Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away - Sex Stories

Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away

Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away by slick_chick * * * * * 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, just a few weeks after my 18th birthday, an older boy named Freddy sexually molested me, and then raped 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. I need to take a moment in order to give you a little more background information, before I continue on with my story. 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. Throughout my entire life, I have always looked a few years younger than my chronological age. Back when I was 18 years old, I am sure that I must have looked like I was only 15 or 16 years old, at the very most. 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 at 18 years old, 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 19 years old at the ...