Thoughts On Losing My Virginity

I was only ten years old. I knew so much less about sex than I would come to know in the years ahead. But one thing I often wanted to ask Mom but never could was 'Can I have sex with boys?"

I know it may seem somewhat weird to say this but I pretty much feel I knew as soon as Paul tapped on my door that he was there to fuck me.  How?  Well, maybe because he just never came to my room.  Or maybe it was because he were alone.  Or because of something I saw in his eyes when he as taking my pictures.

Mostly it was a combination of all of these clues plus one very important clue  -- I knew he had wanted t o fuck me for quite some time.  Those times I felt as though he wanted to fuck me, I had usually just passed it off as 'wishful thinking.'  Wishful thinking?  Did I want my brother to fuck me?

Oddly enough, I felt the main reason he had not fucked me yet was because he couldn't.  Because I was a boy. (I mean at least down there.)  However, he had come to my room and I was rather certain he wanted to fuck me.  He was older than me.  He knew more.

When he offered to climb into my bed with me and hold me, my heart started to pound.  And then he suggested he could get under the covers with me.  I almost asked him if he was planning on fucking me that night. Now I had heard about faggots.  But did they have sex?  I had heard something about the asshole, but that sounded just so gross I knew it could not be true. Would it just be too stupid of me to ask if he planned on fucking me?

After we fucked we both headed back to our own rooms. I heard our family get home about an hour later. I know that someone -- most likely my Mom -- looked in on me. I was pretending to be asleep, but still thinking about all the ways my life had changed that night. (BOYS CAN FUCK ME!!!)

The next day I wanted to tell someone about what had happened. While it had been painful, my brother had been very tender. He even wore a condom, reassuring me that it was lubricated. (I HAVE BEEN FUCKED!!!) Who however could I tell? If it had been anyone other than my brother maybe I could have told some of the girls I knew. I most definitely not tell my Mom or anyone else in the family. I felt great about being a girl for Paul. He said I was being a 'good girl' for him. ("Your are taking this so good Yvonne. Just like a big girl. You are being such a good girl for your brother.") Since I could not tell anyone, I was hopeful that boys would be able to tell when they looked at me, to see that I was all the girl they wanted a girl to be.

Within a few days, I started to have a different thoughts regarding what Paul and I had done. He was quite obviously distraught over what we had done. He left the room whenever I came into the room. He never looked at me. If he came into a room and I was there, if he sat down he would sit down as far as he could from me.

After this had been going on for about two weeks, I found myself alone with him and before he could leave I asked him "What's your problem Paul?"

He looked at me for a long moment and then he said, "I want to do it again. I'm afraid I will do it again. And it was wrong."

I said nothing and then he turned and started to leave the room and I called out to him. When he turned around, I said, "We could go up to my room and be really quiet."

"With Mom and Dad as well as Ryan and Joey in the backyard, you want to go upstairs and fuck. You liked it Yvonne. You liked it too much. You'll never say no so I have to be sure the question is never asked -- every again."

Losing My Virginity

I was ten years old.  When my Dad suggested a day trip to the lake, it had no interest for me.  But staying home alone was not an option.

Then I heard that  Paul had begged out of the trip as he had homework to do.  While I knew Dad would not be happy that two of his children did not want to spend the day at the lake, I also knew that as Paul was fourteen my parents would let me stay home with him if I asked.

Mom knew I hated being at the lake when I had to be a boy and knew that if I stayed home that I would be spending the time mostly in my room as Yvonne.

Dad as expected was unhappy.  It was however not a battle that he wanted to find.  Paul was disappointed  that he now had the role of babysitter and Dad reminded him that it should me no problem for him as he was staying behind to do homework.

I could tell Paul was pissed that I would be staying home with him.  He made it very clear to me that he resented being by babysitter for the day.  I promised to leave him alone and spent most of the day in my room.   I had found a modeling contest on line and after I did my makeup and hair, I slipped in one of my favorite dresses.  Mom had taken her camera with the timer so I needed Paul to take a picture for me.

I had asked him before I got all dressed.  When I was ready I knocked on his bedroom door and told him I would meet him out back.  When he came outside and saw me I could tell he was impressed.  "I swear there are time I almost believe you are a girl."  He took several pictures and at one point I noticed him reaching down and touching himself.  It was not the first time I had seen Paul touch himself when I was looking pretty and I knew that saying anything to him about it would only get him mad.  I knew this from experience.

After we were done, we both went back inside to our room. He closed his door behind him. He always did, but there were times when he would do so with an extra push, signaled by a click as the door closed just a bit tighter. I knew what was coming. As I removed my dress, I fantasized that maybe I was the reason he was in the room, probably stretched out on his bed. I removed my dress and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I smiled. What would he think he if could see me now, I wondered.



We had pizza for dinner and then each of us went back to our room. When the phone rang, Paul answered it and learned that the rest of the family had decided to take in a movie before coming back home. It was getting dark. A storm was rolling in.

I went to bed around nine o'clcok. We were expecting our parents home around midnight. When the storm arrived, it was full of thunder and lighting. Paul tapped on my door and asked me if I was doing okay.

He knew storms often frighten me. I told him I was a 'big girl' now and that I was afraid of thunder anymore. He sat down on my bed and apologized for being such a jerk all day. I brushed it off. He even shared that because I was home he got the work done that he needed to get done. "If you had not been here, I probably would have just spent the day googing off."

We talked about nothing much for several minutes and then he said, "I must say you really looked hot . . . I mean, pretty in that dress today." I thanked him. Just then their was a clap a thunder and he saw me shunder. "Tell you want, what if I lay down beside you and hold you until you fall asleep." I nodded and then he asked if it would be okay if he got under the covers with me. I nodded again, but a bit more reluctantly.

I was surprised when he started to remove his pants. When he saw my reaction, he defended himself by saying he was not going to get under the covers with his pants on. Just before he climbed into bed I got one look at his crotch. It was unlike any crotch I had ever seen.

When he was under the covers, he snuggled up real close to me. I as laying on my side and I could feel his penis against my butt. I am not sure which had the greatest impact on my life -- the question he asked or the answer I gave. His question -- "Do you really, really want to be a girl, Yvonne?" There was only one way I could truthfully answer the question and at the same time I was fairly certain that being truthful would bring consequences. I heard myself reply almost before I knew what I would say -- "Yes."

"I am going to take off your panties Yvonne. Of course Mom and Dad can never know about this."

"I know."

As he removed my panties, he also turned back the covers. "I fucking knew it. You have a killer ass, Yvonne." He had me retrieve some lubricant from his jeans and hand it to him. "Remember Yvonne. You gave me this. We need this to do this and you gave it to me. You can't deny that right." I nodded.

As he was lubricating my ass, he said, "I have thought about fucking you so often Yvonne. I jerk off all the time thinking about you. You know I do. You listen to me. I know you do."

He drove on finger up my ass pretty deep and I moaned, "Paul, please."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me. But not here."

I took him down to our parent's room. I locked the door just like Mom always did and then I asked him again to fuck me. I had brought my phone with me and when he and I were ready I turned on the recorder.



After we were done, Paul had a severe case of buyer's remorese. He said we never should have done. That I should have said 'No.' I said he should not have asked what he did. We made a vow to each other that it would never happen again. And we kept that vow for the better part of almost five years. That is not to say that I did not hear him jerking off in his bedroom a lot when I knew he had been checking me out earlier.

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