Until six months ago my life was conventional. Then my wife of thirty-two years told me she was leaving me.
A year before, Deborah had retired from her job. She had worked for twenty-five years and was able to take retirement benefits that gave her a very nice income for not working. During the year she began to take time for herself which had not been possible during the years of work and raising two children together.
At fifty-five she was still a very attractive woman. She began to exercise regularly with a personal trainer and had minor plastic surgery done to tighten her face and neck and the slight sag in her breasts. Six months into retirement she looked more like her early forties than her mid-fifties. She also started to use more makeup and to dress to highlight her finely toned figure.
One night we actually measured her. She was five feet four inches, one hundred fifteen pounds and an incredible 36-24-35. I joked that she would make one hot date for a guy of any age. She looked at me slyly and used her tongue to wet her lips seductively.
The next day she dyed her medium-brown hair auburn red and got a stylish mod cut. I also noticed that she had bought some new lingerie. It was all quite sexy and included bikini and thong panties and lacy demibras in black and red.
I figured she was responding to how she was feeling about herself—very sexy, as revealed not only in her appearance but in her increasing interest in sex. Whereas before her retirement we made love two or three times a month, she now wanted to come almost every night.
Since I’m now sixty, I was not able to accommodate her as I would have wished. But when my penis failed me, my fingers and mouth usually got the job done. She climaxed frequently and strongly. I thought things were fine.
I should have noticed some other signs. But for a period of about two months before Deborah’s announcement, I was very busy at work. I had to be out of town a lot and worked long hours when I was home.
She was very understanding, even cheerful about this. When I was away, I called her often, but usually got the answering machine. I figured she was making the best of the situation by seeing friends. When I was home, there were evenings when I got back to the house about ten and found her out. Usually I went to sleep, exhausted, before she got in. When I woke early in the morning, she would be snuggled against me and responded immediately to my playfulness.
It was a rare morning that we didn’t make love. Sometimes it seemed to me that she was more stretched and wet than usual. But I let the thought drop quickly from my mind as I concentrated on our passion.
Finally the day of reckoning came. One Friday I had to work late again and didn’t get home until eleven. Deborah wasn’t there. Rather than go to sleep, I decided to wait up. I had a book that was quite engrossing. Before I knew it, it was one in the morning.
I heard a car pull up, then some laughing and the slam of a door. When Deborah opened the door and saw me in the living room, she looked surprised, though probably nowhere near as surprised as I was. For the life of me, she was dressed like a whore!
She had heavy eye makeup on, with very red lipstick. Her hair was a bit disheveled. She was wearing a tight, low-cut and cropped black tank top. It showed a lot of cleavage, and her hard nipples stuck out through the material. She clearly wasn’t wearing a bra. Her black leather skirt was very short, and she had on fishnet stockings and three-inch black heels.
The first thing she said was, “No, I’m not wearing panties. The guy I was with took my thong as a souvenir.” Then she said she had been looking for the right opportunity to talk to me, and supposed this was the best she could do.
The last two months had been the last straw for her, she said. Not only was I not able to get it up enough to satisfy her, but I was now totally occupied with my job, to her total neglect. I knew she was really into sex now, she said. She thought this was something I would get into as well, especially since I used to tell her my fantasy was her becoming sexually insatiable. That’s just how she was feeling now.
She took things into her own hands. She cruised the Internet and connected with a guy who turned out to be a pimp who catered to the wealthy set. At first, two months earlier, she thought they were just meeting for a sexual rendezvous. She saw him a couple of nights, and both times they made love repeatedly. He told her she was naturally terrific, but then gave her some suggestions to be even better in bed.
That’s when he told her he could help her satisfy her sex ual needs and also make a lot of money. He was looking for a cultured older woman to be a high-class call girl for traveling businessmen from around the world.
Initially she was shocked at the idea. But she figured, she already was having extramar ital sex, why not see how she felt about being a whore?
The guy set her up for a “date.” The client was a fifty-year-old executive who took her to dinner at a very expensive restaurant. She was told to dress sexy but classy, which she did from some of her new wardrobe. After dinner she went back to the man’s room, spent an hour getting fucked, then was paid fifteen hundred dollars. Five hundred went to her lover, who was now her pimp.
She’d found the evening extremely enjoyable, and since then had about a dozen “dates.” Her pimp told her how to dress, based on each man’s preferences. Tonight’s guy, for example, wanted her to dress and act like a cheap slut. They went out dancing, then fucked in his car.
Her rate had remained the same throughout, but her pimp told her he was getting such great reports about her that with all the repeat business she was getting, he was going to be able to raise her rates, to their mutual benefit.
I was shocked! But there was more. Deborah said that between her retirement benefits and her new profession, even if it lasted just a few years, she no longer needed me for money. With that, she went upstairs and locked the bedroom door. The next day she packed her bags and left. I haven’t seen her since.
We haven’t talked, let alone done anything about getting a divorce. About a week later, however, I was dining alone in a restaurant when a very attractive woman who appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties came in. To my surprise, she came up to me and said she was a friend of Deborah’s.
Her name was Trish. She said she and Deborah had worked together on a few jobs, but now she was ready to retire. She was sixty, and wanted to have a normal life, apart from having a daughter and a granddaughter also in the sex trade. Deborah thought I could use the company and was primed for a change in lifestyles.
I didn’t think so immedi ately, but before I knew what was happening, Trish had picked up a menu and ordered dinner for herself. We spent the next hour talking. I hadn’t had such an enjoyable time for a long while.
Trish went home with me, and not surprisingly we had great sex. She came over again the next evening—this time with some Viagra, which I’d never used. After an hour or so I got an incredible erection. We fucked three times. I did her twice in her cunt and once in her ass.
Two weeks later Trish, her daughter and granddaughter moved in with me. Incredibly, they have similar bodies. At sixty, Trish has every bit as nice a figure as Deborah. She’s a bit taller and slightly rounder in the hips. Her daugh ter Christine, who’s forty, is the spitting image of her moth er, though with slightly smaller tits and hips. Christine’s specialty is blowjobs—she has an incredible mouth. Christine’s daughter Marcella, who just turned twenty, is paying her way through college by dancing at a strip club. She also does private parties with her mother and a little escort work on her own.
A month ago I sold my business. I now manage the business end of Christine’s and Marcella’s party and escort work. Trish is retired from the business but not from me. Viagra has done wonders. She encourages me to fuck her daughter and granddaughter as well.
The whole thing strikes me as bizarre. Apparently, the family that fucks together stays together!—H.R., West Palm Beach, Florida