-
Lesbian Stories
-
Lesbian Female / 33
He Took Me In And Fed Me, I'm Sticking Around. I Owe Him My Life.
Ten years ago this Labor Day I was out on the street sleeping in my car. I tried getting a job, but without clothes, filthy and stinking to high heaven, starving, I wasn't able to get in the door. A woman did talk to me, she knocked on the window of my car. Move it or lose it. I didn't have gas. My car was towed. I sank to my knees, desperation, fear, hunger, I broke into tears.
A man looked at me and told me to quit whining, pull myself together. What was my problem? When he realized I wasn't strung out he walked me to s bench and told me to talk, don't leave anything out. I kept that I was a lesbian from him, and that my lesbian partner had thrown me out. He assumed it was a guy.
He took me to a woman's shelter. Before he told me to get out of the cart he asked me if he beat me up. When I said no, he wanted to know what was the problem. He walked me in and gave them some money to clean me up, he would be back tomorrow.
He did come back, I had been fed, bathed, borrowed clothes. He asked me a dozen questions. I told him I was an artist but no one bought my stuff. Without money I declined to nothing after I was thrown out, even my car was taken from me. He said I could stay with him for ten days, get my shit together, call my parents, get a job. Ten days.
On the fifth day I was there, which was today ten years ago, he came to the room I was in and told me to go get in his bed. I kept an upper lip while he had sex with me. Ten days were up on Labor Day. I hadn't called my parents, gotten a job, or gotten my shit together. I could stay another week. I missed my period and felt I was pregnant. Not that I had any experience, but I knew.
Before he was going to take me back to the shelter I told him I was pregnant. Why had I kept that from him? Because he just got me pregnant. I stayed another month, no period again, a pregnant stick said I was. How did he know it was his baby? Because I was a lesbian and he was the only man I'd ever been with. Why had I withheld from him that I was a lesbian? Because I was afraid he wouldn't like me.
He called a woman friend and had her come over to talk to me. I had two options, back on the street or butter him up so he would keep me. And don't tell him I was a lesbian. This is why I got married, had a kid, and played his game. He got really protective, and I got really maternal with my son.
Ten years is really a long time. I never talk about that time of my life. I relaxed my objection and had a daughter two years ago. She's got him where she wants him. Eating out of her hand. I'm indifferent now as to whether being a lesbian is even worth bringing it up. Maybe I never was, but more maybe I am and always was. That's a feeling you can't fake, but I'm good at faking I'm not. After ten years, he's welcome to me. I'm thankful he took me off the street. So we're even. Now I have to go bathe the baby, the sitter is going home. And I need to heat up dinner.
A man looked at me and told me to quit whining, pull myself together. What was my problem? When he realized I wasn't strung out he walked me to s bench and told me to talk, don't leave anything out. I kept that I was a lesbian from him, and that my lesbian partner had thrown me out. He assumed it was a guy.
He took me to a woman's shelter. Before he told me to get out of the cart he asked me if he beat me up. When I said no, he wanted to know what was the problem. He walked me in and gave them some money to clean me up, he would be back tomorrow.
He did come back, I had been fed, bathed, borrowed clothes. He asked me a dozen questions. I told him I was an artist but no one bought my stuff. Without money I declined to nothing after I was thrown out, even my car was taken from me. He said I could stay with him for ten days, get my shit together, call my parents, get a job. Ten days.
On the fifth day I was there, which was today ten years ago, he came to the room I was in and told me to go get in his bed. I kept an upper lip while he had sex with me. Ten days were up on Labor Day. I hadn't called my parents, gotten a job, or gotten my shit together. I could stay another week. I missed my period and felt I was pregnant. Not that I had any experience, but I knew.
Before he was going to take me back to the shelter I told him I was pregnant. Why had I kept that from him? Because he just got me pregnant. I stayed another month, no period again, a pregnant stick said I was. How did he know it was his baby? Because I was a lesbian and he was the only man I'd ever been with. Why had I withheld from him that I was a lesbian? Because I was afraid he wouldn't like me.
He called a woman friend and had her come over to talk to me. I had two options, back on the street or butter him up so he would keep me. And don't tell him I was a lesbian. This is why I got married, had a kid, and played his game. He got really protective, and I got really maternal with my son.
Ten years is really a long time. I never talk about that time of my life. I relaxed my objection and had a daughter two years ago. She's got him where she wants him. Eating out of her hand. I'm indifferent now as to whether being a lesbian is even worth bringing it up. Maybe I never was, but more maybe I am and always was. That's a feeling you can't fake, but I'm good at faking I'm not. After ten years, he's welcome to me. I'm thankful he took me off the street. So we're even. Now I have to go bathe the baby, the sitter is going home. And I need to heat up dinner.
