A Different Kind of Open Marriage Ch. 02

Hello again, it's me again, Tracy -- married, two kids, my husband and I are very much in love. This is the continuation of my story: "A Different Kind of Open Marriage" which is about how & why I got into escorting, as a married woman. If you haven't read it, you need to go back and do so in order to understand how we got to where we are now -- my husband and me, his whore-wife.

This is the story of what happened long before I met my husband and settled down. As I mentioned in part one of my story, I'd escorted before I got married. Here's how all that came about.

I grew up in the mid-west, in the rust belt, and my family was poor. I loved my parents and my siblings but I hated my life in the trailer park, and was so ashamed of where I came from. Looking back, this is what has driven a lot of what I am about to tell you.

In high school I was a cheerleader -- it was the only glamor and excitement available to me in my humble life - and I was part of the party crowd - not a stoner but I did spark up a few times. I was sexually active in high school but it's not like I was the school slut or teenage blowjob queen or anything like that. I lost my virginity to my first boyfriend, and then after him I had another boyfriend and we had sex, too, of course.

The summer before I started going with my first boyfriend I actually had a Lesbian experience with my best friend Cathy. I guess you could say she seduced me. I didn't realize she was a Lesbian, even when we were naked in bed together, making out. While we were tongue-kissing and fingering each other I thought we were just 'experimenting'. Looking back it's obvious that Cathy is a Lesbian -- she initiated everything, and of course she never had any boyfriends. But Cathy isn't a butch dyke or anything like that, she's just as effeminate as I am. I didn't take it too far with her -- Lesbianism - but Cathy was all in.

I really enjoyed making out with Cathy. Her lips were so soft, and it was a kind of a thrill to be kissing a girl -- full, open-mouthed tongue kisses -- and feeling her body, rubbing my breasts against hers. Of course, I hadn't been with a guy yet so I had no comparison -- Cathy was my first sexual experience. It felt good when she finger-fucked me, and I had my first orgasm when she went down on me, but I couldn't bring myself to go down on her, at least not at first. I have since come to understand that I am bisexual, and there's no hesitation. I enjoy sex with girls -- tribbing, licking, being licked, sixty-nining, the whole nine yards -- but it's an occasional thing, I actually prefer men. I prefer the power of a man on top of me, thrusting into me, or straddling a man, my wet pussy impaled on his hard hot cock. Whew.

Like I said, my family was poor and I was determined to make my own money and earn my way to better things. I hated being poor. I took whatever jobs a kid could get -- when I was a kid I did a doggy-wash-&-walk service, and when I was old enough I did babysitting, and that was where the real money was. The second time Mr. Norris drove me home he stopped just short of the trailer park, in the shadows just beyond the street light. He turned off the motor, put a twenty dollar bill on the dashboard and looked at me. I looked at him, puzzled, and said, "But you've already paid me."

"That's right," he said. "Now I'm paying you again." When I reached to take the twenty, he put his hand on mine and moved my hand to his leg, then over his midsection, where I could feel he was already getting hard. "There's something you can take care of, first," he said.

I looked at the twenty on the dashboard and had to think fast. Mr. Norris was big and strong and he could rape me if he wanted, here in the dark. Or, I could go with it and make some extra money. I thought about how I hated being poor and how I wanted money more than anything in the world, and then I thought about my makeout sessions with my boyfriends in cars. This was no different, really, and this was obviously one way I could make some bucks. So I said, "Put another twenty up there." He did, and I undid his fly, reached in. His cock practically jumped when I grasped it. I stroked him for awhile, then it was time to go down and start sucking him off. It wasn't long until Mr. Norris was moaning and gobs of gooey cum were all cumming out all over the place, all over my lips and tongue, dripping down my chin, and all over the back of my hand.

The thing with Mr. Norris became a regular ritual, I even let him see my tits, and he got his hand in my panties and finger fucked me but we never went all the way. I considered it a sort of relationship, actually, no different than my boyfriends, only different -- because Mr. Norris was married, of course, and we couldn't hang out or anything. I just considered the extra twenties to be a tip, because he liked me. It never occurred to me I was selling sex for money, I never looked at it that way at all. I mean, it was after the whole Lewinsky thing and a blowjob wasn't considered to be sex, even.

After high school I had no idea what I wanted to do. I knew what I didn't want to do -- I didn't want to get married, have kids and end up permanent trailer trash like my family was, and like so many of the girls I went to school with seemed destined to be. My parents didn't have any money so college seemed out of reach. I wanted something more, I just didn't know what it was. So I got a job selling cosmetics in a big department store.

I thought it was glamorous and it was also boosted my confidence because they hire the girls at the beauty counters based on their looks. I wore that little white uniform spa workers and beauticians wear, with that cute little mandarin-style collar that made us look like pharmaceutical workers (only it was a mini-dress showing a lot of leg) and I thought I was involved in something oh so special. But at the end of the day it's working retail, of course, and the glamour soon wore off. Then one day I met the most extraordinary young man.

Richard stopped by the beauty counter, looking very smart in a gray suit and tie. He was a few years older than me, maybe in his mid-twenties. I thought he worked in the financial district or something -- which it turned out he did, but not as a financier -- and I thought he was shopping for some perfume for his sweetheart or something. Turned out he was shopping all right - but not for perfume - and I'd caught his eye.

We exchanged some light conversation, it was not flirting or anything, then he asked me out and I thought he was so smooth and handsome, so I accepted. He picked me up in a shiny black BMW -- leather interior -- and he took me to a very nice restaurant. Very posh and exclusive. We chatted, and I was utterly charmed. Then, over coffee and desert, Richard suddenly changed the direction of the conversation in the most direct and unexpected manner.

"So what would it take to get you in bed with me?"

I laughed, of course, because this was so sudden and so forward, and what was I supposed to say? I mean, talk about the Direct Approach. Then Richard peeled off a hundred dollar bill and laid it on the table in front of me. I didn't say a word. Then he peeled off another hundred dollar bill. And another one, and then another one, and then another one. I was confused, yet amazed at how casually he was laying all that money on the table. By the time there was more than what I made in two weeks, I put my hand on the money. I looked around to see if the waiter or anybody else could see what was going on) and said, "That's enough." I hadn't had sex in quite a while, and so I figured, why not take the money? He's offering it.

Richard smiled. I guess I'd accepted his offer, and so we went to his place.

The moment we stepped into his apartment a wave of anticipation washed over me. I could barely imagine a young person having such luxurious accommodation. The low, recessed lighting cast a warm, inviting glow across the room, and the atmosphere was so charged with sexual tension I could practically feel it.

In the living room we shed our coats and scarves, reveling in the allure that had been building between us. He leaned in, and our lips met in a passionate kiss. And what a kiss - it was a kiss that ignited a fire, one that seemed to burn brighter with each passing heartbeat. Then he took my hand and, with a gentle, knowing smile, led me deeper into his space. I followed, my heart racing in rhythm with every step.

In the bedroom I couldn't help but notice the luxurious sensation of the carpet beneath my feet. It was as though every texture and fabric in his apartment heightened the sensation of this moment.

In the dimly lit bedroom our eyes locked, and time seemed to slow as we stood there, just inches apart. The anticipation in the air was palpable. The bed beckoned, adorned with soft, inviting sheets. Richard brushed his fingers lightly against my cheek, his touch feather-light and electrifying. My breath caught in my throat as I felt the warmth of his hand against my skin.

He leaned in, and I could feel the magnetic pull drawing us closer. Our lips met in a second kiss, one that was more intense and urgent than the first. Our kiss was a dance of desire, a silent conversation of longing. It was as if the world outside had ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the intoxicating sensation of his lips on mine, as our tongues explored each other with a growing hunger. I could taste the sweetness of his desire, and it mirrored my own. The soft, tantalizing pressure of his lips on mine sent shivers down my spine, and my heart raced in response.

As we kissed Richard unzipped my dress and it fell to the floor. I hadn't expected to 'give it up' on the first date, but a fleeting thought crossed my mind; thankfully I had worn matching bra and panties -- black lace -- just in case, because you never know, right? I stood before him in my delicate underthings as his eyes roamed over my body, appreciating my form.

I reached up, loosened his tie and undid his shirt. As I did this, Richard reached around behind me and unfastened my bra, one handed -- the man had skills! Then I went to my knees, unfastened his belt, undid his trousers and pulled down his shorts -- his cock sprang free, pointing straight at my face. It was time to get down to business. I parted my lips and took his hard, hot length deep into my mouth.

Richard sucked in his breath as I wrapped my lips around his pole and moved my head up and down. I like cock, and I really like sucking cock, and even though up until then I hadn't sucked much cock, I'd learned some skills and techniques during those long, hard afternoons with my boyfriends, or those late nights in the car with Mr. Norris. That, and comparing notes with girlfriends, and things I'd learned reading my dad's Penthouse magazines.

Richard was obviously a man of experience and I was eager to demonstrate my sophistication at playing the skin flute. I pulled off and worked my lips and tongue up and down his length, then moved up to deliver a series of butterfly flicks of my tongue all about the rim of his helmet -- 'edging' -- especially the very sensitive underpart, his frenulum. Ladies, if you don't know what this is, look it up. Your man will be so busy thanking God for the pleasure you're giving him with your tongue, he won't have the logical thought ability to wonder where you learned it. I was giving Richard serious eye contact as I worked his cock with my mouth -- this adds to the overall sluttiness of it all, drives a man absolutely nuts.

Another trick I'd learned - when you've got a mouthful of cock - is to hum and moan, and I did this now. Richard sighed and gently put his hands on my head. He was a considerate lover, he did not proceed to 'skull fuck' me as many men do. He simply ran his fingers through my hair and gently guided my head up and down as I took his cock in and out of my wet mouth.

I was slobbering all over his cock, making it very slick as I began stroking him off into my mouth. Finally I pulled off - he was very hard, and he was ready. Holding his cock in front of my mouth like a microphone, I looked up into his eyes. "Please," I said, almost begging, "make love to me?"

Richard put out his hands and lifted me from the floor. We kissed - long, slow and lovingly -- and he took me to his bed. As we lay together I was overwhelmed by the romance of it all. Things had moved so quickly -- and of course, there was the financial aspect to it all -- but Richard made me feel like we were having the greatest love affair of all time. He had class, style, and he had totally seduced me. The money was a mere detail, a circumstance that brought us together.

With each touch we discovered new contours of each other's bodies. Every caress and every whisper of breath against my skin sent shivers of pleasure through me. Our kisses grew more intense, mirroring the building desire between us. I couldn't help but think that it wasn't just the physical closeness but the emotional depth of the moment that made it so incredibly intimate.

A thrill coursed through my veins as Richard kissed my breasts, nibbled and licked my nipples. Then he kissed his way down my body, all the way to where my hot, wet pussy awaited his lips and tongue.

By now he had transformed me into a total sexual being. When his tongue went into my pussylips my blood went hot. My legs went wide as his tongue went up and down my slit, and I put my hands on his head, pulling him into me. When he put his lips on my clit and started sucking, my eyes rolled up in their sockets and I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

When Richard finally came up for air his face was saturated with my juices. I grasped his face and kissed him, savoring the taste of my pussy all over him. Then he moved over me, the blunt head of his cock pressing at my entrance. My pussy was already saturated, all it took was a gentle push and he was in me and OH MY GOD it started all over again!

Wave after orgasmic wave course over my being as his tool plowed into me - that is what our lovemaking had devolved to; my entire consciousness revolved around the hard rod plunging in and out of my love-hole. I completely lost track of time, lost any sense of spatial awareness -- I didn't know where I was, I didn't know who I was, I was squirting juices in all directions, in one continual, intense full-body multi-orgasm. Richard finally unloaded what seemed like gallons of white-hot cum into my pussy and that put me over the edge. I clung to him as I experienced the most intense, brain-melting orgasm of my entire life.

We lay back, exhausted. After a bit, Richard spoke. "Well?"

"Well, what?" I asked.

"Was it good for you?"

"Oh my God," is all I could say, burying my face in his chest.

Still later, he spoke again. "You're amazing, Tracy." I think it was the first time he said my name.

"You're amazing, Richard."

"No, I mean it. You're amazing."

"I mean it too."

"You're amazing. You're fantastic," he said. "You are one hell of a fuck." His use of this kind of language didn't seem rude or crude at all - it seemed so appropriate, proper even, given the intensity of our physical lovemaking. "Did you like it?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Would you like to do that again?"

"Yes," I said.

"I mean, do it for money."

I was very quiet after that. The thought was a little disquieting. I just held on to this remarkable man, nestled my face to his chest, and we fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning over coffee, Richard broached the subject again. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what he meant.

"You could make that kind of money on a regular basis, if you wanted to."

I remained quiet, but the thought of the money had been going around in my head all night. I suppose that was his intent -- he'd planted the whole concept into my subconscious, just before we dropped off into sleep, and thoughts of money were bouncing around in my head all night. He'd paid me more than what I was making in two weeks, for a pleasurable episode I'd have gladly have done for free. I thought of my crummy one-bedroom apartment, the second floor of the landlord's run-down house, the noises and shouting coming up from downstairs. I thought of my beat-up car, of nice clothes and things I'd like to afford but instead my pay barely covered the rent. I couldn't even afford the cosmetics I sold at the beauty counter. "What exactly do you mean?" I asked.

"There are men here in the financial district that have more money than they know what to do with, and they would pay a lot of money to be with a woman like you, Tracy. Twice as much as what I gave you, easy."

I was already thinking, 'Why not?' The fact that he said 'what I gave you' made it sound more like it was a gift, a sort of a windfall, but I knew I'd crossed a line. I'd taken money for sex, and I was now in a discussion of doing it again.

"Is this what you do, Richard?" I asked. "Do you..." I couldn't bring myself to use the term 'pimp'. "Do you, set up rich men with women?"

"I arrange things," he said. "I'm a businessman, and I make my money by finding where there's a need, and filling it."

Ooh, he was so smooth. He was a smooth operator. Yet, I couldn't help it, I was falling for him. He was charming, he had charisma.

Richard spoke up. "Tell you what, Tracy, spend the day with me. We'll go out, I'll take you shopping."

"But my job," I said. "I have to go to work."

"No you don't," he replied. "Tell them you quit."

"But I have to give two weeks' notice," I said.

"No you don't," he said again. "Do you think they'd give you two weeks' notice if they wanted to fire you?" I thought about it, and he was right. "In this case, you're firing them."

The way Richard said it, made me feel so empowered. Like I said, he was a smooth operator.

Richard took me out shopping, bought me some nice clothes, nice shoes and a nice warm coat for the coming winter. Then he took me to an exclusive salon to get my hair and nails done. The place was actually the upper floors of an old, street-level shop. The interior was sort of like the set for an old horror film or something - dark and a lot of carved wood, mirrors, chandeliers, that sort of thing -- but it had style. You could have a great party in there. I was the only customer that afternoon and they treated me like royalty, the gay guy doing my hair gushed all over my looks, my silky straight hair, made me feel so special. They even served us refreshments while we were there, like we were special guests.

And so this is how I became an escort (the first time) at eighteen years of age. Richard set me up with 'dates' -- I was going about town dressed to the nines with older, richer men who wined me and dined me in some of the finest establishments in the world, then afterwards in the bedroom I'd take over and I'd fuck and suck their brains out. For money. Lots of money.

I soon moved out of my apartment into a nicer place Richard set up for me, in the city. It was actually one of his places - I paid Richard 'rent', which is to say I paid him a percentage of what I made. That's how our arrangement worked. Soon the crappy car was gone and I had a nice, shiny new set of wheels, and lots of other nice things. I was happy, and all I had to do was screw the old men, give them some pleasure and be treated like a princess, in exchange for more money than I'd ever seen before in my entire life.

Richard would set up my 'dates' -- he had contacts throughout the offices of the commercial banks and the stockbrokers, the corporate lawyers and C-suite executives, and he managed everything. I'd see them in hotel rooms, sometimes in their exclusive offices, after hours, but never at my place. I appreciated that Richard did it that way for me -- my place was my private place, my sanctuary. And it wasn't just regular dates -- there were some group sex situations where two or more of us girls would entertain a gentleman client, or episodes where I would entertain two or more clients by myself. I can honestly say that by the time I was twenty-one, I had seen and done almost everything you see in a pornographic movie.