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Women Only
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Straight Female / 36
I Married A Man, Without Thinking, Because I Wanted To Do My Art Work
So I ask myself at times if I did what I did for the money. I was out of college working retail when I met a man who was obviously very well off and he proposed to make me a deal, if I took over all, and he emphasized ALL, the woman duties, I wouldn't have to work again. To me what I heard was that I had to manage the house and I could do what I always wanted, to devote myself to my art and my creative inner self.
I had no concerns about the 'woman duties'. How hard could it be, really. With washer and dryer and dishwasher and a vacuum cleaner, and I was sure I would be able to convince him to let me bring in a cleaning service. I went to bed with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.
ALL didn't include, that. Not to me. When he said ALL woman duties, I interpreted it as all the housekeeping duties. But not, that. Literally, not figuratively, he picked me up under his arm and carried me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed. Yes, that. Get my clothes off, let him see what he got in the deal. All my clothes off, ALL. Turn around, lay down, open my legs and he got on top and in a second he was in me, all my fears were realized. I was going to be pregnant. It was my ovulation week, and I had no protection and he certainly didn't use any protection. And to make it worse, he insisted on an encore. With full production rights. Or should I say, full reproduction rights. He wasn't going to get off until I was 'good and pregnant'.
I walked out of the bedroom with millions of sperm in me, not from once, three times already, and he had several days to go to ensure that his seed took root in me. A week of pure hell, if you want to call it that, nothing but sex and more and more and more of his sperm injected into me. Oh, I was pregnant all right. Not with one, no Sir, he managed to get me pregnant with twin girls.
Once the spell was broken, and I knew that ALL meant ALL, I settled into my new life, pregnant and housekeeping. He did allow me a cleaning service and there were things he wanted only me to do, like fold his laundry and put it the drawers. I wasn't a cook, I could make a sandwich and heat up leftovers. While I was pregnant I went to cooking classes, some formal and some with a 'real' woman who knew how to cook.
I am that housewife he wanted, with four kids now and I can cook just about anything. I do laundry every day, and I fold his laundry, the kids stuff they help me. I have a studio he rented for me, for when I have to get away and be creative. For most of the days when the kids were preschool I had a full time nanny, and after they were all in regular school he sent her to college.
I can't, or shouldn't complain. I have what he promised, I don't have to work. I have a house, a home, four kids, a nice car and I can do my art when I want to. I also have a HUSBAND, which somehow failed to register when he said ALL the woman work. A husband who insists that it is 'his', whether he is poking around in it with his man tool, or licking my woman juices. It's HIS, and HIS alone. I won't say I am used to it, but when he wants to go licking, I somehow don't mind as much. I shut my legs on him and he has to break free. But then, he moves on to poking me with his man tool. It is HIS. I know it, he knows it.
I had no concerns about the 'woman duties'. How hard could it be, really. With washer and dryer and dishwasher and a vacuum cleaner, and I was sure I would be able to convince him to let me bring in a cleaning service. I went to bed with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.
ALL didn't include, that. Not to me. When he said ALL woman duties, I interpreted it as all the housekeeping duties. But not, that. Literally, not figuratively, he picked me up under his arm and carried me to the bedroom and tossed me on the bed. Yes, that. Get my clothes off, let him see what he got in the deal. All my clothes off, ALL. Turn around, lay down, open my legs and he got on top and in a second he was in me, all my fears were realized. I was going to be pregnant. It was my ovulation week, and I had no protection and he certainly didn't use any protection. And to make it worse, he insisted on an encore. With full production rights. Or should I say, full reproduction rights. He wasn't going to get off until I was 'good and pregnant'.
I walked out of the bedroom with millions of sperm in me, not from once, three times already, and he had several days to go to ensure that his seed took root in me. A week of pure hell, if you want to call it that, nothing but sex and more and more and more of his sperm injected into me. Oh, I was pregnant all right. Not with one, no Sir, he managed to get me pregnant with twin girls.
Once the spell was broken, and I knew that ALL meant ALL, I settled into my new life, pregnant and housekeeping. He did allow me a cleaning service and there were things he wanted only me to do, like fold his laundry and put it the drawers. I wasn't a cook, I could make a sandwich and heat up leftovers. While I was pregnant I went to cooking classes, some formal and some with a 'real' woman who knew how to cook.
I am that housewife he wanted, with four kids now and I can cook just about anything. I do laundry every day, and I fold his laundry, the kids stuff they help me. I have a studio he rented for me, for when I have to get away and be creative. For most of the days when the kids were preschool I had a full time nanny, and after they were all in regular school he sent her to college.
I can't, or shouldn't complain. I have what he promised, I don't have to work. I have a house, a home, four kids, a nice car and I can do my art when I want to. I also have a HUSBAND, which somehow failed to register when he said ALL the woman work. A husband who insists that it is 'his', whether he is poking around in it with his man tool, or licking my woman juices. It's HIS, and HIS alone. I won't say I am used to it, but when he wants to go licking, I somehow don't mind as much. I shut my legs on him and he has to break free. But then, he moves on to poking me with his man tool. It is HIS. I know it, he knows it.
