My name is Rebecca. I now go by Becca. I was born and raised as a Christian in an Amish household and community in Ohio. I left home one early summer morning with a simple canvas tote bag. I was eighteen and naive to the ways of the world.
I was also a virgin, having never kissed a man or had any sexual contact. But all of that changed. I longed to see the world. But my parents had promised my hand in marriage to an older man in the community, almost twice my age.
This is not uncommon in our culture. When an older man with a farm and young ones lost a wife, he often chose a new wife from the community. These arrangements were often for the good of the families and community.
I did not want to be married to a man twice my age with kids that I knew from our small community school and gatherings. I knew girls who had been subjected to this life. They were raising kids that were not their own--the children of a man they didn't love.
All in the name of tradition and the church. I wasn't going to do it. I wanted to see the world. Meet a man I love and enjoy the life I never knew.
I left before first light, knowing Mom would soon be up to make breakfast, and Pop was out in the barn, milking the cows. We lived back on a private dirt road just off a state road that is often used by trucks to reach the interstate.
As I neared the road, I could see headlamps and hear the trucks rumbling towards me. I could see the bus shelter ahead. I made my way to it and opened my tote bag. I had two changes of clothes in it. I got them from a girl in school who I befriended before graduation. Her name is Cindy, and she was a bit wild. A true untamed spirit.
A truck passed by as I pulled out the various pieces of clothing. Blue jeans, a T-shirt, sneakers, underwear, and a bra. I took off my shoes and long socks, setting them aside. I removed my bloomers and felt the cool morning air against my bottom.
I felt strangely naughty, being out of my bedroom without my undergarments covering my lower body. I picked up the underwear she gave me and looked at it strangely. It was a triangular cut with only enough material to cover my vagina and the crack in my rear.
I considered putting my bloomers back on but realized they might be even more uncomfortable under close-fitting jeans. I thought I should wear these or nothing. Nothing was such a sinful and embarrassing thought, so I quickly slipped the garment over my feet, up my legs, and under my dress to cover what it would.
Next, I sat on the simple bench and slipped the jeans over my legs. I stood, pulled them up as far as they'd go, and snapped them. I then removed my cap and reached down for the hem of my blue dress.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled the garment up and over my head as quickly as possible. I could hear another truck rumbling down the road towards me. I shivered, both from the cool morning air and the naughty thrill of being almost naked from the waist up.
I removed my hand-sewn halter, which was a primitive bra. My nipples were hard as pebbles. I quickly grabbed the frilly bra and put it around my waist to hook it together, then slipped it up into position over my breasts.
It was such a strange feeling. I felt sinful but excited. My breasts were pushed up slightly and held firmly. I could hear a vehicle coming my way. I reached for the first t-shirt and quickly pulled it over my head to cover my breasts and my trim waist.
I thought, Now I look like an English person. Then I remembered that my long brown hair was still in a traditional bun. I reached up and back to remove the pin holding it up and ran my fingers through my hair to loosen it. I let it hang long and loose.
I felt strangely moist down below. I was sinful. I have broken so many of the rules of our way. I would be considered a harlot. I could hear another truck coming towards me, so I grabbed all of my things, pushed them into the sack, and hurried out to the road.
As the truck got closer, I stuck my thumb out, as I have seen so many do along the road. As the truck got closer, the driver hit his big horn, and I heard the brakes hiss and screech. I ran up to the side as he came to a stop and climbed up onto the step.
The door opened, and a hand reached out, grabbing mine and hoisting me up and into the truck. The man who hoisted me into the truck was big and handsome with a friendly smile. He introduced himself, saying, "I'm Ben, and this is my brother Tom." He motioned toward the driver.
I responded, "I'm Becca."
He had me perched on his lap, and I was a bit scared. Not frightful, but just not accustomed to being on a stranger's lap. He passed me a bottle of Pepsi, and I politely refused.
He smiled and said, "It's okay; have a sip."
I didn't want to be rude. I thought if I was, they'd dump me out on the road. I took the bottle from him with a timid smile and sipped the liquid. It had a strange taste and a slight burning as it went down.
Ben then said, "Take another swig."
I continued to sip the soda and then said, "This isn't like any soda I ever had before."
Ben smiled that big, broad smile and said, "It's my personal favorite, mixed with lightning."
I had had a few sips by now, and the burning wasn't bothering me. I said, "What is lightning?"
Ben and Tom laughed.
Ben then said, "Lightning, hootch, corn whiskey."
I sat quietly and thought, In the past hour, I have committed so many sins. I'm now drinking the devil's brew. I felt strangely relaxed, warm, and fuzzy as I finished the bottle. Ben produced two more bottles, giving me one for myself.
