I've been seeing a professional behind my husband's back. I've been married twenty five years and the day I married him I knew it was a mistake. I didn't love him, I was searching but I couldn't find what I wanted so I settled to marry him. But nothing ever satisfied me. Life was predicable, he got me pregnant against my wishes, twice. More than once I heard him tell me 'you're my fucking wife'. He meant that literally. I did the part, stayed home to raise the kids, all the cooking and cleaning, and fixing myself up for when he came home. I was his fucking wife, he never stopped.
But I wasn't fulfilled. I met this woman at church. She was there, divorced without children. She told me one day she just had enough and walked out. But she didn't have children, that's the difference. And she is a lawyer so she could make good money. Something I could never do as an elementary teacher. We talked a lot at church, before having to rush off to pick up the kids when they got out of Sunday school. She walked me to my car, and many times we stood beside the open door of the car talking, the kid screaming for me to get in and go home.
One day, one Sunday, I noticed her breasts. Not something I usually paid attention to. But I did that Sunday. She had a very nice chest. I guessed her breasts would fit in my hands. And I also noticed her mouth and wondered to myself, what if she kissed me? That's how it began. I spent time thinking of her and I talked to her on the phone, long talks during the day when my husband was at work. She always made time for me, and if she was pressed for something it was so painful to hang up. One day she said she was coming out to me and wanted to take me to lunch.
We went to this place I had never been to, never heard of. A 'tea' place, with little sandwiches. She held my hands in hers and she wanted to tell me something, to please not freak out. She told me she was in love with me and wanted more than to just talk. She kissed me before I got in my car and asked me if we could me more than friends. That Sunday as we walked back to my car, my hand touched hers as we walked and for second or two her fingers caught mine. At the door of my car she caressed my face. I was so nervous, I drove home in a rush.
She took time off from work to come out to see me. We made love in my living room before making love in my bed. I waited anxiously for her to come, something I never felt waiting for my husband. With him the feeling is always knowing I have be ready because he is coming home to his 'fucking wife'.
In time my friend and I lost touch, she moved and I haven't had a girlfriend since. The therapist is working me to accept my true self and accept the circumstances of my life. I can't help that I'm like that, willing to wait for a woman and dreading my husband. I'm his 'fucking wife' and he carries it to extremes. I'm not pretty like I was, but to him fucking me is the way he proves to himself that he's the man of the house. My kids are going to college and a senior in high school, they have no memory of my church friend who walked me to the car. I dream of her often, sometime while my husband is 'fucking' me into my place.
