We tried to "memorize" the information so we could go home and discuss all that we had read. Words like, cum, masturbation, erotic, orgasm....what the heck????
We got home and stayed up nights talking about "it". The very first time I french kissed, I was repulsed. To exchange spit with someone that was "germy" to me was disgusting. I went home and shared that with my sister too. I was curious about sex but feared God's wrath and my parents wrath more than the urge to give it a try. Even thinking of sex made me think that I needed to ask for forgiveness somehow.
The boy that I french kissed wanted to go further but I told him straight out, "no". He begged and gave me lines like, "Guys have needs, you know and if they don't get "it" then it hurts them and you don't want to hurt me, do you?" I was naive but not that naive. I told him no once again and he got mad at me. He stopped talking to me because I was "mean" and didn't really care about him. He made my no turn into something that I should be ashamed of by telling others that I was a goody two shoes and I wasn't going to give up anything.
Flash forward to when I got married. It was now "legitimately okay" to have sex with my husband but I still felt somehow like I was doing something wrong. What really messed with my head was when one Sunday, the pastor at church was speaking on marriage and he said, " When you are in your bedroom making love, you are to ask invite Jesus into your bedroom and ask for him to be there with you. Huh??? So, whenever we were together, I couldn't help but think that God was sitting right there on the bed, watching my every move. It didn't bring about intimacy, only embarrassment and hesitance. Even when I put on sexy nighties, I felt like running to hide under the covers.
To be continued...the end of the story is on it's way...I promise!
The Beloved Hope Chest
8 hours ago