Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away by slick_chick

Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away by slick_chick

Discover the tantalizing tale of Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away in this sizzling adult sex story by slick_chick. Join Freddy on a steamy journey of exploration and desire in this provocative read.<br/>

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

by slick_chick

* * * * *

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.