My name is Tracy. I am married and have two children. I love my husband very much, he loves me, and this is the story of my life as a whore-wife.
I have long, silky straight dark brown hair I wear with bangs, cut off my shoulders. My eyes are blue, I weigh 108 pounds and stand about 5'6" tall in high heels. I maintain an exercise program and I work hard to keep my body tight. The result is a shapely figure measuring 35-22-35, thank God no fat or 'saddlebags' in the hips and thighs.
My cup size is C, and my breasts are firm, because I've kept them encased in 34C bras - a little bit tight - since they grew to that size in my late teens. Fortunately, my breasts don't sag too much, though given their size and six months of breastfeeding, they aren't exactly pushing up my chin, either. They haven't really started to droop at all, just enough to prove that they are real, sitting proudly on my chest, capped with pink, inch-and-a-half areolas and thick nipples that grow thicker and almost obscenely elongated when I am sexually stimulated.
In most social settings, when questions come up, we redirect the conversation away from what I do. When you think of an escort, you might think of a single woman. In a lot of cases, this is true. There is a stigma to sex work, of course, and most people can't imagine a man being married to a woman who 'entertains' gentlemen for money. As a wife who works as an escort, however, I look forward to my husband pouring me a glass of wine after work while I count my bills.
My husband Jim and I always enjoyed a good sex life, and I especially like giving oral (Jim calls me his little Blowjob Queen, or at least he used to call me that, before that became a touchy subject). Before it all started - the escorting - we'd watched porn together and we'd gotten a little adventurous but nothing extreme or really way out there. I mean, we never got into group sex or kinky bondage or anything. We'd explored the sex toy arena and Jim even put up a sex swing in our bedroom. I really like the sex swing, it makes it really go deep and really intensifies my orgasms, even though there was that one embarrassing time the technician from the electronics store came over to wire our flatscreen in the bedroom. There it was like a giant steel spider hovering over the bed and there was no way to not know what it was and what we used it for.
What happened was this: Jim is in finance, he gets paid on commission, and a down turn in the economy meant we weren't pulling in what we normally expected, and things were getting tight. Worse than tight. Something had to change or we'd be cutting into our somewhat meager savings. When we hit the wall, I sat down with my husband for a frank discussion of our options, which were slim, and none.
Jim knew that I had 'escorted' before we met. This never bothered him - broke girls do broke girl things. Honestly, it was a fun kink, although there were parts of it that weren't exactly pleasant, but I managed until one day I decided to give it up and went back to school. Then I met Jim, and my life changed forever.
And now my life was about to change again.
"We have to find a way to make some income," I said. "This is unsustainable."
"I know," Jim replied. "It's just that the economy is in the toilet, and nobody's making anything on commission."
"You know, there is a way..." I ventured.
Jim knew immediately what I was talking about. We discussed it. We had two options - slim, and none - and I made it clear that I was okay with it, if he could handle it. "You're serious?" he asked, incredulous.
"I've never been more serious in my life," I replied.
There was a significant pause, then Jim nodded slightly, looked at me with a straightforward, matter-of-fact look, and. "I could handle it."
"Are you certain?" I asked.
"I've never been more certain in my life," he answered.
We decided we'd inch ahead with it in little steps, do it once, see how we felt about it, and take it from there.
* * *
So Jim set up a profile for me on social media - I chose 'Sophie' as a name to go by - I wanted something simple, yet suitable for a high-class call girl. Jim even helped arrange my first 'date'.
I'll never forget my first time escorting as a married woman - I guess a girl never forgets her first. The only thing I can't remember is the gentleman's name. I wore a little black dress with the hem cut right up to here, a little matching bolero jacket, thigh-hi's and a strappy pair of heels, naturally. Red nails and matching red lipstick. Sexy, but in a classy way, not really slutty.
The 'date' was at one of the better business class hotels out by the airport. Jim insisted he would drive me there. "Are you sure?" I asked.
