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My Spouse
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Straight Female / 47
We Don't Pick What We Get But It's Good What I Got
I'm telling this because it's what happens, You don't choose, maybe you're a victim, but really you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time. My fault, I'm female. I fell into a long relationship with a woman friend while an undergraduate, at that time I was thinking of being a nurse. She was also in nursing but she wanted to be a doctor except she was female and her family wouldn't allow for that. They wanted her to be a nurse, more appropriate for a woman. We fell for each other slowly. Neither one of us had ever thought of another girl and when we did kiss it was full of shame for behaving like that. In our culture homosexuality is strictly forbidden. We came from progressive parents who thought we should be 'friends'. When we finished our studies we would be married, we just didn't know who he was, and our lives would take different turns.
In our culture that is the way you get married, Very few women or girls know the man that they are going to marry, so that was what we expected. She finished her nursing program and I graduated with a degree in Biology. We were truly in love, We were university students and we studied homosexuality amongst women. We were the specimens for our studies. When we graduated we had to come face to face with our next step in life.
For my true love her family selected a doctor from the North. She would be leaving after the wedding to live with his family and we were sure she would be expecting before the second shoe dropped off the wedding bed. For me, it was much, much worse. For me my family selected a man whose family had all perished in the floods and he was looking for a young fertile female to breed for more children. He might was well have bought a cow. The breeding was successful but awful. For my lost love it was worse. He was a man who disciplined his wife. That means the hit her. Even when she was carrying his child. In the wrong place at the wrong time. She could be worse it was said, what if he used her to work in the fields.
We corresponded regularly. My husband never read my letters or her letters to me. He never saw the illustrations she made, of on fire female sexual organs. Very realistic. I sent her a life size sketch of my husband's manhood, his wicked manhood with which he bred me like a cow. She laughed and said her husband was a small man, and she drew a life size illustration of his manhood, or more correctly boyhood. My small finger was bigger. I laughed so loud my husband came to see what it was all about. No one knows your future, sometimes you hate what others would love to have. I stopped making fun of his manhood when he was about to mount me. At least he was a man and not a boy.
Over the years we had many children. When I received a telephone call from my college lover. Her husband had fallen off a bicycle when he entered a team of bicyclist and hit his head and died. She was free of him once and for all. I went into see my husband and told him of the tragedy and assured him that I would not let him do something like that. Even if he hit me.
After many days, after the funeral was over and after everyone had returned to their lives, my husband asked me if I wanted my friend to come and visit. I told my husband that would be nice but he should be aware that thee had been homosexual feelings between us during our university studies. He asked me if I was still homosexual, if not then if she was willing he would help with her expenses.
And that way 27 years after we were separated she came to my home, to meet my husband and to spend a month with me. In bed, when it was dark, when there was absolute silence she aske me if what I had sent her in our early days was true, was he really a man with such a weapon or had I been exaggerating. The following night she was left alone and he went to her room and she learned the truth, in the most intimate way. Yes, she said, he was a man, he was as big as an ass, mounting the mare in the field.
In our culture that is the way you get married, Very few women or girls know the man that they are going to marry, so that was what we expected. She finished her nursing program and I graduated with a degree in Biology. We were truly in love, We were university students and we studied homosexuality amongst women. We were the specimens for our studies. When we graduated we had to come face to face with our next step in life.
For my true love her family selected a doctor from the North. She would be leaving after the wedding to live with his family and we were sure she would be expecting before the second shoe dropped off the wedding bed. For me, it was much, much worse. For me my family selected a man whose family had all perished in the floods and he was looking for a young fertile female to breed for more children. He might was well have bought a cow. The breeding was successful but awful. For my lost love it was worse. He was a man who disciplined his wife. That means the hit her. Even when she was carrying his child. In the wrong place at the wrong time. She could be worse it was said, what if he used her to work in the fields.
We corresponded regularly. My husband never read my letters or her letters to me. He never saw the illustrations she made, of on fire female sexual organs. Very realistic. I sent her a life size sketch of my husband's manhood, his wicked manhood with which he bred me like a cow. She laughed and said her husband was a small man, and she drew a life size illustration of his manhood, or more correctly boyhood. My small finger was bigger. I laughed so loud my husband came to see what it was all about. No one knows your future, sometimes you hate what others would love to have. I stopped making fun of his manhood when he was about to mount me. At least he was a man and not a boy.
Over the years we had many children. When I received a telephone call from my college lover. Her husband had fallen off a bicycle when he entered a team of bicyclist and hit his head and died. She was free of him once and for all. I went into see my husband and told him of the tragedy and assured him that I would not let him do something like that. Even if he hit me.
After many days, after the funeral was over and after everyone had returned to their lives, my husband asked me if I wanted my friend to come and visit. I told my husband that would be nice but he should be aware that thee had been homosexual feelings between us during our university studies. He asked me if I was still homosexual, if not then if she was willing he would help with her expenses.
And that way 27 years after we were separated she came to my home, to meet my husband and to spend a month with me. In bed, when it was dark, when there was absolute silence she aske me if what I had sent her in our early days was true, was he really a man with such a weapon or had I been exaggerating. The following night she was left alone and he went to her room and she learned the truth, in the most intimate way. Yes, she said, he was a man, he was as big as an ass, mounting the mare in the field.
