First Things First. Nice Job With The Blog. Secondly,, You Seem Quite An Interesting. Looking Forward

Your blog is amazing!! Do your stag’s wife know about your relationship? How many kids do you have?

Thank you for the kind compliment.

My stag isn't married.

I checked your profile and liked it.. your are good to explain mind with words.. and i wanna know is their any pic of you ?

Thank you for the compliment.

Can v connect dear

We already are connected. There can't be any more connection than this.☺️

Cheap

[Cheap; Low in price, especially in relation to similar items or services; Inexpensive because of inferior quality.]

It was a cheap hotel. One that he found on the fly. One that he knew will not ask too many questions or proof of identity from either of us. One that wasn’t in either of our locations and one where once we came out of it, nobody will question and (hopefully) wouldn’t know where we came from or where we are headed towards. One where the ‘management’ knew the purpose of the rooms being let out, sometimes only at an hourly rate because it was often uncertain for the guests to decide beforehand the time that would spend indoor. One with a dim yellow bulb inside it which barely about let the couple see each other. One where the room had the bare essentials, a bed (double bed; they knew single rooms were useless for their purpose) with sheets which often are not exactly the cleanest, but also acceptable enough to use for the brief period while we were there, a small bedside table to keep the various ‘items’ which are typically involved, wall hooks and cheap plastic hangers to rest our clothes when they are not being used (which is about the most part of the time that we’re there), and a bathroom which had a shower which sprinkled just about the water required to ‘remove traces’ and be ‘civilized’ when we would step out of the room. One where the rickety wooden bed squeaked and creaked in the rhythm of the violent movements it so often endured. One where a passer by outside the room can hear the noise and voices and expressions of pain & pleasure (unless the inmates are completely muffled and stifled) and will still not bother because he/she would be more eager to get inside their own room (the irony being it is to remove the muffles and shackles from one’s mind that one has entered upon those premises in the first place). One where the rooms had that typical smell of being used for a certain purpose. One that would upon entering it, or even approaching it through the passage, would remind one of the purpose for which couples enter inside. One that will imprint on the memory that we are not the same anymore when we exit the room.

He took me there because the place we both are from, there exists a strong social/financial-status bias. While neither he nor me cared about the bias, we knew once “it” is over we would need to return to our respective neighbourhoods. And the bias would have raised questions if I were to invite him to my house…and his wife being a homemaker, his house was out of bounds. Thus was the need for him to identify the hotel.

I knew that I was fascinated by his ruggedness and coarse behaviour, and strange as it may sound the use of his words which were ‘absolutely unacceptable’ in the so-called society I belong to, and yet words, which instigated in me an uncontrollable desire to be his personally owned whore, to let him have his way around (and on) me. He was a bull, who I selected for myself, someone I knew for a brief while from before and developed the need to be together. For him, it was getting a high-society ‘housewife’ free for his personal use, which motivated him to spare the money on the hotel room. It didn’t take him a moment’s shyness to get rid of his own clothes, but did take some cajoling and maybe a slight exertion of force to tear the inner clothes off me despite our mutual knowledge that that’s why we were there, so he would ensure he gets his return from paying for the room rentals. It came naturally to him to get on top of me and move himself, but it took some convincing by him to get me on top of him to have myself so exposed as opposed to when under him, his body would keep me shadowed underneath it, that too with the lights on. He did had to pay extra because we used the room for a while longer than he estimated initially. I suppose he liked it more than he thought he would.

Probably the best photo I would ever see posted here...

Actually all I said to him was, ‘do you think we can talk somewhere less crowded, in peace”?

Thank you!

I am thankful to the 17,600+ members who have been following my posts for their encouragement and compliments.

While I do not desire to either close or log out of this account, I understand Tumblr may be thinking in a different way. It’s an executive decision and whether I agree to it or not is not material. We need to abide by it because we are after all ‘free’ users of the service.

So, once again, a big note of thanks to each of the 17600+ members who considered to follow my posts and encourage me to share more. If my account remains here, we shall meet again, else, this parting is well made.

Auf wiedersehen.

What’s your take on cuckolds? Have you done it?

Cuckolding, at some level involves an element of humiliation. Although the humiliation includes the tacit prior acceptance from the man, but nevertheless the concept of involving insult to the man has a strong presence.I, for one, have a very strong aversion to any form of mockery to a man. Being a hotwife, on the other hand presents the thrill and pleasure of being with others intimately without any humiliation to the stag to who i am the vixen to. If you read my profile write-up you would know that my own husband(s) is(are) not my stag. And for us, the stag-vixen relationship suits far better than cuckolding.

A Midsummer Afternoon's Reality

Part 1

I have not been able to find the time or energy to chronicle in the recent past. So many things happened and I was very engaged in different fronts thus not be able to spare the effort to record it.

This is something that happened shortly before the pandemic triggered the lock-down in India. Do bear in mind that some of the dialogue here are recreated because I do not remember the exact words that were spoken. But I will try my best to keep it as close to reality as possible to reflect the mood of the event as it happened.

It was a rather uncomfortably hot and humid summer weekend and my office was closed. After the morning chores were over at home, I thought of taking a break for myself and indulge in a bit of window shopping at a mall which is a short travel in a cab from my home and almost adjacent to a rather plush international chain of luxury hotels. I asked the nanny of my kids to be there for them as I left home.

As I waited for my Uber to arrive, I realized how stiflingly hot and humid the day was despite a clear blue sky. There was an element of happiness in the air despite the high temperature. Because I am of duskier complexion, I have often been told that I look attractive in darker shades. I had chosen for that day, a brown chiffon saree with a deep maroon sleeveless blouse with liberal cuts in it to make it bearable to stay dressed in the summer. For an extra kick to myself, I had a black brassiere to go with it. I was gifted a bottle of Miss Dior by a very close friend of mine and I dabbed it lightly. It is one of my most favourite perfumes and I loved the whiffs I kept catching off me. I maintained my makeup to the minimum to avoid getting more suffocating, but did carry my favourite lipstick with me. I have often been complimented on my hair which reaches almost up to the parting of my hips and I decided to flaunt it by leaving it untied and open. I love to dress myself traditionally and I applied a strip of vermilion at the parting of my hair and a deep-red bindi on my forehead. I was never a heavy jewelry person and I decided to keep just my ring, my two bangles, my nose-pin, a single anklet that I wear around my left ankle and a gold chain on. I know it sounds a lot, but if you look up traditional Indian women's jewelry, this is actually minimalist. I cannot deny, I loved myself in that dress for that day and it generated a sense of happiness in me.

However dark shades and high temperature have an alliance between them and they work together to get me sweaty quickly unless I am in an AC environment. To top it all, I have a natural tendency to sweat much more than the average. I could sense that in spite of just having taken a bath before starting, sweat was accumulating in my underarms and back, beginning to make wet patches form at those places. Fortunately, my Uber arrived shortly and it was a big relief to get inside the AC cab as I headed for the mall with my small, black clutch resting on the seat next to me. The cool air from the vents blowing across my skin, wet from the sweat, generated a nice feeling. It was a break I was taking for myself after quite some time and I was enjoying the escape from the routine. Through the lightly tinted glasses of my cab, I saw the clear sky and sparsely populated streets as we drove. Nobody was mad to step out in this hot afternoon sun on a weekend. For one brief moment I looked at the rear-view mirror to check my hair. To my surprise, pleasant I suppose, I found my cab driver trying to steal glances at me through the mirror. I ignored his efforts, but deep inside i could feel a happiness bubble forming at the thought that it was actually a compliment to me as I have been found attractive to a man. A fifteen minute drive brought me to main gate of the mall.

To be continued...