Admittedly, I’ve never been the quietest in bed. I moan, I squeal, I cry out when I’m climaxing. For me, it’s all part of losing my inhibitions and getting caught up in the moment. Plus, I want to show my partner I’m enjoying sex with him, and he’s pretty vocal too. We’re a fairly raucous pair between the sheets (apologies to my neighbours!).
But when we stay at my parents’ house, we have to zip it. As devout Christians, they’re very conservative when it comes to sex. They didn’t have sex until their wedding night, and were both virgins when they married. I was brought up being told that sex was between a husband and a wife, part of a marriage, with no exceptions. Until I went away to university aged 19 – still a virgin – I didn’t really question their teaching. But like a lot of young people raised in conservative homes,I rebelled against that doctrine and, unbeknown to my parents, I’ve had a healthy sex life since losing my virginity on my 20th birthday to a fellow student.
I don’t feel any guilt about going against my parents’ wishes. I love them dearly, but that doesn’t mean I have to live my life like they’ve lived theirs. They have their beliefs, and I have mine, and I take the ‘what they don’t know won’t hurt them’ approach.
It’s only in the past 18 months that my sex life has collided with my home life. David* is my first serious boyfriend, and the first guy I’ve ever brought to my parents’ house to spend time with my family. They retired to France a few years ago and, living so far apart, there’s no risk of them confronting the reality that I’m sexually active. But when we visit them every couple of months, it’s strictly separate bedrooms, which of course poses a challenge when it comes to sleeping together. It would probably be easier just to accept sex is out of the question when we’re there but, perhaps because it’s ‘forbidden’, I can’t help myself wanting it.
Last month we stayed with them for a week and, on several nights, I lay awake until I was sure they were asleep before creeping across the landing to the spare room where David was sleeping. The sex was fast and conducted in total silence – not easy for either of us – but still exciting because it felt taboo. David was more nervous than me – he’s not comfortable with breaking their rules under their roof, but I assure him ignorance is bliss.
Something else my parents don’t know is that, a couple of months ago, I moved out of the at I’d been sharing with a friend and into David’s place. It’s only a matter of time before they suggest their annual trip to visit me, and I’m not sure what to do. I’ve thought about asking David to go away for the weekend and hiding his stuff, pretending I live alone. But I know that’s ridiculous and unfair on him. Maybe it will force me into being open with them about the lifestyle I’ve chosen; I hope they will understand.
If you’d like to tell us about your last time – be it funny, uplifting, surprising or mundane – contact us at thelasttime@graziamagazine.co.uk