TEN DOLLAR WHORE
(mf, whores)

TEN DOLLAR WHORE

Being a married man for some time now, I have
found myself gradually more and more unhappy with
my sex life. When dating, my now wife and I would
fuck like rabbits. The first day I met her, we dry
humped on the hood of my car in full sight of all
of our mutual friends saying goodbye (we lived in
different states, and did not really expect to see
each other again, and we were just fooling
around.)

The second time, years later, We were screwing in
a tent, which I helped her set up within a
half-hour of laying eyes on each other. On
visiting her (which happened several times over
the next year) We would make love a couple dozen
times over the few days we were together, and
spend much of the remaining time fondling each
other; I particularly recall watching television
with her sitting on my lap and my hands inside her
blouse for hours regardless of whether her
roommate was in the room or not.



When she moved in with me, though, things took a
turn for the worse. Sex was a once a day affair
for some months, and then less frequent.
Eventually we married, and after an astonishing
honeymoon (twice a day for a week) things dropped
off still further, to once a week and not at all
during her period. As the years passed, this
dropped to once a month, and often now not even
then; the situation must be right, as well as the
hormonal boost in mood of some part of her female
cycle.

My sex drive has remained very high, though, and
I've indulged myself with magazines, videotapes,
and more recently the web, masturbating once or
twice daily except near that portion of the cycle
when I might expect to "get lucky." I found that
my performance would suffer if I had not had a dry
spell of a day or more, and the prospect of the
real thing was worth a few days abstinence.

Lest you misunderstand, the lack of activity is
almost solely the domain of my wife; I find her as
attractive today as ever, just less and less
available, a situation my married friends all
seem to share. Too, although I make it seem
formal, none of this was set out in any
discussion, it simply evolved, my wife took less
and less interest, turned me down more and more
often, I learned most of the time not to ask,
rather than be not only turned down, I even tried
nagging, which resulted in even less success. A
gradual decline, negative reinforcement, and
observation of trends (a married man learns to be
aware of the PMS cycle at any rate, and this
worked on a similar part of the monthly ebb and
flow...) led to our sad state of affairs.



More desperate for satiation of late, I have begun
frequenting first strip clubs, where naked women
would take an interest in me at the paltry price
of a dollar a dance on stage, or a few times a
night a more personal striptease for a five or
(times change) a ten.

After this, I began visiting "modeling studios" as
a capper for the evening, where $30 would buy a
private room and progressive tips of fives (as
many as a dozen, in some cases) buys progressively
lewder private dancing, and verbal encouragement
while I masturbate. No contact, regardless of what
might be implied by comeons of the "I'll do more
for more money, honey" sort (and I went overboard
to the tune of a couple hundred dollars a couple
times before learning this.)

Having realized that I was in fact willing to pay
for physical contact, both as a moral choice and
from an economic standpoint, I tried Massage
parlors next. For around $50 for 45 minutes, I
found I could receive a nice massage, naked, from
a naked women, who for another $30 or so would
gratify me with her hand, or more exotically and
for a little more cash between her breasts, which
has always been a fantasy act of mine.



In one case, I humped the tight closed, oiled
thighs of my masseuse, while another offered
amongst some choices early in my massage
experiences the cheeks of her ass. I went with the
breasts with her, and I've never heard that offer
again, I'm not sure how it would go, and don't
want to try it with someone who doesn't number it
amongst her usual bag of tricks...

At any rate, I found in my wanderings that the
Asian health spas offer a wider menu than the no
penetration "release" provided by Massage parlors,
For $60 the hour, similar services to the above
are offered, no tip necessary, but for another $60
the girl would actually blow me, rolling on a
condom with her mouth, or for a hundred would
actually fuck. Skill varies, as does the
attractiveness of the women involved, and the
actual prices, but this is fairly typical.

At first I was very excited by the exotic nature
of my partners, but oddly the strictly Asian
nature somehow became boring, familiarity breeding
contempt I guess.



Instead of being willing (as I would have in a
free choice market) to pay extra for this touch of
the exotic, I began to seek a venue where I could
have a blonde, or a black woman, like I had
experienced in the strip clubs, Jack Shacks, and
Massage parlors. I've seen claims of this working
as something called "in-call" but never managed to
find it in any area I frequented.

What did work was "escort." Getting a hotel room
(usually around $50) and calling a service, I
could order, within reason, a girl of any
description, who would be sent to me for a fee
ranging from $100 to $200. As the girl herself
receives around a quarter of this, she isn't
willing to do anything but perhaps a light
seminude massage for that amount, regardless of
what the ad might imply.

But for one or two hundred more for herself,
she'll fuck, suck, play games; far more variety
than the oriental fucky-sucky on a narrow massage
table, and you have a bed, some chairs, the
bathtub to play in.



Now to my point. I have certainly become more
successful in my business as the years have
passed, but I went from frequent free sex with the
woman of my dreams (we really never spent more
than a few bucks on dinner, maybe caught a dollar
movie or two...) to $2 rental videos, to $40 for
an evening with the strippers, to $60 on average
at the "lingerie" rooms, to $90 for the Massage,
to $120 for Asian blowjobs, $150 for "full
service" and finally $250 to $400 for the escorts.

This successful I'm not, $400 is a serious chunk
of change, and I can't afford it more than a few
times a year, less frequently than I get to screw
my wife, in fact! I fill in with the cheaper
options, to be sure, including of course the
astonishingly free action available on the web,
but it isn't really what I'd call satisfying. Fun,
but not fulfilling.

Now for the interesting part. Through a few
accidents of timing, several of those rare sexual
encounters with my wife suffered failure, as they
occurred in the morning after I had spent half the
night jerking off to stories or a particularly
exciting movie.



I had grown careless about the timing on these
occasions, I was unable to muster an orgasm, even
wilting before bringing my wife off, or on one
occasion failing to rise at all. Not things which
had never occurred before, and I knew well the
cause, though I kept it, by and large (and
certainly the more seamy aspects of my hobby) from
my wife.

This time, though, the incidents occurred in a
string, with only one or two successes over the
run of the year. At the same time, a new drug was
released on the market, to great fanfare in the
press, articles in the paper, news stories, the
cover of time: Viagra.

Late one night, in a hotel room washing up after a
particularly wretched romp with an escort girl who
did not come up to her description, overcharged,
and delivered lackluster service at best, an idea
came to me.

I made an appointment with my doctor, and spoke of
my decision with my wife. I claimed that I had
realized I was suffering from erectile
dysfunction. Of course that run of ill-timed
lapses served as proof.



I was easily able to fool the doctor, who,
contrary to what you may have read, was actually
not terribly interested in discussing the lurid
details; with no physical exam (I had resigned
myself to this and other indignities, and found
the lack a profound relief.) he prescribed the
pills.

This has been the greatest discovery of my life. I
take the pill, making it clear to my wife that I'm
somewhat uncomfortable with the whole thing, shy
about my disjunction and so forth. An hour or so
later, I can approach my wife, sure of her hearty
cooperation.

Once she gets going, she has always been a willing
and even eager partner. Getting her started was
always the problem. Now, she's on the spot, she
knows I've taken the pill, that I'm working on my
personal discomfort for the mutual improvement of
our love life. The decision is made while she
isn't in the mood, since there must be a lag
before effectiveness.

Thinking about it for an hour or more seems to
prime the pumps. I am enjoying daily, even twice
within the four-hour span on more than one
occasion, the sort of wonderful sex we had more
than a decade ago.



I've actually noticed a slight improvement in my
own performance, positions I found less thrilling,
which might have put me off my game now work quite
well. As a result, we try more and more varied
positions, which helps stave off the boredom that
was one factor of our sexual decline. It's like
being twenty and newly in lust again.

The pills cost $10 each. I spend around $250 a
month, less than a single evening with a high
priced escort. And I don't have to hide the
expense, making it possible to spend far more. I
even get to take the damn things off my taxes as a
medical expense.