My Wife is a Sex Surrogate

The room rocked amid howls of pleasure. The youngest woman straddled the hips of the instructor's husband. She squealed and thrashed like a rider atop a wild stallion.

When each couple was finished, they would head to the showers and thereafter relax for awhile, catching their breaths.

And, until early morning, they swapped partners until each man had fucked every woman. The dancer and the 39 year old woman both smoked. They would at times tell their partners to "go over there and make a threesome for awhile" while they sat on the couch, lit up and watched the action.

My wife came stumbling in at 2:00 a.m., fully satisfied, and went straight to bed. She didn't awaken that Saturday morning until noon.

ON THE JOB:

Her only unusual client so far was her first. One of her new employers had taken a client about as far as necessary in office treatments, and the former part-time sex surrogate had just terminated her employment.

Her boss phoned her to show up the weekend morning following graduation. The man had overcome his erectile dysfunction with the help of the former employee and should be ready for intercourse. "Changing surrogates isn't common," the therapist said to my wife over the phone, "but I don't have any other ideas. Would that be okay?"

When she agreed she was anxious to get started, he added, "Oh yeah, the only thing you'll need to know is that we tell all clients that anal insertion is never allowed." He clicked off. My wife would learn that, although he has an pleasant personality, he has a persistent eccentricity of never saying, "Good-bye," before hanging up the phone; he abruptly hangs up whenever he's said what he wants to say.

She walked into the office at the appointed time. As instructed, she wore a loose, button-up dress, hair tied up in a knot, wearing flat shoes and no underwear. The therapist left the two alone in a room with a double bed, a couch, a couple of chairs and a desk. Dark drapes closed off all light from outside. The only lighting was that of a night light plugged into a wall socket.

They sat alongside the other on the couch and introduced themselves; only first names are used in these situations; his was Mark.

My wife had noticed that Mark's dick bulged beneath his jeans as the psychologist was escorting them to the privacy room. She look down and smiled, "Seems you have overcome any problem." He grinned.

She unbuttoned her dress and lay it on a chair. He removed his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his jeans. As he removed his shorts, his dick sprang solidly up. The rod was dark-veined, topped by a large purplish head.

My wife gasped at his size, saying, "Oh my gosh. You're huge!" Perhaps he was but, compared to my tiny dick, every guy looks "huge" to her.

He didn't lead her to the bed. Instead, he pushed her back against the wall and forced her legs apart. She cried out, "Oh yeah! Give me that big thing now! Just like this!"

As his cock propelled into her slick cunt, She wrapped a long leg around him and gyrated her hips, matching each thrust. Her eyes rolled in their sockets.

Her hot groin thrashed against his. She moaned, wondering whether the slapping of their steaming flesh could be heard far down the hall.

Her cuntal walls quivered as she felt his lava rocketing though his cock. Her eyes rolled as they burst in mutual climax. They moved to the bed and cuddled, feeling the other and kissing deeply for another hour.

* * * * * *

The odd thing about her profession is that, although professionals receive a sufficient number of applicants for these positions, few of those women are willing to invest in the training required. Considering the income potential, this is surprising to me; but, what do I know? Seems to me that this would be a suitable job for certain college students and appropriate moms while their kids are at school.

My wife doesn't call it a "profession" because she only a part-timer, but she treats the job as if it were, with the seriousness she takes her full-time secretarial position. When we were laying nude in bed recently, I asked her, "But which job is more fun?"

She laughed, caressing her mound, "You're kidding, right?" My dick sprang to life.

That moment was also the time she chose to inform me that she will be accompanying the younger of her two bosses at two out-of-state conferences the first of next year.

She had just told her full-time employer that she was taking an early three-day vacation in January to attend a seminar. Because she's recognized as a rare and accomplished secretary, her supervisor and department head agree to almost anything she wants.

I had long loved her detailed stories of dates. Now, she goes on fewer outings with other guys, but I always look forward to hearing about her hot sessions with the two therapy offices' clients.

She "works them up" during their initial visits. As the office's clientele near completion of their treatments, she fucks at least one, sometimes two, every week. She says each occasion is as thrilling as a first date but wonders whether this will continue to be true as time goes on.

We know this lifestyle isn't for everyone. For that reason, we would never encourage others to give it a go. But for us and certain others, it works.