MEMOIRS OF A SINNER
Coming of Age
She was 12 years old when she lost her virginity. She consoles herself with the idea that at least it was with her first love and not some random guy. But she often wishes she could turn back the clock and take that moment back. Not the who, but the when and the how…..yes, she would take it back.
She had already developed a young woman’s body. Breasts, butt, hips…..and she had a walk that screamed at the boys to check her out. None of this was on purpose. It was simply how she was made. She saw the way men looked at her and she mistook the lust in their eyes for genuine interest. She was intelligent and had a great personality. She was mature. She was…..lonely, lost, and confused about love by the examples she was shown. Love leaves you. Love makes you cry. Love yells and screams and curses. So when men looked at her, asked for her name, called her baby, told her she was beautiful, she believed that this was how love was supposed to treat you. It made you blush. It made you smile. It made you laugh. It made you….scared? So while she accepted their compliments and their innuendos, she steered clear. She was far from naïve, but she was still only 12.
Then he came along. They had a summer love affair. He was older, 17 years old and in high school. They met through the friend of a friend of a…..you know the story. She told him she was 15 and that she wasn’t a virgin. That’s what young girls did, right? They would talk on the phone for hours every day. They would walk together and he would hold her hand. He would kiss her gently, never pressing for any more than she gave willingly. She wanted to tell him the truth because she was falling for him. But she knew that with the truth she’d lose him. She was just a baby to him. So she swallowed her lies whole and let herself be swept up into his whirlwind. She didn’t know then what she knows now. What she would eventually find out.
Every day she would tell her dad that she was going to the library and he never questioned her. She was a good girl. And she did go to the library. To meet her love. They would walk to the park or sometimes back to his house. They would spend the days together, talking and laughing and snuggling. Then he would walk with her back to their designated “safe zone”. There they would sit on the curb and talk. One day as they sat he turned to her and said, “Kiss me.” So she did. “No, kiss me for real.” And for the first time she kissed him, not as a girl kisses a crush, but as a woman kisses a man. She immediately felt an unfamiliar but not unpleasant throbbing deep within her secret place. Her breathing was shallow and her heart raced. Then he gently touched her there. She moaned. He took her hand and placed it in his pants. She had never touched him there. She was unsure of what to do. She was terrified, but excited. He showed her what to do, how to please him with her hand. She stroked him until he came. He told her he loved her.
She was sure they could go on like this forever. She didn’t know then what she knows now. But for a while things were perfect. She learned how to stroke him in just the right way. She became good at it and each time he came he would tell her he loved her. One hot summer day at the beginning of August, she went to meet her love. They walked hand in hand to his house. He took her to his bed. They kissed. He touched her all over. She touched him all over. “Make love to me,” he tells her. Panic instantly reverberated through her entire being. She didn’t know anything about sex! She hadn’t even really had “the talk” yet. When she didn’t respond, he touched her face gently and asked, “Will you let me make love to you?” She didn’t answer but he must have seen the panic in her eyes because he took her hand, looked into her eyes and said, “Do you love me?” And without hesitation or doubt she answered yes. Then he hit her with the line. You know the one. “You love me but you won’t make love to me?” And just like that, she was his.
It was a singularly unpleasant experience. She didn’t even let him finish. (She didn’t know then what she knows now.) But afterwards made it all better. He was kind and gentle. He asked if she were ok. He knew now without a doubt that she had been a virgin and had the good sense to relay to her, in deed if not with words, that he knew she had given him something special, something no one else would ever have. He walked her home. He still held her hand. When she looks back she knows that she was lucky. A lot of guys that age didn’t bother. When they made it to their spot he kissed her deeply, looked into her eyes, and told her he loved her. Over the next few weeks they had sex several times. She paid attention and learned to both please and receive pleasure. Then the summer came to an end and it was time to go back to school. The magic of those long summer days had ended. He found out her real age and though they tried to stay together, reality broke them apart. And by the time it did, she no longer cried at the thought of them not being together. She was a little girl no more. She left her childhood behind that summer.