Who would believe an organization like this existed? Who would believe they found me out? Even crazier, who would believe I would join? Craziest of all, I'm making the opening speech tonight.
"Hi, I'm Joe, and I'm a cuckold."
"Hi, Joe."
I've been listening to you guys for the past few months. You either love having your wives fuck other men, or you complain that you can't do anything about it. I love having Lisa screw other men. We're getting rich because of it. She's more than a hot wife; she's a prostitute, an escort, a whore, a call girl to you older guys. She isn't a streetwalker or sidewalk sweetheart. That's too dangerous.
It first I wasn't too keen on the idea of her whoring. It started out of necessity. The transmission in my car went out six months after we were married. We needed a thousand dollars fast. We hadn't established any credit. Her car was okay, but, as a sales rep, I needed mine for work.
The breakdown occurred during the evening rush hour on the freeway on a Friday. By the time I got the car towed to a garage, the mechanic had gone home. He had the weekend off. I called Lisa and had her pick me up. It was nine o'clock before I got home.
Saturday morning Lisa and I worked the telephone trying to find someone who would loan us a grand to fix the car. My parents were out of town for the weekend. Hers were tapped out paying for our wedding. Her brother was always broke. I'm an only child. Our friends offered us sympathy, but no money. We had no savings, no credit cards, no stocks or bonds, no liquid assets of any kind. We had eighty dollars in our checking account until payday. The rent was due the day after we got paid. It would be two weeks before we got any more money. That would have to cover the car payments, utilities, and groceries. Our only hope was to get the mechanic to let us make payments.
Monday morning, I dropped Lisa off at her job and used her car to make my sales calls, then picked her up in the evening. This made her forty-five minutes early. She also had to wait an hour for me after she got off work. After I picked her up, we went to the garage to try to get my car. She waited in her car while I went inside to talk to the mechanic.
The guy listened patiently while I explained our situation. When I got to making payments, he suddenly became very stern. "Look, pal," he said, "I have a deal with the bank. They don't fix cars; I don't make loans. You'll get your car when I get my money. If I don't get paid in thirty days, I file a mechanic's lien and sell the car. There will be a ten-dollar a day storage fee tacked on. That's the law."
Slowly I walked back to Lisa and got into the car beside her. "What happened?" she asked. Dejectedly, I recounted my conversation with the mechanic. When I finished, she was silent for a couple minutes. Her expression told me she was deep in thought. I didn't say anything. "Let me talk to him," she said with conviction.
"I don't think it will do any good," I said. "He's pretty hard-nosed about money."
"I think I can soften him up." She unbuttoned her blouse down to the nipple line exposing her cleavage and got out of the car. She dashed into the office before I could say anything.
I should tell you a little bit about Lisa. My own personal, highly biased opinion is that she is the most beautiful woman in the world. I'm sure you feel the same way about your wives. She has emerald eyes, high cheekbones, waist-length golden hair, 34D boobs, long strong legs, a narrow waist, and gently flaring hips. Add a marketing degree with honors, and I never had a chance when we met. I was sold on her in half an hour.
Speaking of half an hour, that's how long she was inside the office. When she came out, she had a cocky smile, and she walked with a swagger. Another button was open on her blouse, and her hair seemed a little messy. She slid in behind the steering wheel and held up my car keys. "I told you I could soften him up," she said.
