New Hotwife - and this is how it began

[zumiruni]

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

So interesting you get that impression. I’m actually a ball of anxiety most days I hide it well.

[zumiruni]

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?

Hi, thank you. No, not necessarily. The quote you’re referencing came from when my husband and I were falling in love while long distance, over 8 hour phone calls. It was then, as a jaded 20 year old girl still licking wounds from a jarring breakup and a grown child of divorce, that I was bitter toward the idea that any one person could complete you. Because what does that mean about the people who divorce, are broken up with, or never love a lifelong partner?

And I guess I still sort of believe that. Because a person has a responsibility to be a complete person all in their own selfhood. And a person who does not have a lifelong mate is no less complete than anyone else.

I am my own complete person, and yet - somehow he is my other half. I am his media naranja, even when he’s owned by his work and gone from me. And it’s fun to grow and change together. To explore the ways different relationships can bring out different parts of us. Even though I’m the only one exploring other sexual relationships

[superb101]

Im looking forward to your next installment

[zumiruni]

I’m grumpy this morning. The people who know why, know why. Angry teary rawr. I’m a dino with a broken claw.

Maybe I’ll rage clean. Maybe I’ll take a nap.

It has me thinking back to a journal I wrote earlier on in processing. Because part of me must crave this. No daddy issues, but still a little cracked. Emotional exhibition incoming.

July 24, 2022

I like love that hurts a little.

Not physically. No.

It hurts on the inside. Not the INside. No funny business. No innuendo.

It starts at the inside of my chest, left of center. Maybe meanders around the globular structure of my breast. Pushes gently to the tip of the nipple. Rests there a moment. Sad sigh. Happy sigh.

It sinks back in, following the same path in reverse. Travels upward. Bronchioles. Trachea. Esophagus. This isn’t super scientific. I realize the inconsistencies. Doesn’t matter. It is what it is.

It forms in a ball there. Right behind my Adam’s apple. Do girls have Adam’s apples? I feel like I do. It sits there for a bit. Swells and thumps. Involutes, then engorges. Rests, steady. Do I spit it out? No. I let it stay there.

It smarts behind my eyes. Swims like golden electricity through the creases in my skin where I squint, smile, furrow my brow in confusion. Do I cry? Unintentionally. Intentionally? Either way, doesn’t matter. It is what it is. However it happens, soft tears just drip. They don’t well up and gush, making my already puffy eyes more swollen. They fall. Drip. Drop off my chin untouched. They don’t land on my cleavage. I don’t really have any cleavage.

He (Amir) turns me over. Gently. Firmly. Rests me on my belly. We’re in the back of his car. It’s dark outside. We’re parked in a spot isolated from the others. No one can see us. Probably. Maybe.

My shirt has already been off for hours. It’s the afterglow. It’s dark. It’s not sticky. It’s airy. There was no climax. Just soft swells, firm thumps. Now we’re resting.

I turn my cheek to rest onto my folded hands. Soft smile. Brow unfurrowed. He leans over me. With his wet tongue - not soggy, not dripping - just delightfully wet. Cool. And warm. He traces on my back with his tongue:

I. heart shape. U.

We’ve been pillow talking. All I notice is he’s giving me a gentle nuzzling back kiss. It feels so. nice.

He does it again. Mmmm thank you.

Ann. Did you notice what I wrote?

What?

I’ll do it again. Pay attention this time. Read what I’m writing to you.

I. heart shape. U.

I like love that hurts a little bit. I feel happy. I feel sad. Sad. Grateful. Not good or bad. It is what it is. And I like it.

The weight of him leaves me. I pine for that feeling for the rest of my life.

[Long Lurker 34]

I’m grumpy this morning. The people who know why, know why. Angry teary rawr. I’m a dino with a broken claw.

Maybe I’ll rage clean. Maybe I’ll take a nap.

It has me thinking back to a journal I wrote earlier on in processing. Because part of me must crave this. No daddy issues, but still a little cracked. Emotional exhibition incoming.

July 24, 2022

I like love that hurts a little.

Not physically. No.

It hurts on the inside. Not the INside. No funny business. No innuendo.

It starts at the inside of my chest, left of center. Maybe meanders around the globular structure of my breast. Pushes gently to the tip of the nipple. Rests there a moment. Sad sigh. Happy sigh.

It sinks back in, following the same path in reverse. Travels upward. Bronchioles. Trachea. Esophagus. This isn’t super scientific. I realize the inconsistencies. Doesn’t matter. It is what it is.

It forms in a ball there. Right behind my Adam’s apple. Do girls have Adam’s apples? I feel like I do. It sits there for a bit. Swells and thumps. Involutes, then engorges. Rests, steady. Do I spit it out? No. I let it stay there.

It smarts behind my eyes. Swims like golden electricity through the creases in my skin where I squint, smile, furrow my brow in confusion. Do I cry? Unintentionally. Intentionally? Either way, doesn’t matter. It is what it is. However it happens, soft tears just drip. They don’t well up and gush, making my already puffy eyes more swollen. They fall. Drip. Drop off my chin untouched. They don’t land on my cleavage. I don’t really have any cleavage.

He (Amir) turns me over. Gently. Firmly. Rests me on my belly. We’re in the back of his car. It’s dark outside. We’re parked in a spot isolated from the others. No one can see us. Probably. Maybe.

My shirt has already been off for hours. It’s the afterglow. It’s dark. It’s not sticky. It’s airy. There was no climax. Just soft swells, firm thumps. Now we’re resting.

I turn my cheek to rest onto my folded hands. Soft smile. Brow unfurrowed. He leans over me. With his wet tongue - not soggy, not dripping - just delightfully wet. Cool. And warm. He traces on my back with his tongue:

I. heart shape. U.

We’ve been pillow talking. All I notice is he’s giving me a gentle nuzzling back kiss. It feels so. nice.

He does it again. Mmmm thank you.

Ann. Did you notice what I wrote?

What?

I’ll do it again. Pay attention this time. Read what I’m writing to you.

I. heart shape. U.

I like love that hurts a little bit. I feel happy. I feel sad. Sad. Grateful. Not good or bad. It is what it is. And I like it.

The weight of him leaves me. I pine for that feeling for the rest of my life.

Z - Very poetic. Hope your day gets better as it goes along.

[parklife]

I like love that hurts a little bit. I feel happy. I feel sad. Sad. Grateful. Not good or bad. It is what it is. And I like it.

Lots to unpack in that post…. But this last part is something that I think both sides of the Hotwife adventure (husband and wife) can grasp and understand on some level.

I know in the swirl of emotions I bring into and out of my wife’s adventures, the common binder is “I like it.” No matter how contradictory that may seem at the time.

[zumiruni]

I was in a way yesterday.

Nothing like a mad woman.

I felt the draw toward useless patterns. Put the sad girl music on. Journal. Get in my feels. Take a nap. It’ll numb enough to ignore. No need to make anyone else feel the burden of your feel- - - wait FUCK that.

No one benefits from that pattern, least of all the self. I traded out Phoebe Bridgers for the Womens Workout Playlist on Spotify. Girllll yes.

I decided to try something different. I attempted to playfully, seductively, but directly tell some fellas to knock it off. Let’s remember who’s in charge here, boys (you too, self).

I decided to reinstate my control in the situation. Because again, for the readers in the back, I am now in control. I’m kind, somewhat shy, and a pleaser. And. I’m not weak, not a pushover.

I’m not on board with feeling manipulated. I’m not on board with feeling humiliated. No. Hard limit. I’ve already been somewhat manipulated to get this far. If me coming this far isn’t enough - for any one person in this experiment - then I’m over it.

My sad girl pattern lasted until about 0845. And I decided to change course, make a plan. Cause I’m a bad bitch when I want to be. *But don’t anyone else dare call me any degrading terms or I will roundhouse kick so fast

I took a few pictures. My typical housewife hygge, slightly sexed. Sent them to the responsible parties. Reminding the boys - this is what I look like on a normal fucking day.

I know what I look like. I have felt unwanted eyes lust after me for as long as I have memories. I know what my stock is, I’ve just never cashed it in. Body insecurity has never been a major factor. Post baby body, sure. But I’m more interested in who can make me feel like every single part of me is enough. That’s why I write like I do. The most satisfying sex for me is never going to be about just sex. And I’m more confident than ever what my stock is.

Then. As I was waiting for my car to be serviced at the Jiffy Lube - what a riot that name is with a dirty set of eyes - I reached out to a local potential playmate. A younger guy. Law student. Not even the playmate I have a date with later in the week. And I hadn’t even considered being more than a one (extra) man woman. But here we are. This is what female rage during locktober does to a hotwife. And the apps are proving effective for local booty.

I let my puppy Cuck know I was still irritated but that we were fine. We’re always going to be fine. Then I teased him more with some vague caption to a modestly naughty picture. I didn’t outright tell him what I was up to. I think he knew anyway. Good sweat it out. Minimal details given until I’m ready to give them.

The afternoon delight was just delightful. My new extra man let me over to his very grad student apartment. Drool. I feel my naughtiest in little apartments that aren’t mine. He was outgoing and sexy. Playful and direct. Adventurous and respectful to feel out boundaries, without dropping the level of sex. We moaned. We laughed. He made it clear he had all the time in the world for me.

Then we sat naked on his couch - friendly with sexy little touches. Me sipping cold water out of a local brewery cup, him taking gulps from the Gatorade I brought him - he earned it . He got us each a cold mint chocolate cookie. He gabbed and gabbed and let me listen. Ugh, thank you! He said “Ok I’m talking too much, now you go,” as he set me up straddling his lap. And I told a sort of vulnerable but sexy story while he felt me up. It felt airy and fun. Sensual and just the right amount of devious. There was space for fantasy and reality.

I said goodbye to go pick up my two year old. Lumps from the start of the day all sighed out of my throat. Armed with plenty of pictures and videos with which to taunt my naughty Cuck. Ready to show him what a bad bitch I can be when I want to.

I called him as I drove away. Naughty hello. Oh yes I did have a very. good. day . Told him I’d send a picture of what I’d been up to. He let me know with a whiff of a tired end of the workday voice that he was straining to see. Good. Then the end of the day responsibilities with all the young children laughs and dramas took over.

When we were able to sit on the couch together, I first brought up where I was with my frustrations and hurt feelings. We talked it out like the loving mature-for-our-years couple that we are. I showed him my hand, officially set my limits, lovingly discussed how I will always support him, how nothing will ever separate us, and how some things - if explored further - will significantly alter the fine print of our marriage agreements. He wholeheartedly accepted my terms and leveled up.

With the boring stuff out of the way, I shared every juicy detail and watched his eyes gleam as he looked through the pictures and videos. He asked if he could eat me out. I felt hesitant, because I tend to get overstimulated. But my husband is the only one allowed to very lovingly manipulate me. So I let him pull off my yoga pants and my creamy stained emerald green lacy thong. I kept my long sleeved cottony tunic layered with my fuzzy grey sweater in place. As I gave in, I felt relaxed and so very loved. He assured me he had all the time in the world for me. And I came with a rush of rose gold shimmering warmth.

The weird ass marital reconciliation doesn’t end there. This is a long story. Sorry not sorry.

I got up from the couch, bare assed, and gently ordered him to the bedroom closet. This routine is old hat by now. He already knew to get onto all fours. I directed him to pull down his shorts. Picked up the wooden slat he accidentally broke off my lovely antique sleigh bed some time ago - his switch of choice. And I spanked. his. ass. with a fervor he’s been long asking for, talking to him the whole time about how he is going to behave for me from now on. Woof - do I like that? The catharsis…

I dropped the switch to his side and went to go sit on the edge of the bed. He stood and came out of the closet, the two of us grinning at each other. Gentle kisses. Sweet directions given to go get in the shower, get cleaned up. I’d be waiting for him.

I changed into the long white spa robe he bought me for my birthday a few years back. Laid him face down in our bed and covered him with coconut oil. Gentle salve for his raw ass. Massaging down his legs and up his back. Inhaling oxytocin, exhaling pure and fully adulterated love. The smart light of my lamp faded on its timer. I covered him with the quilt, kiss on the cheek, weighty “I love you’s” exchanged. Cued the white noise. He drifted to sleep. I went to take a candle lit shower.

The energy that can shift in a 12 hour period.

Your ass is mine, Cuck

[parklife]

Damn zumi!! For someone processing and journaling and prepping for her first bull just a month ago, you definitely jumped into the deep end.

Great to see You. In. Control. And watch that stock soar.

Thanks for the update!!

[magistercookus]

My gawd… your writing is top shelf. Amazing.

[zumiruni]

I got out of order on some things. Jumping forward and backward when I feel like it.

Taking it back to a journal from the summer. The processing that took place prior to my first experience, the first time a cock other than the one that belongs to my husband slid, then deliciously pounded into me, as the super interesting human attached to it told me truths about myself and made me feel seen in a way I haven’t been viewed in a very long time…

Sorry, distracted by reverie. Taking it back to a journal from before.

*Also I fully intend to be verified one of these days. It’s just that my assignment is hard to do when I don’t have another adult person to hold my phone. The only other adult who lives in my house is gone all the damn time.*

————————

July 20, 2022

I was wrong about some things.

Noticing.

Ran much further tonight. Still not like a lot. But I made it all the way up the hill before I realized how far I was. I decided to keep going. It felt good.

My hip wasn’t hurting. My pelvic floor felt stable, balanced.

Where do you notice it in your body - chest.

Heart, lungs, throat
heart: full. lungs: clear. throat: tight.

Not exhaustion. The body keeps the score. Something else. Keep going, it feels good.

The trees and houses are there, just not the thing in focus.

It’s breath, it’s feet pounding pavement. My muscles can withstand this. My frame isn’t snapping then crumbling. The sweat still feels good. My skin still feels like mine.

Maybe I can make it the complete route. 3/4 of the way through and I still feel good. Now that’s my fixation.

Push on, you can get there. Think how proud you’ll feel. Maybe a little faster? Increasing speed — I can still work this way.

Noticing.

Noticing — muscles burning. Pressing from inside my forehead, behind my eyes.

heart: tight. lungs: squeezing. throat: constricted.

Time to stop

Regret? No
Embarrassed? Nah
Done? For today, yes

but I’ll be back

[Whosbeensleeping]

A great read. Thanks so much for continuing to share.

[parklife]

Running, like many things, gets easier as you go and you go go further the more you do it….

My wife runs and she’s built up the stamina to go long and hard, fast and fulfilling. The euphoric high afterwards is her payoff and she loves telling me about the trails, how it feels to push and I enjoy how much of a positive impact it has on her.

When she’s distracted, stressed, hampered…. I suggest she run, at least get out and walk…. Frees up her mind and resets her balance. That’s good for all of us.

[DaveS]

Exquisitely written and so hot. We will all look forward to reading of your further adventures.

[aztd]

Ok, following.

[zumiruni]

Things here have been complicated. Dry. At times honestly really fucking hard. We’ve more or less paused. I’m not as mature as I thought I was. My husband might not be as much of a cuck as he thought he was.

I’ve journaled a lot. I’ve tried to make sense of confusion by vomiting stream of consciousness neuroses in the notes app of my phone. It’s only come out more tangled. Often completely self indulgent and outright narcissistic.

It would be easy to maintain main character syndrome here. Display things from my point of view, continue on as an endearing protagonist. But it wouldn’t be real. I get so annoyed reading things that aren’t real. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t want to contribute to that. Because I’m absolutely capable of fucking things up. This wasn’t my fantasy, but I agreed to it and began to own pieces of it. I’m an equally responsible party when things fall apart.

So instead of sharing narcissistic notions, I’ll show the attempt to defuse land mines we unknowingly collected. The reaching for reconnection…

[zumiruni]

A Letter to my Husband

For better or for worse, my mind is opened up to kink. And I’ve got this swirling of constant erotic thoughts. Branching out to all sorts of things I never imagined. I think about them when I’m already aroused. I get flashes of thoughts going on about my daily life and then become unavoidably aroused. I’ve never given myself permission to continue thoughts of fantasy when they show up. Shutting down erotic intrigue is a particular skill I’ve honed, it’s become second nature. I’ve spent so many years trapped inside such a restrictive view of sexuality that it probably seems over the top to be constantly salivating. I’m just as surprised as you are.

I’ve developed this habit to gravitate toward telling J about different erotic thoughts I’ve had. I think because he’s been this safe space for exploring kink. Someone to open up to about these ridiculous turn ons without threat of hurting him or freaking him out. I’ve carried this small fear that if I tell you the freaky thoughts I have I could hurt you or you might see me in a light that would make you feel differently about me.

Maybe that’s a reason you ended up exploring with him to the extent that you did - he provided a non-threatening environment where you could safely go down any wormhole that seemed interesting. I regret the way I responded to your exploration. I’m deeply sorry for the way it hurt your feelings, shamed you, shut you down. I regret that my response changed our dynamics and more or less ruined this fantasy exploration.

I do wish you had felt safe to open up to me first with those escalating erotic thoughts. But I can hardly blame you for not doing so. My pattern of shutting you down didn’t lay solid groundwork for you to trust me with this level of vulnerability.

So instead of again turning to J to divulge my erotic thoughts that tend to burn uninhibited like wildfire, I’d like to share some with you. Trusting you with my vulnerability to share desires that come from kinky, sometimes dark, sometimes unexplainable origins. Asking you to trust me when I confirm how genuinely and endlessly I love you. How I desire to grow in erotic love with you. How I continue to commit my whole life to you, with or without kink.

Watching Bridges of Madison County last night, I connected to so many soul stirring conversation points. One of them being a sort of desperate ultimatum/plea from Clint Eastwood to Meryl Streep as he was leaving - “This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime.” I certainly understand the complexity in duality - the thrill of the affair while maintaining committed and devoted love for her husband and children. But the way that statement is directed toward this 4 day affair - the certainty that the lovers feel about each other - that is one part where I feel alienated from the story line. Because when I hear that line - this kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime - that certainty is you. Mi media naranja. Never have I had such certainty about anything else. That you and I are perfectly partnered. You are everything I need and want wrapped together in one being. Our children won’t scatter my ashes to join a passing lover. In the words of our weird and precious 5 year old, “I’ll love you forever, even when you’re dead. When I die I’ll have them bury me in your box so we can love each other forever.”

So with that whole hearted preamble, here are some kinky erotic thoughts that keep flashing into my brain and stirring me up:

I’d like to be a third for another couple. Full on mff threesome where I’m the extra. Contribute, watch, experience moments of being a guest star. I think about you being there to watch. Or having video taken of the first time I pleasure a pussy to bring home to you. I think I’d be good at it. I get turned on lately by the idea of licking a clit. What even…?

I want to bring another woman into our bed. I want you to enjoy watching me enjoy some girl on girl play. I want to see the evidence of thrill as you experience another woman. You seeing me watch you. Getting to see your brain explode. I want to move all together in a current of sex. I want us both to focus on you. I want you and I to get her off together. I want to brush her hair and send her home with a kiss and a warm hug, with the transcendental feeling of receiving love from a married couple.

I want to explore mfm in all the various ways. That’s an element that seems to have more levels of escalation, more barriers of uncertainty. It used to scare the shit out of me. Now it sounds weird and intense and exciting. I want to know what it feels like to be brought to rapture by two men. I want to have my mind explode watching you explore different levels of m-m interaction. I’m ready for it. I’m so curious about it. I hate being so predictable. I have this thought of being at the pinnacle of the m-m escalation and spreading you for a cock to take your ass. Talking to you sweetly. Letting your head fall into my lap. Not to bury your face in my pussy, but to sink into being violated and sweetly cared for at the same time. Seeing the waves of intense and confusing pleasure move through you as you scrunch your face. Advocating for you as needed, because I know your every subtle signal.

Here’s the weirdest one. The one I can’t really explain. The one I have shame about because it’s cruel. It doesn’t make any sense for me to want this, especially given my family history. I have a weird desire to sort of feel like I’m cheating. With the precursor that ultimately you’re consenting and I’m not actually cheating cheating on you. But that feeling of - I’m doing something on my own, with disregard for anyone else. For a moment I’m running away. I have this thing about running away - I think you know this. Doing things on my own terms. Feeling like I have something separate - even from you - and with this element of erotic/emotional involvement. It sounds so hurtful toward you. In a weird way, it’s actually sort of this personal emotional masochism. Breaking my own heart in both directions. It doesn’t make any sense.

The constant: to come home to you once I’ve moved through it. To look into your eyes and we both just know. To not even really talk about it. We do so. much. talking. To fall into each others arms, knowing that we are each others forever home. You are my forever safe place. You’re my compass. Thy soul, the fixed foot. You take me as I am in all my fucked uppedness. And the intense sacrificial love you have for me paired with the intense, endless, ever increasing gratitude I have for you collide in this big bang when we’re connected body and soul. No one else sees it. It’s ours.

One last thought for now - I also sort of have this growing curiosity to receive anal. We’ll see. No promises. And no promises it’s your cock I take

I love you. In every single way.

[Mr1SexyGILF]

A Letter to my Husband

For better or for worse, my mind is opened up to kink. And I’ve got this swirling of constant erotic thoughts. Branching out to all sorts of things I never imagined. I think about them when I’m already aroused. I get flashes of thoughts going on about my daily life and then become unavoidably aroused. I’ve never given myself permission to continue thoughts of fantasy when they show up. Shutting down erotic intrigue is a particular skill I’ve honed, it’s become second nature. I’ve spent so many years trapped inside such a restrictive view of sexuality that it probably seems over the top to be constantly salivating. I’m just as surprised as you are.

I’ve developed this habit to gravitate toward telling J about different erotic thoughts I’ve had. I think because he’s been this safe space for exploring kink. Someone to open up to about these ridiculous turn ons without threat of hurting him or freaking him out. I’ve carried this small fear that if I tell you the freaky thoughts I have I could hurt you or you might see me in a light that would make you feel differently about me.

Maybe that’s a reason you ended up exploring with him to the extent that you did - he provided a non-threatening environment where you could safely go down any wormhole that seemed interesting. I regret the way I responded to your exploration. I’m deeply sorry for the way it hurt your feelings, shamed you, shut you down. I regret that my response changed our dynamics and more or less ruined this fantasy exploration.

I do wish you had felt safe to open up to me first with those escalating erotic thoughts. But I can hardly blame you for not doing so. My pattern of shutting you down didn’t lay solid groundwork for you to trust me with this level of vulnerability.

So instead of again turning to J to divulge my erotic thoughts that tend to burn uninhibited like wildfire, I’d like to share some with you. Trusting you with my vulnerability to share desires that come from kinky, sometimes dark, sometimes unexplainable origins. Asking you to trust me when I confirm how genuinely and endlessly I love you. How I desire to grow in erotic love with you. How I continue to commit my whole life to you, with or without kink.

Watching Bridges of Madison County last night, I connected to so many soul stirring conversation points. One of them being a sort of desperate ultimatum/plea from Clint Eastwood to Meryl Streep as he was leaving - “This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime.” I certainly understand the complexity in duality - the thrill of the affair while maintaining committed and devoted love for her husband and children. But the way that statement is directed toward this 4 day affair - the certainty that the lovers feel about each other - that is one part where I feel alienated from the story line. Because when I hear that line - this kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime - that certainty is you. Mi media naranja. Never have I had such certainty about anything else. That you and I are perfectly partnered. You are everything I need and want wrapped together in one being. Our children won’t scatter my ashes to join a passing lover. In the words of our weird and precious 5 year old, “I’ll love you forever, even when you’re dead. When I die I’ll have them bury me in your box so we can love each other forever.”

So with that whole hearted preamble, here are some kinky erotic thoughts that keep flashing into my brain and stirring me up:

I’d like to be a third for another couple. Full on mff threesome where I’m the extra. Contribute, watch, experience moments of being a guest star. I think about you being there to watch. Or having video taken of the first time I pleasure a pussy to bring home to you. I think I’d be good at it. I get turned on lately by the idea of licking a clit. What even…?

I want to bring another woman into our bed. I want you to enjoy watching me enjoy some girl on girl play. I want to see the evidence of thrill as you experience another woman. You seeing me watch you. Getting to see your brain explode. I want to move all together in a current of sex. I want us both to focus on you. I want you and I to get her off together. I want to brush her hair and send her home with a kiss and a warm hug, with the transcendental feeling of receiving love from a married couple.

I want to explore mfm in all the various ways. That’s an element that seems to have more levels of escalation, more barriers of uncertainty. It used to scare the shit out of me. Now it sounds weird and intense and exciting. I want to know what it feels like to be brought to rapture by two men. I want to have my mind explode watching you explore different levels of m-m interaction. I’m ready for it. I’m so curious about it. I hate being so predictable. I have this thought of being at the pinnacle of the m-m escalation and spreading you for a cock to take your ass. Talking to you sweetly. Letting your head fall into my lap. Not to bury your face in my pussy, but to sink into being violated and sweetly cared for at the same time. Seeing the waves of intense and confusing pleasure move through you as you scrunch your face. Advocating for you as needed, because I know your every subtle signal.

Here’s the weirdest one. The one I can’t really explain. The one I have shame about because it’s cruel. It doesn’t make any sense for me to want this, especially given my family history. I have a weird desire to sort of feel like I’m cheating. With the precursor that ultimately you’re consenting and I’m not actually cheating cheating on you. But that feeling of - I’m doing something on my own, with disregard for anyone else. For a moment I’m running away. I have this thing about running away - I think you know this. Doing things on my own terms. Feeling like I have something separate - even from you - and with this element of erotic/emotional involvement. It sounds so hurtful toward you. In a weird way, it’s actually sort of this personal emotional masochism. Breaking my own heart in both directions. It doesn’t make any sense.

The constant: to come home to you once I’ve moved through it. To look into your eyes and we both just know. To not even really talk about it. We do so. much. talking. To fall into each others arms, knowing that we are each others forever home. You are my forever safe place. You’re my compass. Thy soul, the fixed foot. You take me as I am in all my fucked uppedness. And the intense sacrificial love you have for me paired with the intense, endless, ever increasing gratitude I have for you collide in this big bang when we’re connected body and soul. No one else sees it. It’s ours.

One last thought for now - I also sort of have this growing curiosity to receive anal. We’ll see. No promises. And no promises it’s your cock I take

I love you. In every single way.

Holy F***ing WOW!!! I don’t know if hubby had read this before today, but what an amazing Christmas

Such profession of the deepest, most sincere commitment and LOVE , coupled with a blatant revelation, of a beautiful young wife, ready to spread her wings (and legs), in uninhibited exploration, of her blossoming sexuality.

Christmas Blessings to you and your Very, Very, Very Lucky hubby Zumiruni. Sounds like 2023 is going to be one hell of a ride.

Mr GILF

[anonymister1948]

A Letter to my Husband

For better or for worse, my mind is opened up to kink. And I’ve got this swirling of constant erotic thoughts. Branching out to all sorts of things I never imagined. I think about them when I’m already aroused. I get flashes of thoughts going on about my daily life and then become unavoidably aroused. I’ve never given myself permission to continue thoughts of fantasy when they show up. Shutting down erotic intrigue is a particular skill I’ve honed, it’s become second nature. I’ve spent so many years trapped inside such a restrictive view of sexuality that it probably seems over the top to be constantly salivating. I’m just as surprised as you are.

I’ve developed this habit to gravitate toward telling J about different erotic thoughts I’ve had. I think because he’s been this safe space for exploring kink. Someone to open up to about these ridiculous turn ons without threat of hurting him or freaking him out. I’ve carried this small fear that if I tell you the freaky thoughts I have I could hurt you or you might see me in a light that would make you feel differently about me.

Maybe that’s a reason you ended up exploring with him to the extent that you did - he provided a non-threatening environment where you could safely go down any wormhole that seemed interesting. I regret the way I responded to your exploration. I’m deeply sorry for the way it hurt your feelings, shamed you, shut you down. I regret that my response changed our dynamics and more or less ruined this fantasy exploration.

I do wish you had felt safe to open up to me first with those escalating erotic thoughts. But I can hardly blame you for not doing so. My pattern of shutting you down didn’t lay solid groundwork for you to trust me with this level of vulnerability.

So instead of again turning to J to divulge my erotic thoughts that tend to burn uninhibited like wildfire, I’d like to share some with you. Trusting you with my vulnerability to share desires that come from kinky, sometimes dark, sometimes unexplainable origins. Asking you to trust me when I confirm how genuinely and endlessly I love you. How I desire to grow in erotic love with you. How I continue to commit my whole life to you, with or without kink.

Watching Bridges of Madison County last night, I connected to so many soul stirring conversation points. One of them being a sort of desperate ultimatum/plea from Clint Eastwood to Meryl Streep as he was leaving - “This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime.” I certainly understand the complexity in duality - the thrill of the affair while maintaining committed and devoted love for her husband and children. But the way that statement is directed toward this 4 day affair - the certainty that the lovers feel about each other - that is one part where I feel alienated from the story line. Because when I hear that line - this kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime - that certainty is you. Mi media naranja. Never have I had such certainty about anything else. That you and I are perfectly partnered. You are everything I need and want wrapped together in one being. Our children won’t scatter my ashes to join a passing lover. In the words of our weird and precious 5 year old, “I’ll love you forever, even when you’re dead. When I die I’ll have them bury me in your box so we can love each other forever.”

So with that whole hearted preamble, here are some kinky erotic thoughts that keep flashing into my brain and stirring me up:

I’d like to be a third for another couple. Full on mff threesome where I’m the extra. Contribute, watch, experience moments of being a guest star. I think about you being there to watch. Or having video taken of the first time I pleasure a pussy to bring home to you. I think I’d be good at it. I get turned on lately by the idea of licking a clit. What even…?

I want to bring another woman into our bed. I want you to enjoy watching me enjoy some girl on girl play. I want to see the evidence of thrill as you experience another woman. You seeing me watch you. Getting to see your brain explode. I want to move all together in a current of sex. I want us both to focus on you. I want you and I to get her off together. I want to brush her hair and send her home with a kiss and a warm hug, with the transcendental feeling of receiving love from a married couple.

I want to explore mfm in all the various ways. That’s an element that seems to have more levels of escalation, more barriers of uncertainty. It used to scare the shit out of me. Now it sounds weird and intense and exciting. I want to know what it feels like to be brought to rapture by two men. I want to have my mind explode watching you explore different levels of m-m interaction. I’m ready for it. I’m so curious about it. I hate being so predictable. I have this thought of being at the pinnacle of the m-m escalation and spreading you for a cock to take your ass. Talking to you sweetly. Letting your head fall into my lap. Not to bury your face in my pussy, but to sink into being violated and sweetly cared for at the same time. Seeing the waves of intense and confusing pleasure move through you as you scrunch your face. Advocating for you as needed, because I know your every subtle signal.

Here’s the weirdest one. The one I can’t really explain. The one I have shame about because it’s cruel. It doesn’t make any sense for me to want this, especially given my family history. I have a weird desire to sort of feel like I’m cheating. With the precursor that ultimately you’re consenting and I’m not actually cheating cheating on you. But that feeling of - I’m doing something on my own, with disregard for anyone else. For a moment I’m running away. I have this thing about running away - I think you know this. Doing things on my own terms. Feeling like I have something separate - even from you - and with this element of erotic/emotional involvement. It sounds so hurtful toward you. In a weird way, it’s actually sort of this personal emotional masochism. Breaking my own heart in both directions. It doesn’t make any sense.

The constant: to come home to you once I’ve moved through it. To look into your eyes and we both just know. To not even really talk about it. We do so. much. talking. To fall into each others arms, knowing that we are each others forever home. You are my forever safe place. You’re my compass. Thy soul, the fixed foot. You take me as I am in all my fucked uppedness. And the intense sacrificial love you have for me paired with the intense, endless, ever increasing gratitude I have for you collide in this big bang when we’re connected body and soul. No one else sees it. It’s ours.

One last thought for now - I also sort of have this growing curiosity to receive anal. We’ll see. No promises. And no promises it’s your cock I take

I love you. In every single way.

Goosebumps - all the way to the bone. You are both so lucky to have one another.

[Whosbeensleeping]

Your honesty is so fucking refreshing. I could relate to what you said about shutting down erotic intrigue. What a breath of fresh air, and your intelligence shines through! Thank you.
And as a sapiosexual a little something in me stirred reading your words. Brava and best wishes to you and hubby.

[zumiruni]

The gate is unlatched, the wind blew it open
The words found a way out

————————————————————————————

I don’t need this
I didn’t want to

Eyes shielded under lids
In the quiet of the dark
The reverie reaches in like a thief

Tilt my chin
Cup my face
Pull me in
Like you have a secret
Then smell me

The wanting vs the needing

air
water
shelter
I can gather the rest

But to be hunted
tasted
nibbled
scooped and plated,
though my heart still beats
waiting, like stunned prey, to be
- not devoured -
feasted upon
savored
as if a ritual meal
this is my body
take it

want

need

[wpaman]

I love your writing, some of it has deep(profound) insight into yourself and maybe others. It causes self reflection within the reader, or this one anyhow. But damn hubby getting spanked, with no reclaimation, uggh just not my deal. His reward is a spanking? Uh, ok.

[Whosbeensleeping]

I just to read your last post a few times to pick up the cadence and hence the meaning. It is beautiful.

[zumiruni]

But damn hubby getting spanked, with no reclaimation, uggh just not my deal. His reward is a spanking? Uh, ok.

Haha. That was definitely a punishment - he had been very bad. It was just weirdly cathartic for us both. I guess some things just can’t be explained. Like I said with the start - my husband has always been freakier than me. His desires definitely edge toward bdsm. Not exactly my comfort level. But part of my fuckuppedness is hypersensitivity to my partner(s)’s fulfillment whether or not it’s to the detriment of my own. So I try. I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try try try. How can a masochist become a sadist?

[zumiruni]

There were some hurt feelings. There was a pause. Then angst, frustration, resentment. More talking. So much talking. An unpause. An ironic “well now I don’t want to.” Drought. Resuming of communication with… ok I struggle with terms and labels because I feel like none of them fit. Bulls? Fuck buddies? Special friends? I mildly cringe at them all…

A delay to resume activities - not wanting to jump back on the horse too soon even with a go ahead, preferring to wait until there was an enthusiastic “I want you to come home soaked in cum” like before, terrified to squash a tender hubby and damage my best thing.

My husband is literally everything. He’s my entire family. Even if I decided out of the blue that I don’t actually adore him. Even if we let stress, miscommunications, and the complete unsexiness of raising young kids disintegrate our love. Even if I was 100% self motivated - I could never jeopardize our marriage without also losing my entire opportunity for belonging. His parents are now my parents. Most of my close meaningful friendships are jointly shared. He’s the father of our kids. I don’t think it’s possible to ever just break that bond. We made humans, really adorable humans, with love. I would sooner have a death wish than fuck this up.

I think the opening of our marriage hasn’t necessarily caused problems of it’s own. Rather, it’s placed a microscope over weaker spots that already existed. That maybe either or both of us just previously brushed off. And we both tend to fixate on things once we notice them. The pause in activities has maybe made it easier to refocus on the “us” part of our relationship. Stress, miscommunications, and the unsexiness of raising young kids have kind of taken the front seat.

You know what I never thought would play a role in lubricating tension when having an honest conversation about fantasies and extramarital sex? …with full awareness of how absurd that sentence would have been a year and a half ago… Cannabis! It’s never really been my thing. Hubby would probably partake a lot more if there was less concern related to his work. But the state we live in recently legalized recreational use, I have a friend who shares edibles like she shares hugs - why not try a supplement to ease some stress. Relaxing together led to some really open and compassionate conversations over that weekend. Followed by fantasizing/role playing a little bit while having some of the best sex of our marriage. (Common theme - some of the best sex of our marriage has come from this experience. Make it make sense.) Both feeling light and airy again. Feeling actually on the same page, ready to see where the waves take us.

A week later, the waves landed me in the doorway of my law student’s apartment. More on that another time

[Whosbeensleeping]

Thank you for gifting us with your luminous prose once again. And an excellent teaser/cliffhanger!
It's interesting to me that you raise the topic of cannabis at this time, because I only very recently had a glimmer of an insight that cannabis may come to play a role in my own marriage in helping to ease conversation. (She has not been into it lately but seems to be becoming more curious. I use it as a sleep and pain aid, but it also seems to cause my mind to make little lateral connection jumps.)

Looking forward to your next missive.