12 My Husband Has Sex with Other Girls

So, the Prostitute and I come up with a plan: whenever Otis and I have sex, I will let the Prostitute take over my body.

I’m cooking some soup. Otis peers his head into the kitchen, “Wow, smells good. I’m so hungry!” Men! They’re always hungry.

We sit down to eat and he speaks up in his best voice. “Well, you know, I’ve been thinking… you’re really enjoying your new life without sex and I really appreciate and respect that but I also want to enjoy myself in the way I need to.” My ears perk up and I look at him. He continues, “I think you should let me sleep with other girls.”

My eyes bulge out and a high pitch scream comes out of my mouth, “WHAT? What did you say? Huh?! Sex with other girls?” The Witch lowers her voice to a growl, “NO! No way! Forget it now! I warn you!”

I’ve been pushed aside by the Black Witch. This witch can suddenly take over center stage. I’ve got to learn to be more careful.

Otis braces up for battle. “I love you a lot and this is not about my love for you. I like and enjoy sex and shouldn’t be denied it just because you don’t want it. In old China, a man had many wives for that reason. If one wife was not in the mood there were other wives to do the job. It’s New Reality now–there should be more goodness, not less goodness than in the old days!”

In those days, the best situation for a prostitute was to be bought by a rich man. There was always a “First Wife” who was from a wealthy family. When the man became tired of his actual wife, he bought more girls who then became his “Second Wife,” “Third Wife” and so on. He would buy a girl from a pimp and sometimes there would be a private ceremony to make the prostitute officially his wife. The Emperor himself had three thousand wives.

I could become the “First Wife” who allows my husband to have more wives. Hum, maybe this man is not as stupid as I think he is.

My body instantly feels softer and warmer and my voice goes all velvety. “Well, that could…hmm…” I drop my eyelids and bat my eyes.

“Of course, I know you’ll do it for me.” He sighs coyly as if he’s making a very difficult decision. He’s a great actor, he should be famous!

I smile, “We can give it a try. Just don’t tell me about it!”

“Oh, yes.” He stuffs a big spoonful of soup into his mouth to keep from yelling out loud in jubilation.

I look at him. I can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. My young lover. Men…they are still largely in the Neanderthal stage.

It’s very late at night and I’m doing a yoga inversion; head over heels. Inversions are very good for keeping breasts high and tight. All day long gravity pulls boobs down one way, so at night, it’s good to let them fall the other way.

While I’m upside down, I see Otis come in. There is a stupid grin on his face and right away, I know what has happened! I’m very educated in reading faces. I know what men look like after they ejaculate. They get a case of “stupid grin face” and this man has a big “stupid grin face.”

I say, “OH!”

Otis says, “Do you want to know about it?”

I exit the pose and put on a dress. I don’t feel like being naked while he tells me this stuff. Otis follows me while talking excitedly, “So, I was at the gym and there was this girl who I think is Iranian. She’s very beautiful. She was wearing a Lululemon top and I said, ‘Isn’t that a very expensive top?’ She said, ‘Yes…'”

The Witch pushes in and yells,”SAY NO MORE! NO!”

Otis begs, “I really want to tell you.”

I cover my ears and yelp, “LA LA LA LA LA! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

Otis sighs, “So jealous!”

A few nights later, I’m in my bed eating white chocolate truffles. I’ve already had about ten round balls and I’m thinking about that pint of ice cream in the freezer when Otis comes in–one look at my man and it is clear that he’s got that stupid post-ejaculation face.

Otis says, “Will you please, please, please let me tell you what happened? You just won’t believe this!”

“Alright, I just ate a lot of goodies. I can take it. I’ll let you tell me.” This man wants to tell me everything that happens to him and so something as important as having sex with other girls is no exception.

Otis says, “I think she is only 20.”

The Witch hisses, “Too much detail!” Even though I said he can have sex with other girls, it’s still painful to hear. I punch him in the stomach! Otis doubles over in pain.

I push the Witch aside, apologize with a voice covered in honey and touch him with my warm palms. “Oh, my dear man, I’m so sorry. I just can’t control myself.”

Otis tells me, he will not be home for dinner after the gym. He winks and elbows me, “Ya know…” I wish he wouldn’t elbow me like I am his buddy. Doesn’t he know that I am his wife and that this new situation is really hard on me?! After he leaves, I have to calm down the Witch. Somehow, anger and sex are strangely connected like twin sisters.

He comes home at three in the morning and wakes me up, dripping with the smell of cum and sweat. He asks me again, “Do you want me to tell you what happened?” I’m his best friend and so I understand his need to share this kind of story.

I say, “Alright, I should really be more mature and let you share with me. So, go ahead.”

Otis says, “Magdalena.”

“MAGAAAAAADAAAAAAALEEEEEEEEEENA!?” Magdalena is my nineteen year-old friend. She’s a very beautiful and muscular half-Mexican, half-Filipino girl. “You are sleeping with my girlfriends now? Shouldn’t you or SHE, for that matter, ask me for permission?”

Otis says, “She did ask me if it would be okay with you. I told her about our arrangement; that you are celibate and have no interest in sex but don’t want to hold me back from my needs. Magdalena thinks you are so progressive and she really admires you for it.”

I roll my eyes at the ceiling. “Well, at least I’ve got Magdalena respecting me for my courage. This makes me feel good. This really makes me a pioneer in New Reality love. But I wish she would have called me to get my blessing.”

Otis says, “Can you imagine how tasteless that would make our sex? It’s like asking permission from your mother?”

“Oh dear, I guess you are right,” I acknowledge. I’m sure quick sex without responsibility with a married man is very exciting, especially if the man’s wife is your friend. I hear the Witch mumbling, “She gave me the finger! I’m going to chop her head off.”

Otis crawls into bed, satisfied by our conversation and spoons my body. I scream, “Get out! Get out! Go take a shower!”

The poor man runs off to the bathroom and as I watch him run away, I can tell that he is actually very happy with his life with me.

Sharing has its benefits.

My New Reality man wants to try buying sex. He has never had sex with a hooker.

I ask, “Is it safe?” The Prostitute in me remembers, “In my day, the back alley brothels gave you stuff that could kill you. I worked in a high class place so Ah-Ma checked us every month to make sure we didn’t have diseases.”

Otis laughs, “Oh, you’re so old fashioned!”

If only he knew that I am from 1852!

It turns out that, in this new age, there are websites where you can review and rate women and men just like on Yelp, which helps you find the perfect restaurant in the perfect location for the perfect price. You can find sex in exactly the way you like it. You can have it in any which way. I’m amazed as I help Otis do his online research.

And so, just one day later Otis has a prostitute come over.

I’m sewing a new handkerchief using my sewing machine. With it, I can sew straight lines and that’s enough to make pillow cases, curtains, napkins, table cloths, scarves and shawls. I’ve no desire to do any more than that. In this life, I don’t want to do anything I don’t want to do. Everything must equal ease, joy and happiness or I won’t do it.

From time to time, my eyes dart toward Otis’s studio across the yard. It’s been at least one hour since the “session” began. It must be so good.

I find myself a bit saddened. I’ve heard other women say that sex gets better after 50. Not for me. While I am glad that I lost the desire to have sex, I still wonder what it’s all about. All I know is, my body doesn’t feel it. I can’t fight my body. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I’m doing a disservice to myself and to the health of my lover. Maybe I’m ascending to a higher spiritual realm. Maybe I’m becoming an angel.

It’s got to be longer than two hours now. I find myself getting a bit pissed off. I’m upset that he is spending so much money because that prostitute is paid by the hour. 30 minutes is plenty to get the job done. Why is it taking so long? I’ve got to find out! I leave my half finished handkerchief on the sewing machine and tip toe to Otis’s studio. I put my head up against the door to listen for any groans or moans. Just then, Otis opens the door and almost knocks me over.

“What are you doing out here?” He laughs at me, “Are you spying on me?”

“No! I just happened to walk by…” I pretend to be casual as I peek into his studio and ask, “Where is she?”

“She left ages ago. You know I only bought 30 minutes.”

I enter the studio, sniff the air and snoop around for any telltale signs of sexual behavior. “So, where did you do it?”

“Right here on the couch.”

“How was it?”

“It wasn’t as good as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, my poor man. She was no good?” I feel very proud of myself. After all, I was a very skilled prostitute, I always left my clients very satisfied.

“No,” Otis shrugs, “She was pretty good, she did everything I asked.”


“Now you want details? She asked me to wash.”

“I required that too. Men are so stinky.”

“I said I already did, but she insisted I do it again.”

“And then?”

“She was pretty good…”

I look carefully at Otis’s face and don’t see a stupid grin. “You didn’t…?” I make a shooting out motion with my hands.

“I did…and it was good,” says Otis.

I’m baffled, why no stupid grin? “What’s wrong then?”

I reflect on how Otis is still a very pure, young man. A man should have the freedom to find his own way. Although it’s been hard on me, I do understand the need for a young man to grow within his explorations.

Otis says, “This buying sex thing is definitely not the way to go. For me, sex without any love or affection was really meaningless.”

This open relationship went on for two years and on some nights I did feel the pain of jealousy. I would feel lonely and old. I was confused. Behaving like a teenager prostitute from 1852 who doesn’t want to have sex is a strange situation to be in. However, this strange story in my head brought with it unexpected benefits.


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