Read Part 1 Here
Shortly after that, our church had a teen outing which my boyfriend and I attended. However, my mother had made arrangements for me to be dropped off in the town square of our new town. The house I lived in was on a street just a couple doors down from the town square. My boyfriend and I were in the back seat of the bus, and just as the bus was being brought to a stop to drop me off I spit out, “My mom and dad separated. I have to get off here.” Then ran down the aisle and got off the bus, never giving him a chance to say anything.
Then I changed schools, which in a way was good for me and my boyfriend. I was in middle school and he was in high school in the same town. The schools sat close together with just a large parking lot between them where the buses gathered to collect the kids. I didn’t ride a bus, I walked to and from school but my boyfriend would come by my school and wait outside until I came out. We would walk together from my school to his bus and be together until he had to get on the bus and we would say our good-byes. I loved that he came to get me at the school. I didn’t even pay attention to the envious looks from the other girls, because all I could see was him and all I could feel inside was the fear and all I could do was hide in my own silent world that was screaming inside to be heard. I have to give him credit. He tried to get me to talk. But I was living in an emotional hell that I didn’t understand. I didn’t grow up feeling and learning to understand my feelings. I grew up pushing them down, hiding them and pretending they didn’t exist. And now I was being so overwhelmed by feelings I had no idea what they were, that when he asked me to talk to him to tell him what was wrong, I didn’t know what to say. I am pretty sure I just told him nothing was wrong.
Eventually, he must have talked to the teen counselors at church because one Sunday morning they took us both aside and put us in a room by ourselves and told us to talk. I had pushed things down so far by this time that all I knew was I wanted out, so I told him I guess I didn’t love him anymore and got up and left the room. I didn’t know until years later that my parents had gone to church for family counseling and my mother had been told that she was to obey her husband. At the time all I knew is that I knew the church had to know of my parent’s separation and deep down I felt they should have seen a troubled teenager having difficulty adjusting and yet they never spoke to me. After my boyfriend and I broke up it wasn’t long after when my mother started taking us to another church.
This began the pattern for the first fifteen years of my dating/relationship life. Let me make one other mention, two events happened one when I was really young and other when I wasn’t yet a teen. I wrote about each, here and here.
I met men, only a couple had been one night stands but both of those had been very uncomfortable situations. I was inexperienced and naïve. One man wanted me to suck his cock but I was so embarrassed to say I didn’t know how, I couldn’t even speak.
Most of the time, I allowed myself to be carried along on a windswept romance until about six months into the relationship or sometimes earlier depending on how quickly the relationship developed, when I would be suddenly overwhelmed by feelings I didn’t understand. They were the same every time. My heart pounded and I found myself not wanting to see the guy I was with, not wanting to talk to him, not wanting to be near him. I would avoid him. They always called or tried to talk to me some even coming by and each time I would always say the same. “I guess I don’t love you anymore.” Then I would leave or hang up the phone.
I mourned them. I cried. I hated myself. All while inside I wished someone would come and tear the words out of me that I could never say or somehow make me understand why I would suddenly out of the blue for no reason feel what I was feeling. Yet no one, not a single one fought for me. No one would hang on for dear life pledging their undying love for me and so I figured it was meant to be that I really didn’t love them if I felt this way. Eventually the feelings would subside and months sometimes a year or two would go by before I would become involved with another man, to have the cycle happen all over again.
Until one day, I met a man. By now I was in my late twenties. From the moment I opened the door to my house, I knew him to be the one. We had what I consider an extraordinary love affair. I could be the sexy erotic woman with him. I learned to wear sexy lingerie which I had never done before. Sex with him was amazing. Even when I was on my period we found ways to have sex without penetration that would satisfy us both. I will admit I never sucked anyone’s cock until years later. It was something I could not bring myself to do. I didn’t do it with him either and he never asked.
It was one night when I was on my period we had both become so aroused, my body would create so much lubricant even when I was using a tampon, I would get so wet, I would use my hands while he rubbed against me, my hands getting so slick with my juices he told me it was almost as if he were inside of me. This one night I was on my knees with him behind me rubbing his cock between my legs, he was rubbing back so far across my ass with all my wetness coating everywhere. Having him rub against my asshole was getting me so aroused before long I could feel him start to slip in. It was a slow and gradual penetration which neither one of us had planned and neither one of us wanted to stop. And we didn’t. Afterwards, we both kind of looked at each other. We both knew, neither one of us had ever done that before. We had been surprised at how good it felt. It wasn’t the last time it happened but it also wasn’t something we did on a regular basis.
Go to Part 4