My Wife's New Profession Ch. 02

3. Nancy Sets Up an Appointment with Eddie.

We got home at about 3:15. Promptly at 4:00 o'clock, as we sat in the living room splitting a bottle of wine, Nancy's cell phone rang.

I sat next to her on our couch as she talked to Eddie. I heard her explain how the studio she'd rented to use in her practice wouldn't be ready for a few days. Would he like an appointment for a week from tonight? I heard his voice ask how much it would cost.

Nancy answered, "Well, you know, I'm pretty new at this, and I'm not actually a licensed sexual surrogate, so I can't charge you too much. Can you afford fifty dollars for, say, an hour and a half?"

I heard something from the phone that sounded like assent. Then there was maybe a full minute of Eddie talking a lot while Nancy said, "Uh huh" over and over. I confess that it was exciting listening to my wife setting up what amounted to a sexual tryst with a teenager, even a nerdy kid like Eddie. But I needed to piss. So I got up and walked through the kitchen into our downstairs bathroom.

When I returned to the living room about five minutes later, Nancy was obviously trying to end the conversation. "When we talk again on Wednesday at 6:00 o'clock we can discuss this some more, OK?"

Then I heard Eddie's voice a little more and Nancy said, "OK, sweetie. That'll be fine. I'll expect your call on Wednesday."

I sat back down next to her and gave her a big kiss. "You're such a caring person," I whispered.

Knowing that I was being sarcastic, she slapped me on the knee and laughed. "I care for sex a lot, that's for sure. Teenage boys, well, I can take them or leave them. You're still the one I really like to fuck, you know."

We chatted some more about what Eddie's "issues" were. "So far," said Nancy, "his problems don't seem too extreme. I mean he doesn't seem to have an overwhelming desire to have sex with sheep or exhaust pipes. He's just inexperienced, immature, and more than a little hung up. He admitted that he watches porn on the Internet but said that he feels guilty about it afterwards. Intimidated, too. He's not sure he could perform the way guys do with girls on porn sites."

This raised my curiosity. "Since you look like one of those porn girls, do you think he might be afraid of you?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," she said. "We talked awhile about how it felt for him looking at my body earlier today. He said he could hardly believe his good luck. He'd only seen one other girl naked, a high school girl he'd seen changing clothes, but he said she was fat and dumpy compared to me. And he'd only seen her at a distance. He went on about how grateful he was to be able to see 'down between my legs.' He said it was a sight he'd never forget."

I asked her what might take place next Friday evening.

"In our first session, I think I'll let him get familiar with my body and show him that his preconceptions, his internet ideas about what women are like, aren't quite accurate. I'll try to show him that sex can be fun and pleasurable rather than scary."

I kissed her then and she whispered, "You won't mind watching him explore my body, will you?"

If she was trying to arouse me with this line of conversation, it was working. I grabbed her and we fooled around for a while on the couch. Then, after maybe then minutes, Nancy (whom I'd managed to strip down to her g-string panties) broke away from me and announced that she needed to take a shower. She felt gritty from the beach.

While she was upstairs showering, I sat in the living room finishing my wine. Nancy seemed halfway serious about helping a teenager with his sex issues. I wondered if this could actually be erotic for her. Or would it be more like a job?

Mulling this over, I walked out the back door to the studio cabin, which has a main room taking up about seventy-five percent of its space, a small bathroom, and a small kitchen with no running water or appliances. My idea was to seal off the door between the kitchen and the main room with a piece of plywood. I'd then drill a hole in the plywood so I could peer into the main room where Nancy would interact with Eddie and possibly other "clients."

I took a few measurements in the studio then returned to the house. Nancy, who'd finished her shower and was wearing her short terry-cloth bath robe, was in the kitchen putting together a salad for a light dinner.

I asked her to stop cutting vegetables and come out to the studio so I could show her what I wanted to do. The raised platform (where Nancy had recently had sex with several guys in eighteenth-century costumes) still dominated the main room. Despite its large size, she said, she thought she could use the platform for her session(s).

She said she'd need to buy several large mats to completely cover the platform. Then she supposed she needed a few accessories she'd read about when she Googled "sexual surrogates." These included throw pillows, aromatic candles, and some CDs of soft, relaxing music.

"Don't forget a clock," I said teasingly. "As a pseudo-professional, you'll need to time your sessions."

My wife smiled at me wickedly. "Oh, I think I can be pretty flexible about timing the session. If I'm having fun, I might not want to stop exactly on time. But I'm not completely sure about all the stuff that's recommended, like the scented candles and new-age music. They seem pretty corny to me."

We returned to the house and, as Nancy finished making the salad, I sat down at the kitchen table and asked her about how erotic, for her, "helping" a teenager like Eddie could be.

"I'm not sure. I think if I can get him to relax I can relax and it could be very erotic. I don't think I've ever been a guy's first sexual experience. Even Bryce, that teenager I had sex with in the guest room, had had a little experience with girls. It might be more difficult with a guy like Eddie. If he's not fun for me, though, I'll put a stop to it."

We had our dinner and watched TV for a while. At about 8:30 I asked Nancy if she'd like to go to a bar for a drink.

"Sure, I guess so. But I'll need to change. What would you like me to wear? Am I in seduction mode or devoted-wife mode?"

I told her to wear something just barely legal. Maybe, I suggested, she could put on what she planned to wear for her session with Eddie.

4. An Evening Interlude.

She smiled at me and went up to our bedroom. I relaxed in the living room, leafing through a magazine. About twenty minutes later I heard her coming back downstairs. When I saw her I was stunned. She'd put on a rather conservative tunic top which completely covered her from neck to waist. But, except for a pair of low-heeled shoes, she was completely naked from the waist down.

She twirled for me to show me how revealing her "outfit" was -- a brief but wonderful spectacle of pubic hair and ass.

"So this is what you'll wear during your session with Eddie?"

She laughed. "Well, we can't have him seeing my breasts, can we? As for the rest of me, well, in order to acquaint the poor kid with a real woman's body I'm going to have to let him see me without panties, don't you think?"

I stood up, walked over to her, and embraced her. As we kissed I slid my hands down her back to her ass-cheeks and gripped them firmly. I kneaded those wonderful handfuls, appreciating the incomparable feeling of firm but yielding flesh. How did I get so lucky in a wife? I'm a very average guy and she's absolutely gorgeous! Maybe I did something outstanding in a previous life.

"I guess I'll have to wear a coat to cover my butt," she whispered in my ear. "It's cool enough outside for one. I'll have to be careful how I sit, though. If I'm not, gosh, who knows what someone might see?"

"Well, as you said, at least no one will see your breasts."

Nancy broke the embrace then and took down her trench coat, which was hanging on a peg near the front door. As she put it on, she said, "I'm ready when you are."

Standing in front of me with the bottom of her trench coat buttoned, she was suddenly quite decent. Anyone seeing her in her tunic and coat could tell that she was a woman with a beautiful face and, judging from her bare calves, a slender body. He'd be unable to conclude anything else.

We drove over to a bar on Clement Street. Since she wasn't contemplating picking anyone up, we entered together and sat down at a table in the middle of the room. A girl running cocktails took our order and brought our drinks, a glass of wine for Nancy and a beer for me, to the table.

Looking around I noticed that Nancy, as usual the best looking female in the place, was receiving a fair amount of male attention. Despite the fact that she was wearing a long coat, two guys at the bar had turned to look at her and I saw that a couple of guys playing pool were checking her out, too. Most of it was pretty furtive. It was a little early for any of the patrons to be drunk enough to leer at her too openly.

Nancy and I were seated so I was facing in nearly the same direction she was. The pool game, going on about twenty-five feet in front of us, caught Nancy's attention, and she said, "That's a studly guy shooting now. I noticed him looking at me when we came in. I wonder if I can make him miss a shot."

The guy she was referring to looked like he was about our age. He was tall and thin and had on a muscle shirt. Wearing his Giants cap backwards and sporting several tattoos, he obviously thought he was something special. Sizing him up, I figured I could take him if I had to. I told Nancy this.

"Damn, Cal," she said, "where did all that testosterone come from? I promise you're not going to have to defend my honor."

I felt ridiculous. What had brought that on?

Nancy changed the subject, sort of. "You asked me earlier today if I liked macho guys better than nerds like Eddie. I've been thinking about that. When I was in high school I treated nerdy guys, you know, like guys in the chess club, like crap. I was really awful."

"So you still feel guilty about it?"

"You know, I actually think that's part of it," she answered. She acted as though she'd had a sudden insight. "Maybe I want to give Eddie an experience I never gave to guys like him back then. In high school and in college, until I met you, I only fooled around with jocks and high-status guys. Most of them turned out to be assholes."

Ten minutes later, seven or eight customers entered the bar. Several went to the bar, but four or five of them walked into the table area looking for seats. I noticed, after several of the new customers passed between where we sat and the pool table, that the guy in the muscle shirt was leaning on his cue stick looking straight at Nancy. I scooted my chair closer to her and looked down to check on what she was doing with her legs. She had them crossed. Looking at her bare thighs, he probably assumed that she was wearing an extremely short skirt.

Nancy noticed the guy, too. "I see Mr. Cool is checking me out," she said. "I've got my legs closed now but I must've got his interest a few minutes ago when I spread my legs."

"That was careless of you," I said. "Now he knows your secret, that you're not wearing any panties."

She leaned toward me ("accidentally" letting her legs drift apart) and kissed me on the cheek. Then she whispered in my ear, "Oh, yes, I'm sure he noticed that. I'll give him another look now, OK?" I was surprised at how enthusiastic she was about exhibiting herself to this guy, who, now that I'd gotten a better look at him, seemed pretty creepy to me.

"Sure, go ahead," I whispered back to her. Then I glanced down at her legs again and watched her spread her knees about fifteen inches apart. I felt my cock getting erect. A strange guy was getting an unobstructed view of my darling wife's naked cunt!

"Nancy, I think he can see everything now," I whispered. Neither of us looked directly at the guy at this point. We wanted to seem oblivious to him, so involved with each other that we were unaware of who was watching us.

We kissed several times as she held her legs apart for at least thirty seconds before re-crossing her legs. The guy kept staring at her, though, and only stopped staring when his opponent, a paunchy guy about forty, tapped him on the back and told him it was his turn. Mr. Cool took a shot and missed. Then, with an extreme lack of interest, he watched (glancing now and then at Nancy) the paunchy guy run the table.

A new player stood up to challenge the winner. Glad to be out of the game, I think, Mr. Cool found a seat at a table a little closer to where we sat and turned his baseball cap so that the bill faced forward. Deliberately not looking at Nancy and me, he took a few sips from his bottle of beer.

He then did something pretty blatant but also pretty creative. Slumping back in his chair, he pulled the bill of his cap down until his eyes were hidden from us. He was trying to look very relaxed, almost as though he were taking a cat nap. But I knew, even though I couldn't see his eyes, that he was peering just beneath the bill of his cap at Nancy's legs under our table.

"Do you see what he's doing?" I asked her.

She laughed. "I sure do, and that cap routine is a new one on me," she said. "I still have my legs crossed, though. Do you want me to give him another little show?"

The cocktail hostess passed by our table just then and took our order for another round. Nancy behaved herself until the waitress returned to the bar.

"Well? Do you think I should give that guy another look or not?"

I told her to wait while I went to the toilet. I wanted her to postpone the crotch show a few minutes until she noticed me at the rear of room. In other words, I didn't want her to wait for me to return to the table.

I killed about five minutes in the toilet. Then, instead of walking directly back to our table (where, behind some milling-around customers, I caught sight of Nancy sitting demurely nursing her second glass of wine), I stood a few feet behind two men and a woman who were watching the pool game. Their view of my wife was blocked by a small clutch of guys who stood talking about a basketball game being shown on a TV set mounted on a wall. But, looking through the crowd, I noticed that Cool Guy's body was still slumped back in his chair and that the bill of his cap still rested on his nose. Just past him, I could clearly make out my wife's bare but crossed legs.

She saw me but pretended not to. Then, darling girl, she went into action.

She uncrossed her legs slowly and spread them slightly but not far enough to reveal much. I guess this was to raise her watcher's interest. Then she suddenly leaned way over to one side and reached down to the floor where she'd put her purse. As she did this she let her legs fall wide open. When she straightened up a few seconds later, she kept her legs wide open.

I was too far away (almost thirty feet) to see exactly what Nancy was revealing to Cool Guy. In fact, it was what I couldn't see that struck me. The normal view up a woman's skirt ends at a strip of fabric, usually white. Since Nancy wasn't wearing panties, this was of course missing. But I couldn't make out any details of her cunt. And her pubic hair is so light that at a distance it hardly shows at all.

But I knew that Cool Guy, sitting only about fifteen feet from her, could see a lot more. He'd certainly gone to a lot of trouble and deserved a reward.

After a few minutes, I took an indirect route back to my table. Nancy smiled at me and said quietly, "He's really been getting his money's worth. While he was looking between my legs he was rubbing his cock under the table. I think he's got a nice erection going."

I glanced over at him. He still had the bill of his cap pushed way forward and I couldn't see his eyes. But, looking under his table, I noticed a definite bulge in his crotch area. Seeing that I'd returned to the table, though, he'd stopped rubbing his cock through his jeans.

When, a few seconds later, Nancy crossed her legs and pulled her trench coat over her knees, he sat up in his chair and pushed his cap back to its proper, bill-forward position. I guess he could tell that the show was just about over. Either that, or the slumped-back-in-his-chair position had gotten uncomfortable. He over-acted being surprised or disoriented, as though he'd just woke up from a nap.

I tossed down my beer and, since Nancy had finished her drink, we left the bar and walked to our car. I opened the passenger side door for her and she climbed in. As she sat down, she unbuttoned the bottom of her coat and threw her legs wide open for me. I stood a few seconds holding the door open and looking down between her legs. Her cunt lips were quite wet, probably from the excitement of just having flashed a complete stranger.

"Just wait till we get home," I said. Nancy laughed and began fingering herself.

As I walked around the car to the driver's side, I looked down the street at the bar, about two-hundred feet away. Standing in front of it, watching us very intently, was Cool Guy.

As we drove off, I checked the rear-view mirror. There he was, still standing in front of the bar. Tough luck, I thought to myself. You got to look at my wife's cunt. As soon as I get home, though, I get to eat it.

And that's exactly what I did, just before I got behind her and gave her an unusually rough fucking. As I fucked her, gripping her waist tightly and staring down at her inviting little asshole (which I'd save for another night), I had a ridiculous fantasy tape running in my head about punishing my wife with my cock for sitting so carelessly in a public place. How dare she, a married woman, allow, in one day, a teenager and a strange, rather creepy guy in a bar see her vagina!

In pretend anger, I drove my cock into her again and again until she had a huge, loud orgasm. Sometimes, but not always, she likes it rough. After about ten minutes, as my cock throbbed with excitement, she pulled away from me, quickly turned her body around, and took it into her mouth. I held her head firmly in my hands, and after only thirty seconds or so I shot a big load of semen deep into her throat.

Damn! I loved being married to Nancy!

5. Wednesday

Suddenly it was Wednesday. Eddie was supposed to call Nancy at about 6:00 p.m. to confirm their appointment. Meanwhile, I'd taken the day off and nailed a piece of plywood over the kitchen door in the backyard studio cabin. I hadn't drilled a peep hole in it yet, but I'd rigged the window in the non-functioning kitchen so I could easily and quietly come and go through it.

Nancy, who'd gone back to work part-time at a downtown art gallery, got home from work at about 3:30. She'd gone in early in the morning to help set up a display, so her day was over early.

I showed her what I'd done in the studio cabin and she walked around the raised platform fretting about what to do with it. She hadn't bought the mats yet. We agreed to go shopping the next day and buy all she needed to make the area usable for sexual surrogacy work.

We had an early dinner and sat down together in the living room, sharing a bottle of wine, to wait for Eddie's call. Six o'clock passed and I began to wonder if he'd had second thoughts.

When Nancy's cell phone rang at 6:10, though, we both knew he'd kept his word. I leaned in close to her as she said hello. I could hear his voice faintly on the other end. It was too bad we'd given up our land line. If we'd still had it, I could've listened to the conversation on another phone.

"That's OK, Eddie," said Nancy. "I know how these things are." He was apparently apologizing for not calling on time.

Nancy spent the next ten minutes mainly listening. I gave up trying to hear what Eddie was saying, but I could infer it from her side of the conversation. He was telling her about an experience he'd had with a girl in his school. It apparently was a painful memory for him because she kept reassuring him, saying things like "You just have to put that behind you" and "college will be a lot different."