And Yeah Please Also Let Me Know The Meaning Of Mini Death Please.

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.

You sound so hot and poetic... does your husband knows about your affairs?

I write whatever i feel and can relate to my life, I am happy to know you liked it. Well, to be honest, No, my husband isn’t aware of the other men who have access to me physically. The only one who he knws as me being a close friend with is his colleague. His colleague however does take full advantage of getting unlimited and unhindered access to the wife. Also, when the need to be with other men arises, we play the couple and he plays the stag for me. Mostly it’s in his presence that the others access me, but often it’s away from his eyes, in a separate room, or a separate hotel.

Nice blog

Thank you very much.

This hurried, no time to waste, let’s get to action ASAP is a typical reminder of my bf from the swimming club. Hand holding apart, no sooner am i inside his apartment, I would find myself pushed to the wall with him beginning to pleasure me.

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

And why won't they?

Ever fucked a much younger guy?

Much younger is a very relative term. If I say I was with someone who was 17, would that answer your question? But, if I say I was myself 17 at that time, probably the perspective changes.

So maybe you need to think a bit more on what you want to ask and articulate your question accordingly.

How my stag possessed me - Part 1

I was requested by someone to post a small narrative on how I met my stag. I have never written anything before and I also have a full time job to handle. So I will try, though it may take time. Since my written communication isn’t exactly the best, I may not be able to make it a short one either. If you are still inclined to read, comment and reblog, you are most welcome to but that was just a disclaimer.

To be honest although I am a shared-wife, I am not a hot-wife in its truest sense. In other words, it’s not my own husband that shares me with others. I am 36 now, from India, from a city called Kolkata. I am married for about 7 years now to this really wonderful gentleman who makes love not just to my body, but to my soul. Mine is an arranged marriage, a concept more popular in the orient than in the occident, whereby I met my husband for the first time when he came to meet his prospective bride, my best friend. Due to a turn of events which really isn’t part of this discussion, he went back determined to marry me, long story short, we got married and it was love at first sight for both of us...yes, it happens.

Not only is his integrity above question, but also he knew how to make love to my soul while simultaneously fucking every bone in my body loose. He is extremely generous in giving me some of the best toe-curling, out-of-breath, choking, intense white-hot, blinding, soul-crunching orgasms; orgasms that keeps me shuddering so hard that he needs to hold me still and pin me under his wide chest to stabilize me. In short, he is my personal Lord Kaamdev (Hindu god of love and sex). His name started with the letter A, and I told him on my wedding night that I would call him my Adonis. He looked as handsome as that and had an equally attractive physique to further support his title of Adonis. We both came clean to each other at the very first, even before we were married (we had to wait for almost about 10 months to get a wedding venue of our choice; yes, it happens in India), that neither of us were virgins. I admitted that I have indulged in threesome with my ex-s and their friends and he came clean that he has had his share of sex with his ex-s. In other words, out trust level with each other was full and we had nothing to hide from our previous life. We were both matured enough to understand the human need for physical pleasure, and since neither of us were saints, we were no exceptions to that need.

He is any woman’s dream man and I am the fortunate one who he proclaimed to the world as being husband to. After we got married, my love life was (and still is) at its height and so is my sex life. I did however discover that no matter who comes to my life, I still will crave physical proximity of other attractive men. This is something I could not get myself to admit to my husband, but I knew that it won’t be long before I would need another man to use my body...just my body, not my soul. My soul already belonged to my husband. It was this need that prompted me to agree to threesomes with my ex-s and their close friends. I never had any inhibitions about my physical presence and felt good to flaunt myself to my men within the boundaries of decency...at least till we had not decided to copulate.

...to be continued in due course

Please complete your story about your first encounter with your stag, how he managed to make you meet him?

Maybe someday I will...