Not the usual hotwife beginnings

[jane]

interesting story

[newtonmenlo]

Sorry to rain on your parade but here goes.
A married woman having a tryst with a politician/power player can have some real-life consequences. Anyone in that realm has acquired enemies and those enemies are always looking for a chink in the armor. You don't tell us if he is married but I'm assuming he isn't based on his desire to be with her in public. Dining out, walking in the park etc. If he is, then the risk is more.
Someone doing opposition research can easily find out about this situation and a little more digging will surface all the tawdry details. It wouldn't take much for this to become headline news. Especially if they have an informant in their midst. Some people are always trying to cozy up to media types for their own gain.
I would seriously try to limit any communication between them to just the basics, nothing that can be seen as more than her acting in the capacity of her profession. I would also advise that they limit their social time to private play/professional conduct.
I agree that your wife is gorgeous and that this situation is incredibly erotic. It thrills me to no end to hear about your situation, and I wish I was in your place. I eagerly await any new developments.
Best of luck going forward.

[aztd]

Following

[BrunetteLover]

I have never confronted any of my wife's men. No matter the nature of their relationship with her, I never have had to, and hope to keep it that way.

However, they all have one thing in common.

They all know that nothing, and I mean nothing, happens without my blessing, my support.

She has been with hundreds of men. She has set up dates with my support, gotten ready for those dates with my assistance, been driven, waited for outside, driven home (often after being covered with cum and having multiple orgasms)...

But nothing has happened without my blessing.

You need to take my comments seriously.

[BrunetteLover]

If you were ever to approach any of her men, and he DOES NOT think to himself, even for a split second: 'oh shit, I'm fucking dead' then you have to rethink everything.

[Tap]

Iceberg ahead!!

[David52]

Are they coming home today? I hope she checked in as you asked. The call from his EA, the private plane..what a power play. Have you met him?

[Cuckcuckgoose1]

I believe this is one of those posts/posters that has been discovered to be... fake.

[CuckInTheMaking]

Hey everyone,
I've been dealing with roller-coaster so here is what has happened.
It’s been three weeks since my last post, and I promised an update. Buckle up, because this is a wild ride, way more intense than I expected.

When I last posted, Elena was packing for Miami, slipping that sleek black dress M sent her into a garment bag like it was no big deal. The red lace lingerie, another gift from him was already in her suitcase. I’d laid out rules: regular texts, morning and night calls, video chats, no deleted messages, location sharing. She smirked, called me dramatic, but agreed. I wasn’t joking, though.

They flew out Thursday morning on a private jet. Elena sent me a quick text before takeoff: “Boarding now. I’ll call when we land.” I spent the day refreshing my phone, trying to focus on work but mostly imagining her sipping champagne at 30,000 feet, M’s hand resting casually on her thigh. When she called that evening. “The hotel is insane, babe. Ocean view, private balcony, the works.” I asked about M. She laughed, said he was “being a gentleman… for now.” I pushed for details, but she deflected. “You’ll get your call tomorrow. Relax.”

Friday morning, she FaceTimed me from the suite. She was in a plush white robe, hair still damp from a shower, standing on a balcony with Miami’s skyline glittering behind her. M wasn’t in frame, but I heard his voice in the background, talking to someone on the phone. Elena whispered, “He’s busy with conference stuff. I’m just… hanging out.” Her smirk told me she wasn’t just hanging out. I asked her to put me on speaker. She hesitated, then complied. M’s voice came through, smooth as whiskey. “Is that your husband? Tell him I’m taking good care of you.” My stomach flipped. Elena giggled, ended the call soon after.

That night, no call. No texts. I waited until 1 a.m., pacing our living room, before messaging her: “You okay?” Nothing. At 2:30 a.m., my phone buzzed. “Sorry, got distracted. Call you tomorrow.” My heart raced. I didn’t sleep.

Saturday, she called at noon. “Late night,” she said, no apology. I asked what happened. She paused, then said, “We went to a club. M knows the owner. Private booth, bottle service… you know how it goes.” I didn’t, but I could imagine. I pressed for more. “He danced with me. Close. Then we went back to the suite.” My throat tightened. “And?” She laughed softly. “You wanted this, right?” I didn’t know what to say. She promised to call that night but didn’t. Instead, at 3 a.m., another text: “He’s insatiable. I’m fine. Love you.” Attached was a blurry photo of her in bed.

Sunday, she flew back. I picked her up at the airport. She looked… different. Radiant, but guarded. Her lipstick was perfect, but her eyes avoided mine. In the car, I asked about the weekend. She shrugged. “It was fun. Intense. He’s… a lot.” I noticed a new necklace, a thin gold chain with a small, diamond-encrusted M pendant. “He gave it to me,” she said. I didn’t ask about the bruise. Or the hickey I later found on her inner thigh when we were in bed that night. She didn’t volunteer details, and I didn’t push. Not yet.

Back home, I expected things to slow down. M had a conference; Elena had work. But the dynamic had shifted. She was on her phone more, smiling at texts she didn’t share. Monday night, she said she was “working late” on a PR project. Her phone went dead for three hours. When she got home at 11 p.m., her hair was slightly mussed, her blouse untucked. “Client dinner ran long,” she said. I didn’t buy it. I checked her purse while she showered, another hotel key card. Same hotel as before. I confronted her. “What’s this?” She didn’t flinch. “M had a meeting nearby. He asked me to stop by.” My pulse quickened. “And?” She smirked. “We talked. And… other things.”

I pushed for details. She gave me scraps: “He likes the view from his room. He pressed me against the glass again.” My mind raced with images his hands on her, the city sprawling below. I asked if she used protection. She nodded, but her eyes darted away. I didn’t believe her, but I didn’t call her out. Instead, I kissed her, tasting something unfamiliar on her lips. She melted into me, but it felt like she was performing. For who, I wasn’t sure.

By Wednesday, M was back in town. He sent a car for her—a black SUV, just like before. She dressed in a tight navy dress, no bra, as I’d suggested weeks ago. I drove her to the pickup spot, watching her slide into the backseat, the driver closing the door with a soft thud. She texted me at 9 p.m.: “Dinner’s amazing. He’s telling me about his plans.” Then, nothing until 2 a.m.: “Staying late. Don’t wait up.” I did, of course. When she got home, her dress was wrinkled, her heels in her hand. She collapsed on the couch, giggling. “He’s exhausting,” she said. I noticed a new mark—a bite mark—on her shoulder. “He got carried away again,” she murmured, half-asleep.

Thursday, I tried to reclaim some control. I suggested a date night, just us. She agreed, but her phone buzzed all evening. She ignored it at first, but by dessert, she was texting under the table. I saw M’s name flash on her screen. I snapped. “Can you put it away for one night?” She sighed, set the phone down, but her eyes kept drifting to it. When we got home, she apologized, climbed into my lap, and kissed me. But it felt like a distraction. Later, I checked her phone while she slept. A message from M: “Miss you already. Tomorrow?” She hadn’t replied, but she hadn’t deleted it either.

Friday, she didn’t come home until 4 a.m. No text, no call. I was livid but also… aroused. When she walked in, her makeup was smudged, her hair a mess. “I’m sorry,” she said, but her voice was defiant. “He had a private event. I couldn’t say no.” I asked what happened. She hesitated, then said, “He fucked me in the backseat of the SUV. Driver was right there.” My jaw dropped. She smirked, crawled into bed, and passed out. I lay awake, replaying her words, my body buzzing with jealousy and desire.

By this week, M’s presence was inescapable. Elena was different—bolder, more distant. She wore his gifts openly now: the necklace, a pair of diamond earrings, a silk scarf. She stopped hiding the marks on her body. Tuesday, I found a new bruise on her hip, shaped like fingertips. “He likes it rough,” she said casually, like she was talking about the weather. I asked if she was okay with it. She shrugged. “I like it too.”

Wednesday, M invited her to his office. She dressed in a pencil skirt and a blouse that was just sheer enough to turn heads. I didn’t drop her off this time, she took an Uber. She texted me at 7 p.m.: “His office is insane. View of the entire city.” Then, silence until 1 a.m.: “He kept me late. Be home soon.” When she got home, her blouse was missing a button. She didn’t offer an explanation, and I didn’t ask. But I noticed her panties were missing when I undressed her that night. She moaned when I touched her, but it felt like she was thinking of him.

Thursday, I tried to talk boundaries again. “This is moving too fast,” I said. “We need to slow down.” She looked at me, eyes hard. “You wanted this. You pushed me to wear the red dress, to go to dinner. Now you want to pull back?” I didn’t have an answer. She was right—I’d encouraged it. But M was taking over. She softened, touched my cheek. “I love you. But this… it’s exciting. Don’t take it away.” I nodded, but my chest ached.

Friday, M sent a car again. This time, Elena packed an overnight bag. “He’s got a place upstate,” she said. “Just for the weekend.” I asked if I could come. She laughed. “He’d never allow that.” I felt like I’d been punched. She kissed me, promised to call, and left. No call came Friday night. Or tonight.


Three weeks in, and I’m a mess of emotions. The jealousy is real. But I’m addicted to the way she comes home. But M’s power is the problem. He’s not just a third in our dynamic. Part of me wants to pull the plug, demand we stop before M takes her completely. But another part, the louder partwants to see how far this goes.

I’ll update again soon. Maybe with pics

[Dream Weaver]

Wow. She tells you everything, color of the clothes, the type of SUV, the views of the city, the hotel key cards. But nothing about the intimate parts. Okay!

[elina]

Hm,

Interesting.

But it seems to me that you are not really that interested in what your Wife is doing with M.
You claim to put down hard-lines for Her to stay in touch and call, but when She doesn't comply you make no attempts to confront Her.

Do you still believe not going to Miami with Her when M was kind enough to invite you, was the right thing to do?

You appear to have more or less given your Wife to M and demonstrated to him that you are not interested in what he does and to your Wife that She can do whatever She likes without even bothering to inform you.

Do you still fuck Her? Are you licking Her pussy?

Sincerely
elina

[leggysman]

Well isn't that something

[Cuckcuckgoose1]

Indeed.

[54321]

Most people are drawn to positions of power because they want... well power,
and most people who are drawn to power are usually not too good in the love department.

It's all very thrilling for both you and your wife but I think it important to take it with a pinch of salt.
If he were to steal her from you, the thrill of flexing that power would soon be gone and she would most likely be dumped quite soon after.

She's having a helluva lot of fun right now but I would suggest she not take any of this too seriously.
Enjoy it while ye may.

Every good wish,

54321

PS. Feel free to share this post with your wife (who is very beautiful by the way) and remind her that when it comes to hotwifing, she has SO many more options available.

[CuckInTheMaking]

It’s been two months since my last update Thanks for all the advice and perspectives last time. Elena’s still seeing M. It’s not just a fling anymore. M’s taken her to three more high-profile events since then: a gala in New York, a private art auction in Chicago, and a “business retreat” in Aspen. Each time, he sends a car, a dress, and sometimes jewelry. The latest was a sapphire bracelet that she wears constantly now, even when she’s just lounging at home. She says it’s “just a gift,” but I see how her eyes light up when she talks about him.

This Friday came home at 3 a.m from the casino night, wearing that black dress M picked out. She told me they’d played roulette. She met a guy named F, some big-shot friend of M’s, who kept eyeing her like she was the main course. M introduced her as his “PR consultant,” but Elena said the way he touched her waist made it clear to everyone she was more than that.

She admitted she loved the attention—the way powerful men watched her, the way M showed her off like a prize. I asked if anything happened after the tables. She hesitated, then said, “He kissed me in the car. I wanted more, but he said he wants to take it slow.” Slow? The man’s been fucking my wife for months, and now he’s playing gentleman?

That night, we had sex. She played along, gasping that she’d begged him to take her in the backseat, but he refused, saying she’s “too special for a quick fuck.” Her words, not mine. I came so hard I saw stars, but afterward, lying there, I felt this gnawing dread

She’s on his arm at events, charming his contacts, playing the part of his companion. She says it’s “part of the job,” but I know better. She loves the rush—the private jets, the five-star suites, the way he makes her feel desired in ways I can’t match. Last week, she came home from Chicago with a new mark on her neck, barely hidden by her hair. I asked if she used protection. She nodded, but her eyes flicked away, just like before. She’ll walk around in lingerie he bought, knowing I’m watching, knowing it drives me wild. We still have sex, and it’s hotter than ever

The jealousy is a beast. Every time she leaves with him, I’m torn between rage and arousal. I’ll pace the house, check her location

I’m addicted to this, but it’s eating me alive.

By the way posted a pic from only time I watched them together. Hope you enjoy it

[path22]

Wow, I found the thread today. What an incredible story. I think as long as he doesn't tire, she'll be more and more immersed in it. Hopefully, he'll want to share it with his contacts.
Thank you for sharing your story. I hope you can update more frequently. Thanks.

[leggysman]

He posted stolen pics again, in case anyone here still inexplicably thought this was a true story.

viewtopic.php?f=9&t=76353&p=1574973#p1574909

[Dream Weaver]

He posted stolen pics again, in case anyone here still inexplicably thought this was a true story.

viewtopic.php?f=9&t=76353&p=1574973#p1574909

Another wildly loaded rich couple story. Amazing how many are on here.

[zorro]

Your story is hot, but I can well understand why some on this thread are skeptical.

I have enjoyed it and thought about it, but I am totally up in the air about what your wife wants and what her lover wants. And his behavior is distinctly that of a lover, just as your wife's heavily into apparent NRE. When there is a wealthy, powerful man fucking a wife, it is virtually a surety that she is contemplating jumping to the passing train. I have heard nothing about any discussion with her about this extremely important issue. A lot of men here talk about a wife leaving for some guy with a bigger dick, but my experience is that a bigger bank account and wallet are more erosive to a marriage. I am struck, too, by how there has been fairly little decoupling behavior. As a couple unwinds, they begin to have more and more separate lives. She continues to fuck you and spend most of her time with you and around you.
Perhaps they are no more than each other's fantasy lovers, taking a break from the predictable tedium of even a good marriage to play out other romantic fantasies. If so, I could understand that. But I hear no clear statement from you about where your wife is headed with all this.

I also have no idea what M wants. He sounds like a narcissistic, alpha, control-seeking guy who likes to have whatever he wants. Does he just want to have her adoration and hot body? Does he want a trophy girlfriend to show off to his business/political acquaintances? Is he married and just wants some hot extra on the side? Does he have children and a family? What does he understand of the nature of the relationship between your wife and you? Is she telling him different things than she tells you? Did he really have his EA invite you to join them at the hotel in Miami? If so, why in the world would you not have gone? To not go could well be interpreted by your wife as your not caring about her and your marriage. It could also be interpreted by M as your being too frightened to meet him in person. Is she just a free prostitute for him to pamper and ignore when he has something better to do? If I had been in your shoes, I would have wanted to enter into a relationship with her lover to size him up and see how you feel around him. That opportunity to feel out his character and understand better how to proceed sounds as if it has now been lost, and as far as you tell us, because your wife now doesn't want you interacting with him. If he is trying to dom both her and you, you may have sidestepped his domming you, but only by giving up and sitting this out on the side lines. Now you don't know if he is a potential enemy -- which he well might be -- or he is bringing hot
excitement into your otherwise hitherto stable marriage.

So, your account leaves my cock hard but my mind befuddled. I just cannot scope out what may really be going on between your wife and M -- and you. Maybe that's because I would not have proceeded as you have. In any event, these are some of the reasons I think you are hearing voices of skepticism here.

[chard]

I have earlier submitted a post in this forum describing my wife Hannah's first venture into hotwifing. It was very unusual and also very exciting for both of us.
Hannah was out dancing with her friends as she did every Thursday night. The only difference was, this time she had my permission to fuck another guy if she got the opportunity. She was hit on and propositioned by a guy she fancied, so, at the end of the night, she went with him back to his apartment which he shared with a pal. Without going into too much detail, the guy took Hannah to his bed and fucked her, He then asked her if she would let his friend have a go. Hannah thought, what the hell, they are both complete strangers and this is a one off so why not. She then went to the other bedroom and fucked his buddy, So for her first time Hannah had a double header, I think that was pretty unusual.

[Cuckcuckgoose1]

Lol. Guys....guys....guys....the gigs up. Read the room...literally.

[Jujube]

Hahaha! I read this totally unbelievable story and even searched for her pic. I clicked on Leggymans link, and lo and behold, The Requested Topic doesn’t Exist! He should have put it in the Stories Section. SMH

[langslang]

Hahaha! I read this totally unbelievable story and even searched for her pic. I clicked on Leggymans link, and lo and behold, The Requested Topic doesn’t Exist! He should have put it in the Stories Section. SMH

He was busted as a liar when he said he took a picture of them "last week". The picture that he posted, was a stolen picture from 2023. The thread where he posted that, which leggysman linked to, was deleted because of the stolen picture.

[langslang]

BTW, he has some very specific "tells" in his writing that are showing up in other thread(s) here .....

[FNQLivin]

Could you PM these to me?