Fucking Money

We were naked, she was on top, and my stiffness was as deep as it would go in her vagina, and she was bouncing like a gymnast on a pogo stick. She is Claire, my wife, and a sex junkie. If it was carnal, involved genitalia, and used lubricant, she was all for it. When we met, she joked that she hoped I could keep her satisfied. I knew she liked "fucking" and would do anything I wanted and had probably already done it with two or three people at a time. I was in heaven and could not get undressed fast enough on our first night. Even before I was naked, she had her dress over her head and her underpants around her ankles. Frankly, I was surprised she wore panties, but she explained as I was climbing between her legs that she liked the act of taking them off for different partners.

On our first date we fucked for a whole day, pausing only for a short lunch and a few trips to the bathroom. I was in boyfriend paradise and could not propose fast enough. She joked again, after six months of dating, she would accept only if I agreed that she could do as many people as she wanted. I agreed, thinking she was still joking, just hoping she was not serious. If she was not kidding, then it would be up to me to keep her happy and a satisfied little housewife.

On our honeymoon we did not leave our room for two days. It would have been three, but the hotel changed our room and we had to wait downstairs for a couple of hours. We had the 'do not disturb' sign on the door so long the maids just smiled at us when we had to wait downstairs, like we were some circus entertainers who performed sex acts on the flying trapeze while swinging 100 feet in the air and amazing the crowd. I thought I heard the hotel staff applauding when we got off the elevator. The hotel waiter brought in our room service order while the two of us were naked under the covers and I was sure he knew by the look on his face. I think we are legend in that hotel.

They probably talk about the couple who didn't come out of their room for two days, and I am sure they kept track of the few times we were out of bed. They would knock on the door and say, "Room service," but we would tell them to come back later, sometimes rather breathlessly because we were literally out of breath.

When we got home after the honeymoon, we sat in our living room and relaxed and snacked after having a lot of sex and not much food, and we talked about how much we had enjoyed our stay at the hotel. We both thought it was the best sex we had ever had. It had to be the best time I had ever had without getting paid for it, and I told her I had been in 'husband heaven' the whole time.

When I got laid off at work things got pretty tight for a while, then she showed up with $1500 dollars her boss had given her 'to help out' and I hoped there were no strings attached. She assured me he was just being nice, but I was still skeptical. "Maybe I can use my skills," she said when we were trying to figure out where the money was going to come from. I knew the only real skills she had was between the sheets and laughed it off.

When she showed up with another $1500 I began to get suspicious. "He is only trying to help us," she explained, not convincing me of his philanthropic motivation. He was a horn dog and I knew it.

When she brought home the third $1500 I asked what she had to do for it. "Not much," she said. "Just a little handjob," she said. "He is trying to keep me from taking charity," she explained.

"Your boss is turning you into a prostitute," I said. She disagreed, but her argument was weak.

"He just wants to help," she said naively, again defending his motives.

I spent a week out looking for a job, to no avail. At the end of that week she showed up with $2500 in large bills. "He said if I fucked him I could have this much," she justified. "It really wasn't anything I didn't like to do," she said. "You know how much I like fucking."

She explained it was just until I found a job. "He is making you dependent on fucking him," I said. "It will never end."

"I don't mind," she said. "I am just doing my part. He just wants to help," she insisted once again.

"He just wants to fuck you and keep you coming back for more," I said.

"It is not like I am fucking him for $25," she said, hurt that I would discount what she had done for us.

"He is probably writing you off as a business expense," I said. I felt like a heel for making her feel bad for what she had contributed. It had kept us out of the poorhouse. I apologized and said she had been a big help. It was true, without what she had brought home we would be in deep shit.

It was also true, I had to admit, I hadn't worked half as hard at finding a job after her fuck-money had started rolling in. He had made me dependent on her sex money as well. I was ashamed, but I could not deny it. My wife was fucking us out of the poorhouse. It also occurred to me that she liked doing it, and, of course, it did give her a sense of accomplishment.

She was getting about $2000 a week for fucking her boss, plus her regular salary, that was $3000 every week. I didn't even have to work and we were getting out of debt. That was when he told her if she met with clients she could bring home even more. She was thrilled. I tried to talk her out of it, but the power of the money was seductive. She liked doing it, liked the money, and she was keeping us ahead. Had she not started fucking her boss, we would have lost the house, and our car had been ready for the junkyard but she bought a new car and leased one for me.

We were clearly better off from what she had been doing, and I had started rationalizing that it was only sex. Our sex was still off the charts, and any man would be a fool to not appreciate that aspect of it. I was a lucky man and I knew it. I had a wife who liked sex, was willing to do anything I wanted, would fuck anytime of the day or night, and I was financially stable during a difficult time.

Her seeing the clients did increase her income substantially. Even without my working, we were earning about $300,000 a year. Enough to put a lot down on a new house and a brand new Porsche. I started staying home to keep the books, and I even began to think of expanding. Claire hired two more girls and the clients have expanded to others dealing with the company she works for, although now she does almost nothing for the company except service the customers.

She came home with a 'client' the other day and introduced him as Anthony. He was very tall, had coal black hair to match his skin, and he spoke in a Calypso dialect that easily put him in the Caribbean ancestry. He told me he was from Jamaica and had the biggest hands I had ever seen on a real person. She told me Anthony was her assistant and I wondered what he would be assisting her with. Over the next few hours she spent most of them with Anthony in our bedroom.

When I asked what Anthony assisted her with she just smiled. "Business," she finally said. Anthony had the blackest skin I have ever seen, and I was pretty sure whatever he was helping my wife with had to do with her capacity for sexual pleasure. I had known she had a thing for sex with men from the Caribbean, and I knew what she and Anthony did was not business.

"What kind of business does Anthony help with?" I asked when we were getting in to bed.

"You're jealous of Anthony?" she asked. "You don't need to be," she said. "You are my husband and I love you," she added. "I have had sex with my boss, with clients, and if I do with Anthony it is no different," she said. "It is just business. That is what I do," she said with a delicate smile.

Of course she was right. I had become relaxed about her having sex for money because it benefitted me. I could not expect her not to have it for her own pleasure. I still could not complain about our sex life, and to demand she not do what I had accepted for nearly a year would be ludicrous and hypocritical. I had accepted the money she earned from sex and not complained, and I allowed myself to benefit from her sexual pursuits without complaint for over a year.

Claire now works for herself, employs ten young women who give her part of each day's take and she provides health insurance, social security, and other benefits. She employs them as paid escorts and handles all the scheduling and business arrangements.

We have sex every day and she now has sex with only a few clients, Anthony, and a friend she visits occasionally in New York. Her money comes in from her business more than her direct involvement in having sex.

We went back to the hotel where we spent our honeymoon and they seemed to remember us. Ironically, one of the clients from the firm where she had worked was the CEO of the hotel. He must have heard we were there because there was a vase of roses in the room and a note that said, "Hope your time here is pleasant."

If I have learned anything about sex since Claire and I were married, it is that sex can be enjoyed like anything else without jealousy and guilt. It can be also devastating and can ruin your life if you don't understand what it means to you. We made love on our second visit much like we did the first time, but we did eat hardy meals and enjoyed the ambiance of the facility.

We talked about our lives together and how much we love one another, and how much we have learned about ourselves. Claire always knew she liked sex, but she did not realize it could become something she would capitalize on and help her reach financial success. She did not ever think of herself as a person who could sell sex and feel no shame, but that is what happened and when I realized I could as well our lives changed forever.

On our last visit to 'our hotel' we had sex as we first had, with her on top and me arching up to meet her body, sitting on top and bouncing over me, my stiff penis pushing up into her as deep as it would go. We stayed in bed as we had the first time, having oral sex in an exciting and vigorous sixty-nine position with her on top and me licking her pussy from below.

I joked that she had just lost a thousand dollars and she said she got a life of pleasure from just a little oral sex. We cuddled and kissed, just like we had on our first visit, and the maid knocked on the door and called out, "Room service," and we told her to come back later, "When we are not coming," I joked. This time, we went to eat.