My first time contributing to this sub. This is a true story that happened to me when I was seventeen. Apologies if it's too long for you, but hopefully some people will enjoy.
My parents still live in the house I grew up in – the place where I started masturbating, fucked my first girlfriend and began to fall in love. It's a fairly traditional, unimposing house with three dormer-style windows poking out of the roof. The street it's on is long, dotted with small trees and lined with parked cars and grass verges. The town they live in is quiet, in a relatively unpopulated state a day's drive from either coast.
Although it sounds perfect the way I describe it, it was just a normal street. There were couples going through divorces, kids having sex and even a depressed woman at the end who shot herself in her own garage. But mostly I remember it for the experiences I had with girls.