I married a prostitute, and I didn't know it. A very rare, distasteful yet true story.
I married a prostitute and she never told me what her secret profession was. I should of realised when one morning after an amorous night, she asked to leave money on the dressing table. That was just over 14 months into the relationship.
She was short and bubbly, blonde, with a body to nearly die for. A near perfect ten for many men. And true, most men who saw her, wanted to take her to bed, unfortunately, most men did take her to bed whilst I was at work.
It is strange to get into a relationship with a woman who has been ridden more times than the New York Metro, and is still taking on new passengers.
I only managed to find out what she was up to whilst we were on honeymoon in the beautiful St. Lucia Islands. For the first time I answered her mobile phone whilst she was in the shower.
It was one of her 'regulars' calling from our hometown wanting to arrange an evening of entertainment. He asked for 'Charlie', which apparently was her nighttime name, and also the street name of a drug which she liked to use during her activities.
I knew nothing of her drug abuse, which included crack, nor her horizontal leg opening party tricks. She was a good liar and extremely believable.
During the two years we spent together prior to getting married, she would be in hospital on average once a month. This was through PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease), which she told me was a hereditary problem from her mother. I believed her, why not, I loved her.
Then I discovered that PID was a disease people get from having unprotected sex with a new partner. The words 'unprotected' and 'new partner' blew me away. So she was having unprotected sex with at least one new man every month. And of course a bus load of men were have normal protected sex with her.
Off to the hospital I go to discover that she has lovingly given me hepatitis 'C' for Christmas. I would of preferred a book token.
And every time I was at the hospital comforting her and making sure that she had everything that she needed like a dutiful partner or mug.
Drugs and Kids
Maybe I should of put my foot down with her harder, but I believe in freedom, but now only to a certain extent.
She came home at 6.00am one morning after going to a club with her friends, or so I thought. She had taken crack.
Now this was the first time that I have ever met a person on crack and how insatiable their sex drive is at this point. During our morning friskiness, she smoked a few cigarettes, flicked through the TV channels, and read a magazine. This was whilst I was hammering away. I must be really crap in the bedroom department. But she was oblivious to it all.
Later that day she stabbed me in my private area with a fork, and drew blood. Because she thought I had stolen her tomato ketchup ? I never take drugs and am not used to people in my life who do.
I also discovered after the ill fated honeymoon, that she had given birth to a baby girl, 5 years before she had met me, but she never told me. She had given her up for adoption due to the fact that the dad could have been one of many different men, and the baby would of got in the way of her life style.
This is not easy to say and it left me feeling violated like nothing else has done. During our relationship and her many adventures with sausages of all nationalities, we still had our moments in the bedroom.
But to be honest, I would of expected more activity and emotion if I had known what she was doing during my working hours. But I suppose I would of got more if I paid her in cash.
One fine day she came home quite early after visiting a 'sick friend'. She wanted to go to bed with me and do what comes naturally between a man and a woman. All fine and dandy on my behalf and I raised to the occasion.
During our time in the bed, my tongue was touching a certain part of her anatomy. But there was this unusual taste. I have never tasted anything quite like it.
I tasted again just to make sure that the pungent odour was not anything to do with me. It wasn't. Two days later she was back in hospital with PID.
That meant that within an hour before she got home, she had had unprotected sex with another man and I had been drinking his fluid from the fun factory between her legs.
I may just of well of gone round to his house and eaten his sausage for him and missed out the middle woman.
This is a true story. Although it pains me to say that there were early signs of something wrong within the relationship which I did not act upon.
She did tell me that she was not a prostitute, but an escort. She admitted having sex with her clients for money and some other types of 'happy endings', but still insisted that she was never into prostitution.
She never trawled the streets seeking clients and she never looked like a typical streetwise hooker. She was simply a very nice looking woman whom you could meet anywhere.
Like the time she went to a funeral and ended up cheating on me again, but I know at this stage that she did not charge him as she also gives freebies, apparently.
As we were splitting up, I went away to my sisters for a break. I came back and found my home only had curtains and a bit of garden furniture left. She had run off with a drug dealer whom I had unwittingly drank from earlier on.
I was left in debt, no furniture, diseased, and still with a foul taste in my mouth. I would of gone with her to marriage counselling, but didn't for fear of her sleeping with him.
It could of all been different if she was honest with me when we first met. Please note at no time did I assault her nor pay her for services rendered. If I had of paid her I may be asking for a refund. I have no problems with ladies of the night as long as I am told about their sausage habits prior to marrying them.
Be careful if you meet an amazing looking short blonde woman, about 40 years of age, who travels extensively across the globe, but now lives just outside London.
If anyone needs relationship advice, please do not ask me.
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