I have turned my ex-wife into my paid whore [MF]. sex stories

Warning: this isn’t the typical sex story. In fact, most of the sex here is only briefly described. What this IS is a real, non-fiction story about my ex wife. In my opinion, the situation is red-hot enough without the play-by-play. I hope you agree.

Cindy and I were divorced about 5 years ago. We have two children and both wanted the divorce to be as easy as possible for the sake of all of us. And for the most part, it was.

We did a DIY divorce with no lawyers. It was pretty straightforward and in the end the judge altered our agreement to ensure that Cindy received a considerable amount more for child support. At the time, I was in upper management at a very large company, and had a large salary/bonus. Cindy had decided to go back to school to become a nurse. The divorce settlement provided her with ample money and assistance with insurance for the kids, etc. Bottom line, her monetary wants were taking care of.

We split the time with our children 50/50. I paid her half of the equity in our house and I decided to remain living there with the kids. They had grown up there and I wanted them to have some sense of normalcy after the divorce. I helped Cindy get her own townhouse and furnish it. I didn’t want my children to have everything they needed at one house but be lacking at the other house.

Although the divorce went as smoothly as can be hoped for, that didn’t erase the acrimonious feelings I had for Cindy. Without getting into the nitty-gritty, suffice it to say that Cindy was not faithful in the end. And even though we both put on a good face and got along well for the sake of the children, I still resented her for her part in breaking up the marriage.

My house (the one from the marriage) is quite large. When we were married, Cindy was a stay-at-home mom and she performed all of the domestic house cleaning duties. Now that we are divorced, and I travel quite a bit for work, I hired someone to clean the house – two people, actually. Two women work as a team and clean houses for a living. I pay them $110 to clean the house every two weeks. The ladies do a very good job, have a key to my house, and I’ve had no problems with them whatsoever.

Fast forward to covid-19. Up until the quarantine, Cindy had been working full-time as a nurse at an eye clinic. She had done well for herself and made enough money to support her lifestyle. I still pay a large amount in child support (and still keep my children 50% of the time). Fortunately, I have advanced in my company and do quite well for myself. What used to be a large drain on my income, child support has become less of a financial burden.

But, covid-19 has changed things. I am strictly work-from-home. My income hasn’t slipped, fortunately.

Cindy, however, hasn’t fared as well. A few months ago, she came over to my house to drop the kids off for my time with them. We struck up a conversation and I invited her inside for a glass of wine. She told me that her hours at the eye clinic had been cut by about a third. Many of the operations at the eye clinic were deemed to be non-essential and therefore there wasn’t as much work to be done. Instead of layoffs, the doctors decided to reduce everyone’s hours.

This conversation was just that – a conversation. We brainstormed a bit about what she could do to make up the reduced time. I mentioned to her that I’m sure the local hospital could use part-time nurses at a time like this. She balked at the idea, saying that she wasn’t that kind of nurse. I asked her what that meant and she said “I just don’t do that kind of work. You know, dealing with the blood, guts, and shit of everyday nursing.”

To be honest, I was taken aback by that. The way I see it, in hard times we do hard things to get by. Here she was lamenting about not enough hours to support her lifestyle, yet she wasn’t willing to do the dirty work needed to make up the difference. All the while, I’m paying child support to someone who keeps the children the same amount of time I do. That may sound bitter, but I’m not bitter. Like I said, we’ve had a good post-divorce relationship. But her refusal to take up the slack left a bad taste in my mouth. And I told her it did. She said “Well, I’ll figure something out.”, and left.

A couple of weeks after that conversation, Cindy approached me with an idea. She asked me if I still had the ladies cleaning my house. I told her I did. She made a comment that since I’m not traveling during the quarantine, why wasn’t I doing it myself? I didn’t see how this was any of her business. The ladies had been doing a good job for years and were loyal to me and I was loyal to them. I could still afford it, so why would I put a hardship on the ladies for no reason?

But I didn’t tell Cindy any of that. I know her well enough to know that there was something behind her question. I asked her what she was getting at. She said “Well, I cleaned this house for years and you know I can do a good job, so why don’t you let me clean it for you? You could just pay me instead of paying the ladies.”

On the surface, it wasn’t an unreasonable request. But I have gotten used to not having my ex-wife around, and have enjoyed our separation immensely. The pain and hurt was still there from her actions during the marriage, and frankly, if we didn’t have children together, I wouldn’t hang out with her. Bottom line, I have moved on from her manipulative ways and didn’t want her hanging around my house, snooping around for hours at a time.

I told her that I wasn’t big on the idea but I would think about it. Over the next few days, I did think about it A LOT. There was no way I was going to fire the ladies during a quarantine when they had done nothing wrong. One day an idea popped into my head. I admit that it is grounded in a bit of pettiness and vindictiveness, and a good measure of perversion.

When Cindy came the next time to do the exchange of children, she asked me if I had thought about it. I waited until the kids had gone up to the playroom to play video games before I answered her. We both went into the kitchen and I poured a glass of wine for us. I said “Yes I’ve thought about it and I’m not going to fire the ladies.” Cindy started to protest but I cut her off. I told her my reasons and that my decision was final. When she predictably started to get pissy about it, I told her I had a different idea for her to make some money. I told her that she could make the same amount of money in less amount of time with less effort. She was intrigued and asked what it was. I paused. I was struggling to find the way to say it. So I just decided to blurt it out.

“Since we are in quarantine I don’t know what your social like is like, but it’s put a big crimp into mine. I don’t get laid nearly enough.” She looked at me and her eyes widened a bit as she processed my words. “My offer is this: you come by every two weeks for an hour and we have sex and I pay you the $110.”

I couldn’t believe I had just propositioned my ex-wife for prostitution. I was honestly terrified what her response could be. And, it wasn’t good. She said “Are you fucking kidding me? You want to pay me for sex like I’m a whore? The mother of your children? What the fuck? You’re fucking sick.”

You know, I kind of agreed with her. I told her that it was just an idea and the way I saw it it was easy money for her. We had sex for years, so it was nothing new or with no one new. It would only be an hour every two weeks. We both would get some action. I ended the conversation by telling her to think about it. I was okay with the answer either way.

She left in a self-righteous huff. It was okay – I’d seen her in this condition a thousand times before. She’d get over it. Surprisingly, it was the next day when I got a text from her. She said that she had thought about it and that even though she can’t believe I’d propose it, it was easy money. We texted back and forth a bit setting up a date, etc. She asked me some logistics stuff like “Do I need to get all slutted up for you or can I just wear my normal clothes?” It’s hard to interpret feelings through text but I think she was being both funny and angry at the same time. I didn’t care either way. I told her normal clothes were fine.

She showed up at our first scheduled rendezvous. It was SUPER awkward at first because we hadn’t had any sensual contact in a long time. The romantic bonds we once shared no longer existed, so there was no natural starting point. Finally, she said some comment like “Well, let’s get this over”, and started to take off her shirt. I really didn’t know how to take her comment. On one hand, it could be considered really rude and demeaning. On the other, she could just be settling into the idea that she was just doing business.

When she dropped her jeans and panties, I was instantly bothered. Her pussy was completely shaved. I had asked her countless times during our marriage to do it, but she gave every reason in the world not to. It all started coming back to me – the dead bedroom, her lack of affection, etc. She commented that one of her old boyfriends liked it shaved, so she just kept it that way. It should have been nothing, but it stuck in my mind.

Our first sex session was pretty standard stuff. Anyone that’s been married for a while knows that there’s a familiarity rut we all fall into. Quickly this session fell into the same old same old. We finished up a few mins before the hour was up, and she got dressed and I paid her: Five 20s and a 10. She looked up at me and said “Nice doing business with you.” She left shortly afterwards.

The thing was, this was part of my plan. I wanted her to be comfortable with the idea of me paying her for sex. I wanted her to think it was just the same old same old and nothing more. But that wasn’t the case at all.

On her third visit she came in like normal and started disrobing. While she was unbuttoning her shirt I grabbed her and roughly pushed her against the wall. I pinned her arms up and pulled her shirt off and yanked her bra down to her waist. I held her arms behind her back, pulled her from the wall, and forcefully pushed her towards the bedroom. When we reached the bed, I pushed her face down into it, got on top of her, and reached around and unbuttoned her jeans.

I pulled her jeans and thong down to her knees, pushed my palm into the back of her head, forcing her face into the mattress, and pushed my dick inside of her within a couple of moments. I proceeded to fuck the hell out of her. I spanked her, held her down, and had my way with her. When I was about to come I pulled my dick out of her, yanked her head to my cock, shoved it in her mouth, and came down her throat.

About a minute later, she looked at me strangely and said “What the fuck was that?” I looked at her and told her it was time for her to go. It had only been 15 minutes since she arrived at my door, so she still had plenty of time on the clock. But, she was my paid whore, and I was done with her so I sent her away.

Clearly I had some issues I was still dealing with. All of the things I wanted to do during the marriage, and she wouldn’t allow, were now on my agenda. I saw her a couple of days later at my child’s soccer match and she had some comments. She said “I don’t know what got into you but I still have bruises on my ass thank you very much.” I ignored her comments. I could tell something had changed between us even if it was very slight. I felt like I was reclaiming the power I lost through her infidelity. She made a couple more comments about the session and I only replied “We’re still on for next time, right?” She looked at me knowing that things had changed indeed. She said that she’d be there.

The next time she arrived she made some quip about arriving for her abuse session. Instead I treated her gently with caresses and kisses to her neck etc. I took her into the living room where I had laid a blanket in front of the roaring fireplace. It was quite the romantic setting and I’m sure it disarmed her. We spent about 20 or 30 minutes doing the normal routine when I put her on all fours and got behind her. I pulled out some coconut oil and lubed up both my cock and her ass. When she felt my finger going into her ass, she quickly spun around and said no no no no no. In all of our marriage she had never given up her ass to me. I told her that I’m the customer and that I want to fuck her ass. She said that was not part of the deal. I told her that actually the deal was sex with me for money. I let that sit in the air for a minute and then said I’d give her a $50 bonus.

I could see the wheels turning in her head. After a few seconds she reluctantly agreed. It’s hard to explain, but the sexual excitement I received from watching my ex-wife degrade herself for an additional $50 was far greater than any sexual experience I was having with her . I spun her around and slowly defiled her ass for the first time in my life.

Our most recent session was one week ago. I had a big surprise for her. When she showed up to the house she asked aloud “What perverted thing do you have for me today?”. Her voice was cutting – she was trying to regain some measure of control. But her control was lost. She was being paid for sex.

She walked into the living room and froze. In the room was one of my FWBs, a big-titted woman named Sherry. My ex turned to me and said “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way I’m hooking up with a girl.” I looked at her and said that I’m sure we could come to an agreement. She shook her head and started to leave. I told her that if she left, our arrangement is over. However, if she stayed, we could work out a price. My ex glared at me. She needed the money. She eventually said “$300 extra”. I laughed and said that was way too high. I offered her $100 additional. We went back and forth a bit and we settled on $200 extra. I had negotiated price for sexual services with my ex, in front of another woman. The degradation was intoxicating.

My ex said, “Well, what happens now?” I had pre-arranged the next steps with Sherry, my fwb. Silently Sherry crossed the room to my ex, put one hand on her tit, and started kissing her intently. My ex fought back a little, but Sherry was a much larger woman than my petite ex and just managed her.

I had a seat on the couch and just watched the fun. I watched Sherry undress my ex, then undress herself in front of Cindy. Cindy has never been with another woman, so I see the expression on her face when Sherry’s big tits exploded out of her bra was priceless. This wasn’t a porn moment where my ex happily became a lesbian. This was her being uncomfortable in the situation, but being paid for it. I sat back and watched her be groped, tasted, and prodded by Sherry, all without a single word being said.

When my ex was laying back on the sofa, getting eaten out, I maneuvered myself behind Sherry and started fucking her. I fucked her long and hard, occasionally looking at my ex’s face staring back at me. When it was time, I came deep inside Sherry, who moaned into Cindy’s lap.

Then, abruptly, Sherry and I stood up and went to the bathroom to clean up. I sent Sherry into back the living room to give my ex her standard payment, along with the bonus. I didn’t even say goodbye to my ex. I can only imagine how she felt having one of my lovers pay her for sex.

It’s been 6 days since that happened. With each of us doing our own Thanksgiving plans, my ex and I haven’t had time to talk. I have no idea if we are still on for next week or not. I don’t know how she feels about being treated like what she actually is – my paid whore. But I do know one thing: I love it.

Leave a Comment