It was one of those stupid “Will you press the button?” deals. You know what I’m talking about. In this case it was “You will meet your favorite celebrity” but “You have to marry them and have a child together.”
I assumed it was a joke, right until I reached out and tapped the screen. I’d also assumed my favorite celebrity would be Natalie Portman, and it sounded like an awesome idea. But it turns out my actual favorite celebrity – according to that stupid site – is a baseball player I’ve always rooted for.
Now, I can handle being a girl. Some things are better, some things are worse. I can handle the sex. It took some getting used to, but my new husband is in good shape, and he does a good job making sure I cum when he fucks me. I can handle that I’m not on birth control, and we’re not using protection. I’m even starting to look forward to motherhood.
I’m having trouble with the fact that he’s a take charge kinda guy, and he likes to occasionally “remind me who the man is” when I argue with him by bending me over and taking me up the ass. It’s not that I mind when he does it, though. In fact, that’s the problem. I can’t handle that I’m starting to like it…
