How Prostitution Saved Our Marriage

My first sexual experience at the ripe old age of 25 was with a whore. I was living in Greece working for a British company. Every girlfriend I took out was a hopeless failure. I simply didn't have the confidence to go beyond a clumsy kiss leading nowhere. Eventually an old friend of mine decided that the time had come for action and he left me outside the front door of a brothel. However the harpy at the front desk was so ghastly that I fled. He then found me a really nice girl and left us alone in the car. She unzipped my trousers, put my cock inside her, placed my hands on her tits and wiggled about a bit. I came after 3 thrusts. There was a nice warm feeling and a sticky mess and that was it. Although I at last felt like a man I found it hard to believe that it was about this that countless poets had sung.

A week later my friend found the same whore and brought her back to his house for me. We were alone for a whole hour, communicating in French - our only common language. She was wonderful. She massaged me all over, sucked my cock, got on top of me, beside me, underneath me and had me enter her from behind. The whole experience was fantastically erotic and, believe it or not, friendly. She was a really delightful person. The third time she brought me she too came, as she delighted in telling her colleagues when I drove her back to the street where she worked. I then had to tell my friend and his wife what had happened as they started fooling around with each other, at which point I felt a strategic exit was called for.

Within days I had got a virgin into bed, was having sex with a second girl and had fallen wildly in love with a delicious ballet dancer, totally unable to keep her hands off me.

Back in England Lara and I became lovers, more by accident than design. We each wrongly thought the other was deeply interested in us. She was warm-hearted, funny and straight forward, and when I started kissing, cuddling and fondling her, while expecting to be stopped at any moment she let me carry on, so we made love to orgasm, at least manually as I had no condoms with me. The next day when I wanted, this time fully prepared, to make love to her she had to be persuaded, but once persuaded she was happy enough to do so. Having started as friends we became happy lovers. She lived in Bristol and I in London so we were only able to meet at weekends.

As soon as I arrived on Fridays she would lay on the carpet, I would put my hands under her skirt, pull off her knickers and enter her. It was exciting, passionate and fun. She came to London to live with me and, finally on holiday in a beautiful villa high in the Tuscan hills, after much persuasion, I proposed marriage.

At the end of a year we married and had lots of fun and adventurous holidays in exotic places, and frequently indulged in delicious and erotic lovemaking in woods, hills and sea shores. She took the initiative as often as I did and even introduced me to the considerable thrills of anal sex!

She was passionate during pregnancy. We had a wonderful daughter, who took up a lot of her time and interest, and while generously continuing to have sex she became far less interested. When once more pregnant her passion grew and we had a gorgeous son. Being too sore after this second birth to make love for a few weeks she very kindly let me visit a whore. Though she was old, frumpy and unattractive I found the whole adventure tremendously exciting.

She first washed my cock in a basin of warm, soapy water, put it in her mouth and sucked it until I grew rock hard. Then she coated it with cream, put it in her cunt, and huffed and puffed and writhed around till I came. When Lara and I discussed it after she didn't mind. And so life continued.

We went through a very bad patch. I started to suffer from the seven year itch with no-one to scratch. I was always wanting passionate sex and she was always wanting to avoid it. We even went off to someone's wedding in Cornwall at which the vicar officiating said that the most important thing was for husbands and wives to be kind to one another. That night she showed true kindness by seducing me. She begged me not to make love to her the next morning, but I insisted and she was as cold as ice. I had to leave early to get back to work and while waiting for the train gave serious thought to flinging myself in front of it.

Later that year we spent a wonderfully romantic week at a superb hotel in New England without the children. I was very careful not to press and we made love beautifully from time to time. Getting back to the realities of home and work was not so great. Though better, life again started to deteriorate.

One night I went to a party without her and was introduced to a lovely, enchanting girl Merle, who flirted outrageously with me. When I took Merle out for dinner a few days' later Lara was clearly upset but when I returned home that night, having failed to get Merle into bed, Lara was all sympathy and made love very generously.

As the years passed Lara continued to make love but with less and less enthusiasm. She allowed me to visit whores, which I very occasionally did. She was pleased for me if it were fun and sympathetic if it were not. Either way it excited her and she always made warm enthusiastic love (unless I failed to give the whore an orgasm in which case I got my just deserts). Maybe it was the competitive spirit! But mostly she simply wanted to get it over while reading a book and only let me bring her as a favour to me, 'though there were some occasions when she felt very relaxed and she briefly loved it.

Anal sex now hurt her and had to be abandoned, and oral sex and massage were rare treats reserved for occasions like my birthday. We once nearly swopped partners for the evening but the other girl wouldn't agree. Again I sometimes went to a whore, including a luscious young lady who massaged me and manipulated my cock before a giant ceiling mirror till I came. Then later, after a fabulously erotic massage the whore laid me on my back, stuck my cock into her cunt and rode me really roughly till I exploded with excitement inside her at the thought of later describing this to Lara.

Unlike Merle, who has long since faded from the picture, Lara knows whores do not represent any threat. I then feel guilty and try to be extra nice which she likes. She is obviously being generous in permitting such encounters which very few other wives would do and has the undeniable satisfaction of knowing I can come again with her shortly after being with a whore but that this is quite impossible for me in the reverse order. So as we curl up naked, warm and platonically close together at night we can agree that my fucking whores has saved our marriage.

When Robert showed me this account of our lives together I felt it important to add my views to his. If a man feels the need to exercise no-one thinks any the worse of him for working out at the gym. If a man - or come to that a woman - needs sex I fail to see that it is any worse for them to visit a prostitute.

Owing to my upbringing I had grown up feeling unattractive, though looking back too late, I now realise that this was nonsense and that plenty of men had and still do find me desirable, as shown by the erections clearly visible in the tighter types of trousers they sometimes wear. I had had a series of boyfriends far more in love with themselves than with me. I had little opportunity for orgasm and, with one lovely exception, none of my boyfriends had even bothered to bring me, so it was initially really rather exciting to be desired like crazy by a sex maniac. As we lived in different cities we were only able to meet at weekends so it was a lovely thrilling way to spend our time.

But as I wanted our relationship to develop further I got a job in London and moved in with Robert. He loved holidays and during our first year together we went off to five different exotic countries. He had a terrible habit of lying around reading newspapers but I used to cuddle and kiss him and fiddle around inside his trousers till he wanted me again. To my chagrin this sometimes took several seconds! We went on walks hand in hand and were happy. I even survived one weekend away when I bet him he couldn't get another girl into bed. When I came home he rather shame facedly admitted he had. Though piqued I was very chuffed that I was still clearly number one and rather impressed by his ability but pretty pleased I could do better whenever and wherever.

I was desperate for children, indeed I would have been an unmarried mother rather than forego the chance of having them. Robert finally got around to proposing with an encouraging hint or two from me. He did not want children but I said 'no way' and he rather reluctantly but gallantly gave in and is now delighted to have them. We were soon married and I almost immediately became pregnant.

The one boyfriend who showed any consideration for my sexual needs used to excite me enormously with anal sex, which hurt at first, but then became intensely pleasurable, so I introduced Robert to this. He took to it like a duck to an ocean of water. By way of return he introduced me to oral sex which I never really went for, 'though clearly it thrilled him to bits. However once I was excited enough I loved being licked down there.

After our first little girl was born I felt my heart turn over at the start of a whole new world. She filled my whole being and I inevitably became very tired, but loved spending more and more time with her. What with general exhaustion and all the time spent with her I inevitably had less time for Robert. When I finally got to bed all I wanted to do was sleep. He only seemed to want more sex. I gave him what I could but my interest waned and waned. But at least I became pregnant again.

I was so grateful that I loved Robert once more and became increasingly excited when sucking his penis - provided he didn't come in my mouth. Eventually after a very long labour which Robert spent devotedly at my side I gave birth to a sweet little boy. Naturally for some weeks after I was too sore for sex and when he asked me if he could visit a prostitute I felt 'why not?', agreed and was glad that he had enjoyed her. Once more my interest in sex waned, especially now that I had a wonderful new baby.

Robert visited the odd prostitute every now and then and was always exceptionally kind to me afterwards. While I didn't really want to know I sort of did, and always asked him if he had fucked a whore and what sort of a time he had had. The details excited me and afterwards I really wanted to come and he was only too happy to oblige me. If he failed to reach orgasm with a prostitute I knew that I had the ability to bring him afterwards - even against his will. Prostitutes were ideal for me: they made him happier with his life, gave me more peace of mind and less guilt and like very occasional pornography I found it exciting.

The one thing which really makes me mad with fury is when Robert comes back from a prostitute and tells me he has failed to bring her. It is so unfair and inconsiderate. At that age women need to orgasm as much as men. I tear off his clothes. Put him over my knee and beat him really hard on the bare bottom until his cock is stiff with longing. Then I refuse to let him fuck me and tie him up so he cannot masturbate. That soon teaches him to show proper consideration for his whores.

Once he took me to a sex show in Amsterdam, which just seemed silly. I felt contemptuous of the man who couldn't get it up. I would soon have stiffened him up in spite of my lack of enthusiasm as I knew exactly how to excite Robert. On rare occasions I really wanted sex badly and greatly enjoyed it, but was sad to know what I normally missed. Robert once nearly started an affair with someone, about which I was furious, hurt and worried sick - after all once the heart is involved there is no knowing where things will end but he was so inept that it came to nothing (perhaps purposely?).

Obviously he'd like me to act more like a prostitute and sometimes asks me to give him a good thrashing. I quite like doing this really hard as it enables me to give vent to my growing anger when he wants yet more sex which gradually turns me on - and certainly grows his penis to colossal size. Then I really like the feel of it inside me. The last bit before coming is usually nice but it is such a fag getting to that point.

I'd like him to achieve his ambition of going with two prostitutes at once, and being thrashed by one while the other sucked him to orgasm but he doesn't seem to have the gumption to arrange this. Maybe I can fix this up for his birthday.

And, dear reader, she did.

So if any of you wives discover that your husband is consorting with prostitutes, instead of being furious, be grateful, knowing that the prostitutes have probably saved your marriage.