New Hotwife - and this is how it began

[zumiruni]

I got into this the same way, so I’m told, that plenty of other wives get into it: I adore my husband and he has freakier fantasies than I do.

I spent the better part of our early marriage resisting even mild kinks, shutting him down, a few times shaming him for certain things. I yucked his yums.

I had never had sex before I met my future husband, though I wasn’t a virgin bride (suck my tits, purity culture). He was, is, my truest love. Convinced me in his delightfully manipulative, though heartily genuine way that soul mates DO exist. That I was his and he was mine. When I was of the mindset of “Who’s to say any one person can fulfill another? How am I supposed to trust we’ll actually grow and change at a rate that doesn’t separate us? How can I trust you’re not going to withhold love or leave me if I make you crazy?” …Can you smell the child of tumultuous divorce through the interwebs?

So there I was - a pure of heart (and pussy) young bride with plenty of demons and skeletons of her own still locked in closets - holding a cheap dildo and nylon restraints in my hands. Adoring, boyish husband nervously grinning at me. Mere months after my dying dad, my first best friend, walked me down the aisle. (Woof. That’s another story that doesn’t need telling. Maybe this is just to say - the skeletons are not Daddy issues.)

What the fuck was I supposed to do with these? Am I suddenly not enough? My smooth skin. My perfectly taut, petite, 23 year old sex kitten body. My eager to please disposition. My earth shattering - though hard earned - wailing orgasms that would make tears of gratitude spontaneously spurt from my eyes as I sighed and kissed my way back down to earth. Was it not enough, or too much altogether?

Now, sitting on my upholstered sleeper sofa. The faint smell of toddler urine that you can never really lift out despite the methodical blotting, soaking, scrubbing (first using toxin free, eco friendly, essential oil infused bullshit followed by the-good-stuff-heavy-duty-carcinogenic-cleansers). Lights low. HBO must watch series being ignored. The same genuine green eyes. The same heart that professed his love for me within weeks of knowing me, really knowing me. He explains in a new way.

“I think seeing you enjoying yourself sexually is a huge turn on. So seeing you get fucked and enjoying it even when it’s not me would be super hot. Then there’s this hard to describe mix of jealous, humiliating, hotness that goes into it as well that I don’t have a word for. And the dichotomy of me being caged and you getting fucked is hot and I don’t know why. There’s the evolutionary aspect of my brain wanting to fuck you more when I see or think about another guy fucking you (I have to out compete him). There’s the mimetic desire aspect that if someone else wants you, I want you more. And… you’re like this beautiful sex goddess and you don’t even know it. I feel almost guilty about keeping you to myself.”

Yeah. He’s sweet AND smart. And I will fuckin cut a bitch who tries to distract him from me so don’t even … …I’m the jealous one. Jealous for my husband, anyway. Because someone in this marriage has to be .

And he’s assuring me AGAIN with clear steady eyes that this is not some maniacal ruse to permit him to eventually cheat on me. He only wants me. And he wants me to experience buckets of pleasure.

And this is when I am breathlessly trust falling. But I’m still sitting on my urine stained couch. Endorphin switch turned on, like the time I was 15 and jumped off a cliff into the ocean. You’re telling me I can leap off this rock, experience the butterflies, the fall, the shiver, the rush, as if it could all end - and still be safe? I might be a Good Girl, but I’m also an adrenaline junky.

Green eyes. Soft. Steady. Adoring.
I reach over to feel his dick. Lie detector.
Rock. Hard.

Fascination.

Game on, Cuck.

[superb101]

I love this! please continue!!!

[tit5atat]

Wow, good start! I'm certainly curious to see how this goes. I hope you will continue telling us about this journey soon.

[Wannabee]

Wow! Great writing. Please continue.

[xyz321]

Yummy, dreamy story in the making please continue. Your hubby's way of thinking and feeling about his beautiful, petite, sex kitten wife sounds exactly like me (and many others...)

[Mr1SexyGILF]

Welcum to the Hotwife forum zumiruni. I am very much looking forward to the continued details of your blossoming sexuality, and your journey into the freedom and enjoyment of whatever variation of Ethical Non-Monogamy you choose.

I checked your post history and found your threads on other OHW pages. It sounds like you are processing any conflicts with the purity culture of your upbringing, and getting your head around the freedoms your loving husband is offering.

You had mentioned in an earlier thread that you would welcome input from an experienced Hotwife. My suggestion would be to get verified and tap into the experience and wisdom of all the verified hotwives here in their ladies only forum.

You had also mentioned in one of the other threads on Sept 8th, you had a Hotwife date scheduled in 13 days. That would have been Sept 21st. I am curious if that date happened, if you did have sex with another man, and how it was.

I understand that you have a multitude of demands on your time, as a young mother, and all of your responsibilities as a wife, mother and employee. I sincerely appreciate the time you are taking to bring us along on this journey.

Mr GILF

[jrobb]

ZumiRuni,

You, my sweet, hot, wife of a cuck, have raised the literary bar to a new level her at Our Hotwives. Please, do continue! I mean, seriously. Even your Emojis were perfectly chosen and placed.

Thank you,

JR

[parklife]

I got into this the same way, so I’m told, that plenty of other wives get into it: I adore my husband and he has freakier fantasies than I do.

I spent the better part of our early marriage resisting even mild kinks, shutting him down, a few times shaming him for certain things. I yucked his yums.

That’s certainly how we got it it…. Although now my wife is hitting a guys cock with a wooden spoon, so I think she far surpassed me on the ‘freaky’ scale… (though she says she gets nothing out of it).

And I had never heard of “yuck someone’s yum” until I had kids… it’s like a new generations golden rule…

Convinced me in his delightfully manipulative, though heartily genuine way that soul mates DO exist. That I was his and he was mine.

And soul mates can separate love and sex and allow each other to be authentic selves…. Takes it al away from being just kink fantasy and more about potential and opportunity to explore within the safety of your togetherness.

Yeah. He’s sweet AND smart. And I will fuckin cut a bitch who tries to distract him from me so don’t even … …I’m the jealous one. Jealous for my husband, anyway. Because someone in this marriage has to be .

HA! That’s exactly what my wife says… she’s jealous because one of us needs to be…. She likes to think it’s what keeps us tethered together.. her jealousy.

And this is when I am breathlessly trust falling. But I’m still sitting on my urine stained couch. Endorphin switch turned on, like the time I was 15 and jumped off a cliff into the ocean. You’re telling me I can leap off this rock, experience the butterflies, the fall, the shiver, the rush, as if it could all end - and still be safe? I might be a Good Girl, but I’m also an adrenaline junky.

He might be able to describe it exactly the same way…. A simultaneous trust falling, both of you jumping off that cliff. But don’t worry, the water is there to catch you both.

I’m curious, how soon after that night on a urine stained couch did you finally become a hotwife? Was there a co side table length of time or has this been a quick turn of events?

[scarlettscuck]

I got into this the same way, so I’m told, that plenty of other wives get into it: I adore my husband and he has freakier fantasies than I do.

I spent the better part of our early marriage resisting even mild kinks, shutting him down, a few times shaming him for certain things. I yucked his yums.

I had never had sex before I met my future husband, though I wasn’t a virgin bride (suck my tits, purity culture). He was, is, my truest love. Convinced me in his delightfully manipulative, though heartily genuine way that soul mates DO exist. That I was his and he was mine. When I was of the mindset of “Who’s to say any one person can fulfill another? How am I supposed to trust we’ll actually grow and change at a rate that doesn’t separate us? How can I trust you’re not going to withhold love or leave me if I make you crazy?” …Can you smell the child of tumultuous divorce through the interwebs?

So there I was - a pure of heart (and pussy) young bride with plenty of demons and skeletons of her own still locked in closets - holding a cheap dildo and nylon restraints in my hands. Adoring, boyish husband nervously grinning at me. Mere months after my dying dad, my first best friend, walked me down the aisle. (Woof. That’s another story that doesn’t need telling. Maybe this is just to say - the skeletons are not Daddy issues.)

What the fuck was I supposed to do with these? Am I suddenly not enough? My smooth skin. My perfectly taut, petite, 23 year old sex kitten body. My eager to please disposition. My earth shattering - though hard earned - wailing orgasms that would make tears of gratitude spontaneously spurt from my eyes as I sighed and kissed my way back down to earth. Was it not enough, or too much altogether?

Now, sitting on my upholstered sleeper sofa. The faint smell of toddler urine that you can never really lift out despite the methodical blotting, soaking, scrubbing (first using toxin free, eco friendly, essential oil infused bullshit followed by the-good-stuff-heavy-duty-carcinogenic-cleansers). Lights low. HBO must watch series being ignored. The same genuine green eyes. The same heart that professed his love for me within weeks of knowing me, really knowing me. He explains in a new way.

“I think seeing you enjoying yourself sexually is a huge turn on. So seeing you get fucked and enjoying it even when it’s not me would be super hot. Then there’s this hard to describe mix of jealous, humiliating, hotness that goes into it as well that I don’t have a word for. And the dichotomy of me being caged and you getting fucked is hot and I don’t know why. There’s the evolutionary aspect of my brain wanting to fuck you more when I see or think about another guy fucking you (I have to out compete him). There’s the mimetic desire aspect that if someone else wants you, I want you more. And… you’re like this beautiful sex goddess and you don’t even know it. I feel almost guilty about keeping you to myself.”

Yeah. He’s sweet AND smart. And I will fuckin cut a bitch who tries to distract him from me so don’t even … …I’m the jealous one. Jealous for my husband, anyway. Because someone in this marriage has to be .

And he’s assuring me AGAIN with clear steady eyes that this is not some maniacal ruse to permit him to eventually cheat on me. He only wants me. And he wants me to experience buckets of pleasure.

And this is when I am breathlessly trust falling. But I’m still sitting on my urine stained couch. Endorphin switch turned on, like the time I was 15 and jumped off a cliff into the ocean. You’re telling me I can leap off this rock, experience the butterflies, the fall, the shiver, the rush, as if it could all end - and still be safe? I might be a Good Girl, but I’m also an adrenaline junky.

Green eyes. Soft. Steady. Adoring.
I reach over to feel his dick. Lie detector.
Rock. Hard.

Fascination.

Game on, Cuck.

zumiruni - Simply brilliant and amazing. I literally just read your post out loud to Scarlett. We both said “WOW,” laughed and applauded. Can’t wait to hear what happens next!

[zumiruni]

Thanks for the feedback, that’s fun .

I’ll keep telling the story. But it might read a little different than others. Even though from what I read, it’s all basically the same. Nothing new under the sun. Maybe it won’t be your yum, and that’s ok. There’s not a lot on these forums that are helpful for wives processing heavy things. So these stories will read more like streams of female consciousness rather than thoughtfully crafted erotica.

To answer some questions because timelines and events seem to be a sticking point of fascination…

I can’t remember exactly when the idea of me having sex with someone else came up in dirty talk. I can’t really separate a time in my mind that was pre/post that fantasy. As I mentioned, for years I told him to quit it. The idea would work it’s way back in. Chastity became a fascination. That freaked me out more than fucking someone else. Penises have freaked me out for much of my life anyway, and now you want to do what with it? Won’t that hurt? What if it maims you? Won’t that disrupt some important pathways if we decide we want another kid at some point? He bought one behind my back. It hurt my feelings, pissed me off. The secrecy. The direct opposition to what I said I was comfortable with. His body his choice and stuff I guess. But I was the worst kind of female ragey. Nothing like a mad woman…

Somewhere along the way I softened, a little bit at a time. Maybe it was the nature of the recurrence. The fantasy wasn’t just going away for him. Maybe it was the moments of glowy awe, reflecting on our lives together up to this point. So many challenges, so many joys, so much change, so much growth, so much sticking together and not just loving each other through it - genuinely growing in like with each other with each switchback on the trail.

Maybe it was that my best friend met her person and decided to get married. They got engaged fall of ‘21. I started keeping notes of things that came to mind that I could work into a MOH speech pretty much as soon as they started dating.

I do this thing where I predict plot lines without fail. Hubby nearly has to muzzle me when we watch films, because I also enjoy spoiling them with my clairvoyance.

Anyway, February of ‘21 I have a note on my phone:

He’s not afraid to change. He’s not afraid to let me change. “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.”

That’s probably about the timing of the softening. We were infants when we got married. And somehow we grow and change together, over and over.

Halloween of ‘21 I was feeling frisky. A little like the domme he fantasizes about me pretending to be. I should mention I’ve never been good at playing pretend. Maybe more on that another time. Anyway, I was feeling naughty and bossy in the way he likes. I was feeling bad for shaming him and making him throw out his chastity cage. So before heading out to take the kids trick or treating, I grabbed a scarf and fashioned a chastity hammock of sorts. Wrapped it around his balls, the base of his shaft, tacking down his dick so it couldn’t rise. It was actually pretty effective. Stayed on, doing its job underneath his baseball player costume, made it more than an hour through the neighborhood. It was all my idea. He was jazzed. I didn’t hate it. Maybe I liked it, a little

For Christmas I let him pick out a new cage.

He started telling me how hot he thought it would be if I fucked strangers on my bestie’s upcoming bachelorette trip.

I backslid on the whole thing a little. No. I don’t want to.

Opened up to my therapist about it… Are you even a millennial if you haven’t tried therapy? Jk, to each their own. Mine is semi regular processing with a stranger who owns no burden to my baggage. She was mega helpful.

Conversation on the toddler stained couch was early Spring of ‘22.

I did NOT fuck a stranger on the bachelorette trip, for so many reasons.

Tackled and made friends with some demons and skeletons. Got comfortable with my baggage. We’ve all got some. Nothing new under the sun.

Got my bestie down the aisle.

Buried an octogenarian patriarch.

Symbolism unavoidable. It was screaming at me.

Suddenly I felt - unlocked.

Had the cage been on me this whole time and I hadn’t even noticed? I slowly started to take it off. Careful not to snag any sensitive areas. I could concretely observe the space that exists - lengthens with each breath - between my vertebrae, from the top of my hard hard head to the bottom of my soft and relaxed - relaxing - pelvic floor.

Even more slowly I began to consider… what might it feel like to turn around and place the cage onto the adoring husband who’s actually asking for it?

I started to explore the dark corners of the internet, places my husband had been a hundred times before. Wondering if there might be someone interesting enough to pull me out of the light.

*Spoiler - there was

[weluvtoodoit]

There may be many who feel the same things as you wrote, but few can put it into words like you did. We had to learn "to let the other change" many years ago and we would not change a thing if we had to do it over. We celebrated our 50th Anniversary this year and sometimes the learning curve was quite steep! Thank you for the great post.

[aztd]

Great writing, looking forward to more

[ricinatl]

Staring at my phone waiting to see what happened next.

[zumiruni]

Moving out of order here to share a journal entry from 9/22. Because it’s how I feel in this moment, too… as I wear my cuck’s key on a night out with girlfriends. The chill kind of night, because I’m a chill kind of lady with chill friends who wouldn’t understand any of this.

I think I expected to feel different
sullied
broken
foreign

The interesting thing is

I feel more like myself than ever

Thank you

[parklife]

The interesting thing is

I feel more like myself than ever

I think this hits the nail in the head for some…. For my wife, this allows her the ability to express herself in ways a conventional monogamous relationship wouldn’t. She can be more herself than ever. My wife isn’t overly sexual in general but having the ability to use that outlet as she desires allows her to open herself up to some of the connections she enjoys in life. It goes hand I. Hand with her desire to only have FWBs and not short term one and fines. It’s an extension of her friendship with these other guys that both of them can enjoy without the other “couple” things that can be layered on top.

Now, early on, she did feel sullied and foreign as she came to accept that this was ok and she shifted her mindset.

Glad to hear you’re processing and feeling like this.

Locktober and Chill.

[zumiruni]

Connection. Community. Humanity.

Bear (bare?) with me, sometimes I wax a little too poetic.

My Bull

I would probably have permission to identify him. I’m not going to. I’m going to be a little selfish with that and plenty of other information.

Not because I’m under any illusion that he’s mine, or that I’m his. I am a Mine to Hubby. He is Mine and I am His.

Not because I’m jealous of how he spends his time. There are no pangs of jealousy. I genuinely believe joy begets joy. So why would I feel the urge to limit that, for anyone.

That’s not what this is about.

And. (I’ve learned to use “and” rather than “but” — and that practice is life changing)

For some reason I just feel protective over this. ISFJ - Guardian, Protector, Defender (depending on what edition of Please Understand Me your psych 101 textbook companion named it. Back when books used to have actual pages).

My Bull gets off on (I mean, there’s plenty to work with…)

two opposing things being true, preferring his own genre of quality over quantity.

I get off on

connection
a feeling of community
being allowed to timidly, gradually discover the tender squishy depths of beauty within humanity

It was a match.

Our first attempt, first search result… ok Hubby’s first search result. Because damn him, he knows me too well and can often pick even my irl friends better than I can.

I was watching sexy things. Staying up late (night owl to Hubby’s early to bed/early to rise). Exploring and enjoying my fuck buddies Mr. Pink and Mr. Blue. *see post on breaking up with my vibrator to learn the identities of these gentlemen* I had recently been unlocked in ways that were restricting - strangling - my ability to come to certain conclusions. I was trusting my kinky cuck in a whole new enlightened way.

I was ready.

Hubby had mentioned weeks prior about finding a potential bull online, one he thought I’d like. One he thought would end up being convenient to meet with for certain reasons. I had meh’d the idea before I was ready, didn’t think anything about it, didn’t look him up.

Then, after so long and all at once, I was ready for him to show me. Sitting on the infamous couch, bottle of wine 3/4 of the way shared.

“What about that guy you had mentioned before?”

AND the clothes are off. He’s taking my picture. I’m giggling. Nervous. Excited.

He’s pulling up my account. That I made. That I had begun exploring while staying up late and getting to know dark edges of myself. I am now in control.

He’s opening the messenger. He’s sending the picture. Holy shit I take it back I’m not ready! My mummy tummy! My toothy grin! My tangly hair! Aah!

“Oh look he messaged back.” - tosses me my phone

“He whaaaa?!! That fast??”

We messaged. We chatted. We moved it over to another app. I felt clicking, swelling, thumping.

Connection. Community. Humanity.

Fuuuuuuuck me

[parklife]

Bravo.

Park ~ (INTP)

[CuriousHusband91941]

A really cool read.

[zorro]

Fun. Thank you.

[zumiruni]

Learning this forum… I had started another thread with journal entries, but had it suggested to me to keep things in one thread. So copy/pasting back to the more viewed thread

Months prior to engaging online, during the period of time I was ignoring that my husband had this fantasy, I was in a period of growth and discovery. Learning the ability of my mind to flex and heal. And the body keeps the score. So it’s all related.

There was a moment when -
my husband was out of town for work.
my kids were driving me in.sane.
i was on the verge of processing some heavy personal shit I had shoved away to deal with later. Fiddle-dee-dee. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
my own work had become just a web of dumb interpersonal conflict which was super frustrating because I LOVE MY JOB. big fat capital L-word Love it.

Typically my pattern of behavior when it would all boil over would be to just explode. Rage. I’m chill and calm until I’m just not anymore. Toxic trait.

This time I decided to try something different. I crouched down to be eye level with my big-little boy. Calmly said “Mommy needs a break. Take your little brother and go play in the garage. I’m going to sit right here on the couch and take some quiet time. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

By the grace of something divine, he followed directions the first time.

I sat on the couch and allowed myself to just. feel. all. the feels. Didn’t shove, didn’t judge, didn’t exaggerate. I leaned into the discomfort. And I felt the negative energy swell, thump, and move in over and out. The feelings came. The feelings went. They didn’t last for more than 10 minutes when I actually allowed myself the presence of them all. Woah. The power. The release. The peace. Nothing lasts forever.

—

This probably all sounds like unrelated nonsense at this point. Nobody asked for public displays of therapy in motion. And yet, here I am. Ever the emotional exhibitionist.

And . It’s not only related, it’s the core of how I grew the skills necessary to process through becoming a hotwife. Before I was even planning on becoming a hotwife.

—

My Bull is some kind of omniscient sex therapist. It’s slightly unsettling. For weeks I was sure he was either a woman, a 75 year old philosophy professor, my own brain presenting itself in a grand delusion, or a highly evolved new piece of AI.

At one point while discussing particular hang ups I’d had, he challenged me to lean into it… Get out of my head, bot… How was he to know this was my newly developing superpower? He didn’t. Just had done this a hundred times before, and there’s nothing new under the sun.

There’s nothing special about the processing that had to occur for Hubby and I to get here. And. The way that we did it, do it, is entirely unique to who we are. Both things can be true. And goddamn it, 30 years ago Mr. Rogers told me I’m special so I’m going to begin to allow myself to believe that might be sort of maybe true.

I chose running, listening to music, practicing yoga, talking, arguing, fucking, all with greater intention and frequency than I had done in a long time.

And. Writing.

There are moments it just pours out of me. I don’t sit down with the intention of putting thought into word. I’m not trying to do this. I can’t stop doing this.

I’m going to move out of my comfort zone and share *some* of the journals that fell out of my head and chest as I was processing impermanent feelings. Writing has given me the opportunity to metaphorically tell the rest of the world —

“Mommy needs a break. I’m going to sit right here and take some quiet time. I’ll let you know when I’m done…”

[dannyvee]

This will easily be publishable as a book when it’s done. You have a considerable gift as others have noted. Are you a writer, aspiring or otherwise?

[zumiruni]

This will easily be publishable as a book when it’s done. You have a considerable gift as others have noted. Are you a writer, aspiring or otherwise?

That is very kind. And it makes me feel good.

And. I will never believe compliments, particularly online ones. Because I’m always saying to myself not real.

I’m not a writer. I’m a nurse . A really good one, I’m not shy to say. And I LOVE my work. So keep the low hanging fruit, fantasy heavy “hellooooo NURSE” at bay, please . We’ve had a hell of an almost 3 years.

I did, however, give up a version of myself at the ripe age of 17. I had a draw, maybe even a gift, toward the arts. I needed to gtfo of the patterns my family was stuck in. So I shut off the idea of a liberal arts degree dappling in creative writing/anthropology/sociology, turned down a vocal performance scholarship at a decent music school, and directed full attention toward something I could be good at that would have immediate income gratification.

The interesting thing is, I had this sinking gut feeling all my life that I would end up marrying somewhat of… a loser. I don’t know why. Something like an anti-fantasy. That I would end up carrying him with my solid, though modest, degree.

And I did not end up marrying a loser. I’m going to have a lot of freedom in the coming years. I think I’m going to use that freedom to become something of an ethical hedonist. Fill myself up with as much joy, maybe cum , as possible. Maybe go back to school and only take classes that bring me joy. Because I might be a hotwife, but I’m a NERD. Then spill out all the overflow onto the people around me - the families I serve, the family all my own that I adore, nurse perfect strangers.

No, not a writer. Just a newly processing hotwife.

[zumiruni]

Journal entry

July 17, 2022

I went for a jog tonight.

That’s false. I went for a walk on which I jogged a quarter mile. I walked because I wanted to.

There was a man watering his side yard bed with a mask around his chin. I smelled humid summer air. Curry wafting. Laundry scent beads. Golden hour light hit the tree tops, still lush and green, late July.

A young girl, maybe 17, circled me around the neighborhood. Wearing a coral tshirt “Grand Teton National Park” screen print on the back. I did not smile at her.

The tension from my chest peaked as I jogged another curve. Tears of frustration, regret for what I could have felt if only I’d let myself.

I chose you. But I didn’t choose this. I tried to steer you off of it. You always brought it back around. Not pushing. Not begging. Sprinkling and stirring. I pushed the dish away. You altered the recipe and brought it back, several times over.

So now here I am smelling it, dipping my finger in. It tastes a smidge off, but now I’m hungry. Thinking about which utensil I’ll use. And you’re nervous I’m going to eat it.

You had years to imagine this up. Did you not prepare for what it would look like if I wanted some of it? Had an opinion on how I might like to season it? What if I scarf it all down and it comes back up? Stench. Stain.

I’m no one’s object, not even yours. I’ll eat what I like.

[whenwillshe]

Love your storytelling.
Looking forward to continuation.
You must be comfortable in your own skin and situation.
You clearly get that.

[HusbandBear]

Hm. I like your style.
Explain me something. Why did you say this

Convinced me in his delightfully manipulative, though heartily genuine way that soul mates DO exist.

this means that you do not believe in this anymore?