Hey, Good To See You See Post Again. Long Time :) Hope All Is Well With You. Is There A Way I Can Inbox

Waiting for part 4 😋

Thank you. Will soon post it.

But we still would like to see couple of pics of you in action.. Have a second thought at it please..

Through the stories you post on your tumblr, how should we know you? Who your are or who you want to be? Or neither?

My posts relate mostly to my past, or a bit of the present.

How my stag possessed me - Part 1

I was requested by someone to post a small narrative on how I met my stag. I have never written anything before and I also have a full time job to handle. So I will try, though it may take time. Since my written communication isn’t exactly the best, I may not be able to make it a short one either. If you are still inclined to read, comment and reblog, you are most welcome to but that was just a disclaimer.

To be honest although I am a shared-wife, I am not a hot-wife in its truest sense. In other words, it’s not my own husband that shares me with others. I am 36 now, from India, from a city called Kolkata. I am married for about 7 years now to this really wonderful gentleman who makes love not just to my body, but to my soul. Mine is an arranged marriage, a concept more popular in the orient than in the occident, whereby I met my husband for the first time when he came to meet his prospective bride, my best friend. Due to a turn of events which really isn’t part of this discussion, he went back determined to marry me, long story short, we got married and it was love at first sight for both of us...yes, it happens.

Not only is his integrity above question, but also he knew how to make love to my soul while simultaneously fucking every bone in my body loose. He is extremely generous in giving me some of the best toe-curling, out-of-breath, choking, intense white-hot, blinding, soul-crunching orgasms; orgasms that keeps me shuddering so hard that he needs to hold me still and pin me under his wide chest to stabilize me. In short, he is my personal Lord Kaamdev (Hindu god of love and sex). His name started with the letter A, and I told him on my wedding night that I would call him my Adonis. He looked as handsome as that and had an equally attractive physique to further support his title of Adonis. We both came clean to each other at the very first, even before we were married (we had to wait for almost about 10 months to get a wedding venue of our choice; yes, it happens in India), that neither of us were virgins. I admitted that I have indulged in threesome with my ex-s and their friends and he came clean that he has had his share of sex with his ex-s. In other words, out trust level with each other was full and we had nothing to hide from our previous life. We were both matured enough to understand the human need for physical pleasure, and since neither of us were saints, we were no exceptions to that need.

He is any woman’s dream man and I am the fortunate one who he proclaimed to the world as being husband to. After we got married, my love life was (and still is) at its height and so is my sex life. I did however discover that no matter who comes to my life, I still will crave physical proximity of other attractive men. This is something I could not get myself to admit to my husband, but I knew that it won’t be long before I would need another man to use my body...just my body, not my soul. My soul already belonged to my husband. It was this need that prompted me to agree to threesomes with my ex-s and their close friends. I never had any inhibitions about my physical presence and felt good to flaunt myself to my men within the boundaries of decency...at least till we had not decided to copulate.

...to be continued in due course

Do we get to see your picture anytime soon?

No.

A Midsummer Afternoon's Reality

Part 1

I have not been able to find the time or energy to chronicle in the recent past. So many things happened and I was very engaged in different fronts thus not be able to spare the effort to record it.

This is something that happened shortly before the pandemic triggered the lock-down in India. Do bear in mind that some of the dialogue here are recreated because I do not remember the exact words that were spoken. But I will try my best to keep it as close to reality as possible to reflect the mood of the event as it happened.

It was a rather uncomfortably hot and humid summer weekend and my office was closed. After the morning chores were over at home, I thought of taking a break for myself and indulge in a bit of window shopping at a mall which is a short travel in a cab from my home and almost adjacent to a rather plush international chain of luxury hotels. I asked the nanny of my kids to be there for them as I left home.

As I waited for my Uber to arrive, I realized how stiflingly hot and humid the day was despite a clear blue sky. There was an element of happiness in the air despite the high temperature. Because I am of duskier complexion, I have often been told that I look attractive in darker shades. I had chosen for that day, a brown chiffon saree with a deep maroon sleeveless blouse with liberal cuts in it to make it bearable to stay dressed in the summer. For an extra kick to myself, I had a black brassiere to go with it. I was gifted a bottle of Miss Dior by a very close friend of mine and I dabbed it lightly. It is one of my most favourite perfumes and I loved the whiffs I kept catching off me. I maintained my makeup to the minimum to avoid getting more suffocating, but did carry my favourite lipstick with me. I have often been complimented on my hair which reaches almost up to the parting of my hips and I decided to flaunt it by leaving it untied and open. I love to dress myself traditionally and I applied a strip of vermilion at the parting of my hair and a deep-red bindi on my forehead. I was never a heavy jewelry person and I decided to keep just my ring, my two bangles, my nose-pin, a single anklet that I wear around my left ankle and a gold chain on. I know it sounds a lot, but if you look up traditional Indian women's jewelry, this is actually minimalist. I cannot deny, I loved myself in that dress for that day and it generated a sense of happiness in me.

However dark shades and high temperature have an alliance between them and they work together to get me sweaty quickly unless I am in an AC environment. To top it all, I have a natural tendency to sweat much more than the average. I could sense that in spite of just having taken a bath before starting, sweat was accumulating in my underarms and back, beginning to make wet patches form at those places. Fortunately, my Uber arrived shortly and it was a big relief to get inside the AC cab as I headed for the mall with my small, black clutch resting on the seat next to me. The cool air from the vents blowing across my skin, wet from the sweat, generated a nice feeling. It was a break I was taking for myself after quite some time and I was enjoying the escape from the routine. Through the lightly tinted glasses of my cab, I saw the clear sky and sparsely populated streets as we drove. Nobody was mad to step out in this hot afternoon sun on a weekend. For one brief moment I looked at the rear-view mirror to check my hair. To my surprise, pleasant I suppose, I found my cab driver trying to steal glances at me through the mirror. I ignored his efforts, but deep inside i could feel a happiness bubble forming at the thought that it was actually a compliment to me as I have been found attractive to a man. A fifteen minute drive brought me to main gate of the mall.

To be continued...

A testimonial...thank you.

Hey,

I have been following your blog for quite a while now and i must admit that the stories which you share here are really damn erotic and it never fails to turn me on. I wish I had a GF like you…. keep sharing more stories as your stories do better job of turning me on than most of the blogs here with pictures on them….

A friend of my best friend always loved flirting with me, and I kind of flirted back. I tried to avoid meeting him alone. Somewhere along things got serious and one of the days when he had come to my house while my husband was away, he touched me casually. It felt good and I didn’t stop him. This photo is a beautiful representation of the reaction that I had when eventually he carried me to our bedroom and I pulled his underwear off to see a really attractive and well formed erection spring out. I wondered how he could keep that inside without being understood from outside. He fucked me twice that evening and I was a permanent invitee to all his parties thereafter. Been to his house many times since, most willingly.

Question 3: In a broader sense, who do you enjoy most with. Guys younger than you or older than you. Why?

I am not too sure if I am qualified to answer this question or not. I have not been with many men who were/are younger to me. There may have been a someone or the other but that’s too infrequent. I have always had a weakness for matured men. Most of my bulls have been biologically senior to me.

I have always found maturity to be a really strong turn-on. Let me clarify though, that while biological age and mental maturity most often goes together, it is however not always the case.

An important trait that matured adult men generally share is to go slow. To avoid confusions, going slow doesn’t mean ’doing’ things slowly. It means the ability to enjoy the journey  more than just reaching the destination. There have been an instance where I happened to be very intimately connected in some really intense congress with a gentleman who is well past his seventies. Despite his age, he amazed me with his patience and enthusiasm to let me enjoy the feeling of being pleasured by him, the sensation of each of his touches, be it his lips or teeth or hands which eventually would culminate into our mutual attainment of the peak of happiness. He ensured I derive pleasure out of every single thrust he delivered, making each of them a separate and distinct act of loving me, which when integrated formed the overall act of his having sex with me.

The journey, can be very rough, noisy and tumultuous, or very serene and practically noiseless except for the sound of our breath and the almost inaudible sighs of pleasure, depending on the personality of the bull concerned. But the end objective in either mode of presentation remains the same, to make the journey as pleasurable as possible for both, and not just to reach the destination and then collapse on top of each other. I think men who are mentally matured have attained the knowledge of how a touch can be made more lingering, how an act of taking possession over his woman can be made to a much longed after affair by the woman, how to treat a woman like a woman.

It’s these little things which otherwise go unnoticed, that makes sex with a matured man so much more pleasurable for me.

You once mentioned transcending class boundaries under the spell of a man's manliness... sounds like an interesting story, tell us more?

I thought I had already written about it, or maybe I didn't. Not sure. If not, maybe will write about it someday.

What I mean is a continuation of what I've been telling. My being with men isn't necessarily always out of romantic interest. In most cases they have been out of the primal urge. For that urge to be generated, all that matters is the right mix of hormones from the two partners. It doesn't depend on the financial or societal or any other attributes.

And that happened with me too when I met someone and just like that the hormones in me mixed to be just right to feel drawn to him and be with him.

Maybe someday will write about it when I get the right feel to.