Why is my clit the only part of my body that has to be neat? Hubby said he can care less if I take a shower. I looked so confused and I preyed deeply into his eyeballs searching for sincerity or at least the solid bricks of masculine ego.

In my mind I am evaluating my self worth, but as I lay on the bed I am defenceless, I am a student loyal to his manhood and it’s beckon. Indeed, I am his Wife, as a Wife I should assist my Man with his needs, but I am only a Woman, I am Human, I am not an object and it feels so selfish of me every-time I willingly deprive myself and my self worth of adoration just to please my Man.

Every-time I lay beneath his wings, it always feels like a part of me is being drained of it’s worth and appreciation.

Please for once, tell me you want me! look into my eyes and tell me the colour, tell me the shade of brown my eyes reflects when the sun rays hit them up early in the morning. Hold me and cuddle me so tight, let me know and feel kept, let me feel how much you don’t want to loose me. When you crawl upon me in the kitchen, wrap your hands round my waist, gently and not harsh, grip me so tenderly, let the brittleness of our emotions rub against each other. Keep your arms around me while I stir the soup, let me feel your presence and guidance, you must not always drag me and prove your manliness, I know your the alpha, but sometimes I prefer a companion.

You touch me every night and after releasing your unhappiness at work into my Cookie, you dose off, you never even chill a bit more, at least for the cookie to crumble. Some nights I am filled with vulnerability, thrills of the night, the roar of your Dangling Pecker is inaudible to me and all I want, all I desire, all I need is a Bunny, a Teddy Bear with a beating heart and soul that I can rest my head on, and giggle when you whisper into my eardrums a reassurance of my safety, “Baby, everything will be fine” “Let’s whistle and make an album, no beefs”

Why am I always threatened whenever I see your glorified pecker? Why does my sanity grab unto my skin like it’s being kidnapped? You are my Husband, my Man, why can’t we lay naked and just admire our anatomy, measure our physical flaws, count our stretch marks, search for those birth marks that we never knew we had? and laugh about our scars while reminiscing on the tales behind their intrusion.

I am your Wife, but I am a Woman first, an individual being, who is not subject to any of your religious beliefs or any socio-cultural expectation. I thrive on our understanding as a couple and not as a Trophy of Society. In the end our happiness comes from within and not from the validation allocated to us by the self appointed custodians of the Society.

My Husband I want you to be my Puppy, I want you to lay on my laps and cry out your bitter days, while I rub your cheeks and administer jokes into your ears. Being my Baby doesn’t make you weak, it takes nothing away from your masculinity, all it does is make me deeply connected and rooted to your vulnerability and see through your ego, that in all those abstract controversies lay a soul that fell deeply in love with me. Afterall we are a couple and we need to work together to dwell in absolute unity, body, mind and soul, I can’t keep operating on inadequate data and be expected to be your awesome caretaker!

Why must you always be the predator and I the submissive prey?

All these questions raced through my mind as I stared deeply into the eyes of the Man I call my Husband, tears rolling down my eyes, raining unto my jelly laps.

He looked straight into my eyes with so much coldness and said out loud,

“But aren’t you my Sex Doll, or why do you think I spent my hard earned money on your Dowry?” he laughs

“Do you think you’re any more special than any Feminine in skirts by the Roadside, the only thing that differentiates you from them, is the fact that your cookie is under my Roof”

I wept, not only because he called me his Sex Doll, but because he quantified me to my Cookie!

Thank you so much for reading, pls don’t forget to like, share and subscribe to our Watery Community. Feel free to drop a comment and tell us how you feel? More Stereotypes on the way, Love You!






Written by Stephen Uba

I am the Pot of Beans behind Waterybeans.Com.

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