We’d been married for five years and had a lovely house, but my pampered wife always wanted more. She had been into various get rich quick schemes. I blamed her spoilt childhood. We wasted thousands of pounds on rip off franchises and were in danger of losing everything. Even though Jessica had been to a posh finishing school, she only passed two O levels. But I did not marry my wife for her brains. Standing at only just over five foot two in her high heels, her size six figure could not have been more erotic. Pert breasted, tiny waisted, she was – and still is-an erotic dream on long slender legs. Clothes, lingerie, make up; jewelery, a mortgage and her expensive sports car consumed most of our budget. It would not have been so bad if she had been able to find a job. She was outraged at the suggestion. Of course there was nothing she could do that was not beneath her dignity. Then one day I was looking at one of the more common tabloid newspapers and saw an advert for escorts. The thought of Jessica in her tight skirts, silk stockings and high heels, being used as a whore rather appealed to me. Her hourglass figure would drive the men wild. With trembling hand, I showed her the advert as soon as I got in from my office in town. ‘You can’t be serious?’ she exclaimed shaking her shoulder length golden brown curls. ‘Why not?’ I said boldly, my prick hardening in my underpants. The following morning I had to fly to France on business and took a taxi from my home to Stansted. Our home is one of four on a luxury development. Our drive is out of view of the other houses and so my wife felt comfortable coming down to wave me off. She was a long pink satin and lace negligee, with matching negligee, already made up and reeking of perfume, her hair piled up in a French pleat. She looked really horny, the negligee doing nothing to hide her barely restrained cleavage. The taxi driver was Pakistani and enjoyed a real eyeful. I sat next to him as we drove out of our lane. Turning to me, I noticed how big his lips, nose and eyes were. He looked quite sinister and smirking, when he asked: ‘you have a very pretty wife. She is your wife, yes?’ ‘Yes I said sheepishly, looking at the man’s crotch, as if in a trance. ‘Your women, they show themselves. Like showing men. It not right. Men get upset. You know I see her panty through nightie. She very sexy woman, but she make men want do sex. You let me see her like that, you want me like her, yes.’ By the way the man spoke, I guessed he had not been born in England. ‘Where are you from?’ I asked, trying to get him to change the subject. I thought Maybe I should complain to the Taxi Company. But it was a Pakistani company and the boss would probably agree with his driver. Maybe I agreed with him. Maybe she was enjoying the taxi driver seeing her. She certainly gave him a very warm smile, leaning up and kissing me, with her brightly painted full lips, right in front of him. ‘I see her panty when she kisses you. See through sexy nightie. She have nice bum.’ He had ignored my question, so I repeated it. ‘I from Afghanistan. Me refugee. I British now. Like Britain, it nice place. But you don’t look after your women, let men see them. I see women like her in massage parlour, my friend he run it. Your wife, she like work in massage parlour. Pakistani an the Afghanistan men they like fuck women like your wife.' I gulped hard. My penis was pushing up against my underpants and suit trousers. I looked at his dirty grey trouser covered crotch. It was bulging. I saw his hand brush across it several times between changing gear. ‘You like Pakistani man fuck your wife, yes, give you money.’ I looked at the hawk-faced ugly fifty something man, at his brown hands on the steering wheel. He kept turning towards me as he spoke, then back looking at the road. His profile was as his full face, so why was I bulging in my pants. I had to touch myself, hoping I could do it while he negotiated the heavy morning traffic. The feeling was exquisite, thinking of someone like him with Jessica. I lingered to long in my fantasy. The traffic built up, the taxi came to a halt and I felt a heavy hand on the crotch of my trousers. ‘You hard in pants, yes. You bit stiff. Let me feel it, I make it feel nice. You want me fuck your wife, maybe my friends come and fuck her too. I tell my brother, he give her job fucking Pakistani men.’ He turned his hawk eyes back on the road, but my stiff penis was now his gear stick while the engine idled in the traffic. A beep beep behind us alerted to my distracted driver who was now giving my swollen cock a big feel. I should have been offended that the filthy minded man had felt free to touch me, but I missed the sensation when he moved his hand away. I was breathing heavily: ‘We be in countryside soon, I finish you off then, in lay by.’ It was not a question, just a statement of intent. I offered no word of protest. I had allowed plenty of time for the flight. My meeting was not until the next day, so all I had to do was pick up the hire car and find my hotel. At that moment I did not even care whether I caught the flight anyway. I just wanted that big brown hand back on my prick. At last we were in open countryside and he found a lay by, parking at the top end so that nobody would see us. He switched off the engine, took a dirty looking cloth from under his seat, dumped it on the gear stick and had his hand back on my sex in seconds. This time he was using both hands, struggling to undo my zip. My prick grew even harder. I did not realise it could get so big. His hands were rough and he was calling me ‘bitch boy’. I felt like a girl as he pulled open my trousers exposing my pristine white clinging briefs. My pressed up toward the waistband. Hi hand groped inside, pushing my pants down and gripping my shaft, quickly pulling back the foreskin and making me feel very exposed. His hand was jerking me hard and the foreskin felt like it was tearing. My cock head turned purple and shiny as he aggressively started milking me. I threw my head back against the headrest in a mixture of pleasure, humiliation and pain, moaning and shaking my head like a girl. With my eyes closed, I heard the rasping voice of the man well over fifty and twice my age, talking about my wife working for his brother. ‘Very hard and bad men come to massage parlour, they fuck your little botch, make slut cum, make her have a baby, fuck up her cunt fill wife juicy cunt, make her sore, make her cum, she slut, she like Pakistani man’s cock up her fanny. ‘Agggh, the pain and the pleasure merged. My cock was throbbing and bursting. I was going to cum and my tormentor knew this. He eased off and squeezed around the bottom of my shaft. My excitement faded. Then he started talking about what the Pakistanis would want to do to my wife. He said men went there just out of prison, desperate for sex’ ‘They would love your white bitch, see her in her little panties, and squeeze her little cunt, fingers in her. She got hair on her cunt bitch boy?’ He was rubbing me hard and slow, really pulling my foreskin back, and my prick making wet sounds as the skin stretched back and forth. He started touching me with his other hand, squeezing my cock head and then yanking the skin back. Then one of his big rough hands went inside my pants, cupped and gripped my balls. ‘Ow, ow, ow…agh…’ ‘Your slut wife, she scream like you when she go. You want me get her job?’ ‘Agggggggggghhh, yes, aghh’ ‘you want Pakistani men cum up her tight cunt. ‘She got hair on her cunt or not got hair….’ ‘He slackened his pace again, squeezing my moist cock head very hard. ‘ ‘She has no hair on her vagina, no no hair.’’ ‘She no have vagina,s eh have cunt, we call it a cunt when she come and we play with her tits and her bum.’ Oh my God, I needed to cum. He went on and on. ‘We fuck her bum. She got nice bum. I see that through her big yellow panties. Yellow panty very sexy, yellow coward colour. Your wife a soft little bitch, we fuck her cunt hard, yes. You like. Me come from jail, they see your bitch in her yellow panties, they squeeze her cunt and fuck it, squeeze her sex ,big titties suck them. You like Pakistani men do that your wife, make bitch cum, yes.’ ‘Agggggh, yes, yes, aghhh, stop, I’m cumming.’ My eyes still closed, I felt my prick swelling, my scrotum was tightening. I was going to jet my cum. I felt something being pressed into my lap. Arching my back, I closed my eyes and painfully released my jet of young white man’s seed in front of this dark skinned tormentor. I had never had an orgasm like it. I was so embarrassed that I did not want to open my eyes. I could hear the man laughing. I felt him pressing the cloth on my sex, roughly rubbing it clean. I guessed it was the dirty cloth from under his seat. He pressed hard on my still engorged and tender sex. I worried about germs from the dirty cloth and the Pakistani man’s hands. I wanted to cover myself up as fast as I could. Opening my eyes, I saw his big brown eyes burning in me. The rest of the journey was passed in silence. After unloading my luggage at the airport, I gave the man a tip and he handed me a business card. ‘You get in touch when you get back. You know you want it and she want it. She sexy little bitch. Pakistani man like her. They fuck her bareback.’ I could not look him in the eye. I was getting hard again. So I just pocketed his card. turned to look for a trolley and hoped that he would leave as soon as possible. My mind, meanwhile, was in a whirl. He was right. I wanted Jessica to work in that massage parlour.