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I am a pretty average guy with two kids and a wife. We live in a small town in Nevada, about 30 miles outside of Las Vegas. If our story got out we would probably have to move. We have been married for over 10 years and our sex life was always boring. My wife Broomhilda (we will call her that) often joked, “I’ll face the wall and think of England.” She was a dead fish in bed and knew it. Don’t get me wrong, the dead fish thing will work if I just need a release. Sometimes I only want that warm wet place. All she had to do was lie still with her eyes closed, let me spread her legs, lube up and slip it in. She didn’t like anything about anal or giving or receiving oral sex. Boring missionary was about it. Her sex drive was low and getting lower over time. That is when I started fantasizing about Alison. It became a lot more than fantasy very soon. That is where my story really begins. Like us, Alison was married with two kids. She and her family lived across the cactus and mesquite lined streets of our quiet neighborhood of flat-roofed, slump-block, Santa Fe style houses. Her husband was a big jock type and I liked to imagine he couldn’t satisfy her. Alison was not a supermodel by any means, but had very nice silky toned legs and very nice ass that I could not help şişli escort but check out at the neighborhood pool. She was not thin, but not fat. She was a little bit of a jock, running, swimming, and biking. It showed in her toned thighs. She liked to lie out in their secluded backyard on a blanket to get some morning sun, before it got too hot. I could just see her from the corner of one out of the way window in my house. Several times I watched with binoculars and masturbated, thinking about slipping my hand in her bikini bottoms to discover how she was groomed. Alison and I talked at the school bus stop every morning Broomhilda worked (7 to 7 shifts in a hospital). Whenever she worked, I worked from home. At the bus stop the kids would play and we would just chat about little shit. Alison liked wearing form fitting tops, tight workout shorts and tennis shoes. Her shorts really showed off her beautiful ass and her tops emphasized her tits, which were small but perky. She had runner’s hips, not wide, but still feminine. She had a deep voice and deep southern accent with a quick smile. She was a Southern Belle transplanted to the desert. Normally, after the school bus takes the kids, Alison and I would chat briefly and then go back to our respective homes. mecidiyeköy escort I loved those chats and would sometimes masturbate when I got home thinking about Alison’s ass as she walked back down her driveway and into her garage. It wiggled just the right amount. She didn’t show it off, but clearly had a woman’s wiggle. With a dead fish of a wife and a hottie across the street, I masturbated a lot. One day after the school bus left, Alison mentioned that they were not taking a vacation that year, because money was tight. She and her husband were both in sales and it was not a great market. Absent mindedly, I said, “Well we live in Nevada. You could make a fortune.” I immediately regretted it. I had just told my neighbor she would make a great hooker. Yikes. Fortunately, she just laughed and we walked back to our houses. On her way into the garage, she turned her head and caught me checking out her ass. I think she grinned slightly and turned back. A few days later, back at the bus stop as usual we talked. When the bus took the kids, she didn’t start walking back. She said, “What did you mean I could make a fortune?” Uh oh. Maybe she really didn’t know what I meant. I just said, “I was joking, you know, about prostitution being legal here.” “Do guys really think that is attractive?,” she said a little shyly while wrinkling her eyebrows a little. It showed off her deep blue eyes in the morning sun. I said, “I wouldn’t say attractive, but I think it is true that every guy has a fantasy about paying for sex. You know, no strings attached, just, well, sex.” “I don’t think I could ever do that,” she said as she started to walk back. “I’m too much of a chicken. What if the guy was ugly?” Sensing a small opening, I said, “Well I think they get to choose. The high end ones anyway.” She is still very shy, but asks, “Have you ever done that? You know, paid for sex?” I told the truth, “No, but like I said, every guy has that fantasy. I’ve never acted on it. I’ve wanted to though.” “How much do you think they get paid, you know, for that?” I was getting hard now and hoping it didn’t show, “I don’t really know, but a women like you, a hot MILF? I bet you could get $500 for a 30 minute ‘date,’ so to speak.” She practically gasped and said in a hush tone as if neighbors could hear, “Are you serious?” She paused and then asked, “What is a MILF?” No matter what happened at this point, I would forever have a fantasy about taking this conversation to a fun conclusion. Time was right to test the waters, “Well it is a little vulgar, but MILF stands for Mother I’d Like to ‘F,’ you know.” She blushed a little, “Guys would really pay $500 for that … just for a quickie?” “God yes, with a woman like you.

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