My Forbidden Heart: Tale of a Virgin

Antonia Josephine Caruso had just returned home, fresh from graduating second in her class at The Immaculate Conception Women's Academy in Plattsburg, New York. Despite her academic prowess, she remained a virgin, sheltered and innocent in matters of sex at the age of eighteen. Raised since the tender age of six in the confines of this nunnery, her father had entrusted her education to keep her shielded from the taint of immoral influences.

Yet, life within those walls wasn't as austere as outsiders might imagine. Sure, there were the usual religious trappings: a wooden cross above her modest bed, a statue of the Virgin Mary adorning her nightstand, a well-worn Bible, and a bench for devout prayer during idle moments. But within the school's halls, modernity reigned. Classrooms boasted computers, a state-of-the-art laboratory facilitated scientific inquiry, and an exceptional language arts department honed her linguistic skills. Thanks to her education, Antonia was now adept at prayer in Latin, French, Italian, and English alike.

Antonia's younger brother goes by the name Anthony Vincent Caruso. Given the family's penchant for naming tradition, it's no surprise that their father is also named Anthony—Anthony Joseph Caruso VI, to be exact. Fortunately, young Anthony goes by the nickname "Vincent" or "Vinny," ensuring there's no confusion between him and his father when someone calls out their shared name.

Vincent finds himself in his senior year of high school, a situation somewhat influenced by the quirks of school admission policies and the close ties the family holds with the church.

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Antonia’s POV

My father had different rules for Vincent than he did for me, all because he considered Vincent the "man" of the family. Vincent had the freedom to pursue relationships with girls, as long as he avoided any pregnancies—except with me, of course. My mother didn't have a say in the matter. Vincent could bring a girl home during school hours, engage in whatever, and then head back to class without facing any consequences. Mom would even prepare lunch for them afterward. And to top it off, she'd go to Vincent's room to tidy up, changing the sheets like it was just another chore.

My school year ended a month earlier than Vincent's this year because I was exempt from taking final exams. The sounds of his passion and screams often drifted through the walls into my room, making it impossible for me to ignore. My fingers found themselves exploring places they hadn't gone before, and I noticed an unusual discharge coming from my vagina.

I was planning on asking my mother about this, but I was afraid she might tell my father, so I held back. The thought of discussing such intimate matters with my issues with them made me feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. Instead, I tried to research online what could be causing these changes in my body, hoping to find some answers on my own.

I got a brand new laptop for my summer studies before heading off to college. Along with that, I also got a cell phone which, to my surprise, had a GPS tracker in it so my dad could always know where I was. After reading the manual, I discovered that I could use the phone to send real-time images to my computer. The idea struck me to use the phone to explore what real-life sex looked like.

Every day, I'd sneak into Vincent's room and strategically place my cell phone to capture whatever went down on his bed. If he ever brought a girl home, I'd have a front-row seat to witness the intimate details of their escapades.

Less than a week later, my moment arrived. Vincent arrived with a stunning girl. Her olive skin and black hair were a sight to behold, her figure flawless. She was tall and elegant, with perfect proportions, no oversized chest or wide hips to detract from her beauty. As Vincent undressed her, she revealed a flawless body that left me in awe.

Vincent kissed her from the top of her head down to her feet, lavishing attention on her breasts. Moving lower, he planted kisses on her ribs, stomach, and abdomen. He teased the curls of hair above her pubic bone, his mouth exploring the area between her thighs. Then, she let out a scream!

Vincent's mouth moved from her thigh to her vagina, his tongue exploring every inch between her vaginal lips. His thumb found a spot that had her squirming with pleasure, her hips lifting off the bed as she pressed herself against his tongue and fingers, craving more. After what seemed like a minute, her body went rigid, she screamed again, and then went limp. I wondered if she had fainted.

With a satisfied smile, Vincent got out of bed and fetched two towels from his dresser. He gently wiped the sweat from her body and cleaned the liquid between her thighs, avoiding her intimate area. Climbing back into bed, he pressed his body against hers. At first, I thought he was trying to keep her warm until I saw his hand move down her body, entering her vagina and starting to move his fingers in and out.

The girl's hips started moving in sync with his fingers. Her eyes met his with a smile as Vincent kissed her passionately and positioned himself between her thighs. His large penis made me wonder how it would fit into such a small space. Pushing her thighs wider apart, he continued kissing her while aiming for her opening. As soon as the head of his penis entered her, she instinctively pulled her hips back. Vincent paused to talk to her, then gently reinserted the tip of his penis. He began moving back and forth, starting with just the first inch or so, until she grew comfortable with the sensation.

Looking up at him, she nodded her head, prompting Vincent to increase his speed without going deeper. The young woman smiled and appeared to enjoy the experience until Vincent thrust his hips forward, their pubic bones meeting.

She screamed violently, tears streaming from her eyes. Vincent halted his movements, showering her face with kisses and holding her tightly, murmuring words I couldn't make out. Eventually, she shifted her hands back to his shoulders, and Vincent resumed moving his hips slowly in and out of her. Though she still seemed to be in some discomfort, it was less than before. Vincent began to play with her breasts and nibble at her ears playfully, and I watched as her hips started to move in rhythm with his. Whatever discomfort she had felt earlier seemed to dissipate, replaced by enjoyment as she encouraged him to pick up the pace.

It was evident that Vincent was experienced in this, as the young woman cried out in ecstasy not once or twice, but three times before Vincent stiffened and ejaculated inside her, causing her to swoon once more. Afterward, he rolled away and fetched a second towel, cleaning the area between her thighs. I was shocked to see how much she had bled, raising questions about whether this was normal and if it happened every time two people had sex. While the act itself was captivating, the initial pain and the idea of bleeding concerned me for my own future experiences.

I saved everything I witnessed on a password-protected file. After Vincent and his girlfriend departed, I retrieved my cell phone from his room, which carried a pungent odor. After recharging it, I changed out of my damp underwear, which emitted an odd smell, and set them aside with the rest of my laundry for later.