Money Can't Buy Happiness?

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What to do when your wife cuts you off?
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imhapless
imhapless
3,577 Followers

As I drove to the Leukemia Ball - by myself - that fateful Saturday night, I wondered how my life could be so rich in some ways, and in the crapper in others. For about the 10,000th time in the last two years I mused about how the old saying "Money can't buy happiness" was - at least in my case - not just a cliché but an axiom.

The rich parts of my life? Money, not just family money but from my position as COO of a Fortune 1000 company. Much more important than the money, two kids who I adored and were the lights of my life.

The major crapper - a wife who after the birth of our second child, our daughter Carolyn, almost five years ago had absolutely no interest whatsoever in sex. I think that we had sex ten times in the first three years after Carolyn was born. Two years ago Emily moved into a separate bedroom and we never had sex again; while she was usually pleasant we had more like a brother-sister relationship than husband-wife; actually, probably even more like two cousins than brother-sister.

I tried almost everything possible to get her to see a professional psychologist about what I considered her "problem," She didn't consider her having no interest whatsoever in sex a problem. "We had regular sex for twelve years, Braxton; that's enough."

Since she was really horny and loved to fuck when she was pregnant with our Carolyn, I tried to find a way to get her pregnant again - but that's not possible when she won't fuck at all, and in any event she finally informed me a year after our last baby was born that she had had her tubes tied after the birth, something that she never even discussed with me at the time!

I tried talking to Emily's younger sister Madeline and her mother Colette.

Madeline - who was going through a non-contentious divorce (if there is such a thing), without kids - said "That's your problem and I'd never get involved in an issue so highly personal." Actually her dismissive attitude pissed me off a little. I thought that we always had a good relationship - in fact I might have married her if I met her before I met Emily - and I had done a number of things to help her and her deadbeat husband out in the past. However, she was right that this was "highly personal" so I cut her some slack.

Colette was incensed that I'd even bring it up. "My God, Braxton, she gave you two kids - what more do you want?" Now I know why Emily's father always had a dour look on his face - he wasn't getting any either! Colette was as frigid as Emily.

I tried to get our minister involved since Emily claimed to be religious. Minister Jack had had two divorces, which I finally concluded disqualified him from giving worthwhile advice. He did talk to Emily - I have no idea what he actually said to her - but all that did was anger Emily for involving him in "my" (not "her") problem. His only advice to me - get a divorce. In other words effectively give up my biggest joy in life - daily interaction with my kids.

I considered the possibility that Emily was having an affair - in fact I was suspicious enough that I spent $25,000 on private detectives. They came up with zip. "She's the most boring subject we've ever had under surveillance," the head of the P.I. firm told me after monitoring her electronically and following her for three months. "While there are no such things as guarantees related to human behavior, this case is the closest we've ever come to giving a guarantee. I'd say that there is a 99.999% probability that she is not having an affair -not even an emotional one let alone a physical one."

Actually, on some level I might actually have preferred that she was having an affair rather than being "the most boring subject" ever. At least then I'd have an explanation.

I harkened back to my thinking when I married Emily almost seventeen years ago. She didn't have the physical beauty that would cause me to fall for her instantly, although she was nice looking and well put together; however she was intelligent and personable, and after I got to know her I found her incredibly sexy in a way that I couldn't quite figure out, and she seemed to be madly in love with me and was always affectionate. Plus, I was in for the long haul - I wanted kids and a stable home. My reasoning was that beauty fades over time, but love, affection, and personality don't.

That shows you how much I knew - she didn't look any different now than seventeen years ago but any manifestation of love, and all affection, had seemingly vanished faster than a crack whore's looks!

* * * * *

Emily would normally go with me to a charity event like the Leukemia Ball that Saturday night, but she was legitimately ill and begged off.

The festivities progressed just like had happened at the dozens of other "cause balls" that I had attended in the past - that is until all the speeches were over and the band started playing. I was getting ready to leave when a woman who though probably not drunk, but feeling no pain, bumped into me. The drink in her hand spilled on her. I am confident that her alcohol-induced clumsiness was what caused the spill - but being a gentleman I didn't push that point.

"I'm so sorry," I said, touching her arm. "I hope that I haven't ruined your lovely blouse - and can I get you another drink?" It was impossible not to notice that she had a beautiful face and on first glance seemed to be well put together.

She just chuckled as she moved her non-glass holding hand over the wet spot on her blouse - atop her left tit. I had no choice but to look at what she was doing. The wetness made her blouse see-through and she didn't have a bra on. "Holy shit, that's a nice tit," flashed through my brain, but I was in control enough not to say anything.

"It's just vodka, it'll come out," she chirped, with a smile. "However considering what the wetness has done to my blouse" - she apparently had been clued in by my staring that her left tit was on display - "if you're as gentlemanly as you seem to be, you'll dance me over to my table so that I can put on my wrap."

With that she put her glass down on the nearest table and held out her arms in a waltz position - a slow song was playing.

"Of course...sure," I mumbled in reply as I took her in my arms, although I was anything but "sure." I hadn't had close contact with an attractive adult female for two years and unfortunately the first part of what happened next was entirely predictable. I almost instantly got a boner when are bodies moved together. What happened after that wasn't predictable.

"Why that's the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid to me," she grinned as our bodies remained in contact despite the fact that she had to have felt my boner on her thigh.

"What...what?" I stuttered, hoping that she wasn't saying what I thought that she was.

"The fact that your cock would salute instantly on contact with my body is an enormous compliment, especially from a handsome man like you," she replied, staring me in the eye with a diabolical grin on her face.

"Uh...sorry...you are a beautiful woman but unfortunately there is a more complicated explanation for that," I mumbled trying to divert my gaze from her, but finding it impossible.

"Once we get to my table and I put on my wrap I insist that you tell me about why I shouldn't be unambiguously complimented."

With that she put her head on my shoulder, pulled me tighter, and whispered "Follow my lead."

It seemed that my dick got harder and harder. It didn't help that with her heels on she was the perfect height for comfortable dancing, or that her light amount of perfume was intoxicating, or that through our clothes her thigh never left contact with my cock. I robotically followed her lead, barely noticing that one song had ended and another slow song had begun. Had I been "with it" I might have realized that she was taking her sweet time maneuvering us to her table. It was long enough that I was fearful that I'd have a spontaneous ejaculation.

Finally we got near her table, and she broke close contact and led me by the hand over to where she had been sitting, and her wrap and purse were. As is common at "cause balls" most of the people sitting at her table had either left or were on the dance floor, so after she put her pashmina on she sat down and patted the adjacent seat. I sat down next to her and was instantly hit with a totally inappropriate question for someone I had met five minutes ago.

"So why shouldn't I be unequivocally flattered that your cock got instantly stiff when you contacted me?"

I know that I was sweating as I stared into her eyes. From our dance and my view of her as she led me to the table I knew that not only was her face beautiful but that she had a consummate ass and legs - and then, of course, there was that really nice and large left tit (which I assumed had a matching right one). She seemed to be about five - ten years younger than I was - either that or she was very, very well preserved.

"Uh...I'm not sure that I'm comfortable talking about it with a stranger," I mumbled as sweat did pour from my forehead into my right eye.

"Then let's not be strangers," she chimed. "I'm Alicia," she announced with a smile while holding out her right hand. My first crush in grade school was the only other Alicia I had ever known; I had wanted to name my daughter Carolyn that, but my wife had other ideas. It's funny how something that is a coincidence like that can break down barriers.

I extended my hand and with a smile replied "I'm Braxton."

"Fancy name," she chuckled. "There is a Braxton Winston that is one of the underwriters of this soiree; is that you?"

"Guilty," I replied, noticing that she had not yet released my hand.

"Well so nice to meet you, Braxton, and thank you for the lovely party - and the free drinks," she giggled, still holding onto my hand. "Now that we're no longer strangers, scoot your chair closer to mine and tell me about that instant boner."

Either this woman was drunker than she appeared to be, or she was the freest spirit that I had ever met; maybe both at the same time!

"I really wouldn't want this repeated," I mumbled.

"I'm an armchair shrink," she chuckled, "I'm sworn to secrecy."

Even though more sweat was rolling into my eyes I actually told her my problem. "I haven't had sex with my wife but ten times in the last five years, and none in the last two, because she cut me off. She refuses to acknowledge that she has a problem and won't see anyone about it; and I haven't cheated, so I haven't gotten laid in 719 days - approximately! When I started dancing with you it was the first close contact that I've had with a beautiful woman in almost that long!"

She laughed when I said "approximately." "Are you sure that it wasn't 716 days?" she chuckled, and then got serious. She first wiped the sweat off of my brow with a napkin from the table then continued.

"Is your wife having an affair?"

"No, I had her thoroughly checked out over a three month period and she definitely is not. In fact the P.I. told me that she was their most boring subject ever."

"So why haven't you cheated?"

"I have two wonderful kids and am not the best actor or most discrete guy in the world, and I'm afraid that if I was exposed that I'd lose the great relationship I presently have with them."

"So is her attitude even if I don't want you no one else can have you either?"

"Unfortunately - yes. I've hinted around that subject in many conversations we've had where I tried to get her to see a professional, and the vibes I got were bad; really bad."

Even though Alicia had been serious a big smile suddenly came across her face. "You know what, Braxton; this may be your lucky night?"

"How so?" I asked, puzzled.

"I may have the answer to your problem."

"Are you a real shrink, not just an armchair one?"

"No, I'm a married, horny, completely discrete, sex-machine, modern day Courtesan. I just happen to be in the market for a new lover - since I never have more than one at a time."

I was floored. I started looking around. "Are you here with your husband?"

"Hell no; she's off on business."

"Are you poor?"

"Actually, I don't have as much disposable income as I really need or want, but my husband is filthy rich. Unfortunately he is an ass, control freak, legendary cheapskate, and impotent, otherwise I wouldn't be a Courtesan."

Undoubtedly slack-jawed, I gawked at her for the longest time. She stared back, unblinking, with a devilish grin on her face. Finally I said "You're not kidding, are you?"

"I've never been more serious," she said, her grin gone. "I can tell that there is some interest on your part - let me peak it," she said, her wicked grin returning.

With that she stood up, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the hotel ball room to a nearby empty small conference room with no windows. She turned on the light, moved me in front of her with her back to the door, dropped her pashmina, quickly unbuttoned her blouse, and wiggled out of her skirt. Since she had no underwear on she was then completely naked (except for her four inch heels) and - without question - the sexiest looking woman that I'd ever seen in my life. She did a slow pirouette, first to the left, then to the right, so that I got a good look.

My eyes were popping out of my head, my sweating started up again, my brain was overloaded - and then she approached me. While gazing into my eyes like a cobra would its prey she quickly fished my dick out, gave it a dozen quick strokes, and my cum jetted out seemingly at a hundred miles per hour, splashing against her stomach, hips and pussy. When I was drained she flipped my cock back into my pants, zipped me up (difficult to do since I was still hard), made a production of with a finger swishing up some of my cum from her body, and then cleaning the cum off her finger as she pursed her ruby lips around it. If I hadn't just cum I would have spontaneously ejaculated!

Then she undid my tie, wiped the rest of the cum that I had shot on her body off of her, and tucked the tie in the side pocket of my suit jacket. "A souvenir," she chuckled.

She turned, bent over to be sure that I got a good look at her ass and pussy peeking out from between her legs, picked up her clothes and then deliberately got dressed while staring and me and talking at the same time.

"I can tell by your reaction that you're hooked. When we get back to the table I'll give you my burner cellphone number; give me a call on Monday at 10:00 a. m. and I'll make arrangements to meet you and explain how it will work," she said, securing the last button on her blouse as she finished.

She took me by the hand, turned off the light, led me in my zombie-like state back to the table, wrote her cellphone number and "Alicia" on a piece of paper, and tucked it into my interior suit jacket pocket.

Another slow song had just started so she led me back onto the dance floor - I was powerless to do anything but follow her lead - and shoved her right thigh between my legs as she melted into my arms. "The fact that your cock is still hard means that we'll have lots of fun in the future," she giggled into my ear.

After another slow dance she looked at her watch, and smiled as she said "My husband's limo is picking me up in five minutes. Don't forget to call at 10:00 a. m. sharp on Monday - I'll be waiting - naked!"

After a quick kiss on my lips, she retrieved her pashmina and purse from the table, and with a couple of provocative ass wiggles for my benefit was gone.

You better believe that I spanked the monkey that night - not as nice as when Alicia did it, but still rewarding as I fantasied about stroking my cock between her marvelous massive honkers as she moaned and groaned.

* * * * *

Sunday I was unable to concentrate on anything except Alicia's tits and pussy. Emily was still ill so I took that opportunity to do something completely mindless, and that would help get my mind out from between Alicia's legs. I took the kids to the zoo, then for ice cream, then to the park, and then to their favorite restaurant for dinner. They were completely wiped out by the time that we got home - in fact I had to carry my sleeping four and a half year old daughter Carolyn from the car into the house and her seven year old brother Bradley was almost asleep on his feet.

I stuck my head into Emily's room to tell her that we were home, had had fun, and to see how she was. "I'll be better by tomorrow morning," she told me.

Then I went into my room and spanked the monkey again, thinking about fucking Alicia doggy while I mauled her oversized mammary glands!

Of course I called promptly at ten Monday morning. She answered on the first ring.

"Hi Braxton; I like a prompt man."

"Oh, did I call exactly at ten?" I laughed.

"If you hadn't after Saturday night I would have concluded that you were either dead or gay - and most probably not gay," she laughed.

We made arrangements to meet at 1:00 p. m. at an out-of-the way hole in the wall restaurant about ten miles from my office. When I got there, Alicia already had a booth. She was dressed conservatively - for a Courtesan. She knew that she had an overabundance of sex appeal, and she apparently loved putting it on display!

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips as she stood to greet me, then as we sat down said "I hope you don't mind, but I've ordered you Today's Special; you'll like it!"

I'm not a picky eater, but I'd enjoy it even if it tasted like dog shit to be sure that I pleased her. That entire morning I had rarely thought of anything else except sex with her.

Alicia was friendly, but very professional, at the same time as she handed me a burner phone.

"Here's how it's going to work Braxton. We don't communicate except with these burner phones - I've already pre-programmed my burner phone's number into yours; it is speed dial #4. I've also had your phone programmed that when you call my number another number is displayed on your screen and reported to the carrier - a neat little trick that cost me $400. When I call you, on your display will be the words 'Chinese Restaurant.'"

I nodded my head as I turned the phone over in my hand.

"For any voice communications use the "distort" app on the phone and never, ever use either of our names. Also, all communications regarding time and place are in code. This document," she said as she handed me a two page printout, "has all of the codes on it. I suggest that you memorize them and then shred the document. Any codes hard to memorize you can input into your phone."

"Should I password protect it?" I asked.

"I've already done that; your password is 'GradeAPussy,' all one word, with the "G," "A," and "P" capitalized; that will be really easy for you to remember once you've fucked me," she replied with a smile.

I had no doubt of that as I again nodded my head affirmatively.

"The price per session is $1,000 payable in cash. During a session we can do almost anything that your little heart desires - unless you are a pain freak, or a total pervert, there is nothing that I won't do for you. A session will last between two and three hours - I'm not a clock-watcher when it comes to sex. If you're too busy to get two hours in you still pay $1,000, but after our first fuck I guarantee you that won't be a problem."

I smiled widely.

"Speaking of guarantees, if any sex session with me isn't better than any sex session you've ever had with any other woman in your life, then you owe nothing; but if you're an honest man you won't ever be invoking that guarantee. If we ever travel together you cover all of my expenses plus $1,000 per night."

After a pause during which we both were smiling she asked "Agreed?"

"Hell yes," I said holding out my hand for her to shake.

"I'd prefer to agree with a reciprocal genitals squeeze," she snickered as she reached her hand under the table and grabbed and shock my rock hard cock. I located her pussy and pinched it.

imhapless
imhapless
3,577 Followers