Aunt helped in Defloration
- 3 years ago
- 17
- 0
Robin's Rage - 1 - Defloration & Desertion free porn video
Johnny Preston and I had been best friends ever since we were four years old and his family moved into the house next to ours in the Dorset seaside village in which we lived. Though quite picturesque, it wasn’t one of the famous, must-see villages so hadn’t been over-developed and still retained most of its traditional fishing village charm. Our parents had become close friends instantly so Johnny and I had been thrown together constantly for as long as I could remember.
We were both the only children of hard-working local parents; our families helped out with each other’s childcare so Johnny and I had grown up closer than most brothers and sisters ever do.
Johnny and Robyn; Robyn and Jonathan; Johnny and Robbie; even our names went together well.
The same age to within a few weeks, he and I had gone to the same playschool, primary school, secondary school and Sixth-Form College. In our early years, we had often been in the same classes too but as his academic achievements began to soar above mine, we found ourselves separated during the day and had to make do with seeing each other on the school bus or of course, when we were at home.
Of course we had squabbled sometimes – little boys and girls always do – but most of the time we were firm friends, playing games, riding our bikes, exploring the fields and the hills around our houses, hunting for treasures on the beach and basically having a good time together.
It was unusual for young boys and girls to be this close but for a long time we were so inseparable that the grown-ups started calling us ‘Batman and Robyn’. That used to make me really happy although of course I pretended to be cross.
It certainly helped that for most of my life I had always been a real tomboy. With short dark hair, a flat chest and an almost complete lack of interest in dolls, dresses and make-up, I preferred boys’ shorts to skirts and camouflage green to pink.
I even preferred being called Robbie to my more feminine real name.
Quite tall and physically strong, I could hold my own with most of the boys in terms of important things like climbing, running, cycling and playing football. When it came to fighting other boys, what I lacked in physical strength, I made up for with cunning and guile and was seldom to be found helpless on the grass after a scrap.
For years, Johnny and I were inseparable. We shared birthday parties, trips to adventure parks, the occasional holiday with our families and all as ‘just good friends’ until that summer – the summer when everything changed.
I hadn’t had many boyfriends in my life; my rather boisterous, tomboy nature seemed to intimidate or put off most of the boys around me but I wasn’t interested in them anyway. I knew there had even been rumours that I was a lesbian but they were untrue; I had no interest in my fellow girls either, whose activities and motivations were something of a mystery to me.
All I wanted was to be with my Johnny.
Nevertheless, some boys had been brave enough to try their luck with me; there had been a few hurried snogging and groping sessions after birthday parties, I admit. A couple of boys had even managed to ‘cop a feel’ of my rather unimpressive boobs in the dark but until that summer the contents of my knickers had remained a mystery to all except myself.
I had explored myself ‘down there’ many times but that wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.
Johnny of course was the dream boyfriend for most of the girls at school. Taller than me, dark haired, athletic, handsome and intelligent he was clearly destined for greater things and was the object of many schoolgirl crushes.
My closeness to him was a constant source of bafflement for the more ‘girly’ amongst our cohort and frequently attracted some unpleasant, spiteful comments. When it was clear that our relationship was platonic, more like brother and sister, they left me alone, my presence resented but not seen as a threat.
But I didn’t want our relationship to be platonic. I didn’t want to be Johnny’s sister.
Though I fought hard to deny it, I had been in love with Johnny since the first time he and I had kicked a football together in his parents’ back garden. As we had grown up and spent more time together, that love had grown deeper rather than dissipated.
I wanted Johnny more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.
As so many of us know, being in love at any age isn’t easy. Being in love throughout your schooldays is worse. Being in love when you can’t even tell the object of your desire is hell on earth.
Hidden carefully under my bed were notebooks full of love letters to him that would never be sent, pictures of the two of us in multi-coloured crayons, large pink hearts with our names inside and, of course, pages and pages where I had tried out my new signature; the one I would have once we were married.
Mrs. Robyn Preston. Mrs. Jonathan Preston. Robbie Preston. Mr. & Mrs. J. Preston.
It was about the only respect in which my behaviour could ever have been considered ‘girly’. I despised myself for it but couldn’t help myself.
Of course I made sure I didn’t let anyone know how I felt, especially because Johnny didn’t seem to feel the same about me. Paying me compliments that broke my heart he would punch me in the ribs playfully and say things like:
“I like being with you Robbie. It’s not like being with a girl at all. I can really be myself when I’m with you.”
It was all I could do not to cry.
Of course it was too much to hope that such a boy would remain without girlfriends throughout his schooldays and over the years I spent many evenings sulking in my room as he took one or other of my contemporaries out on a date. I had to run from at least two school parties when I saw him kissing another girl in the corner of the room or worse, outside in the darkness.
Tomboy Robbie couldn’t be seen in tears, could she?
When we were eighteen and I heard rumours that he had actually bedded Sally, one of the prettiest, sportiest girls in our year, my despair was almost absolute.
Strangely, two weeks later, there was an incident in the showers after a hockey match in which bleach somehow managed to get into Sally’s shampoo. Either that or she confused the bottles; there was always bleach around in the girls’ changing room. Her long blonde hair turned green then actually began to fall out.
No-one ever found out how that had happened. Eventually her hair grew back but she had lost her confidence and didn’t go out with Johnny again.
But this humdrum, rather unsatisfactory world changed on a Sunday morning in late August of the year in which our compulsory education came to an end. We were both eighteen and our last school exams had taken place a few months earlier. The results had been published the Thursday before.
As predicted, Johnny had done exceptionally well but, rather than go to University, he had accepted a training place with a major national firm of finance specialists in London. It was a fantastic opportunity for him that he would have been foolish not to take but which meant he had to leave our village almost immediately and go to live in the metropolis for at least two years.
This meant he would be leaving me too. For the first time since the age of four, Johnny and I wouldn’t be able to see each other every day; wouldn’t be able to take walks together; wouldn’t be able to be together.
I was heartbroken but just about managed to keep it hidden in public. In private I fell asleep on a tear-stained pillow many more nights than a tomboy should.
On the day everything changed, Johnny’s parents were taking him to the station early in the afternoon to catch a fast train to London. The idea was that he could get to his shared flat in plenty of time to settle in before his first day at work.
I woke up that Sunday morning in an aura of dread; in a matter of hours, the boy I adored more than anything was about to go out of my life. I told myself it was only for a while but I’m not that easily fooled, even by myself.
We had promised each other faithfully that we would keep in touch but I was under no illusions about the likelihood of either of us writing much so, as we explored the beach together one last time, I knew it would be the last I would see of my beloved Johnny for some time.
My heart was heavy but I tried hard to appear normal; the casual, relaxed, easy-going Tomboy Robin to his cool, assured Batman.
We were walking side by side as we had done perhaps hundreds of times over the years; hands in pockets, kicking the driftwood while he told me all about his new job, his shared flat and how excited he was about living in the Big City for a while. It hurt me to hear it all but he was so thrilled and after all, this was the boy I loved so I bit my lip and listened.
The tide was coming in slowly, narrowing the causeway on which we could safely walk and before we realised it, we were stumbling over each other on the thin path of still-dry sand. As I jumped over a swirling pool I tripped over a hidden rock and Johnny caught my arm to steady me. When we walked on, he didn’t release his grip and for a while we strolled hand in hand, Johnny still talking excitedly.
It felt unusual but it also felt good; actually it felt very good.
The causeway turned away from the sea and towards the cliffs, away from the popular areas where the holiday makers go. It’s quiet and we had often hunted fossils and interesting driftwood there when we were younger. My hand was still in his as we approached the cool shade of the cliff.
I was enjoying being close to my adored friend, feeling the sun on my back and wondering how I could possibly cope for two long years without him by my side.
Then the rock I was standing on suddenly gave way.
Johnny’s strong hand grabbed my arm, then my waist to stop me from falling. It worked; I remained on my feet but only because Johnny had pulled me tightly into his chest and wrapped his arms around me to keep me from slipping back down into the mud.
For a moment we froze, chest to chest, face to face, hip to hip. His strong arms were around my torso, standing completely still, my body motionless in his arms for what seemed an eternity.
And then, without warning, his mouth was suddenly on mine, his tongue between my lips forcing them apart.
I was amazed. Too stunned to react, I simply yielded. A moment later, his tongue was in my mouth seeking and finding mine. Then, before my mind could register what was happening, his hands were all over my body, on my back, on my boobs, on my bottom, squeezing me tightly against his strong frame.
I hardly knew what to do. It was what I had dreamed of for years; the boy I had loved since childhood clearly wanted me too. But how should I react? What should I do? My sexual history was so inadequate I had little clue how to respond to this wonderful, welcome advance.
My mind had no idea but, thank God, my body seemed to respond instinctively, mostly by simply letting this wonderful, adored boy do whatever he wanted with me. Though giving little positive response, I offered no resistance at all as his lips forced mine apart, his mouth smothered mine and his tongue writhed over and around mine while his hands explored the rest of my baffled body.
My head span with a mix confusion and delight. Was this really happening? The thing I had dreamed of all my life?
His hands were on my sides, on my boobs, on my bottom again. They were under my shirt, under my bra, on my bare flesh. A shudder of fear and pleasure passed through me; no boy had been this far with me before. I had no idea what to expect or how to respond.
But Johnny had barely started. Pulling me into the shadow of the cliff, he raised my shirt up under my armpits, flipped up my bra and began to play with my nipples, nipping them between his fingertips and kneading the small globes on which they sat.
I shivered again; this was a new kind of pleasure I had never experienced before. Playing with myself was one thing; having a gorgeous boy play with me was something else entirely. I could feel myself becoming more aroused than I had ever been.
His hands fell from my boobs to my hips; the next I knew his fingers were fumbling with the waistband of my ugly, boy’s shorts. In a second they were around my ankles. Instinctively I tried to cover myself but before I could move, his hands were deep inside my knickers, cupping my buttocks.
No boy had ever touched my bare bottom before. But this wasn’t just any boy; this was Johnny; my Johnny, the boy I had loved all my life and there was nothing I wouldn’t let him do.
I felt his fingers exploring my cheeks and the cleft between them. It was a massive step into the unknown for me but still I could do nothing but yield. Something told me we should stop; that this was a step too far but something much stronger told me that this might be the best – perhaps the only chance I would have to make him mine.
I felt my knickers being lowered as his tongue delved deeper into my mouth. Then for the first time in my life I felt another human hand directly on my naked virgin vulva. I froze, my knees automatically clamping together but he was too strong and my resolve was too weak.
A moment later I felt a long finger being pressed firmly into the gap at the top of my thighs and along my outer lips. I whimpered into his mouth and, as he kissed me harder and more passionately, the finger delved deeper into my slit, entering the very mouth of my vagina.
The sensations that shot through my body as Johnny began to finger me turned my legs to jelly. I leaned heavily against his chest, feeling his strong hand all over my groin, offering no resistance when he lowered my tingling body to the grassy sand; I merely stared up at him, my eyes misty with emotion.
Then his hands were on my knees, pulling away my knickers, dragging them clumsily over my trainers. A moment later my legs were forced apart and my bottom and vulva fully exposed.
I could have resisted; perhaps I should have resisted but the truth is that I didn’t want to resist.
His hand went straight back to my crotch, his long middle finger returning to my slit. Then my beloved Johnny began to finger me with an expertise I hadn’t dreamed any boy possessed. From my anus to my clitoris, my vulva became alive, weeping, throbbing, bucking against his strong, confident hand.
Still unable consciously to respond, my body took over, lubricating onto his fingers and sending waves of warm pleasure through me. I shivered and shook as he fingered me more and more, then gasped as a tremor of climax shot through me and my first ever lover began to move over me.
Not a word had been spoken by either of us; both seemingly in a surreal world of silent complicity as Johnny manoeuvred his body over me. His knees were between mine, forcing them apart, spreading my thighs. Instinctively I tried to close my legs to protect my as-yet-unpenetrated private parts but it was half hearted and futile.
Johnny’s body loomed over mine, his strong right arm alongside my head; his left hand at his groin. I felt something large and smooth being rubbed against my weeping slit. It was like nothing I had felt – even imagined before and I moaned, partly with lust, partly with fear as I realised it was his erection and understood what he wanted to do with it.
This time it was real life, not my dreams. This time the boy I loved beyond any other – beyond reason – was going to make love to me. He was going to take my virginity; to be my first and perhaps my only lover.
And he was going to do it now, here on the beach, in one of our special places. Even if I had wanted to, there was no stopping the momentum now. I was on a roller coaster; all I could do was hold on and try to enjoy the ride.
Then the smooth end of his erection was sliding up and down my slit more firmly, searching for something hidden within. It felt amazing; incredible; like nothing I had ever felt before. My body was responding in new and unusual ways too; my chest was tight, my face felt hot, my legs simply flopped open.
“Be... be gentle... please!”
I heard my own voice pleading; whispering the desperate words spoken by millions of anxious girls all over the world as their first time approached. As the words left my mouth, I realised they were the first either of us had spoken since I had stumbled on the rock.
Johnny looked straight into my eyes but said nothing. He didn’t even pause as the tip of his cock finally found my inner lips and began to work its way into my entrance.
I gasped, my chest tight with fear as for the first time in my life I felt a boy’s erect penis beginning to enter my body. My hands became fists as the tip of Johnny’s cock began to stretch my entrance and the smooth dome of its end was pressed roughly into my virgin vagina.
Oh God! He was doing it! He was really doing it!
There was more pressure and I felt him slip a little deeper into me.
Another thrust and he had penetrated deeper still.
Oh Jesus! His cock felt so big; huge; bigger than I had ever imagined; stretching me so, so tightly.
Johnny pressed himself into me forcefully. I tensed and closed my eyes, expecting my hymen to stop him, for him to have to force his way through, tearing my membrane. I waited for the terrible pain of a girl’s first time that I had read so much about.
It didn’t happen. Whether I had never had a hymen or whether all my tomboy activities had already broken it during play or sport I will never know, but for me, the sharp pain of defloration didn’t come. Within half a dozen short, tentative strokes, Johnny’s cock was buried deep in my vagina and I was a virgin no more.
But having no hymen to break didn’t mean my first time didn’t hurt!
As his wiry pubic hair ground against mine for the first time, our eyes met in silence. My head was spinning with all the new sensations; my chest was even tighter, my belly full of butterflies but the biggest shock was feeling my inexperienced vagina more full of a boy’s cock than I had believed possible.
Johnny felt simply huge within me; stretching me painfully, reaching so deep within me I could hardly breathe; filling me so completely that I thought my belly must surely burst.
For a tiny moment the inexorable momentum was suspended, my eyes pleading, his burning with lust.
And then it began in earnest; my beloved Johnny began to fuck me. As his thrusts began, slowly at first then building in speed and strength, my inexperienced body filled with even more new and amazing sensations.
Something huge and alien was being thrust into me, then withdrawn, then thrust in again. It filled me like I had never been filled, hurting me, making me feel about to burst. Then it was withdrawn leaving me feeling both relieved and desperately empty before it returned again, harder and more forceful than before.
I was having sex for the first time.
Jonathan was making love to his playmate Robyn.
Little Johnny was having sex with Little Robbie.
Batman was fucking Robin.
It was strange, surreal and yet my body told me it really was happening.
I was full of pleasure; I was full of pain.
He was too big for my tight little body; I wanted him to be bigger still.
The pleasure in my belly was too much; I wanted much, much more.
The speed of his thrusts grew faster and faster bringing more unexpected sensations; a warm wet feeling in my belly, a choking feeling in my throat, a tingling in my vulva, a sharp pain in the over-stretched entrance to my vagina.
“Oh Robbie! Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Johnny’s voice was hard and coarse, almost desperate as he thrust harder and harder into me. Still stunned, my body was reacting faster than my brain, lubricating fast, tilting my hips to find a less painful angle, my legs opening wider and wider as if inviting him deeper and deeper into me.
Then something changed. Suddenly Johnny’s body was slamming into mine with a force that was frightening, hammering my hips into the hard sand beneath my bare buttocks and lower back. My legs were forced obscenely wide by his all-powerful thighs as his cock plunged into me over and over again, faster and faster.
My vulva was really hurting now, pain overwhelming the pleasure as his violence soared.
“Fuck! Robbie, fuck!”
Johnny’s face was only inches above mine, his strong chest clearly defined, his stomach muscles contracting repeatedly as his hips drove relentlessly back and forth. I could hear a wet slapping noise coming from our loins and the sand beneath my bottom moving in time with his strokes.
Becoming alarmed, I stared anxiously up into my lovers face just in time to see the handsome features I knew so well begin to twist and contort horribly as at the same time his thrusts became wild and erratic.
This was truly scary; the boy I loved was changing before my eyes. What was happening?
The thrusts became wild and violent, slamming hard into me until a sharp stabbing pain shot though my vulva.
“Oh Jesus I’m...” his voice was little more than a croak.
And then for the first time in my life I felt the extraordinary, frightening sensation of a strong man reaching a powerful climax and beginning to ejaculate inside a woman’s body. Something deep within me swelled, Johnny’s body twisted and flexed above mine, driving his cock mercilessly into my vagina where it throbbed like a wounded animal, discharging its load of semen high up against my cervix.
“Jesus Robbbiieeeee!”
Johnny’s cock pulsed inside my over-sensitised vagina for a long time before the last spurts of semen left his body, entered mine and he finally became still. I looked up into his eyes, trembling, relieved to see that the familiar, handsome, caring face was returning, though it was now flushed red and sweating.
We stared at each other; real tears running down my cheeks then for the first time, I felt the truly strange, completely unexpected sensation of a man’s strong, hard cock beginning to soften inside me. I could hear myself panting for breath as my tingling, trembling body slowly began to cool and as the monstrous beast within me faded away, a strange emptiness began to appear in my loins.
One thought went over and over in my mind; Johnny had taken my virginity. He had made love to me. The boy I loved more than anything had wanted me enough to make me his. He had penetrated me, cum inside me. I was truly his now and he was mine.
Throughout the whole of my defloration only a handful of words had been spoken. I felt confused, bewildered and extremely vulnerable; the defensive carapace of my tomboy existence had been completely shattered. For the first time in my life, I felt vulnerable like a girl. It was truly frightening.
“Did I hurt you Robbie?” Johnny eventually panted.
His voice was soft and concerned as he rolled off me, pulling his flaccid cock from my body then lying close by my side on the sand. I shook my head as I began to come to terms with what had happened. I still couldn’t speak; too confused to understand and afraid any words I might choose would be wrong.
“Robbie? Are you okay?” he asked. Again all I could do was nod.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me...” he began.
“It’s... it’s all right,” I interrupted. My voice had returned but was shaky and tearful.
I sat up on the sand, pulling my knees up under my chin, hiding my freshly-violated vulva from the man who had just taken my most precious possession. Ashamed, I couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Robbie I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I mean, I couldn’t help myself...” he protested.
‘Don’t say that! Don’t apologise! Don’t say it was an accident!’ I silently begged.
“Was it your first time?” he asked, stroking my arm with his fingers.
“Y... yes,” I confessed.
“I thought it might be,” he continued. “I’m so sorry Robbie. It was a mistake.”
‘Don’t say that! It wasn’t a mistake! Tell me how lovely it was,’ I begged silently. ‘Tell me how you love me!’
The tears were falling quickly now.
“Did I really hurt you?” he asked
‘Not as much as you’re hurting me now,’ I thought but outwardly just shook my head.
“We’re still best friends, right?” he was continuing, trying to jockey me along.
I nodded again as I tried to find my knickers to cover my battered, sticky vulva.
“You don’t hate me, do you?”
‘Of course I don’t hate you! I love you! I love you! I love you!’ I silently screamed inside.
“I mean it’s not as if you told me to stop, is it? You did want it too, didn’t you Robbie?”
‘More than anything else in the world!’ I thought but again could not say.
I nodded again silently as I wriggled my sea-soaked knickers over my sore bottom and lower back, wincing as the salty gusset touched my freshly-violated vulva.
“So it was just a bit of fun? A bit of exploration between friends? It just went a bit too far?”
‘No! It was the single most important event in my life!’ was what I wanted to say but the words wouldn’t come.
“Okay...” my voice finally returned, wobbly and soft but blessedly under my control.
“So we are still friends?”
“I guess so.”
I forced the words out though the lie hurt almost as much as my deflowering. Surely we were much more than friends now; weTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
Jo
- 15.12.2020
- 19
- 0
- Category:
- Taboo
