Fucing for a Living

When my wife brought home her new friend I was pleased. We had just moved there and she knew no one. Her friend was named Cheryl, but she said to call her Cheri. I asked what she did, the old question about occupation, and she smiled and said she was an independent contractor. I asked what she contracted in and without pause she said, "Pleasure."

Naively, I assumed she meant travel agency, or cosmetics, or something to do with good food, or even fine clothing. Claire and 'Cheri' went everywhere together and I was happy to see it, relieved that she would have a friend to hang with, to help her adjust to the new area.

When I asked my wife about Cheri's work hours, since she seemed to always have time during the day, my wife seemed allusive and unsure. After all, Claire did not work as yet, so she was not tied up during the day. It seemed anytime she wanted Cheri to go any place with her she was available. It didn't even dawn on me that she had time during the day because she worked only nights.

In our second week, Cheri asked Claire to go on a two day trip with her to Reno, and I thought that would be a good chance for her to get to know people and maybe make contacts. They were gone for three days and when they got back there seemed to a big change in my wife. She seemed to be a little more confident of herself, and she seemed to be a bit more worldly, somewhat more sophisticated and assertive. It seemed good for her and I was happy she had found someone to help her grow and experience interesting things.

I know as you read this you're thinking you know what is coming. Sure, call me stupid for not seeing the handwriting on the wall in such big and colorful letters. Cheri was independent all right, if it was okay with her pimp, although at this time I actually don't know if she had one.

It is true, Cheri works the streets, that is to say she makes her living on her back, or her knees, or whatever position her 'John' wants her in. So my wife's best friend is a whore. Of course the big question is, how long until my sweet little, demure and innocent wife wants to go into the profession.

Finally, I asked Claire what Cheri really did for a living. She didn't bat an eye, saying, "She works the clubs."

"And what does she do for the clubs?" I asked.

"She entertains the customers," she said, seemingly without a bit of understanding.

"So you have any idea what she does to 'entertain' these customers?" I asked with a grin.

"She fucks them," she said, blowing my naïveté theory all to hell.

"Your friend is a whore," I said.

"A paid companion," she objected. "She likes to be called an escort."

"Escort!" I said. "She's a body guard?"

"People pay her to 'be' with them," she said, totally believing in the credibility of the concept.

"To fuck them," I said. "To give them blow jobs," I said. "Right?"

She said, "If that is their pleasure."

"So you're okay with what she does?" I asked.

"I wasn't at first," she explained, "but I am now. It's a service. Don't you think it should be legal?" she asked with her hands out to her sides. I admitted I did, but pointed out that it wasn't yet legal. "So that doesn't mean what she does is really wrong. She is a contractor. You want what she has to sell, you pay her to give it to you. Like anything else."

Of course, this was the argument I had used for years to argue for legal prostitution. My words were coming back to haunt me. Everything my wife was saying I had said to someone else to support the idea of prostitution being a legitimate business option.

"So, would you consider it for yourself?" I asked, putting the big question on the table.

"Cheri has offered to me get started," she said, not a bit of equivocation in her voice. "I am thinking about it. She has suggested certain contacts, proposals, things to help me get started. She makes three to four hundred thousand dollars a year tax free." she said getting my attention really quick.

I was out of words. Those figures kept repeating in my head. Twice what I made, tax free? That's two Bentleys and a Mercedes or two. In one year. That's a condo in Tahoe, a hideout in Vail, a beach house on Maui, or a bungalow in Scottsdale. My wife was thinking about whoring and I was adding up the loot. It was making me crazy.

I began to think about the reality. Could I stand by and let her whore herself? Could I, just for money, allow her to become a prostitute and sell her pussy for cash? Did I have the power to stop her if she decided to go ahead with the idea? Could I if I wanted to? I was sure of nothing, except that Claire was considering taking up the 'profession' and working with Cheri.

When she came in after being with her new friend, I watched and it was clear she was different, more self-assured, more worldly, more direct in her approach to the way of the world and herself. She smiled at me and I asked her what she thought she was going to do.

"About what?" she said. I said about working with Cheri. "I am going to go into business with her," she said nonchalantly. "She is putting my number in her website ad. We will be Cheri and Cassie. I will work with her out of the hotel at the Casino. I am going to be a professional," she said with a firmness I had never noticed before.

"So you are going to fuck guys for dollars, like bowling for dollars except with your pussy?" I said cruelly.

"Exactly," she replied Cooley. "With my pussy. That is the key word," she said with a confidence I didn't recognize. "My pussy. The one that belongs to me."

I shrugged and then I kissed her. "I wish you well," I said.

"Of course you do. It all goes in the same joint bank account. Remember that." We looked at each other for a minute, then I smiled. I took her into my arms and kissed her.

Two nights later she left the house with a small suitcase, a bag with makeup and toiletries, and a new dress over one arm. It was a dress she had modeled for me and it inspired orgasms from simply viewing it on her. It looked as if it had been put on wet, then let dry. It showed every crease, every curve, every body contour she had been born with and then let mature. It was the sexiest fucking dress I had ever seen, on anyone, period.

When she returned the next morning she had that I've-just-been-fucked look on her face that said it had indeed been a successful evening. I asked how her night had been and she beamed me a smile. I had spent the night thinking about all she had been paid for, everything she'd willingly done for money, and I had imagined every possibility.

I had seen her being fucked and ravaged, admired and ogled, pawed and paid, and the best part for me was the getting paid part. "Any interesting clients?" I asked.

"They all were," she said with a naughty grin that made it clear she liked her work. On the way to the bedroom she said over her shoulder that she was 'beat' and went into the bedroom and slipped off the dress that had left me breathless. "I have had every hole prodded, poked, and patted," she said as I watched her climb into bed. In less than a minute I was watching her sleep. "Goodnight my lovely little prostitute," I said to the sleeping woman in our bed.

The next day, after breakfast and a long and indulgent shower, she told me in detail about her night. One man had fucked her from behind, he liked to yell cowboy slogans as he pumped into her pussy from his knees at her bottom. One wanted her to dress like a nurse and let him reach up her dress, a nurse's outfit he brought, and finger her pussy as she stood beside the bed, having no panties to prevent him from easily finding her pussy.

"Anyone just want regular old, straightforward fucking?" I asked. She said most, then she laid out a roll of bills and spread them out on the table. She quickly counted them and held up three fingers. "Three dollars?" I said sarcastically.

"Three thousand," she said with a wide smile. "That's three with three zeros."

In her second week in the 'profession' she had brought home eleven thousand and forty dollars, and on the weekend we had one of the best sex sessions I had ever experienced in my relatively short married--and before that--bachelor life. She seemed to know things about sex I had never even guessed at. We fucked and sucked and licked to our hearts content for over an hour, then slept it off in exhausted slumber. I had thought fucking for a living might slow her down, decrease her interest in sex, make her not want my affections, but in seems to have enflamed her, given her libido a boost and heightened her interest in homegrown fucking. It is a wonderful side effect of having a whore for a wife.

She and Cheri were sitting in our kitchen chatting about the weather, politics, other professional women, and eventually, the Raiders football team's move to Las Vegas of all things, then I heard them begin to talk about one of their mutual customers, a man who employed them both at once. He was a very rich man who paid breathtaking amounts to screw them both at once.

They had become far more successful as a team, and Claire was more cheerful, more buoyant than I had ever seen her, and her success had raised her disposition to a level I had never seen. Being a prostitute had made her into a woman I hardly recognized. Her fucking other men for capital had transformed her into a confident, cultured, and successful woman of means.

I made love to her with a new passion, one that was built on the knowledge of her sexual success with men every night during the week, she took off weekends, and I was amazed at how well I accepted her new personality, her renewed passion for sex, and what she did for a living.

Claire and Cheri and I went for a three day vacation to Tahoe and my wife asked me if I minded her friend sharing a room with us at the hotel. I agreed, and found another unexpected change that had occurred in my wife's sex life. It seems that she and her fucking partner had also found same-sex love while they worked their way through the men of central California.

On the second night in Tahoe Claire informed me that she and Cheri would be sleeping together and I was welcome to join them if I wanted to. We had a suite apartment and two king sized beds. I was told, by experts, that the bed would easily accommodate three people if I chose to join them. It wasn't a "could we" and I understood it wasn't up for discussion.

That night I received a hardy kiss from Claire, before she turned to Cheri and began kissing her "coworker" with eagerness and passion. I watched as they move into a sensuous sixty-nine position and began eagerly feasting on the other woman's pussy. I actually sat back and watched them pleasure one another with their lips and tongue, holding their partner's legs apart and pushing their faces against the other woman's sex.

I had never seen a same sex session so spectacular, not in porn, my imagination, or in magazines. Claire and Cheri simply devoured each other's vagina in a raging and powerful sexual display. She they had each come explosively, they moved to each side of me and began working with those lips and tongues on my very erect and eager penis. One would bob her head up and down a few times on my shaft, then the other would take over and do the same, pleasuring me beyond anything I had ever experienced in all my life. Two women pleasuring me with their mouths was far beyond anything I had ever hoped for, or even fantasized about happening.

I came after less time than I had hoped, and when I did my head went light and I thought I might pass out. They continued to suck me, and I had to hold them off because of how sensitive my dick had become. Having a wife who made her living fucking guys for money certainly has its advantages, and I had never anticipated benefitting from her career choice.

It has been years since my wife announced she was going into business with Cheri, and the income has been substantial. I am now the happy husband of a resort whore, and we call it like it is, because she has become an independent woman, an independent contractor, and a loving wife with a lucrative income and steady business. I didn't expect to be so rich at the hands of my life partner, and I didn't expect to acquiesce to being the husband of of whore. It has not been as hard as I expected it to have been for her to be fucking for a living, and I can say now, without reservations, that I am clearly okay with other men spending time in my wife's pussy.