Once The Light Turned On, It Has Never Gone Out

I grew up in the Baptists tradition. I was married to a boy at 18, with a lot of fanfare. When I didn't come up pregnant my mother became worried. I didn't tell her that we didn't sleep together. My husband who was also my age wasn't interested, and neither was I quite frankly. We had marriage sex on the first night, and after that nothing.

We got divorced in my junior year of college, we hadn't had any form of intimacy since the night we got married. My mother was sorely disappointed that I didn't have children, and it looked like my sister Mary was following in my footsteps. I must say here that my mother was married at seventeen and had two kids by the time she was twenty.

I met and followed a girl to grad school in Oregon. If you don't know, Portland was a Mecca for gays and lesbians. We played the lesbian card, with all the fanfare. My sister Mary followed me and lived with us. She got in trouble one night at a party when some guy she never met before or after got to her. We spent a lot of hours discussing 'the option', but the growing up days took over and we all agreed it that the right thing for her to do was to have the baby.

My sister Mary vacillated between guys and girls. She much preferred girls when it came to living, but she went off the rails at times and came home well used and dripping. It was one of the guys she met that way that came back with her and held me down and took full advantage of his weight and size and didn't get off of me until he was finished. I said something and took it back quickly. He was not from Portland, he was mountain man type and was set on taking me back to the mountains with him. I wasn't even allowed to finish grad school and I was in the outback cooking and cleaning.

My sister Mary followed with her kitten. We lived in this old house built in the thirties and it was a lot of work keeping up with it. Out there birth control was laughed at, birth control was being pregnant. A man out there learns early that a woman's receptive as long as he wants her, and she is receptive as soon as he wants her after she had her kitten.

My sister Mary was wanting of his company, wanting in the worst way. She was so obvious that he shook his head and took care of her. After that day we were sister wives.

Although I was certain that my problems with my first husband had more to do with me than him, it turned out he was gay and not me. I was about as gay as bitch in heat. Once I got used to him, it was open season. As sister wives we both took care of his needs, or in his words, made ourselves available. Sex, unadulterated sex, dominates our household. Our mother didn't want it that way, but we have our kittens and 'that' she can't complain about.

The old man is still doing his thing with us, and we don't refuse or argue. If we are truly indisposed we have a secret word that he knows will bring the other one to him. Maybe sex isn't everything, but if you are lonely in the woods, you want the bear to eat you. And he's a bear and he loves our honey pot, and we love him for it.