I'll never forget my first time. I know in this day and age it's a little archaic to wait until marriage for sex, but I was raised as a Mennonite. My parents were really strict when I was growing up. I was taught that sex was dirty, I was even ashamed of my own body. I wore long, dark, unflattering dresses to cover my very feminine form. I matured at an early age, just like all the other women in my family. I was the first girl in my class to grow real breasts, and i was scarred of them. The age of eighteen was a huge turning point in my life. That summer I went to live with my older sister in Toronto, I was going to be attending university there in the fall and wanted to have a chance to get settled.
My sister, Jen, lived in a small one bedroom apartment. It was pretty close quarters, but I didn't mind. We had always been really close when we were younger, and I had missed her since she moved out. I slept on a pull-out couch in the living room. It was nice because i was close to the little window air-conditioner that served the whole apartment. Some nights, when it was really hot, she would come sleep in my bed, just like when we were little.
The big city was so different from the small town we grew up in. Even Jen seemed to have changed in the three years that she had been here. She dressed and talked differently, it took some getting used to. Growing up in a small Mennonite community, I had never seen so much sex. It was everywhere now, ads, TV, music. I had never seen women who dressed in short skirts, tiny tops, high heels. And the men, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. They were so raw, powerful, and sexy. I began having impure thoughts. I figured Jen would understand so one night, while we were lying in bed I asked her, "um, Jen?"
"What's up sis?"
"It's just that, everything is so different here, I'm...I'm so.....confused."
"About what?"
"Well, ever since I moved here I've felt, weird." I squirmed a little, uncomfortable with the conversation.
