's part. But I didn't have a clue as to what he was feeling so relieved about.
Then all of the sudden, I felt Freddy's dick begin to pulsate down between my legs. I had previously felt Freddy's dick throb a few times--in my own hand, and against my pussy--but this particular throbbing of Freddy's penis was totally different from what I had experienced so far during our sexual encounter.
As Freddy's "thing" was rhythmically pulsating inside my lower abdomen, and repeatedly throbbing against the walls of my vagina and along my crack at the same time, I could tell that his dick was doing something unusual and unique. It seemed like his penis had taken on a life of its own. And Freddy's pulsating dick felt absolutely wonderful to me!
Inside my already-sopping-wet pussy, I could immediately feel the warmth and the drastically-increased wetness that was being caused by Freddy's sperm ejaculation.
But I simply assumed that what Freddy was doing with his orgasmically-pulsating dick was urinating inside my vagina. And I could tell that he was squirting his "urine" out in small spurts, just like I had done earlier, when I was squirting all over the palm of Freddy's finger-fucking hand.
Keep in mind that I didn't know what "sperm" was, at the time. So of course, I didn't realize that Freddy's dick was in the process of coating my totally-unprotected, previously-virgin birth canal with his whole wad of semen.
Then it caught me totally off-guard--and, at the same time, pleasantly surprised me--when I began to spontaneously orgasm right along with Freddy, while he was still "peeing" inside my vagina with his out-of-control dick.
Mind you, this orgasm wasn't a strong, earth-shaking, mind-blowing gusher type of orgasm, like the ones that I had just experienced while Freddy was finger-fucking the crap out of me. Instead, even though my spontaneous orgasm was only moderately strong, it was nevertheless an unusually-satisfying orgasm.
And although Freddy and I were both orgasming at the same time, the only orgasmic vocalizations ("oohs" and "ahhs") were coming out of my mouth, and not his. After Freddy had let out his initial soft cum-grunt, he was very stoic and quiet throughout his entire sperm-release. So in other words, Freddy didn't outwardly behave as if he were even experiencing an orgasm--other than the fact that he was breathing a little bit heavier, and kneading my butt-cheeks with his hands, just like a cat does on a scratching post.
After Freddy's dick had finally stopped pulsating, we continued to stay coupled-up like that--with Freddy's long, stiff "thing" deep inside of my "big hole"--for what felt to me like several minutes. However, looking back on it all, my best guess is that the actual duration of this part of our sexual encounter was quite a bit shorter than that, probably somewhere between 45 to 60 seconds. Maybe it just seemed a lot longer to me back then, because my hands were still squished flat between our two pressed-together pubic bones throughout this whole time.
Meanwhile, Freddy kept kneading away at my butt-cheeks with his hands. I could also feel his fingers dart in and out of my "butt-cleavage," as he was copping quick feels of my ass-hole sphincter with his fingertips, while he was busy kneading my butt-cheeks.
And I was so mentally and emotionally preoccupied with reveling in my own unusually-long-lasting orgasmic afterglow, that I didn't even care what Freddy was doing to my ass with his hands and fingers. So basically, I was okay with letting Freddy feel out my butt-cheeks and my ass-hole for a long as he wanted to.
Then Freddy finally let go of my butt-cheeks and rested his hands back on the sides of my hips, and he slowly backed away from me just a little bit. This finally freed up my squished hands. And I immediately lifted my hands up out of my crotch area, and moved my fingers all around for a few seconds, just to get the blood flowing back into them.
Then, without even thinking about it, I automatically reached back down into my crotch, and pulled open my pussy crack again for Freddy, so that he could continue rubbing his "thing" against mine.
And that's exactly what he did.
He grabbed hold of his dick with his hand, and began rubbing his dick-head back and forth along my crack, just like he had done when he had first stuck his dick in my crack. He was repeatedly squeezing his dick, and moving the skin up and down the shaft of it, while he was rubbing the head of it against my pussy.
Of course, I now realize that, by doing this, Freddy was intentionally "milking out" any remaining semen that was still inside of his urethra directly into the sopping-wet crack of my freshly-fertilized pussy.
We must have stayed in that position for at least another couple of minutes. Freddy didn't say a word to me the entire time, as he just kept "milking" his dick. And of course, I couldn't take my eyes off his dick. And I noticed that Freddy's penis seemed to be getting softer and shrinking in his hand, while he was "milking it."
Freddy abruptly stepped back away from me, and removed the head of his dick from my pussy altogether. He then took another small step back.
At that point, he was still standing about a foot away from me, facing me, with the back of his legs just in front of the toilet bowl. I couldn't help but keep staring at his dick and his sexy-looking balls.
And I saw that his penis was no longer erect. It was soft and pliable and hanging downward. It had shrunk all the way back down to about half the size that it was when Freddy had first exposed himself to me.
Freddy's penis was also soaked with our combined sexual juices. And so was the stretched-out crotch material of my panties, which had managed to catch most of the "sexual drippings" from my pussy.
Freddy reached down, and he pulled his pants and underwear back up. He zipped up his pants, turned towards the bathroom doorway, and sauntered away as if nothing special had just happened.
I heard Freddy's footsteps as he walked out the front door of the small house, and then closed the door behind him.
I just stood there for quite a while, still leaning back against the wall, with my pants down and my legs still spread apart, and with my hands still holding my pussy crack wide-open. My whole body was shaky and my legs were trembling, as I was trying--but miserably failing--to make some sense out of what had just taken place.
Looking back on everything, I'm sure that--on a deep-down, purely-instinctive level--my body sensed that Freddy had just finished mating with me, even though I didn't consciously know what "mating" was, at the time.
Of course, I also didn't know if Freddy was actually "done with me" yet, or if he was just "taking a break."
But after waiting long enough, so that I was sure that Freddy wasn't going to be coming back for a "second go-round," I eventually managed to regain my composure enough to take my hands off my pussy, and pull my pants and panties back up.
Then I ran out of the little backyard guest house and headed straight to my bedroom.
I threw myself down on my bed, and I cried for a long time. I was dazed and confused. I was also scared about the ramifications of what Freddy and I had just done together. I knew that what we had just done together was "very naughty." And I was worried that my family might find out what happened, and that I would no longer be considered a "nice girl." I just lay on my bed and cried my heart out for quite a long while.
Believe it or not, I wasn't really that upset about Freddy's having threatened me into having sex with him. But I was extremely upset--I felt very guilty and ashamed--about the fact that I had thoroughly enjoyed the sex itself (especially the "getting my pussy finger-fucked" part). I knew that I had acted like a little whore. And that was a lot to handle for a young lady.
As I was lying in my bed and crying my heart out, I was also very worried that Freddy might try to have sex with me again. After all, he lived in the little guest house, right behind my house. And I realized that if he tried to have sex with me again, I knew that I would definitely cooperate with him, just like I had done that very first time.
In fact, looking back on everything, I now realize that--deep down inside--I was actually wanting Freddy to come back and have sex with me again. You could say that I had taken a bite of the "forbidden fruit" (which in this case, was Freddy's awesome-feeling penis being up inside of my vagina), and there was no turning back now. I would never again be the innocent young girl that I had been, before Freddy "took me" and "had his way with me" in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon.
Freddy never did come back for seconds though, despite the fact that he was around me on a daily basis for several months after our sexual encounter took place. Naturally, I tried my best to avoid him as much as possible. And as you can imagine, I felt very relieved when Freddy and his mother finally moved out into their own apartment. But the fact that Freddy never did come back for seconds didn't stop him from playing an integral part in my sexual fantasies--and in my life--for many years to come.
And, just in case you were wondering, it wasn't until after I had finished crying on my bed that Sunday afternoon that I finally took off my wet, gooey panties--which turned out to be a fairly-painful and unpleasant experience, since the crotch-panel of those panties was literally sperm-glued to various parts of my hairy pussy. Once I finally managed to slowly peel those panties off my pussy mound, I rinsed them out under the bathroom faucet, and threw them into the laundry hamper. Then I jumped into the shower to quickly wash off my equally-wet and sticky pussy, before I dried myself off and got dressed again.
Of course, I was totally unaware of the fact that there were still millions and millions of Freddy's sperm cells actively "swimming around" inside my vagina, trying their best to work their way up through my uterus, and into my fallopian tubes.
I went to bed that night, intending to get some much-needed sleep, after such a stressful-but-exciting afternoon. But that didn't happen.
Instead, I kept on waking up over and over again to masturbate throughout the entire night, and well into the morning hours. My sperm-coated vagina felt very strange to me. And yet, it also felt wonderful at the same time. And God, I had never felt so horny in my entire life!
After that first "mega-masturbation night," I played with myself at least once or twice every night for a good week or so. I just couldn't help myself. I would wake up with my hand in my crotch, already diddling away, on auto-pilot.
After that fateful Sunday afternoon--and after my week-long, late night "masturbation marathon" was finally over with--I tried my best to forget about what took place between Freddy and me. I just wanted to move on with my life, and keep my "dirty little secret" to myself, so that no one would ever know about the 15 to 20 minutes' worth of pure, hardcore sex that took place between Freddy and me in that small bathroom.
However, throughout the remainder of my teenage years, from time to time, I would automatically end up having erotic dreams about Freddy, only to wake up late at night so that I could masturbate myself from one glorious orgasm to another, all the while fantasizing about various aspects of the taboo sexual encounter that had taken place between Freddy and me in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon. The bottom line was that, whether I liked it or not, my mental re-living of my sexual encounter with Freddy always made me cum real good during my late-night masturbations.
It wasn't until I was well into my high school years that I finally learned the very basics about what "fucking" was, and about what "sperm" was, and about how a guy's sperm cells are designed to swim up through a woman's uterus and impregnate an egg cell that the woman releases into one of her fallopian tubes on a monthly basis. I have to admit that I was literally fascinated and intrigued by everything I learned about sperm cells and pregnancy.
Of course, all of this new sexual knowledge only served to make boys' balls turn me on even more than they already did. In fact, to this very day, I tend to view a guy's penis as primarily being a "fancy delivery mechanism" for his sperm. It goes without saying that a guy would naturally view his own penis as being much more important than that. But as far as I'm concerned, a guy's balls are his true sex organ, because that's where his precious sperm is manufactured and stored.
And just in case you haven't already figured it out yet, it's a guy's sperm that really turns me on the most. After all, there's no other substance on the face of this planet that can get a woman pregnant. And there's nothing more erotic and exciting to me than taking a chance on the possibility of getting pregnant--which is exactly what we women do each and every time that we have sexual intercourse with a guy (during our pre-menopausal years, that is), because as far as I know, there is still no non-permanent birth control method that is 100% effective at preventing pregnancy. I mean, even perfectly good condoms can break from time to time.
By the way, I finally did manage to put two and two together to realize that Freddy actually fucked me and took my virginity that Sunday afternoon in the bathroom. Of course, this realization only served to turn me on even more, whenever I would fantasize about Freddy.
During my late-night masturbations as a teenager, all I had to do was think about how easily my young, sopping-wet, virgin pussy had played host to Freddy's "gigantic" dark-skinned penis, and that would never fail to drastically increase my level of mental sexual excitement. And just thinking about the fact that I actually had a whole wad of Freddy's living, "swimming" sperm cells up inside of my fertile, totally-unprotected womb for at least three to four days after Freddy fucked me...well, all I can say is: that thought turned me on--and still does turn me on--so much that I can't even begin to put it into words!
And of course, to this day, I still have no idea whether or not I ovulated during those critical three to four days, while Freddy's sperm was "swimming around" inside my fallopian tubes and my uterus. All I do know is that I was about halfway through my menstrual cycle when Freddy inseminated me that Sunday afternoon, and that's normally the point in the female menstrual cycle when most girls tend to ovulate.
And to be honest with you, I already felt exceptionally horny that day, long before Freddy ever came into that bathroom to have sex with me. The reason why I just told you that, is because I would later discover that I always feel my horniest when I'm ovulating. So I now realize that I was a very lucky young girl, because Freddy didn't end up getting me pregnant, when he took my virginity in the bathroom that day.
Of course, I also realize that the possibility does exist that Freddy actually did get me pregnant that Sunday afternoon, but that my fertilized egg cell didn't manage to attach itself to the lining of my uterus and start growing to become a baby.
However, be that as it may, the most important thing was that Freddy never did come back for a second helping of my "pussy pie" later on down the line, which of course would have only put me at an even higher risk of getting impregnated by him.
Despite the fact that I was merely cute-looking, and definitely not gorgeous, I went on to have a string of boyfriends throughout high school, and during my first year at college. I wasn't a "goody two-shoes" either. I did my fair share of French-kissing and mutual body-groping with my boyfriends.
But outwardly, I always played the role of the "nice girl" who had a reputation to keep. And I let every one of my boyfriends know up-front that I was a virgin, and that I wanted to avoid having sexual intercourse until I got married, and let my groom fuck me on my wedding night.
However, the real truth was that, once I became sexually excited enough while making out with my boyfriends in the back seat of a car, my rational mind would go right out the window, to be quickly replaced by my living-in-the-moment state-of-mind, where it really didn't matter to me how "far" my boyfriends went with me. In fact, thanks to my adolescent sexual encounter with Freddy in the bathroom, I yearned to feel a guy's dick--and especially his sperm--in my pussy so badly that I could hardly stand it.
Ironically, none of my boyfriends ever "took advantage of me" during a date. But it wasn't because I ever did anything to try to stop any of them from fucking me. Instead, it was simply because I always fell hard for the "really nice guys." The kind of guys who don't date-rape their girlfriends in the back seat of a car.
I became a college sophomore in the fall of 1972. At the very beginning of the fall semester, I met the love of my life. In this story I'll be calling him "Ray," which is not his real name. Ray was a freckled, red-headed, Scotch-Irish man who would become my husband many years later. Within a month after we first met, Ray and I started dating, and we quickly fell in love.
However, about a year or so into our relationship, my parents tried to stop me from dating Ray. They didn't like his long hair, and the fact that he played in a rock band. My mother--the one who really "wore the pants" in my family--especially didn't like the fact that Ray and I were getting very serious. He had already given me a promise ring, which I was proud to wear. And worst of all, from my mother's racial-purist point-of-view, Ray wasn't Hispanic. The last thing that my mother wanted was for me to be head-over-heels in love with a non-Hispanic guy, which is exactly what had ended up happening.
So I did the only thing logical thing that I could think of: I ran away from home.
I snuck out of my house late that same night (the night that my mother told me that she was forbidding me from dating Ray ever again). I walked to Ray's house, which was a little over a mile and a half away from mine. I unexpectedly showed up on his doorstep at around 2:00 A.M., knocked on his front door and woke him up from a sound sleep. I asked if I could spend the night--and I never left. And that's how Ray and I ended up living together.
And during those first few months together, the only birth control that Ray and I used during our lovemaking was called "trust." In other words, I trusted that Ray wouldn't lose his self-control during sex, and end up taking advantage of me (by fucking my possibly-fertile pussy), once I had gotten all hot and bothered, and inevitably slipped into my living-in-the-moment state-of-mind (which I already described to you just a few paragraphs ago).
And for several months, Ray continued to "honor my wishes" and avoid having sexual intercourse with me, despite the fact that we were sleeping in the same twin-size bed together, and having sex at least four or five times a week. And although Ray's penis never actually penetrated my vagina during that whole time period, our lovemaking continued to get bolder and bolder, as Ray brought his bare dick into direct contact with my bare pussy more and more often, and for longer and longer periods of time. Of course, I was always more than happy to cooperate with him during sex.
Then one afternoon, after Ray had eventually gotten so sexually frustrated that he just couldn't wait any longer, he finally "crossed the line" and date-raped me (okay, okay, so technically it wasn't actually "date-rape," because we were living together at the time--but the bottom line is that he did surprise-fuck me from behind). Of course, Ray assumed that he was taking my virginity that afternoon. And so I acted as if he had, even though I knew the real truth.
By the way, Ray was wearing a condom when he fucked me that very first time. But because of the way that everything took place, I didn't realize that Ray had a rubber on his dick until after he had finished ejaculating, and had pulled out of me.
From that day forward--and at my insistence, mind you--Ray and I began having sexual intercourse as an integral part of our lovemaking. And after we had begun fucking like rabbits, we naturally became more and more intimate with each other.
Over the course of the next several months, Ray and I candidly talked about each other's private sexual fantasies, our earlier romantic relationships with other people, our sexual preferences, and various other sexually-related topics. We did this, usually as a prelude to our lovemaking.
During this same time period, Ray and I experimented freely during sex, as we both tried new things. We also coached each other on how each of us could become better sex partners for the other person. And through this extensive sexual coaching, Ray soon discovered that I had some very unique sexual tastes and desires.
As Ray and I kept on experimenting and coaching each other, our lovemaking quickly transformed into something that had little resemblance to what it had been, when Ray and I had first begun having sex together. At one point, Ray admitted to me that my unique sexuality really baffled him. And he couldn't believe that we both had so much in common, when it came to our sexual preferences and desires.
Then one day, Ray and I were lying naked in bed together in the late afternoon, talking and fondling each other's genitals, like we always did during the earliest stages of our foreplay. We started talking about our ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends, and about how "far" we had gone (sexually) with each of them, during our past relationships. And that's when Ray decided to share his own "dirty little secret" with me.
Ray's "dirty little secret" turned out to be that the first person he ever had sex with was another boy. Ray told me that, back when he was much younger, his close long-time friend, Chris--who was a year older than him--seduced Ray into having sex, by offering to suck his dick. Ray also admitted to me that, after Chris had finished sucking his dick, he had ended up sucking Chris's dick too. Ray then described exactly how everything happened between him and his friend that evening.
I was intrigued and blown away by Ray's confession. Needless to say, I found it to be both exciting and erotic that my future husband-to-be had actually jacked off and sucked another boy's dick. And I admired Ray for his having been completely honest and candid with me about his sexual past.
I knew that I needed to do the same thing, and tell Ray all about Freddy. But I was scared that Ray would get angry and break up with me, when I finally admitted to him that I had been lying to him all along about my being a virgin when we first met.
Not only that, but at this point, Freddy was not at the top of my list of intimate things that I wanted to discuss with my lover. Chris was. And so during the next few days, every time that Ray and I had sex, I found myself bringing up the subject of "Chris" during our foreplay. I just couldn't help myself. The lingering curiosity was overwhelming. I felt like I just had to find out as much as I possibly could about Ray's "dirty little secret."
And Ray didn't seem to mind my barrage of probing questions. He patiently answered each and every one of my questions--even the most embarrassing ones--as he went on to share every little detail with me about his sexual encounter with Chris down in The Pit.
Two more weeks went by, as I continued to struggle with my own dilemma of not knowing when or how I should bring up the subject of "Freddy" to Ray. And then one day, Ray and I were lying naked in bed together, talking and fondling each other's genitals, as we were getting in the mood to have sex. And that's when something came over me, and I decided that this was the right time to finally share my "dirty little secret" with Ray.
So I asked Ray point-blank how he would feel if he found out that I wasn't a virgin when we first met. And then I went on to eventually tell him all about Freddy.
And Ray just kept on asking me questions. And I kept on answering them as best as I could, until I was finally finished telling him my story about Freddy.
"So how do you feel about everything that I've just told you? Come on, be honest with me," I asked Ray.
And Ray told me that the whole thing turned him on a lot. And he said that if I would let him fuck me, he would prove to me just how much my telling him about Freddy had turned him on.
I was giggling away in anticipation as I spread my legs wide apart, so that Ray could mount me in a missionary position. He eased the head of his rock-hard penis into my sopping-wet honey pot, all the way up to the hilt, in one slow smooth thrust. And then he just left his dick in place, without moving it around at all.
At Ray's suggestion, I had my eyes closed the whole time, and I was pretending that Ray's dick was Freddy's dick. And that was pretty easy for me to do, because as fate would have it, Ray's erect penis just happened to be about the same size around as Freddy's was, despite the fact that Freddy's hard-on was longer than Ray's, by at least an inch or more.
But more importantly, I was also pretending that Ray's balls were Freddy's extremely dark-skinned, Mexican-American balls. The same sexy balls that I had curiously felt out and innocently played with in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon, so many years ago. The same sexy balls that had released their sperm up through Freddy's long urethral tube to fertilize my baby-making hole that day--without me even realizing what was taking place down between my legs. And all of these kinds of thoughts about Freddy's balls were getting me incredibly excited.
Then I felt Ray's dick pulsate one time. And I knew exactly what that single strong pulsation meant. I had seen it happen before, right in front of my own eyes. So I knew that a little thick glob of Ray's sperm had just oozed out of his piss-hole slit, and into my vagina.
Actually, I was pretending that the sperm was Freddy's, instead of Ray's. And that taboo thought quickly took me right over the top, and made me cum hard. I began squirting and gushing all over Ray's dick and balls.
Within a few seconds, Ray's dick started pulsating like crazy inside me, and he began orgasming, right along with me. However, there was no passionate kissing, or hugging, or body-groping going on between us--only the pure, raw sexual act of copulation that was taking place down between our legs. It was an incredibly erotic experience!
This experience also helped me to realize that my confession to Ray about Freddy had been the right thing to do. In fact, I felt bad that I hadn't been honest with Ray much sooner in our relationship. Here I had been worrying all this time that Ray might get mad and break up with me if I told him about Freddy, only to discover that Ray gets really turned-on by the whole "Freddy thing," just like I do.
Over the course of the next few weeks, every time that Ray and I had sex, either he or I would bring up the subject of "Freddy" at some point during our foreplay. And of course, that would inevitably raise our level of mental sexual excitement, and it only made the sex that much more enjoyable for both of us. So sharing my "dirty little secret" with Ray turned out to be a very good thing indeed.
Looking back on everything, I can honestly say that, without Freddy, I know I wouldn't be the person that I am today.
For instance, before my experience with Freddy, I used to fantasize about the usual type of stuff that young girls tend to fantasize about. And naturally, that also meant that I experienced rape fantasies from time to time, just like virtually all heterosexual girls and women do, according to everything that I've read on the subject.
But after my experience with Freddy, the only types of fantasies that really turned me on were sexual assault/rape fantasies. And so nearly all the various sexual situations that I tended to fantasize about on a regular basis were automatically transformed into fantasies that involved me being sexually molested and then raped. And that's still the way that things are for me nowadays, when it comes to my sexual fantasies.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm not a masochist. And I don't enjoy pain at all. So I don't ever fantasize about being physically threatened or hurt, or tortured. It's just that, in my fantasies, I tend to imagine myself being “taken and overwhelmed” (in other words, bullied, intimidated, blackmailed, tricked or verbally threatened) into having sex with some guy or another, while I do nothing but completely cooperate with that guy, as I'm letting him “have his way with me.”
This "guy" in my fantasies might be a total stranger to me, or he might be a celebrity on TV or in the movies, or he could be someone that I know in real life. It just depends on my mood at the time that I'm having the fantasy. However, I have to admit that most of the time, my rape fantasies tend to involve guys that I know in real life. And as you should have already figured out by now, the one guy that I tend to fantasize about the most just happens to be Freddy.
No matter whether I like it or not, Freddy was--and will always be--the first guy who ever had sex with me. And as far as I'm concerned, Freddy will always be that "special guy" who took my virginity, when he fucked me with his "verga" and fertilized my "panocha" in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon.
So even though I love my husband dearly, I still kept finding myself fantasizing about Freddy quite frequently throughout my adult life--although I have to admit that I do it much less nowadays than I used to, back when I was a younger woman.
The point I'm trying to make here is that my single sexual encounter with Freddy in the bathroom that Sunday afternoon ended up drastically changing the very core of my sexuality. And it permanently altered my sexual desires and preferences to this very day.
By the way, there is something extremely ironic about my sexual encounter with Freddy. You see, Freddy, never got married, and he is now paralyzed from the waist down, and has been that way ever since he was in his early 20's. I know that Freddy continued to live with his mother until she finally passed away a few years ago. And now he's finally living by himself in the family home, far away in a different state from where my husband, Ray (not his real name), and I live. And of course, the irony in all this is that it's quite possible that I may have been the only girl that Freddy ever got to fuck in his entire life.
However, just for the record, I do realize that it's much more likely that, during his adolescent years (before he became paralyzed), Freddy may have sexually molested and raped other young girls, besides me. If that is actually the case, then I can only hope that those other young girls were able to mentally and emotionally cope with the experience, so that they could go on to live a wonderful, satisfying life, just like I have.
* * * * *
Congratulations! You have managed to make it all the way to the end of my "Freddy story." But this is really only the end of the first part of my "Freddy story."
The second and final part of my "Freddy story" is titled "Freddy in the Bathroom: My Wife's Confession." It is posted at this same site, and was written by my husband, Ray, from his point-of-view (of course, I helped him edit his part of the story, just like he helped me edit mine).
Ray's take on my "Freddy story" focuses mainly on what exactly took place during my actual confession to him about Freddy, as well as on the drastic impact that my confession ended up having on our future sexual relationship together.