It's Obvious I'm Not The Second 'anonymous' Replied To. And For My Reasons... I'm Sure You've An Imagination

Wow.,.where in India

Let's just go with somewhere in India.

Your place? or mine?

A thought-sharing on the proverbial ‘place’.

There have been a variety of places that I get taken to when ‘picked up’ (or hunted, if you wanted to use that word) by a bull. Very few actually takes me to their home.

Some who were married, took me to their single friend’s house where he convinced the friend to step out of his house and leave us in private for a while. Some even didn’t do that and just took me inside one of the bedrooms while the friend waited patiently outside. The bull would deliberately get noisy, maybe just to let his friend outside know of how much he is enjoying doing whatever he is doing to me, and at times despite me trying consciously to be as silent as possible, my physical resistance would break and even I would get noisy in the flow of things. It was then kind of embarrassing to step out to the living room where his friend would be waiting after the bull would have finished doing his things to me. The sight of us emerging out of the room with his shirt hanging out of his trousers and our partially disheveled hair and crushed clothes, faces shining in sweat, would often result in an exchange of shy smiles laden with embarrassment, sometimes a silly giggle which conveyed to each other about ‘I know what you did there in the last few minutes’ and ‘I know that you know’; in some cases a total avoidance or acknowledgement of each other and just being in a hurry to step out of the house; or, in some rare instances, being offered a cup of tea with our host, getting to know him better and a polite request from the bull to give our gracious host my companionship, which in a way meant vanishing inside the room again, this time with the host, and staying over at his house longer than it was initially planned.

Some bulls, who are unmarried and had their own house available would take me there, make me feel comfortable at the new settings, pleasure both of us and then drop me back once the needs are adequately fulfilled.

Yet some, who are well ‘connected’, had their friends working in hotels would manage to get a room without having to go through the formality of having id checks etc. I found there are so many hotels that allow a ‘willing’ couple some privacy and in a way I think they are god-sent. So I often find myself in some not-so-good hotels where the linens are stained and at times in really posh ones which has wall-to-wall mirrors on the wardrobes. While the soft, diffused light and the soft, white linen is definitely something I love, the mirror isn’t particularly much of a turn on for me though its presence made a difference in the mood. But I realized it is a really strong aphrodisiac for my bull (men in general) to be able to observe himself as a third person, how he is getting me done…synonymous to watching a live show of a couple indulging in sex where he controls and sees what the male does to the female and thus trying to do all that he wanted to see getting done on screen. Men are very visual creatures and I love them for being that.

And yet, there have been those instances, triggered by the sense of his urgency coupled with lack of the proverbial ‘place’ where he drove me in his car to somewhere secluded enough which afforded us the privacy in the darkness of the evening/night to pleasure each other inside the cramped back seat, before he drove us back to the city again. It was far from the relaxed and comfortable setting of a bedroom, but had its own charm of giving in to his primal desire to copulate.

How can I become your bull?? I really want to experience something like this. Have sex with someone who is someone else’s wife.

You can’t with me. You need to find someone else to experience it.

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

love the way you describe your emotions. thanks for sharing. would like to ask you who was the first man towards whom you were attracted?

TY for the kind words.

Sexiest blog . .!!

I will take that as a compliment. Thank you.

Is the premise of your hotwife relationship that you are happily owned by your husband? And happily do what you are happily told to do. Making him happy makes you happy.

that maybe the case. My husband isn’t the one who actually hotwife-s me. I have another stag who plays my husband for the purpose of hotwifing me. I find my strongest anchor in the security of the love and care from my husband. But for the purpose of hotwifing, it is the mutual happiness, ie to get my stag to be happy, as well as derive pleasure myself, that matters the most.

That's like my husband kissing me, kissing my soul through my mouth, breathing life into my body, fulfilling my reason to exist on Earth, reminding me of the reason why I am born, to be his.

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

Question 1: What was the most thrilling moment for you since you embarked on the path of becoming a hot wife..

The proposal to make me a hotwife came from my stag, who, if you have read my previous blogs, would know is not my husband. When he proposed exploring the hotwife option, I was in mixed feelings…on one hand I have never done this before, on the other hand I wanted to see him happy. I did blog previously about my initiation into the hotwife life, so won’t write in detail here.

Coming back to your question, strange as it may sound, the most thrilling moment for me was when my first bull and I was alone and inside our room, and I knew what he was going to do to me (needless to mention his enthusiasm to do it was very high), and he undressed me; there I was, not in the least embarrassed or apprehensive, just enjoying the feeling of letting him take control over me.

It was thrilling to me because, I thought I would cringe or might even back out (though honestly speaking I didn’t stand a chance to tell my bull at that stage that he can’t do it to me and be allowed to get released) from being touched, felt and undressed by ‘another man’. But surprisingly I stood there while he removed my clothes and started feeling me all over and I was actually deriving pleasure from letting him do so and thus comfortably without the slightest hesitation adopted my new role of being a hotwife.