Before my husband I separated we were doing pretty well financially. He had a great income, I had my little freelance operation on the side (I'll neglect details, but if you bought an engraved coffee maker in the last ten years it was likely me!).
Anyhow, after several years of being together we simply became incompatible. He'd want infrequent yet ever more rough and difficult sex, while I was all about the missionary and doggy style. It played on my mind for a while, so much so that I'd even be 'ready' when he came home, just to be ignored while he grabbed a beer from the fridge and tore up some long outstanding bills.
Thing is - he lost his mojo. Yeah he jacked off a fair bit (which I never had an issue with), but over time it started to become an issue. One of the reasons we married was a mutual acceptance that we didn't ever want kids - to many people that'd depressing, for us it was to free up money and enjoy ourselves. Call it like minded existentialism - at least that's what I like to refer it as.
Contrary to the way these marriages usually go, we still remained otherwise happily married. He worked primarily off-shore doing oil rig work and earned a good amount of money. He was away for three weeks, then home for two weeks. That suited me perfectly well; the income was enough to pay off the house and buy the surrounding land. Such are the joys of domestic tranquility.
However - a lady can become frustrated. What was once a hot sex life became maybe once a month, then twice a year, and ultimately nothing. I was obsessed with sex, and much as everything appeared normal and nice it put a serious - nay - dangerous focus upon our love life.
So, to put it bluntly, I started swinging for cash. I had a huge home to myself, and despite the somewhat rural setting there was no shortage of ready and willing young men wanting to pay for play. I never advertised through 'apps' or whatnot, it was word of mouth only. I was happy to entertain and tease them over coffee and cake, then swap numbers with a 'maybe' if I liked them. Call me a prick-tease but the sense of liberation over deciding who would make me cum was utterly amazing.
A typical situation would be calling a guy who met my criteria (discreet, smart, hopefully also philandering) and explaining what I wanted. He'd have been personally vetted, and usually would have waited months (besides the occasional car episode!). Sometimes there would be quite a few other guys as well. I was always upfront about that; it's easy to offend and being up-front is the best way to manage sentiments and such.
Once everyone was together, we'd have supper. Polite as you like, and it'd last for hours on end. I loved it because I was hostess and utterly in control - my 'slaves' (never called them that to their faces) would diligently wash up and tidy away while I entertained any female company with my tatting away about cross stitches and home decor.
After all was tidy and neat - chaos ensued....
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