Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away

Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away

by slick_chick

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I’m a senior citizen, a housewife, and a 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 the early 1950’s 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. I was much more comfortable being around boys than I was hanging out with other girls my age. And so consequently, all of my closest friends during that time in my life just happened to be boys. But despite my tomboyish ways, I was–and still am–completely heterosexual.

I was also what some people would call a “late bloomer”–but only from the waist up. By the time I was in high school, my super-slow-growing breasts struggled to try to fill out an AA-cup size bra. And being the tomboyish girl that I was, I also hated bras at the time. 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, mainly so that I could try to hide (as best as I could) the two, super-enlarged, puffed-out areolas on either side of my chest that served as my breasts for many years.

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′ 9″ 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 eight inches taller than me, and physically much bigger than I was. He was also three years older than me.

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, budding 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, puffed-out areolas 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 little girls” to him. And I figured that Freddy would probably look at my enlarged, glorified nipples 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, tambien!” 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.” You see, even though I was a late bloomer above the waist, below the waist was a whole different story. And 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. But it was also obvious to me that something “very naughty” was definitely going to take place between this older boy and me in that bathroom, and that Freddy was just getting started.

“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 bano 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 of course I wanted to. 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 for balls was “huevos” (literally meaning “eggs”). 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 “huevos” and massaging his “verga.” 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 the front part of 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 urethra, 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.

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.