She Was A VirginWhen I was 10 years old, I had just learned about sex in school. I had already discovered that stroking my penis was remarkably pleasurable and caused wonderful sensations. Now I learned that the experience could be even greater if done the way it was meant to be done, which was with a woman. However, at 10, there were very few romantic prospects for such a frowned-upon activty, especially in a small town in Iowa, where people tended to be much more conservative. So, I continued to stroke my penis at night and dream about having sex with lovely women. A few weeks later, my parents decided to go to a movie and dinner, spend the whole night together, out of the house. So they made all the arrangements for dinner and, of course, for the babysitter to watch me while they were gone. In the paper, they had found a 16 year old girl who had great reccommendations from other parents and who was a straight 'A' student which, I suppose, made them feel she was a responsible girl. I was watching TV when she arrived and only saw her after I heard my parents talk with her a bit and then leave. She walked into the family room and sat down next to me, watching the program. I looked at her and then back at the screen, but continued to study her out of the corner of my eye, so that I wouldn't have to stare. She was a very pretty girl and was wearing faded blue jeans and a textured sweater that was quite tight. Her breats weren't large, but they were nicely shaped from what I could see, and her figure was trim. She told me her name was "Christie" at the next commercial break. I was becoming very turned on in studying her and mumbled some reply. After a while, I went to my room to go to bed, for my parents had left instructions that I had to be in bed by 10:00. I changed into my pyjamas and got into bed, and noticed Christie walk past my door and look in to be sure I was in bed. Then I turned over and stroked my penis, though I didn't masturbate. I just enjoyed the milder pleasure that lasted longer of a non-intense stroking. I could faintly hear the TV while I lay there. When an hour or so had passed and I still couldn't fall asleep, I got out of bed and walked to the family room, concocting an explanation as to why I was up and why I ought to be allowed to stay up and watch some more TV. The TV was still going so I assumed she was still watching it. However, when I got there, I saw Christie had stretched out on the couch and had fallen asleep, with the TV on.
Suddenly, sensations exploded up from my penis, an urge to reach out and touch that curved breast that was just a few inches away. It was moving up and down with her sleeping breaths, and looked very inviting. Could such a small act wake her up from an obviously deep sleep? I moved the remote control to her opposite side and then decided to touch her breast through her sweater, and say that I was reaching for the remote control if she woke up. My hand closed gently on her breast and I paused, fearing she would awaken any moment. But she continued to sleep, not moving at all, her breathing not at all changed. I ran my hand back and forth over the lump in her sweater, then moved to the other lump, fondling her breasts through her sweater. This caused my penis to swell, and I suddenly realized this had made me want more. This was a golden opportunity to see, in real life, some of the forbidden things my classmates and I had seen in sex education. I carefully adjusted her arms so that they were up, over her head on the couch. This took a pianfully long time since I had to do it inch by inch, with doom waiting if she should suddenly awaken. I had no clever out to explain this if that disastrous event should come about. Once her arms were successfully extended above her head, I moved her sweater and her shirt up her stomach, centimeter by centimeter, doing both at once figuring that would take less time for equal risk. Slowly her stomach was revealed, very flat, and I kept going. Her sides flared a bit as I got up to her chest, and I gingerly moved it over her bra and up to her neck. Her rhythm of breathing never altered, so I assume she hadn't felt a thing. Her bra unclasped in front, so I unclasped it, torturously slowly, since this was death if she should awaken. But it came undone with no mishap and slowly fell open. Now she was, in effect, naked from the waist up. I ran my fingers over her beautiful breasts, gently brushing her nipples. She moaned slightly in her sleep and I jumped away, ready to take flight for my room, though what good that would have done is beyond me. But she relaxed back into her deep breathing, clearly having felt it, but not having been awakened by it. I massaged them some more, eliciting more groans and sighs. I hesitantly used my tongue on her breasts, and drew a loud gasp. I was already out the door of the family room when I realized that nothing more had happened. She was still asleep, feeling the sensations in her sleep. I moved back carefully and wondered what to do next. I put my tongue in her armpit, which was shaven, but was starting grow some hair back. I let my tongue caress her armpit, and it only caused a small sigh at one point. I switched back to her breasts, mouthing her nipples, with my lips. After about fifteen minutes of this, I wanted even more. So I slowly unzipped her jeans, taking it down one notch a minute, it seemed. Then I carefully undid her button and her jeans popped open, revealing a 'V' of white panties. My penis, at this point, was bursting at my pyjama crotch, and I quickly ran my hand over it. Then, hooking a finger into each side of her panties, slowly began pulling down her legs, taking both the panties and the jeans. She moved once, and I stopped instantly, but she relaxed again and I continued the slow journey of her pants and panties down her legs. She had taken her shoes off when she had come into the house, so only her socks were on her feet. I carefully slipped the pants and panties over her feet and let them fall to the carpet. This I would later realize had been a stupid move, but at that point I was sitting stunned as I looked at her vagina, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She already had pubic hair, which covered about half of her vagina. I slowly ran my fingers through the slight hair, my fingertips grazing her vagina. She actually cried out at that, and I again jumped back, thrown for a loop at every new sound. I was incrediably jumpy, considering that I was doing something so bad that I couldn't even begin to imagine what would happen should I be caught. But with her vagina and breasts available to the touch now, all thoughts of what would happen flew from my mind. I touched and fondled her groin, even taking enjoyment from making her cry out and moan. Thinking quickly, I ran and got my camera and took many, many pictures of her in this state, and lots of close-ups. I figured they may come in handy for future masturbation sessions. I replaced the camera in my room afterwards and came back. The pressure of my penis against the front of my pyjamas was becoming almost painful, so I had to unbutton my pyjama bottom and drop my underwear to allow my penis full extension. Looking at my penis, and then at her vagina, I had an overwhelming urge to do what I had seen in sex education. "No way!" I told myself. "It may be possible to slowly move her clothing up or down without waking her, but climbing on top of her? I'll be in deep trouble." However, my imagination painted too great a picture of how it would feel, I anticipated it would be ten times as great as masturbation, since this was the "real" thing. So I decided to throw all caution to the wind and attempt it. I carefully climbed onto the cushion beside her, very, very slowly, so as not to shake the couch enough to wake her. I was small for my age, and thin, which I figured would be to my advangtage here, not being very heavy. Slowly, a bit at a time, I leaned onto her, putting my weight on her very gradually, hoping against hope that gradual changes would be okay. She didn't wake up, even when I was completely on top of her, arched a little so that my penis was clear of her. I positioned myself ever so painstakingly carefully and lowered myself gingerly onto her, letting my penis slide into her. My penis felt a pressure, and I pushed harder, trying to get my penis in. I was desperate to do it now, and I was starting to feel the mortifying fear of not being able to do it right. I gently hugged her, then tightened my hug, this way I could push with greater leverage. She seemed to squirm in her sleep. After several very long second, my penis went through in a rush, and she spasmed and sat upright with a cry. I learned later that what I had done was break the hymen, for she was a virgin. I hadn't known to expect that since it wasn't mentioned in class. It hurt the woman a fair amount, I learned. I didn't realize that was the source of that cry, pain, I just assumed it was like the others, though louder. Since I was already tightly holding her with that hug, and my penis was already in her, I went up and down on her, even though she was awake. Now that she was awake, I went fast, not worrying about doing it slowly and gently so as not to awaken her. She couldn't stop me when she awoke for several reasons. First, her sweater and shirt were nearly over her head and were pinning her arms above her. She was struggling to free her face to see what was happening, and she was struggling to free her arms. She was screaming, "What's going on", "Who are you?" and some wordless ones. She didn't even know yet that *I* was on top of her. She could just feel someone. I don't think it even occured to her that it could be me, with thousands of other confusing things happening. She was squirming and bucking trying to toss me off, but because of the tight hug, I was locked securely in place, and I continued to move up and down, for it felt good and warm and a pleasurable feeling was building in my penis, getting stronger and stronger. As it grew more intense I gasped, and realized I was sweating, as was she. She was still crying out, but the sounds had all been muffled by the sweater over her face. Now she had gotten her sweater up over her head, but they were still fouling her arms, keeping her from using them. I continued to build the intensity in my penis, and it was starting to feel like my penis head was going to exploded. And then it *did* explode, or so it felt, liquid spurting out into her. She screamed loudly at that moment and *tore* the sweater off, and flung the shirt off. After the explosion, I had rolled off of her, landing on the carpet, admiring the extremely white ceiling, and relaxing in the general feeling of well-being that accompanied the ejaculation. She had become suddenly limp after freeing herself, and after I had rolled off. It took just a moment for full realization of what I had done to strike me. I had not heard of rape at that young age, but I did know that I had done something very bad, and that I could get punished beyond belief. I felt physically good, emotionally drained, and mentally I was very scared. I just lay there, waiting for her to leap up and wondering what would happen then. But she just lay on the couch, most of her out of sight, the couch blocking my view of her from my position, prone on the floor. Then, after a few moments, I could hear very soft sounds. She was sobbing quietly, and shaking minutely from the sobs. I lay there, just listening to her cry, thinking she sounded so delicate and fragile, quite a switch from the more powerful persona of someone six years older, someone who could drive while I was still in grade school. I felt very strange, detached, as though this were some kind of movie that I was watching, feeling no sense of connectedness with any of the characters. I pulled my pyjama bottom and underwear back on, and buttoned my pyjamas before getting up. She had her hands over her eyes and was crying softly. She had made no move to cover herself up. In tearing her sweater and shirt off, she was totally nude except for her socks. Seeing this gorgeous sixteen year old girl naked and sweaty and shaking gently from her sobs, I felt indescribably turned on again, the sick fear only adding to it. This was very strange, I thought, for when I had masturbated, I had never felt like masturbating again for quite a while. I got my camera again and changed the roll of film and took even more pictures of her, now that she was fully nude and shining in sweat. I returned the camera to my room. Now my penis was swelling again, and I pulled my pyjamas off again as well as my underwear to allow it to become erect again. I reached out and gently stroked one of her breasts. She stiffened at the contact, her sobs redoubling. Her armpits were dripping in sweat, for she was sweating not only from the sexual activity but from her extreme fear. That sweat was also remarkably erotic. I put my tongue in her armpit and licked it, tasting the salty sweat on my tongue. I put my fingers in her armpit and spread some of her sweat onto her breasts, caressing her nipples. That was it. I was way too turned on to stop. She has cried out softly when I licked her armpit and she cried out sftly again when I ever so gently gently lowered myself onto her lovely body again and had sex with her again, this time she made no move to stop me, she simply cried all the way through, lying limp. I got off of her and pulled my clothes on again and sat in an armchair across the room from her, watching her cry. I was once again sick with fear. I had not been able to control myself from having sex with her either time, but I was deathly afraid of the consequences when she told on me. I went over to her again and said, "Please stop crying." She either didn't hear me or didn't care, for she made no reaction to my words. I went out of the room and waited around the corner, peering with one eye around the doorway into the family room. After another half hour of crying, she slowly sat up, still crying, and began dressing, pulling her clothes on uncoordinatedly. After she was dressed, her sweater slightly ripped, she sat on the couch hugging herself, and *still* crying. For another hour she just sat and rocked, hugging herself and crying softly. Finally, she stopped and wiped her eyes, because she could hear a key turning in the front door. I did too and waited, ready to sprint back to my room, but wanting to see what happened now that my parents were home. Christie jumped up and grabbed her purse from the table. She ran to the front door and ran through it, jostling my amazed parents. My father called something after her, asking her what was wrong. But she said said something about being sick as she jumped into her car and then she took off. My parents didn't seem to know what to make of it as they closed the door, talking softly to one another about how odd that was. I quietly made my way back to my room and got into bed, pulling the covers up, closing my eyes and mimicking the deep breathing of sleep. My parents walked past my room and looked in, to see my apparrantly asleep. Then they made their way to their room and closed the door, cutting off the soft murmmer of their discussion. I lay there, unable to sleep. Christie never told anyone, I suppose she was too humiliated to reveal that she had been raped twice and fondled by a ten year old she was babysitting. I never saw her again, though my parents once tried to get her to babysit for them again. Those pictures I took of her I got developed after bicycling over to the next town where I wouldn't be recognized and giving them to be developed there. No doubt some developer must have had an enjoyable time devleoping them. Those pictures were my prized possession for many years, and greatly improved my masturbation for having erotic pictures. I could still imagine how she felt. The rest of my life I remembered that incident as both the most terrifying of all my experiences and the most gratifying.
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