More Money

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All I had to do was open our bank account to find out the truth. The prompt waiting for my password and seven digit access code were the only protection our marriage had. Emiti tried not to watch me as I fumbled around our desk looking for my phone so I could synch the account.

Three years ago we’d lost our jobs and our health benefits. We didn’t lead a lavish life but Emiti needed her monthly treatments from the specialty hospital and they were expensive. Traditional contract work wasn’t enough to cover our expenses and her care so we had to get creative.

We tried a number of creative ways to earn money but the path that brought us the most success was fucking online. At the offhand suggestion of one of our fellow church members we studied every platform in homemade porn distribution. We had personality and were fun to watch so we made a go of it with an anonymous app. Our faces and tattoos were digitally replaced/hidden. Even after the healthy percentage of profits taken by the app Emiti said this was our best bet.

I trusted Emiti with all of our accounting details because she studied finance in university. She was the focused student and I was there to play ball. No surprise that this pairing became our online persona. Dumb jock and nerdy girlfriend. We aesthetically fit the stereotype and ran with it.

In the beginning we were a bit shy on camera – mostly missionary and a few handjobs. Then Emiti accidentally posted the night we fucked standing up. I was behind her and she was grinding on me like the stripper we both knew she could have been. The video ends with her quite enthusiastic orgasm and my hard dick menacing the camera. I must have turned off the recording while I was being silly so we didn’t get the shot of me coming in her mouth. That’s why we didn’t plan on uploading the footage.

We assumed the spike in numbers was due to Emiti’s exuberant performance until we noticed a trend in the comments starting with a well-known anonymous account that pondered the question, “Ladies, who will be woman enough to finish him?”

Over the next few hours we laughed as the video numbers kept trending up, but it was the next morning of DM’s that had Emiti planning our next theatrical offerings.

We had instinctively prepared ourselves for the onslaught of pervy guys looking to pleasure themselves to Emiti, but the overwhelming response was of women who wanted to volunteer to ‘finish’ me.

So that became Emiti’s directorial theme for the next two months: her uncontrollable orgasms and my unsatisfied dick.

In reality we both almost always came, but our edits had me stroking my still-hard dick while she trembled in her own disgusting satisfaction.

For six months we were doing incredibly well as women by the thousands waged online plots to see me come. In a stroke of genius, Emiti had replaced all of our early content with edits that removed my orgasms. My blue balls were becoming internet famous.

We watched as the eyeballs, comments and cash rolled in.

Until, like most things viral, it stopped rolling in.

Every good run comes to an end. This was ours.

While I focused on other ways beyond porn that we could earn money, Emiti was stuck on our viral success. For weeks she tried to reignite our fan base with videos of her neglecting my hard dick while she teased and stroked me. She wasn’t going for humiliation but she thought that the real connection was the desire to solve my inability to orgasm.

While the numbers agreed with her in theory, the algorithm had moved on and we never saw those mountainous numbers we were getting early on.

But Emiti found what she looking for in the comments of loyal watchers.

“Maybe,” Emiti slowly offered, “you could give some of them their wish.”

My eyebrows must have hit the ceiling as I accepted in disbelief what she was proposing.

“Hear bursa eskort me out,” Emiti said while she pulled my pants down. Whenever she wanted me to do something I wasn’t excited about doing she would simply stroke my dick while she explained her request.

Worked every time. Every fucking time.

“I will reach out to some of the more articulate women in the chats and DMs to vet the serious ones,” Emiti explained as her soft hands explored behind my balls. “I’ll set the price astronomically high so you won’t have to do it often and I’ll meet them prior to the event to make sure they are your type and to collect the money.”

I tried to process her plan but she’d moved on to a steady stroke and her head was lowering as though my ‘yes’ would trigger the jump from innocent handjob to finishing blowjob.

But this request was beyond average so my focus was more resolute. I wouldn’t break that easily.

“So,” I responded, “you’d be pimping me out.”

My assumption was that my specific wording would conjure up an understanding of negativity and reluctancy but I couldn’t have been further from the truth. I unwisely believed that the use of the root word ‘pimp’ would begin a dialogue.

Apparently, my statement was simply a confirmation because Emiti’s reaction was “Exactly!” with a smile followed by T he most victorious blowjob I’d ever been given in the history of her conquering me.

Weeks later we’d booked our first client. While I cooked and cleaned Emiti corresponded with dozens of leads to find a few willing to pay heavily for the privilege of setting me straight. I laughed at the casualness with which she sold my dick to strangers.

There were the caregivers who only wanted to make me happy. There were the bosses who thought I was being mismanaged. And there were the curious who wanted to solve me like a riddle or a puzzle.

Emiti scheduled some from each column.

Day-by-day she would go meet with women to close deals while I hit the gym and ate healthy. We still filmed the occasional video but I worried that sex was becoming a little too mechanical between us as I began to receive direction in satisfying potential clients more than helping Emiti get her rocks off.

“Glynda is going to want you to pull her braids like this” and “Yula says she doesn’t like her ass grabbed too roughly.”

A couple of times I interrupted her during an explanation of how I was supposed to entertain a specific client. Before she could continue with her instructions I’d flip her over and fuck her from behind until she forgot what point she was trying to make.

“You always hated studying!” Emiti would bark back over her shoulder as I fucked her senseless.

We both usually came extremely hard from that bit if magic.

On the afternoon of my first appointment – Emiti chose afternoons because we fucked in the morning and made love at night so that was our time – Emiti had a nervousness I wasn’t expecting.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” I told her as I stroked her knee. “I’ve lined up a backup job at the-“

But Emiti placed her finger over my mouth.

“This morning the client made an additional request at the last moment,” Emiti explained. “She wants me to stay in the room because she’s nervous.”

“Oh,” I responded.

“She said that my strength made her feel safe,” Emiti said as she smiled at the irony.

“Honestly,” I replied without hesitation, “I think I’d like to have you in the room, too.”

Emiti looked up with thankful eyes as though I’d freed her from making a decision she was incapable of rendering.

Those eyes were more commanding when I exited the shower in our four-star suite at the boutique hotel overlooking the river. Emiti held my hand as we walked in the bedroom where Anna – not her real name – waited patiently underneath the sheets. All we knew was that Anna bursa escort bayan was from Thailand and her banking husband suggested she find alternative ways of satisfying her sexual needs because he was too busy with work.

Emiti, dressed in lingerie and a robe, placed herself in the far corner of the room where the seating area was draped by curtains so her silhouette was all that we could see.

As I turned my attention to Anna I realized that she was probably no taller than 5′ 3″ and extremely athletic. Her hair was neatly wrapped above her shoulders. When she rose to her knees in front of me on the bed I assumed she would be shy.

Until she grabbed me by my limp dick and pulled me quite forcibly onto the bed.

“I promise that after you satisfy me,” Anna explained in her British-schooled accent, “I will do everything in my power to satisfy you.”

My back was to the seating area and I couldn’t focus on my satisfaction without knowing how my wife was handling another woman handling her man. As beautiful as Anna was I couldn’t get hard.

For a second I was getting in my head about whether I was going to be able to consummate this service arrangement.

“Looks like I’m going to have to work harder to get us where we need,” Anna declared as she spun me around onto the bed onto my back. When she dropped her head into my lap I saw that the silhouette in the corner had her heels pulled up on the couch and her hands between her legs.

I may have underestimated how into this business Emiti had become.

“There you go!” Anna remarked as my dick seemingly responded to her tongue.

I realized Emiti wasn’t going to give the satisfaction of making eye contact with me, but I knew her satisfaction was going to come from me pleasing Anna. Part of Emiti’s delight came from the sex but part of her happiness came from my being attentive to the lessons she provided.

So I gave Anna everything she’d requested in her interview.

For the first half hour I practically laid still while Anna explored my body with her hands and mouth. She had only ever been with her husband and he had shown her very little appreciation in the bedroom. He’d fuck her but never enjoy the intimacy. She’d secretly hoped he had another lover or was gay, but the private investigator she hired returned the ugly truth – he preferred work to her.

So I let Anna explore me until she was content.

That’s when our director came over to the bed and undid the knot on Anna’s hair. Emiti smiled at me before returning to her spot on the couch. I noticed her panties were no longer a part of her ensemble just before my chin was pulled in another direction.

Sweet Anna was now a demon with her hair down to her ass.

The tender throat that had been massaging my dick was replaced with a menacingly drenched pussy that straddled me like an octopus.

I felt slightly terrorized as Anna rode my dick like she’d just been released from a women’s prison.

Her orgasms were fast and frequent and I was just pillow princing with an occasional glance to see if the silhouette in the corner was enjoying the show.

But just as I thought I wasn’t really going to enjoy Anna enough to come, she lifted her legs to either side and positioned herself like a gymnast on my dick. With her toes pointed to either side she began rotating above my body like I was a pommel horse.

Fuck!

Her hands alternated from my knees to my chest as she spun herself into a pussy tornado and I fucking lost it.

I began to come inside her as she spun and that made her start to orgasm and apparently she couldn’t do both.

The next thing I knew Anna flew off my dick and off the bed and onto the floor.

Bam!

I sat up to see if she was okay.

“Fucking amazing!” Anna shouted as she jumped back onto the bed with both feet görükle escort like Spider-girl. “We will do this again and soon!”

And as though she had a helicopter on the roof waiting for her, Anna grabbed her dress and purse and bounced out of the suite.

No goodbye or clean up. Just fucking left.

Naked.

I was in shock and covered in our come.

Emiti walked over in laughter as she toweled me off. “Are you okay?” she asked as she checked her phone.

“Did you see that performance?” I responded as Emiti handed me her phone.

There was a text from Anna: Better than I imagined! You are so lucky! I’ll be thinking about his dick for the next month!

As I began to come to my senses and rollover and head for the shower, Emiti pushed me back down.

“I am very lucky but I’m not sure about this,” Emiti whispered into my ear as she straddled me back down onto the bed. She had thoroughly wiped me down with the towel but I still felt like a mess. Emiti began stroking my limp dick like she wasn’t finished even though I was sweaty and dripping.

But I got the feeling that Emiti wanted me that way.

“I can’t believe you just let her fuck you like that,” Emiti snarled in my ear.

My dick twitched in her hands.

“Truth is,” I whispered in her ear as her hard nipples brushed up against my chest. “Her pussy was soooooo fucking wet.”

Emiti mounted my semi-hard dick and began to grind on me.

“How…wet?” Emiti whispered back as she held me tight.

I slowly rocked back and forth with her.

“Very…wet,” I responded.

Not exactly Shakespeare but points were made.

Emiti trembled against me as I held her on top of me.

We collapsed on the bed and woke before sunset.

Every other week for two years Emiti and I entertained clients in that suite.

Every other week I’d discover some new trick intended to make me come like I’d never come before. And while each tactic was impressive I don’t think I would have gotten hard if not for the silhouette in the seating area.

This was more than a viral internet thing. This was real. This was connection. This was magical.

Until I accidentally opened the letter from the hospital. There was a card. To us. A congratulatory card. From the doctors. From the nurses.

“A year of recovery!” Is what the front read.

So that was the card that Emiti read when she returned from another client meeting. I’d centered the card on our coffee table so she couldn’t miss it.

I heard Emiti fall into our couch as I sat at the desk with our laptop open to our bank login.

We sat quietly for an eternity.

“Vivian is quite nice,” Emiti announced.

I could hear an uneasiness in her voice. It was new. It was fear.

“She’s taller than I expected,” Emiti continued.

You could hear the birds chirping outside.

“I hope you’ll like her as much as I did,” Emiti kept on.

I could feel her fear.

Then I could feel my heart making a decision.

I closed the laptop and turned to the love of my life on the couch. Emiti was staring into space.

“I trust that you know what we like,” I answered.

Emiti’s eyes closed and a tear fell down her cheek.

“And I will, without hesitation, proceed to do whatever we like,” I finished as I wiped away the tears that began to roll down her face.

As soon as I sat next to Emiti she jumped on top of me and held me tight. She stopped her tears and looked me in the eyes as I smiled.

“We like making stupid amounts of money satisfying deserving women,” Emiti started. “And we like being healthy.”

I laughed as she smiled and teared up a little more.

“And we like never having to talk about how obsessed we are with you fucking other women in front of me,” Emiti said as she stared into my unblinking eyes.

The silence was gentle. The truth was that my love was healthy and my love was happy. That’s all that ever mattered.

“We promise,” I said as I clasped my hands in hers. “We promise to love what we like. No questions asked.”

The tears were gone. The smiles were frozen.

And we fucked like nothing else mattered.

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