Ten Years Part 2

Before things umm, let’s say, got a little bit difficult for us, Louise finally paid the “new” guy J a visit. It’s Monday morning now, after a tricky start we ended up having a good day yesterday. We worked through things, we looked forward, booked a holiday and, from there, things got naughty. In short, a very short version, we talked about stopping this hotwife stuff, but neither of us actually want that, and that led to talking about J. We talked about her one time with him and we talked about a few things he had been saying to her, some other things he has “invited” her to do. More on that later.

Her visit to J’s place sounded crazy. So hot and so sexy. I’m weird I guess, I so wish I was there to see it but, conversely, not being there and having my imagination run wild feels like it makes everything even more intense and exciting. I made an off the cuff comment at one stage, I said I should write the story of how I picture some of what had happened. Louise loved the idea, I have written lots of things, for her, that I haven’t posted here. Most of them have been based on her real adventures but, also, some have been totally made up. They are usually based on dreams or a simple comment somewhere along the line). I sometimes send them to her when I’m away, some of them get her very turned on and I get some sexy comments in return. So yeah, she said I had to write it.

We had some nice, loving couple sex last night. Then I stayed up late, writing it. She read it once this morning, over breakfast. She’s gone to work now (I have a day off), before she left she told me my story was close in some ways but I had made it sound hotter than she even remembered it. So, here it is - based on reality but embellished by my dirty mind.

……….

It didn’t take long before your texts with him turned into some late night phone calls, he brought out a hidden side in you, the naughty girl had certainly surfaced but even you didn’t expect it to explode through it the way it did.

You always loved a slap on the arse, you sometimes wondered what taking it a little further would be like. He started to talk you into trying something, just come over and let me show you a few things, if you don’t like it we’ll stop immediately. There was even a safe word, one you came up with just in case he thought you were playing when you asked him to stop.

You went to his place on a Saturday afternoon, I was away, working late every night. You decided not to tell me your plans, you could see plenty of opportunities to twist me into a ball of knots with this one.

You were full of confidence on the phone the night before. After a few margaritas, you told him you couldn’t wait to show him what you could take and give out in return. The truth is you were a bundle of nerves when you stepped out of the cab, you almost told the driver to take you back home.

You could barely feel your legs as you made your way to his front door, you didn’t push the door bell, you were so nervous and figured could call another driver without him even knowing you had actually arrived.

You jumped when the door opened, startled at his unexpected presence, right there in front of you. It was like he had read your mind somewhere during those conversation, he had on your favourite outfit. A pair of blue jeans and nothing else. He looked even sexier than he had in the photos he’d shared, better even than the beach photo from his Facebook page.

Luckily, he had seen you walk up the steps to his very impressive looking house, he opened the door just before you would have turned to walk away. His smile helped too, he held the door open for you and you looked inside, wow, the staircase alone was amazing. You decided to go inside, you knew you could stop it at any time, you had seen in his face the confirmation you needed, he could be trusted.

“Hey, you look gorgeous,” he said. “I’m running a little late I’m sorry, I was just getting changed when you pulled up.”

You remembered your promise to yourself. During all that talk, the margaritas had made you brave and you were determined to take it up to him today.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you said, looking into his eyes. “Just blue jeans is my favourite outfit on a hunky guy like you.”

You let you fingers lightly graze his hip as you stepped inside the door. It was true, hunky was the right word. He must have last shaved the morning before, his dark stubble highlighted his dimples and his blue eyes. Oh yes, his shoulders and arms, your biggest visual aphrodisiac, they were even better than you imagined. You already pictured yourself touching them, the thought of running your hands along the big arms, over his tattooed shoulders and onto his muscular chest had you covered in goosebumps before you had even finished walking through his front door.

His house was stunning, you found it hard to believe there isn’t a woman in his life. Well, a permanent woman at least. The outdoor area was amazing too, he led you outside and sat you under a little cabana by the pool. A bottle of wine and two glasses were taken from a wide, glass doored under counter fridge, he must have remembered your favourite white.

“I take it one of these will be ok gorgeous, is it a little early for a margarita?”

Of course he knew of your margarita love, they would come later in the night. He had made up a food platter too, the two of you sat by his pool for two hours, just chatting and nibbling on the late lunch. The bottle of wine became two, you were just a little bit light headed and very care free when he reached down to take your foot, resting it in his lap, holding it with both hands. You had told him all about your love of massages, foot massages in particular, and were treated to a very special ten or fifteen minutes on each side.

He was in no hurry, he had a plan and he could tell you were becoming much more at ease. You had fully relaxed and had even started to pick up on a bit of the innuendo in things he said. He could see his “margarita girl” was awakening, it was only white wine but, even so, you were starting to be more like that late night phone call version of you.

You knew it too, after all you had arrived there with your own plan. Well, maybe it was more of an intent than a plan but, either way, you didn’t need that margarita to move beyond your flirty stage. You had decided you were ready to go inside and you turned your foot, just a little, so you could press your toes against the growing bulge in his jeans, making sure he knew it too.

He took your hand and said it was time to show you something. You followed, holding his fingers tightly, nervous again as he led you up those stairs and into a room at the back of his house. It was his own personal dungeon.

Despite your determination, and what you had said on the phone, your bravado had all fallen away. You happily and totally submitted to him. It was what you really wanted.

You stood there shaking as he slowly and gently undressed you. He didn’t make any moves to touch you as he exposed more of you, he just looked, those eyes at least telling you he liked what he saw. It was like he had gotten a bit lost in the moment too but, suddenly, he must have remembered his own words, the way he had described the control he would have over you. You saw a little smile, one that made those dimples pop as he changed gears, quickly becoming firmer. he was much more like the master you expected as he blind folded you and firmly guided you to the bed, the one you had noticed in in the corner of the room.

The sashes you had spotted soon had each of your limbs secured to a corner of the bed. You were on your back, spread eagled, heart pounding in your chest. You strained to see something through the tiny gap the blindfold left under each eye, but there nothing to see.

He left you like that for a good fifteen minutes, mostly he was quiet, all you knew was that he was there. Occasionally he made a noise, deliberately, keeping you tense, making you guess at what he was doing.

There was a swishing sound, it had to be one of his whips but what was he doing with it.

There was a ruffling sound, followed by the unmistakable sound of a kettle boiling water. What was that about you wondered? The goose bumps rose again, all over you, this time caused more by fear than any kind of arousal or sexual tension.

What was he doing?

There was more silence, then more soft noises, was he getting undressed?

Yes, that had to be a zip, he must be taking off his jeans.

Or was he, maybe he was putting something on?

More silence.

Then you jumped, startled as a drop of something hot landed on your thigh, right before you noticed a strong coconut fragrance, drawn into your nose and lungs by your heavy breathing.

It was at least two more minutes before the next drop landed, a little higher on the same leg. More drops followed, then it turned into a trickle as you finally realised it was warm oil that he was applying.

He massaged your legs then, he did it hard to, making you writhe under his touch. You were naked, your legs were pulled apart but he never touched you there, not then anyway, not during the massage.

Not even when he untied you and made you turn over before he tied you to the bed again, face down this time.

You waited a couple of minutes again, there were more mystery sounds before the ritual started again. First one drop of oil to the back of your thigh, it felt even hotter than the first time. Then another, and another, the drops turning into a trickle again. This time he covered your legs, arse and lower back in the hot, fragrant oil.

Once again the massage, blissfully hard, bordering on painful. Again you writhed under his touch, sticking your oily arse up into the air, as far as it would go with your arms and legs tied as they were, as he ran his thumbs deep into the muscle along the outsides of your legs.

Then he stopped, you were sure you heard him leave the room. The truth was that he went for a drink of water and a visit to the bathroom, he told you that later. He took his time, he knew you had no idea what would happen next.

He knew the anticipation, the tense fear would be building within you. Every minute he was gone.

You didn’t even hear him come back into the room again, you just heard that swish again, a fraction of a second before you felt it’s sting, on the left cheek of your oily arse.

Your first thought was that he had whipped your bottom but you quickly realised it wasn’t your pretty little bottom at all, it was your fucking arse that he had whipped and he owned as much of it as he liked.

You had been sacred but any thoughts of using the safe word vanished, all your fears, all your other thoughts and emotions were quickly replaced by nothing but intense excitement, you were desperate for that swish and the sting again, and he knew it.

It was a full five minutes before you were blessed with it, this time it landed in the middle of your right cheek. It was quickly followed by another, lower this time, it landed high on your right thigh, wrapping around your leg to sting you right where he had earlier probed so hard with his strong thumbs.

You’d cried out, just softly, with both of them. They stung, in a deliciously exciting way.

The fourth lash, which landed across both your arse cheeks, was met with more of a moan than a cry. He only gave you a few more at that point, one low on your leg, one on your lower back.

They were actually only very light, he was just testing you, exploring what you were capable of taking, looking for signs of how you felt about it.

You writhed again, pushing your arse into the air, he knew from that response that you were enjoying all of it, he could also see you were getting very wet, the glistening on your spread lips told him you were loving it.

The last one was harder, quite a lot harder. You moaned loudly that time, “oh fuck yes,” he heard you say, barely whispered after the deep, louder, guttural moan.

He knew he had you in exactly the right place.

You felt, rather than heard, him move to the side of the bed. You waited, you expected, no you wanted to feel the sting again, right on your arse. But no, you realised he was untying you, the ties to your right side went loose first, then he moved again and you felt the left side ones loosen. The sashes were still in place though, they were just no longer connected to the bed.

He said just one word.

“Stand.”

You did as you were told and he led you by the arm, firmly, across the room.

You had earlier noticed what looked like a wide, knee high, embossed leather ottoman. You realised that was what he had led you to. Guiding you by the arm, he positioned you at one of end of it before he firmly pushed against your upper back, commanding you to lie down. You heard him working and felt the ties on all four limbs tighten again. He had tied you so your torso laid across the leather top, your knees were on the ground, pulled apart by the manner in which he had retied you. You could touch the ground with your fingers, your chin could rest on the edge of the leather, you could feel the raised seam under it and realised your head was right at the far end of the piece of furniture.

You expected it then, the swish and the sting came, but this was different. It felt more like a smack than being whipped. You couldn’t help but moan, it felt so good. He did it again, and then again, over the next ten minutes you lost count but he smacked your arse another eight times, each one made the goose bumps rise and your pussy a little wetter.

Then he started to touch you, everywhere. His palms rubbed across your back, you arse and your head. His fingers probed you, they poked and kneaded, they were in your pussy before they were in your mouth. Soon after, you heard the zip again and you felt the unmistakable sensation of a hard dick pressing against your labia. You did not resist, you wanted it, you craved to feel him inside you.

Deprived of your sight, in a silent room, you just wanted to be fucked.

But not yet he had decided, you felt a finger, then his dick pushing against your arse, you did not want him in there but, more so, you were not going to say the word, not yet.

He read your response though, he could tell, he knew he would take your arse one day, just not today.

He moved again, this time he lifted the blindfold from your eyes as he knelt in front of you. It was the first time you had seen him in well over an hour, the leather pants he had put on were unzipped and his cock was briefly there, right in front of your face. But he stood back up, even before your eyes had adjusted to the bright lights of the room.

Swish, smack, the paddle you had seen in his hand landed on your arse, once again you gasped at the sting, the slaps were getting harder to take.

But still you enjoyed them so much.

He knelt in front of you again, almost without thought, acting on some sort of primal impulse, you strained forward and managed to make light contact, your lips briefly brushing the underside of his erect penis. He stood again, and moved away, this time returning with a multi strapped leather whip in his hand.

He ran those straps across your face, then flicked his wrist to give a light but stinging blow to the middle of your back.

He pushed the blindfold back down, taking away your sight again. You had no idea what would happen next, but when he knelt in front of you again you just knew it would only be for a brief moment.

It was a little different that time, he took the sides of your face in his hands and barely waited for your lips to part before he pushed himself into your mouth. You groaned loudly, sucking him in greedily, trying to hold him in place as you felt him start to slowly withdraw himself from your throat, your mouth and, finally, your lips.

You didn’t see him smile down at you, fondly, as you whimpered, wishing he was still in your mouth.

You desperately wanted more, if you had been in control you could have pushed him back onto that bed, you could have teased him with your tongue. You could have kissed the head of his dick and licked at the pre-cum you just knew you could have squeezed from him.

But you were blind, surrounded by silence as you could only imagine kissing your way up that hard, flat stomach. You knew you would bite his nipples, graze your teeth across his chin, feel his stubble on your cheek as you took him inside you.

That was what you wanted at that moment, just him. Inside you.

More than anything.

He knew it too. Your whimpers, the moans, the way you twitched at the tiny noises he made.

He moved to stand behind you. He dragged his toe across the carpet, the soft sound giving you enough information to know where he was. He saw the muscles in your back and thighs flex, as you involuntarily rolled your hips to offer yourself to him.

He quietly knelt behind you as he gazed at your open wetness, a mix of you and the oil offering him a treat that he was dying to taste. He kept his control though, as your master he knew it was time to take you, not taste you.

His cock twitched as he took himself in his right hand, squeezing, making his dick even harder as he lined up behind you.

He was ready to own you. You were ready to be owned.

Hotwife Spectrums

For a long time, I have had a bit of a metal picture about a Hotwife spectrum or, more accurately, a cuckold kind of spectrum for a Hotwife’s husband. I see it as line, with a zero in the middle. On the left, all the way over at -10 sits the full on, alpha male stag. One the far right is the fully humiliated, caged up cuckold kind of husband. To begin with, when we started talking about my fantasies, I pictured myself being at the far left. I figured I’d be the one in control, screening dates, always there to watch etc. Not only is that how it didn’t evolve, it’s not actually how I found I really wanted it to be. I enjoyed the bit of control Louise had taken, I loved the anticipation, the tension and all else that went with not being in control. I loved the way she seemed to be more confident, the way she held things back at times, the way she knew how to tease me right to the limits that worked so well for me.

I guess I’m speaking in past tense there, but it’s not over by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, we may have only really just started to see where this will go. Louise is stretching limits, her own and mine. It is electrifying.

I guess my past tense comes from my mental picture and being totally challenged on where I sit on that little spectrum. It’s not like there was a test to give an absolute score, nothing like it in fact, but I had started to figure I actually sat somewhere around the -5 to -7 mark. Definitely not anywhere near the right of the zero point on my line but, usually, I was happily sitting somewhere to the right of that total stag point.

Going back a few weeks now, we were fighting. In reality, I was sulking. I couldn’t help feeling like I had been betrayed, by the secret affair Louise had been having with Tom, off and on, for quite a number of years. It hurt to know she had done that and had not been able to find a way to be honest, not even after she knew all about my fantasies. Honestly, it feels weird to have been so down and dark about something when, at the same time, it turned me on immensely and that one factor alone has challenged me about where I sit on my silly little spectrum line.

Then there is Louise’s part in it too. We fought, we argued, we didn’t talk at all for a few days there. Then she got as aggressive as I have ever seen her, certainly from the perspective of giving me a talking to at least. She got in my face at one stage, she told me she feared we were losing each other and she told me we needed to have a serious conversation. It was warts and all too, and it was way too much and too deep to even want to share it here.

At one stage, I guess I had gotten a bit lost in my own anger. I started asking things like how many times had she sucked his cock before I knew about it, had she taken it up the arse with him by then, how much of his cum had been inside her when we were having sex. She actually reminded me that we were barely even having sex when she started with Tom, it was true, it was a rough patch. She was answering my questions too, defiantly and honestly.

“Every time I was with him,” she said when I asked how many times she had sucked him.

“Yes, he came inside me plenty of times we didn’t have a condom first time and never used one after that.”

And so on.

My downstairs mate betrayed me too, at the time I wasn’t actually feeling any happiness with any of our conversations but he was rock hard, I couldn’t help how much it still turned me on. Louise noticed, she grabbed it, she said something like, “why don’t you just get over yourself, deep down you love what I did?”

I wouldn’t say she was right, deep down I hated so much of it, I guess I still do. But there was definitely that other side kicking in. Ha, I guess it’s like two little guys sitting on my shoulder, whispering in my ear. One says “she cheated, you should be mad.” The other one says “how good is this, your wife has been fucking other guys for years?”

We ended up in bed after that little fight. Big fight actually. After she grabbed me and felt how hard I was, she rode me in her animalistic way and just before I came she said something that is true.

She said, “you love that your wife is a dirty slut.” It wasn’t a question, it was a very true statement. She also said something about not being done and if I wanted a slut then she was going to show me how much of one she is ready to be. More on that later.

So, back to my spectrum and how my view on it has been challenged. She kicked my arse that day, there was lot more things said. My mental picture has me sitting somewhere much close to the middle now, I don’t have any control and am happily in it for the ride I guess.

That’s it for now, there’s more I’m going to write later.

We had been on the phone, talking about the massage she’d had that morning. It was the first time she had taken things a little further with him, starting off with him being naked too. It was a bit of a surprise for me, even though I had hoped for escalation she had previously said she didn’t think he was really her type. That changed as she got to know him and as he got to know her body. I texted her a goodnight message and said I was very happy she’d had a good time. This was one of her quick fire replies.

Love it!

Tom had been on a bit of a golf trip and my wife went to join him for the last night. He left her a key to his room, so she could get settled before he got back from his last round. She sent me a text like this soon after arriving.

@inboxdenver it is like your whole blog reads my mind, especially your own stuff.

Thinking back to about three weeks ago and I was on the verge of deleting this whole blog. It felt stupid, it felt wrong and I guess I figured I was just done talking about the fun things. I wrote a whiny post, but deleted that before it even went up. I suppose I’m glad I didn’t now. For one, it has become a bit of a record of the fun we’ve had, then it touched on something that has taken some working through and now, thankfully, I have several more things that I want to write.

I really want to tell the more real side of what happened with J, as I said my last post was a blend of my overactive imagination and what really happened. I am also dying to get down a little bit about something they (Louise and J) have talked about, something I still don’t really believe she will do. I am fast learning not to underestimate a couple of things though - her capacity to surprise me and her out of this world, exploding sex drive.

None of that relates to her earlier affair by the way, that’s another topic. There is probably just one more thing, on that topic, that I’ll touch on sometime.

But first, and what I’ll get on with here, is something we talked about last night. She had actually started the conversation about a week ago, when she said something like if I was truthful I would admit that I think the sluttier she is the better. Something like that. We weren’t exactly in looking ahead mode at that time, it was more of a “told you so” kind of thing to say. Last night was different.

She told me about the thing her and J had been discussing again, I asked her if she was seriously considering it. She didn’t exactly answer me, as is her way. Instead she used it to turn around the conversation, so that she could ask me some questions. We had already booked our little May getaway and we had already gone past the point where we had decided neither of us wanted things to stop. She started to ask me how far was too far, under the guise of “understanding my limits,” she said. I said there was some sick stuff that was definitely way past my interest limit, I made her laugh and then nearly made her gag with a couple of them, that part was fun.

I did say that I like to think I would try my hardest, my very hardest, to do anything she really wanted to do. After all, she has been living out my wildest fantasies, I feel a bit of payback would be warranted. I guess she was really trying to understand a few things though, she did want to explore limits.

“Ok, would you suck Tom’s dick if I asked you to?”

I said I’d prefer not to and, besides, I know full well he wouldn’t have me within a foot of it. Maybe even further.

“Right, what about Grant’s? Or someone else’s?”

If I had to strap on a lie detector and state my choice, then I would choose to suck a dick before I let one anywhere near my arse. So that’s what I told her.

“That’s a yes then,” she said.

“Ok, if your life depended on it then yes, it’d be a yes. But I’d still rather you put a drawing pin in my nipple.”

I figured she’d laugh at that, but she just looked more thoughtful. It was almost scary.

“What about a strap on, me doing you with one that is?”

I sighed, deliberately and loudly. “Sure, as long as it was a small one.”

“Ok then,” she said, exaggerating the look of taking mental notes on that one. I am confident she won’t do it by the way. I’ll keep telling myself that too.

She got a bit serious for a few minutes then. She asked me about another woman, if I wanted to be with one. For the umpteenth time I said no.

“Not even for a bit of revenge?” she asked. “I would hate it but I will let you if you want to.”

It’s not what I want. I reiterated my usual stance, I don’t want that. I did add, as I have done from time to time, unless it was a threesome with you and another woman and you wanted it.

“Not happening.”

I already knew that.

She went a bit quiet for a while, obviously thinking of the hurt stuff. I figured patience and quiet was my best option at that stage.

“I’m sorry babe,” she said after a short while. “I had more.”

She got my best impression of a sexy, reassuring smile in return.

She asked me if i remembered the afternoon in the pool, the day with Tom, Grant and I. I assured that yes, I totally and absolutely remember it.

“Does three guys count as a gang bang?”

My phone was handy, I actually searched for “how many giys needed for a gamg bang.” Thankfully, google figured out what I meant. I was able to inform her that Quora, Reddit and even Wikipedia seemed to agree that three or more guys, with one woman, would indeed be deemed a gang bang.

“Ha,” she said, “so I’ve had a gang bang.”

“And you’ve been in one too,” she added a few seconds later.

She was thinking about something, I was very fucking intrigued. I waited.

“Different question then… umm (she was hesitant)… how many guys would you think are too many… you know, to gang bang me?”

“Twenty five,” I said, without the slightest bit of hesitation. You should have seen how wide her eyes went.

“Really… twenty fucking five. Twenty fucking five would be too many.”

“Yeah, I think so babe, well and truly.”

The penny dropped.

“Righto, smarty pants. How many is one too many then?”

I couldn’t think of any trick ways to answer the question when it was put that way. So I told her my truth, I said I don’t really know. I said more than three is clearly fine, “hot as fuck” I added.

“Any number where they stand around, go for a beer or a sleep, come back for seconds feels like too many.”

I actually didn’t want to say, I really wanted to hear where she was going with this, what her limits would look like. I desperately didn’t want to ruin the chances of hearing her real number by saying something lower. I stalled, I ummed and I avoided answering.

“How about ten then, is that too many?”

The look on her face suggested she was hoping I’d say it was, at least that was how I read it.

“Fuck babe, it does feel like a lot to me, when I think about it. If you really wanted to go that far we could talk about it I guess.” It does actually feel a bit too far out there but I didn’t want to slam the door shut.

“Eight?”

“Eight, ten, what’s the difference?” I asked.

“Good,” she said. Clearly I had said something right there. Not all that intentionally I might add.

Haha, she hasn’t read these posts for a long time by the way. I just send her the really hot memes and screen shots of other sexy stuff.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, I figured I’d treaded water enough by then.

“Yeah, something like that too. Four or maybe even five might be fun.”

“Six?” I asked. I suddenly wanted to know if there was actually a hard limit on this thing. I believed I had also figured out where this was coming from. Finally, it should have been obvious actually, it was from her conversations with J.

“Possibly… if they were all sexy… and they’d have to be gentle.”

She meant so she wouldn’t get too sore, at first I wasn’t certain that was it, so I checked. Sorry, guy thing, just making sure I understood.

This is getting long now, but it has been fun to write. She didn’t ask me any more questions, we kinda lost track of that part of our conversation. We did, however, get back onto the being slutty part of the conversation, once she established that a gang bang with, say, three or four guys (she toned it down a little), unfortunately none of whom would be me, would not be considered too slutty by me.

To wrap this up, it all led to her telling me that she liked my little lists. First she said she is absolutely going to do everything left on that list, I haven’t said anything but I am dying to know if she even remembers that list includes an FFM threesome. Surely she has forgotten.

Anyway, she said she will do the rest of the list and will add things to get it back to a total of ten. Wow. She actually has six to go, but I feel like I want to say a couple more have been done, just to see what she would add to the list herself. I asked her how she felt about me doing a new list as well, she could tell I was thinking of almost evil things for her to do. She is very fearful of being arrested you know!

So, now I wait. If I know my Louise, this list will take a long time to write. I actually shouldn’t even get my hopes up, it may not ever even happen. Fingers crossed.

Definitely, and my wife is starting to really love them. She has had three already this year, none of them with me involved. All with one of her special friends and three different friends of his. Amazing.