What would you do if you found out that your wife is a prostitute? Seriously. Think about it. Do you have any idea how you'd react? Would you kick the crap out of her? Would you leave her, divorce her? Would you become her pimp? Or would you just ignore the situation?
Don't blow me off! We're talking about a very serious possibility. Yeah, I know, she loves you to death. She'll do anything you ask, including fuck your best friend or brother, not that you would ask her to. I'm talking about the woman you love to death, the woman you'll do anything for, the woman who bore your children, the one person in the whole world you totally trust without any reservations. Then one day you are confronted with incontrovertible evidence that not only has she been screwing other men, but that has been selling her body to them for a tidy sum without your having an inkling of what she has been doing. Think about it, please, because I need some advice.
My beautiful wife, Melissa, is not only my wife, but my best friend. I don't know anybody I can trust the way I can her. I could give her a million dollars in cash and tell her not to spend a penny. Two years later she would still have every cent.
As I said, she is beautiful. Her skin is flawless. She has a pert little nose, high cheek bones, deep grey eyes, waist-length brown hair, 37D breasts that don't need a bra, a tight flat tummy, and hips that are perfect for having babies. Even after two children she doesn't have a single stretch mark. She jogs every day after the kids have gone to school, so her legs are perfect.
She has a very outgoing personality. She walks with confidence. She never condescends to anyone. Even the poorest street person is still a worthwhile human being, and she treats them with the same respect that he does her boss and mine. I have never seen her without a smile. She is a real estate agent by profession, and a damn good one. She earns more than I do most months. It's a demanding business. Quite often she goes out in the evening to show a house because the prospective buyer has a nine-to-five weekday schedule with weekend family obligations. She goes out of her way to accommodate them. It's just good business. At least that's what she told me.
I'm probably not the one to be critical. I am a factory rep for a major manufacturer. I sell stuff to the wholesaler who sells it to the retailer who sells it to you. A lot of my sales involve millions of dollars. More than once I've taken a customer's rep to a brothel or bought him a call girl. I admit that I've taken part in orgies in order to make a sale.
Melissa and I have a great sex life. We can't get enough of each other. Not a night passes that we don't make love, including her messy days. We are very open about our mutual affection. We cuddle up in movie theaters and restaurants. Our children think we're disgusting. They say we are having 'old people sex.' I do think they are happy that we love each other so much, especially when you consider how many of their friends' parents are divorced.
They are old enough to stay home alone, and they're responsible enough to get their homework done and go to bed on time. Melissa and I are able to go out without them. One night about three weeks ago would be a good example. It was a Tuesday, and we both finished up at work about the same time. She called them and told them they were on their own for getting their supper. When we got home, the dishes were done, and they were in bed.
Our own evening was anything but sedate, although it appeared, on the surface, to be that way before sunset. Her dresses always show off her legs. The longest one only comes to mid-thigh. Her high-heeled shoes stretch her calf muscles beautifully. When she is at work, her blouses are always demurely buttoned. I wear a suit and tie.
When we go out, the rules change. My suit and tie go into the trunk, and I change into a polo shirt. Melissa's buttons are open down to the nipple level. The only conventional thing we do is leave our cellphones turned on in case the children have to contact us.
Another rule when we go out is no underwear for either of us. Holding hands is probably the most discreet thing we do. Lots of kissing and hugging is the order of the night. We always choose a restaurant that has long tablecloths, and we always get a booth. My hand explores her pussy lips while we wait for our orders. Hers opens my fly soundlessly and strokes me to rigid attention. On this particular evening her head disappeared under the table and came back up with a mouthful of sperm. It wasn't the first time. It won't be the last. She was washing it down with a sip of wine when her phone rang.
"Damn," she said, "we need to stop carrying these things when we go out. "Hello.... Hi, Jessica.... Sorry, I can't do it. I'm having a night out with my husband. Give him to someone else.... I don't care if he wants me. I'm not available. Good-bye."
"It sounds like you have a very loyal client," I said as she put her phone away.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Or was it my imagination? "Too loyal. Since I'm with my favorite client, he can go to hell. Now, where were we? Oh, yes." She tucked my wilted cock into my pants and closed my zipper. She put her arms around my neck and pressed her open mouth to mine. The lingering aftertaste of my cum mixed with the wine was a fantastic combination. I slipped my hand under her skirt to resume playing with her pussy when our dinner arrived. She gave me a devilish grin and whispered, "Later."
Our meal was superb as it always was there. For dessert, Melissa had her favorite, a chocolate mousse with whipped cream topping. The first spoonful slipped 'accidentally' into her cleavage. I scooped it up with my finger and placed it in my mouth. Of course I didn't get all of it, so I licked the rest off her creamy breasts. The wait staff had seen us often enough to know that someone had to stand in front of our table to insure that the other diners weren't offended. We were generous tippers -- usually thirty percent, more if we were extra frisky -- otherwise we probably would have been banned.
There is a park along the river we like to go to. It's closed after dark, but the chain that's supposed to be put up across the entrance never is. We drive in using just the parking lights in case others are there. We went there that night. Our clothes were tossed into the back seat. I got the blanket we keep in the truck and headed to the grassy area next to the parking lot. After spreading it out, we laid down and listened intently for other couples who might be there, not that we cared if anyone heard us. All was quiet.
The full moon shone on Melissa's lovely body. I ran my hand slowly from her knee up her thigh and over her bottom up her back to her neck. Her alabaster skin was smoother than silk. I placed my lips on her throat. I considered giving her a hickey, but I knew how disapproving the children would react, so I passed. Instead I kept my kisses light and gentle which would arouse her quickly. Her breathing became slow and deep as I kissed her long neck. It's her favorite part of foreplay, the peaceful relaxing time before her passions become inflamed. As usual I spent a long time on her neck while my hands roamed freely around her body. Her front was against mine from shoulders to knees. Her nipples puckered up and poked my chest.
I rolled her onto her back and began to kiss her shoulders. She laid her arms on the blanket with her hands over her head giving me total access to her entire torso. I love the way she surrenders herself completely to me. Her breasts were the next target of my lips. Slowly I kissed my way around her right one, then again and again. Each orbit brought me closer and closer to my ultimate goal, her now rigid nipple which I sucked on like a nursing baby. Her left tit received the same treatment. My own breathing had slowed markedly, and my cock was a stiff as a board.
