Hello, it's Polly. Nigel's done a pretty good job of telling our story so far, but I'm taking over for the rest of it. You know the old adage. "If you want something done right, do it yourself." I firmly believe that. Besides, I want you to hear my side of things.
Nigel became my weekday pimp setting me up with his firm's prospective clients. He didn't like it, but I gave him a choice. He would do it or I would go to his office and offer my services to the other salespeople myself. On average, he got me three "dates" a week, and my weekend pimp, the escort agency, got me three or four on Friday night and Saturdays. My cunt made us twice as much money as both of our regular jobs combined. Within a year, we purchased the country home we wanted.
I wasn't a total whore. Several of Nigel's friends played with me for free. Peter visited us occasionally. I still dream about his big prick. You men have no idea how wonderful your organs feel inside a woman, especially if you have a big one. There are, of course, a few that are just too big, but they are rare. I didn't cut Nigel off completely, but I did make him wait while I pleasured a few men before I let him shag me. I made him lick me clean every night. By the time I was ready for him, he was so horny he would plow into me like a raging bull. Our orgasms were at their most intense when he shagged me. At first, he whined about how unfair it was for me to be getting shagged every night while he only got laid a couple times a week. He quickly realized the benefits and started enjoying the agony is his groin. Anticipation is a powerful aphrodisiac.
No doubt, you are wondering why Nigel put up with my whoring, and why I did it. The sexual fallout I described above certainly motivated him, but the real reason is that he loved me. If he didn't, he would never have married me, and he told me so regularly. My motives were simple. I started so I could escape the poverty my parents raised me in. I don't fault them for it. It was the only life they knew. When that boy bought my cherry, I knew what my escape route would be. I loved sex. What could be better than being paid to do what I loved? I shagged the boys at university for free. They paid for the cinema and dinners and such, so I gave them freebies in return. On the weekends, however, I was all business.
We both received regular promotions. I moved up to senior editor, then to managing editor, at the publishing house. He stayed in marketing. After eight years, he replaced his boss who retired. I gave him a private retirement gift. As he was leaving our house that night, Nigel told him who the independent contractor had been. I wish I could have taken a photograph of his reaction. When he regained his composure, he handed Nigel two-fifty and asked permission to spend the night. We refused the money, but he spent the night in bed with me. Nigel slept in the extra bedroom.
One day the following spring, the company president called Nigel into his office. Nigel was dancing on the clouds that night when he got home. "They want us to go to America!" he shouted gleefully. "The company is opening an office in New York. I've been asked to manage it."
"What about my job?" I asked quite annoyed. I was very accustomed to being in control of my life in and out of bed. I didn't like the idea of outside interference.
"I brought that up," he said. "They offered me a twenty-five per cent salary increase, plus they will replace all of your salary and bonuses for the first five years."
It was my turn to be stunned by money. I probably could work for a publisher in New York, and still shag Nigel's clients. I had thought about quitting the weekend escorting anyway, so things could work out for us. The more I thought about going to the States, the more I liked it.
Because we didn't know how long we would be in New York, we sold our house rather than rent it out. It took three months to get all of our visas, work permits, and travel arrangements in order. Nigel went first to find us a home while I stayed behind for a couple weeks to pack up the last few items for shipment. I found time for a farewell shag with some of my old lovers, including Peter and his heavenly prick that I had trained so well.
I don't know who was hornier when I arrived in New York, Nigel or me. I had shagged Peter the night before. He had sent me into orgasmic orbit with his oversized organ. I still couldn't wait to get my hands on my husband. My knickers were in my purse so he would have unrestricted access to my twat. While I went through customs, I saw him in the waiting area. My pussy immediately began to drip. The inspector probably noticed my excitement because he processed me in half the time he did the woman ahead of me. I wore my shortest skirt. Many people probably saw my naked bum when I dashed into his arms, but I didn't care. The man I loved most was holding me again.
The taxi driver certainly got an eyeful as he drove us from Kennedy airport into Manhattan. Nigel fingered my clit sending me into ecstasy several times. After my first four orgasms, I extracted his prick from his pants and devoured it. He was stone hard, but, as usual, he couldn't cum until I whispered, "I shagged Peter last night. I got all of his cock inside me." Almost immediately, his hips tightened, and he filled my mouth with his spunk.
