My wife bored me, in bed and out. I was bored of her body, bored of her face, bored of the way she just lay there when I fucked her and seemed to put up with it rather than enjoy it.
I wanted adventure, youth, and novelty, and that’s why I started seeing escorts whenever I went out of town.
It started kind of mild, a strip club and a lap dance, then a hand job at a massage place, but then I wanted to fuck, and the parlors and spas gave way to sleazier joints, and then I got into ordering women online when I’d be staying in a hotel, and after a while that was just what I did when I had to travel for work, which was a lot.
It was great, it really was, and I nailed and got blown by some of the best-looking women I’ve ever talked to – flight attendants, waitresses and perfume girls included – sometimes even two at a time, both of them working the pole for tips.
In the year or so I was doing this I must have fucked three dozen women, and finally got my numbers up to where I felt they should be for a man of 50, albeit at considerable expense.
Then one day it all ended when my wife found out, and this is the story of that.