When my wife and I met she was forty-two and I was thirty-five. She had two children from different men, and I had two children from my first wife. I had been divorced for about 5 years and she had been divorced for about ten. Things for her were a little tougher as she was a single mom of two kids and both dads were real deadbeats. Needless to say, my wife had done what she had to do to get the rent paid, put food on the table and clothes on the kid's back. To her credit when we met, she told me exactly what she did for a living and that she enjoyed it. For me this was a major turn-on, the only thing I didn’t like was her getting paid for it. My reasoning (right or wrong) was that when sex is your occupation than somewhere the fun is lost, and the payment was all that is left. I didn’t want that for us, so about 8 months into the relationship I asked her to stop charging for her services. I promised to provide for the household and (within reason of course) she or the kids would never have to want for anything. In turn, she had to continue to maintain her clients and land new ones. It took a couple of months, but she finally agreed to it. We were married just over a year after we met. Once we got married things really got crazy for us. My wife loved what she did, and I loved her doing it. I think once she stopped worrying about getting in trouble or being arrested or the pressure of the next client, she really started enjoying it all. This led us to a multitude of adult theaters, glory holes, swing clubs, sex parties, backstage passes at plenty of rock concerts, I mean the overall debauchery only found in fantasy erotica.
The question is "What's the number?", the answer is four hundred, two hundred before we met, at least two hundred since we met, and if I have it my way, we will get two hundred more before we check out of the motel room our final time.
Louis
