I sat back in bed, stunned by this revelation. My surprise must have showed on my face, because Michelle went on to add, “In most hotwife relationships, she rushes right home and tells the husband all of the intimate details of her liaisons with her other lovers while she and her hubby engage in what’s known within that lifestyle as ‘reclamation sex’.”
She smiled at me and continued, “From what I’ve read, it’s some of the hottest sex you can imagine and the couple really gets off on it, both of them!”
“And he isn’t jealous of what goes on with his wife, when she’s…entertaining her other men?” I couldn’t help myself; I just had to ask.
Michelle’s smile changed into a teasing one as she said, “Maybe a little; that’s part of the allure of letting her run so freely in the first place. I get the sense that most husbands are proud of how hot other men find their wives to be, along with their being a bit jealous of how hot their wives find those other men to be!”
“But it doesn’t break up their marriage?”
“Not most of the time,” my wife informed me, “if both partners are really ready for it to happen. As a matter of fact, the vast majority of the stories I read about this sort of arrangement on the websites I found were extremely positive. The married couples said they felt closer than ever to one another, after adopting the hotwife lifestyle.”
I sat back, totally stunned. Michelle had clearly been fantasizing about us participating in such an “arrangement”; that was where all of the increased sex drive on her part during the past two weeks had come from!
Saying as much to her, I was further shocked when she replied, “Well, I must admit, we’ve got the perfect set up in place to try it. As you said, I’m not likely to get pregnant. I doubt the kids would be any problem at all, they’re still so young. And it’s not like I don’t meet lots of gorgeous men who would like nothing better than to fuck me!”
She leaned in towards me and said in a sultry voice, “Do you really want to do this? Do you want me to start cheating on you…for real?”
My heart was suddenly beating almost out of control! Did I actually this to happen, to be…cuckolded by my own sweet, faithful wife?
I found--now that I was being presented with the chance to actually experience what I had been fantasizing about so avidly—that I couldn’t answer right away. Hoping to delay that momentous decision, I said, “What about you? Once we do this, there’s no real going back.”
She looked thoughtful as I said that, no doubt realizing as well as I did that once she had slept with another man, and I knew all about it, she couldn’t undo that fact. Even if we mutually decided this whole hotwife thing had been a huge mistake and we wouldn’t repeat it, the “damage” would have already been done…for all time! I would still mentally envision her in another guy’s arms, with his dick buried in her cheating pussy as long as we both drew breath!
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she said at last, some of the excitement going out of her eyes as the reality of the situation hit us both.
After another long pause, I said, “Listen, it’s not like you were a virgin when I met you, back in college. There had been other guys before me.”
She blushed slightly and said with a modest smile, “It’s not like there had been a bunch, you know! I was very discriminating in my choice of partners, especially in light of how many boys and men tried to seduce me.”
I looked at her. She was a true beauty and she always had been. I marveled again that she had chosen me, over all of her other options.
“Why me?” I asked her the question honestly. It didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just sort of slipped out.
“I don’t know…because you’re you?” She answered my question with one of her own.
I just lay beaming at her for long moments. Finally, I asked, feeling confident of her answer, “Are you still going to feel that way about me, even if we decide to pursue this little…adventure?”
“Of course I will,” she insisted, “there’s just something about you, about how the two of us mesh. Nothing is going to change that, darling; nothing!”
That was what I wanted to hear. I knew I felt the same way about all of this, but I was curious, so I asked her, “Why do you want to do this, given the way you feel about me, about the life we currently have together?”
Again, she managed to look charmingly embarrassed as she said in a soft voice, “I don’t know…for the thrill involved? Because I realize that we can?”
She rushed on, sounding apologetic, as she said, “I mean…I’m in my early thirties. From a practical standpoint, this is my last chance to do something like this; a lot less guys want to seduce a woman in her forties than in her thirties; and because--I finally realized--that I could do it if I wanted to, and you wanted it, too, of course!”
Her look turned imploring as she said, “If you decide you’re okay with this, that it won’t permanently fuck up our marriage, we’re ideally positioned to go ahead and do it! Do you realize how unique that is?”
She went on, sounding almost smug as she said, “None of our friends could ever try something like this. It would be too messy…too impossible to for most of them to pull off.”
Michelle whispered excitedly, “But we could! And no one, except you and me, would ever know!”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. I thought about her in the arms of other men, fucking them, sucking their cocks, and then running home to share the intimate details with me!
The whole concept struck me as being so taboo…so exotic, that it thrilled me to the core just thinking about it! I realized that I still burned with the desire for it to happen, God help me!
But still, I held back, wanting to be absolutely sure we were making the right choice. More than anything, I valued what we had now: as she had said, I didn’t want to screw up our great marriage just for a few illicit thrills.
“Let’s think about this carefully, before we do it,” I said breathlessly. “We need to make sure we’re ready…really ready, before we go ahead and take the next step.”
She reached impatiently for me and my hard cock, saying, “Later; we can talk about this later. Right now, I want you to fuck me, darling, just like my lover is going to fuck me, if we do decide to pursue this!”
Chapter Four
Deciding
We talked about little else the next few days, whenever the nanny and the kids weren’t around. Michelle surprised me by eliminating her newest client from her list of potential lovers right away.
“He’s too pushy,” she said, one night up in our bedroom after I had brought him up, “and too possessive. I get the feeling that he’d want to own me, not just fuck me.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” I reached for her, continuing my thought, “Since we both know you’re mine, no matter what you may choose to do with your lover!”
She grinned at me and said, just before our long, intimate kiss, “I am. Always remember that. I’m nobody else’s girl. Even if I’m being bad with another man, I’m still yours, not his!”
We embraced, sharing an evil chuckle and then made passionate love atop the nearby bed. When we had finished at last, she said, “I’ve got several of my clients in mind, if we elect to go that route. But that could turn out to be more complicated than I ever expected it would be, now that I’ve had time to think it through.”
I looked across the pillow at her and said, “How do you mean, ‘complicated’?”
She laughed lightly and answered, “The way we contemplated doing it, I mean. Normally, when a wife has an affair, it just happens; she’s so horny or so enamored or so tempted by the other guy involved that she simply succumbs to that man’s charms and they end up in bed together.”
Michelle reached out and touched by naked shoulder, saying, “That isn’t the case this time at all. My husband knows all about it, even before it happens.”
She giggled and moved her hand up to ruffle my hair as she said, “Hell, he’s even help
ing me plan it!”
I laughed too, and moved my head back so that she couldn’t reach me to mess my hair up still further. I said, “Well, that ought to serve to make everything easier, not more complicated; no lying or sneaking around in this case. It should all be very straightforward.”
“Ah, you’d think so, but you’d be wrong!”
I just looked at her, waiting for enlightenment. She provided it by saying, “My clients are not your advertising customers, at least very few of them have been, over the years. So they don’t know you personally as a rule, either socially or through business.”
Before I could comment that this might prove a good thing, she followed up with, “But they are aware that you exist. Most of my clients, especially the ones with the hots for me, have looked me up on Google, and when you do that, you find out all about my husband, too.”
I guess I was making a face which plainly indicated I still didn’t understand how that was a bad thing, so she explained further, “We all move in the same orbit. Even though they don’t actually know you, or come into direct contact with you, my clients still tend to be movers and shakers within the business world, either regionally, in southern California, or nationally. And they know I’m married to you and that you’re a partner in a very successful ad agency.”
When I still didn’t tumble to her meaning, she went on to ask, somewhat exasperatedly, “How would you like to have the story making the rounds in the local business community that your wife is one hot mama, and that she no longer seems to care that she’s married to you?”
A cold chill passed down my spine as I contemplated that scenario. Such a rumor, casually started by one of her clients after she had slept with him, might quickly circulate throughout the southern California business community. With a high-profile job such as mine, I either knew or was known by hell’s own amount of people.
“That might happen,” I said quietly, “I can see that now.”
Looking relieved that I had finally seen the danger inherent in such a situation, Michelle said, “It really could; you know how people love to gossip.”
Giving me a moment to steep myself in that uncomfortable idea, she added, “Either people might think you’re an idiot—what guy is so oblivious that he doesn’t think anything of it when his wife suddenly starts getting back from ‘business dinners’ at four or five in the morning, or when she suddenly begins to travel out of town with male clients all of the time?”
As that was sinking in, she said, “Or they might conclude that you no longer cared what I did or whom I did it with. Either case makes for a juicy story that’s just too delicious not to pass along at the next cocktail party.”
My naïve hopes of an easy, completely safe new “hobby” for us came crashing down around my ears as I considered that. I looked at her, shaken, and asked, “What about if you quit wearing your wedding set at work? That way, any new clients might not discover that you’re married in the first place.”
“That is a possibility,” she admitted, “or we might just decide ignore my client list altogether as a possible source of lovers. We could adopt the time-honored means of finding an appropriate guy for me to sleep with; bars, dance clubs, and the net.”
“You mean websites that cater to the hotwife lifestyle?”
“Yeah, I looked at several of those already, when I was becoming familiar with the whole hotwife phenomenon, and I couldn’t help but notice that some of them feature personal ads from guys who enjoy being the ‘second man’ in a married relationship. By looking there for possible hook ups, any potential sex partners we found would be fully aware--before we ever got together--that I’m a woman who’s happily married and that I’m just looking for a night or two of frivolous extra-marital fun.”
“That might be okay,” I answered, encouraged. “That could work.”
Her face turned into a frown as she said, “The drawback with that is two-fold, as far as I can tell so far. Some of the guys who advertise on those sites are what they call in hotwife circles ‘bulls’, men who like to take charge in a relationship. In extreme cases, they might even want to come over here and fuck me while you watched, and then make you ‘clean me up’ with your tongue after they finish coming inside me.”
“Yuck, I’m not doing that!” I quickly blurted out the words, totally turned off by that mental image. “I guess I don’t mind being made into a cuckold, but I’m not a wimp!”
She smiled approvingly and leaned forward, kissing me on the tip of my nose. Michelle said, “No, you’re not, thank God. And I don’t want that either. If we do this, I want it to be fun for both of us. I don’t want for us to become slaves to some egotistical asshole’s whims and kinky desires, even if he does have a big dick!”
“Me neither, so bulls are definitely a no-no,” I agreed wholeheartedly.
“The other drawback to the hotwife sites is the degree of lying I’ve read goes on there,” she said.
“Lying, what do you mean, lying?”
She rolled her eyes and said, “Most of the guys on those sites post photos of themselves, clothed and unclothed. There are lots of cock pictures. From what I’ve discovered in my research, some of those photos are years out of date or are of someone else entirely.”
I laughed; I couldn’t help myself. I said, “That’s just what we need, you being tricked into going out on dates with old codgers who can’t get it up anymore!”
****
We eventually decided to attack the problem of Michelle meeting men who might do as lovers on three fronts. We would try the singles bar route, but we elected to give ourselves an edge by going solely to bars which catered to the swinger/hotwife lifestyles, in hopes of meeting some likelier candidates than we might otherwise have run into at a more conventional watering hole.
Also, we’d try the ads. Michelle set aside some time later in the week to spend on the net and the telephone, carefully screening—we hoped—potential “dates” and weeding out those who were too far over the hill age-wise, the fatties, and the bores.
Lastly, she brought up the idea of approaching a client of hers who had been one of her first, back when she had first hung out her shingle a few years ago. Ed Livingston was a little older than she normally might have liked—he was just reaching his early forties—but he was, according to her, still very handsome, quite rich, and thus able to show her a good time on their “dates”, if things ever got that far. And she considered him to be a friend as well.
“Ed is a cutie,” she prodded me teasingly; “I’ve always kind of secretly had the hots for him, and I know he thinks I’m pretty special, too!”
“Oh and how do I know you’re not going to run off with old Ed, if he turns out to have a humongous dick and he really knows how to use it?”
She grinned at me and whispered, “You don’t. That’s part of the fun of being the husband of a practicing hotwife, or so the websites assure me.”
I grinned back, but my balls tightened up at the thought of her falling in love with rich, handsome, Ed and leaving me for him. Fun, indeed, I thought to myself. Maybe this whole hotwife thing was better left as a fantasy after all!
Electing not to own up to my hesitation, I plunged ahead, asking, “How do you plan to spring this whole hotwife idea on him?”
“I haven’t finished working that out in my head quite yet,” she admitted. “Ed is still a client, one of my oldest, so I see him frequently.”
“You could try being honest with him,” I suggested.
“I will be, up to a point,” she assured me. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to confess my honest attraction to him, as a man. But I don’t want to take that too far.”
She shrugged at my questioning look and said, “I want make sure he just fucks me, not falls in love me. This is all just for fun--not because I’m tired of my marriage and looking for a new guy in my life--and I want him to understand that from the start. I’m not seeking romance here; just a hard dick to play with!”
I laughed at
her honesty and took her in my arms, saying, “I get it. Just be sure he does. We don’t need any middle-aged Romeos hanging around out on our front lawn, pelting your bedroom window with pebbles, mooning over you!”
Michelle smiled and put her arms around my neck. She whispered, “It wouldn’t do him any good. I’ve already found my soul-mate, and I’m sticking with him.”
Just before we kissed, I took this last opportunity to ask her, “Are you sure about that? Are you sure about this hotwife thing?”
“I am,” she said evenly, staring into my eyes with her big grey ones, “as long as you are.”
Swallowing hard, realizing that I was fast running out of chances to call this whole thing off before it started. I said, hoping against hope that it would really prove to be the case, “I am, too.”
Chapter Five
Beginnings
I was in the living room, playing with the kids, when the front door flew open and Michelle came rushing into the house. It was just past six, and I had only beaten her home by a few minutes.
She gave me a look which said she had something she was just bursting to tell me, but it wasn’t a thing she could discuss in front of the kids. Brenda, the nanny, saved us by coming in from the kitchen just then.
“You two, go wash your hands before dinner,” she said the children, and both of them scampered out of the living room to do as she had said.
When Brenda went back into the kitchen a few seconds later, I arose from my easy chair, sidled quickly over to Michelle, and asked in a low voice, “What?”
“I did it!” She said, clearly struggling to keep her own voice down.
What has she done? I wondered in a mild panic.
Michelle (A Hotwife Adventure) Page 3