One Trick Penny - Chapter 1 - Sex Stories

One Trick Penny - Chapter 1

The Instigation I’ve worked as a prostitute for nearly a year and by my best estimate had performed two hundred seventy-five sex acts for money, or tricks as they are called. However, I’ve never had sexual contact with another man outside the bounds of my marriage. In fact, my husband has been the sole customer of my entire career as a “working girl," which is why I refer to myself as One-Trick Penny. Penny, of course, is not my real first name – it’s just that One-Trick Stella sounds silly. My life as a whore began about a year into my marriage. My husband, Dave, was ten years older and had been in the military for a decade before we met. He confessed to me that during his years in the Army, he was serviced by dozens of prostitutes, and he had a strong desire for what he termed, “transactional sex acts”; the kind of things most ‘decent women’ wouldn’t ordinary be willing to perform, or at least do as often as he wanted it. Dave had an extremely high sex drive. When we first married, we literally hit it two to three times a day – seven days a week. At first, I loved the passion and attention, but after a few months, I began to wear out and looked for excuses to avoid being fucked more than once a day. It came to a head on a Saturday afternoon. “No, not again,” I said as I saw the bulge in my husband’s briefs as he sprawled on the bed. He looked, for want of a better term, damn hot. His abs were a near-perfect six-pack, with chiseled facial features. Ordinarily, I’d have ...

... loved to have leaped onto his boner for an afternoon session, but he’d just nailed me for over an hour that morning. “Come on, Honey. My back is starting to hurt.” He looked disappointed and I felt guilty, as if I were ignoring my conjugal duties. “I’m really charged up. Couldn’t you help me out with a blow job?” “I gave you two last night. It still feels like I have your sperm caught in my throat.” This was a first for me. I’d never refused him a BJ before. The look on his face hurt me to the quick. Instead, I counter offered, “A hand job?” I sat on the bed next to him, with my bare legs crossed and began to stroke his nine incher through his black briefs. The fucking thing was rock hard and seemed eager to be handled, like a dog wanting to be petted. I hoped he'd roll back and relax. In a few minutes, I’d reached under the material of his briefs to continue to stroke it, until he exploded in a huge wad of gooey spunk that would cover my fingers. That’s not what happened. “I really want oral. I’ve been thinking about it for over an hour.” He began to move my hand from his crotch. “Sorry, I’m just not up for it. Maybe tonight,” I said. “Perhaps you can pleasure yourself, and I’ll watch. That would be hot for me.” I knew I was treading on dangerous territory. He might go for it or we might get into an argument. I was ready for either scenario. What he said next shocked me. “How about I pay you for a blow job? Two-hundred dollars. I want it that bad.” I began to stammer, “You want ...