No Updates From Long Time. Is Everything Ok At Your End?

Wru from???

India.

Don’t you think you are doing wrong with your husband ?

Yeah, I think so. But then maybe I'm just plain evil.

Your blog is very articulate. Would love to interact more with you

Thank you for the encouraging words.

I could never bring myself to tell this to my husband though would readily agree if he suggests.

I have been fortunate. All my bulls found me attractive enough to pursue and capture. I never had to try too hard to convince the prospective bull. Often the bulls have themselves proposed to host me for the few required glorious hours either at their apartments or their hotel rooms.

Hey, good to see you see post again. Long time :) hope all is well with you. Is there a way I can inbox you, tried a couple times but messages didn't go through.

Thank you for the compliment.

What your hubby usually do when you ride another man ?

I have already answered this question through quite a few of my other re-blogs. if you really want to know the answer, then take some time and read through my boring blog.

More Stag & Vixen captions at: http://stagandvixen.tumblr.com/

what is the most illicit thing that you have done or fantasised about

To put it differently, every aspect of my life as a hotwife is illicit; the very concept is when compared to the definition of marriage.

How my stag possessed me - Part 2

Continued from my previous post...

It was probably around the second year of my marriage, and I hadn’t strayed one bit. Actually my husband was more than I could handle and he is very active to pleasure me physically. My husband informed me that the annual dinner in his office was convened. Spouses were allowed. The year before this, we had both been travelling and so we couldn’t attend. We both were eager to be there, to get to meet other people to socialize with and for him, to kind of show me off as well. Although India is currently very widely influenced by the western dressing and in fact all the western dresses are very popular here as well, personally, I was always since attaining my youth have dressed myself in saree, a traditional Indian dress. For those in the west who are reading this, you may please Google for Saree. I have during my college had worn westerns like jeans and skirts and shirts and trousers, but have always felt that I look my best in a saree and could carry myself in it.  So, for this evening-party I dressed myself in a brown saree with deep-red sleeveless blouse and matching lingerie. It was a party, so a slightly plunged neckline and a more-than-normal low-cut on the back on my blouse was not inappropriate. Since I am of medium complexion, umm, maybe slightly on the duskier side, the darker shades look better on me.

It was organized in one of the large banquet halls, overlooking a sprawling green lawn, in a five star hotel. Some guests had already arrived that he got me introduced to. They were really nice people. I won’t deny that it felt good when some of them complimented me on my dress and I could see I was getting my share of male attention. Having said that, it would be wrong to not point out at this stage, that the male attention that I referred to above was the very decent kind where men appreciated me for how I looked but all within the limits of social decency. There were drinks that were served and both I and my husband indulged. A jovial mood prevailed over the party.

It was quite late in the evening by that time when my husband said that he would like me to meet one of his long time colleagues who was till now posted abroad and have very recently returned to India. Rumours were that my husband could be considered next to fill up that position abroad. Both were at the same rank within the organization. His colleague was in the lawn and we were in the hall. So my husband showed me around to meet him. Now, I am positive that all of you have heard the phrase ‘sparks flying’, as did I. But it was the first time when I was escorted to him and I got to look at his eyes and he shook my hand, that I literally felt hit by a thunderbolt. He was nothing extraordinary to look at. Neither handsome, nor bad, couple of inches taller to me (I am 5’8” myself, which is considered tall for Indian women), very well dressed in a black suit, possessed what looked like through the layers of his suit, a really swollen and large belly, dark-skinned, clean shaven. Even his shirt failed to trap tufts of dense black hair on his chest which popped out at the top. As he shook my hand and made small talk while my husband introduced me, I could feel my heart would burst out from the rib cage. I could hear not a word that he said because of the sound of my own heartbeat that deafened me. I felt people around me could also probably hear it from how they sounded to me. I maintained my polite smile while he continued to hold and shake my hand while introducing himself. It went to a point when I finally managed to blurt out, “I am sorry but I really didn’t catch your name in the loud music. Could you please tell me again?” His name, for the purpose of this public document shall be R, which is the first letter of the name. We kept talking and in a while another colleague of my husband came up to inform that the boss wanted to speak to my husband. I was standing there in the lawn with R. There were quite a lot of other people who were also present around us, but in my mind I felt myself to be completely isolated with just R in that lawn.

To be continued...