For what it is worth, when my hotwife (former wife - long story - long time ago) and I would socialize with guys she was fucking or about to fuck, the guy and I would both (I think) mentally pay a brief visit to that part of our respective brains that humans have in common with wolves and elephant seals - the part that drives dominance/submissiveness behavior. We all know that score at some level of feeling: the big strong guys get to fuck the females and we others have to just hang out and hope we can avoid getting beat up.
I never felt like it was more than a brief visit to that mammalian brain, though - none of my wife's parafucks (tm) ever tried to lord it over me nor did I ever feel like abasing myself to them, even though, if it was taking place at our house, I would often prepare and serve the drinks. I made them strong.
This brings up why I liked guys fucking my wife - whether I watched and participated or it took place somewhere else and she came home and I fucked her afterwards:
For me it was like getting to fuck multiple women, because she was always a little (or a lot) different when she had just had some other guy's tongue and dick in her mouth and pussy, swapping essence with each other (this was in the pre-AIDS era, when the pill and penicillin were the complete answers to any question you wanted to ask about multiple partners).
With my hotwife, anyway, the sex never got stale because she would be transformed in these very interesting encounters. Indeed, I very quickly realized this was better for me than the wearisome business (and often bad consequences) of trying to get over with other women: substantial portions of the territory were familiar but fascination with the new and different remained strong.
For me the hotwife experience was all about this element of the new and exciting that she introduced into our relations by her adventures. That factor was by far the most important part of my enjoyment. The parafuck guys were important to the process, although not primarily in their individual capacities: they all had dicks. But there was no reason not to be friendly and relaxed with them - some in fact were very nice guys - sometimes we played tennis or sometimes were at the same bridge parties. No sweat.
It also put me in a better perspective about the usual brief, vivid sensation of being in a Walt Disney nature movie, cast as one of the caribou hitting their heads together for the privilege of getting their rocks off: it passed, and the real enjoyments were not affected.
Best to both of you - I hope it all works out well.
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