Sunday, June 29, 2008


As I have written what has happened in this journey to becoming a hot wife what is striking me as I look back is the inevitable conclusion. If I were reading this in a novel I could see an eventual hot wife experience in the future for this naive couple--but you know at the time neither one of us had a clue. It seemed natural, and was fun, and everyone was smiling. Hell, it was natural--for us.

Some fondling of her own.

We were invited to a very large party that had a live band after that those discussions. This is a very large party held on a farm with several hundred people, outdoors in the middle of the summer. I had bought her a ribbed white tank top with the words “Hot” on it, and I suggested she wear it. Which she did, but she insisted on putting a thick white bra underneath, which was not what I had in mind. Everyone was dancing with different people, and when we danced near each other I saw her dancing with this young guy taking hits off his tequila straight from the bottle. At the end of the song we moved off to the side and she said, “That guy is so hot. He’s moving up behind me and rubbing against my ass as we dance. And he’s hard.”
I suggested she remove her bra and dance with him some more. “No, it would give him too much encouragement.”
I answered, “So,” and she blew up on me, furious. Later the next day she tells me that he was playing with her boobs as they danced on the outside of her top (with bra on), and that at one point she had put her hands down his pants and felt his cock.
“He was soon hard, and his balls were shaved, Damn I love that.” She said. I asked if it had gone any farther than that, and she said, “No, he did ask me, ‘Is there any way?’, but I told him no and that was the end of it.”

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Talk about Hooking

After that she started talking during our role playing and fantasies about different men, she mentioned one of her fantasies being pulling a train of guys one after the other. “When I get started I just keep cumming,” she said, “and I want to see how long I could go.”

I thought over the possibilities with none of them adding up to anything doable, at least within my frame of mind at the time, but one day she saw something on TV about a housewife escort, and I had read a story on Literotica on the same subject. At this same time our business was tanking, in a large part because of her neglect in some of her job responsibilities. I was trying to save it but it looked like we might lose our home. In a conversation she talked about trying out being an escort.

Rather than laugh it off I we talked about the reality of it, but being the enabler I am, I checked with places where prostitution was legal (Nevada) and went so far as to email some of the legal brothels in Nevada on how it worked. My wife was actually talking about it, and when I showed her my research rather than being shocked she was intrigued.

I gave it serious thought on my own end, and it seemed like a safe, non-emotional involvement risk in her getting to try a variety of different men. I thought she could do it for a couple of weeks and come back with some great stories for years to come, and it was hot to think that she come be a genuine whore. I thought the Nevada sex license she would have to have would be one hell of an erotic souvenir.

The more she read about it, the more intrigued she became. “I don’t think I would like being in a line up, I couldn’t stand the rejection,” she said, “but in a place where the girls wander through the bar and talk to guys, you know how good I am talking to people, I think I’d rather do that.”
I wrote a second round of letters, and enclosed a couple of photos of her. (They mentioned that at her age (40’s) that was the upper range of girls that worked there, but that if she wanted to come in the summer they would have room). It was hot pillow talk, but we had a family crisis that summer, and as the summer ended she said, “Well, I’ll have to wait another year, and I’ll be a year older.”

As we talked more about it she said, as usual, “I don’t think I could do it for real. It’s just hot to talk about.”

Then one night she said, “I would have hated you if I had gone out there and not liked it.”
After that conversation whenever the subject came up she cut it off quickly. Once we starting actually playing with other guys the subject came up again, along the lines, “I should have done it when we talked about it, now I’m too old.” When I had written the brothels originally I had not told them her true age, because she looked so much younger. This time I did give them her real age, and two responded that it was not a workable situation.

In the end it was nothing more than some pillow talk, erotic conversation, and a few emails -- and looking back the knowledge that we got close to the flame, and was another step to her becoming the real hot wife that she is today.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

One More Step Closer

Mardi Gras is our playground for the turning points in our journey. It is just easier to let go there, and once we’ve gone that far it is simply much easier to go there again. Anna doesn’t think a second time about flashing if it is in the right situation, like a bunch of friends drinking and anyone else flashing.
The next year we were on a balcony and we were talking to a younger guy standing beside us on the balcony. She had flashed him a time or two, and after I came back she went to the restroom and came back with a low cowl neck top she had carried in her purse. She had said she had to have a buzz going before she could wear it. Between her boobs I could see a thin gold chain. It connected to two rings that fit around her nipples that I had bought for her a year before. When she pulled up her top one of them slid off, and the best way to put it back on is to put it in your mouth and suck the nipple through the ring. I did it in front of him. Later the other one fell off. “Let me,” he said, and did a couple of times, kissing her nipples to do so.
That night back in the room she told me she had been kissing him when I had gone to piss. “I wish we had brought him back to our hotel room.” She said.
Over time I had come to the frame of mind that I wish she would take it further. But sober, and at home, at this time she would always go back to, “You know I was drinking and didn’t really mean what I said.” I believe when she has a light buzz she is more honest with me than she is stone sober, so I just nod my head and waited for the next time when she gets crazy.
I realize there are some checking this blog out for the hot sex stuff, and that is coming—but when I look back on things one of the things that interests me most is seeing the little minor things that were small steps beyond her comfort zone, a step bolder, a step sexier, letting another guy cop a feel or see some flesh, and each step was a step closer to becoming a woman who would now eagerly enjoy being fucked by another man.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Mardi Gras- Bold steps

I soon discovered in her journey that the big steps were always taken at Mardi Gras. It was as if no matter where we were in our lives, at Mardi Gras she could let go and do things she would never do, to let things spontaneously evolve thanks to the liquor and the thousands of others doing exactly the same thing.
So for those reading this who like to see their wives getting wild but she is a bit reluctant, I strongly recommend going to Mardi Gras and letting the other women she’ll run into there encourage her to go wild and crazy. I’ve seen my wife flash on a balcony and the girl beside her say, “I wish I could do that but I don’t have the nerve,” adding, “besides that I’m too small.”
And my wife instantly has ordered the girl two shots of tequila and before we left the balcony the shy girl was right in there flashing her breasts with the others.

Like I said, Mardi Gras is where she has taken her boldest steps in her hotwife/slutwife evolution.

After the year she had let the guys feel her up she decided rather than the brush approach from that first time she would opt for just airbrushed paint. (the photo of that is on this blog) (we didn’t realize until later that we had gone to a face painter and with her small brush was the reason my wife had sat topless on the open street while she was painted for so long).

So in a later year she was airbrush painted, and rather than wearing a vest was wearing only a layer of paint, and it was a rush for her. Guys were coming up wanting their photo taken with her, including a couple of black guys. I didn't notice at the time how into that she was, but it was the first indication of where we were going.
It was Mardi Gras so naturally we were drinking, and this year when I left to go to the restroom and came back she was dancing with another guy, wearing only paint from the waist up, and over the next half hour danced off and on with four or five different guys, including a young black guy. I was enjoying watching her. Before the night was over she went on stage for the dance contest, still just in paint. (another first) That evening might have ended differently had she not turned her ankle so badly that we could do nothing more than hop back to the hotel with one arm around my shoulder.

The memory of her going on that stage wearing nothing but paint, dancing with a succession of guys lining up to dance with her, and her obvious pleasure in doing did its own part of lessening my caution and jealousy and like a drug inducing me to want more of seeing the slut side of my wife emerge. As is often said in these wife forms, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Retrospect so far

If you are starting this blog and haven’t started from the beginning I recommend you do, as more than just what is the erotic side of our life, it is a step by best narrative of how we got to where we are today. Even as I look back on it each step amazed and aroused me as she took it.
And each step she took at becoming bolder, dressing sexier, flirting more, letting someone else touch her just increased my desire for her, and opened me up to encouraging her to do more.
This was the woman I wanted since on one of those early first dates she said she didn’t like wearing clothes—and I had to wait years to see that side of her she had promised so young finally emerge. Along the way I did my part in discouraging it, of jealously at her doing deep down what I wanted her to do.
I sometimes went beyond encouraging and would push—which did nothing but increase her reluctance. And no matter how much I might want her to do something, the simple truth was she would do nothing unless she was convinced in her mind that she wanted to—and for her to come to both the realization that she wanted to and at the same time to work up the nerve to do it could only happen if I backed off. It took a long time before I understood that.
I learned that if I wanted her to get bolder it was nothing I was doing the help it happen other than just step back out of the way and watch this sexual butterfly emerge from her cocoon, and it has been an amazing thing to observe and participate in.
The time frame between each of these steps varies, but looking back on it every step was moving toward the eventual point that unless something stopped this evolution this straightlaced Sunday School teacher and Mother, this somewhat shy, conservative dressing beauty, would at some point be on her back with her legs wide spread awaiting a near stranger to crawl between those welcoming legs and slide a hard and strange cock up inside her.
I personally felt a change in myself when I saw where it was going, and knew that rather than trying to stop it that I wanted it to happen.

The photo above was the year following the first year she was felt up. In the ensuing year I had sobered up, given a lot of thought about what had happened, and found myself wanting to see it happen again rather than discouraging it. Thanks to some drinks, an attentive guy having some beads she really wanted and him bartering for a good feel in exchange for the beads, I was able to get photos of the exchange. Suffice to say that the hands on my wife's breasts in this photo are not mine, and this was on the edge of the dance floor in a crowded bar in public.

We are very interested in hearing your comments on this. I'm describing as it has happened for real, but if you're turned on, or turned off, or think we're both insane for having started down this road (but deep down I'm not sure that many parts of it were inevitable), it is nice to know that it is being read. We go to great lengths for discretion in our lifestyle choices, not so much that we care, but that it would certainly embarrass family, so there is not anyone that I can really tell someone about all this so this blog is fulfilling a part of me that wants to describe what I feel is an amazing journey--at least it is for us. And I am so very proud of how my wife has been able to evolve to the person she is today.

Also I don't know how you link to other sites from this one or vice versa, but if a reader would like to explain how to do that then thanks! Also happy to trade links.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

Felt up in Public at Mardi Gras

Letting Go at Mardi Gras
Mardi Gras is where her wild side emerged and blossomed, and they fact we are where we are today is thanks to that event—because she found a place where she could get as uninhibited as she dared—and with others getting crazy and the drinking it allowed her to discover her sluttier side.
She had first earned her beads by showing her breasts last year, but this year she had told me that she was going with me but to not expect her to do a lot of flashing. In her words she said she was going to be a good girl this year.
The idea of showing my wife off has always been a turn-on, which she has resisted for years except for a couple of visits to nude beaches, and with the exception of Mardi Gras last year had never exposed her breasts in public
Sexually one-on-one she has always been adventurous, open minded, and loves to role play as we talk through different scenarios. When I say “how about a fantasy” to her, I will describe scenes much like I find in letters on the internet as I stroke her body.
While she wasn’t baring herself at Mardi Gras, she didn’t mind me walking around with my camera getting shot after shot of other ladies baring their tops for beads, in the true Mardi Gras tradition, but she had warned me a dozen times not to pressure her to flash.
There were a lot of college kids coming in for spring break, which meant the streets were more crowded with kids exchanging beads without flashing, dancing together, and just meeting here and there, and nothing quite like our previous Mardi Gras. We decided it best to look down on the crowd and cast a few beads from a balcony to escape the crush of people. Our first choice wanted a $30.00 cover, but the next balcony we tried was $10.00 each so we paid, went up and just threw beads and people-watched until we got tired.
This restaurant had a Fat Tuesday special of a Cajun buffet and balcony space from 5 p.m. till 12 p.m., so we paid in advance for Fat Tuesday. We had spent most of Mardi Gras just walking around taking photos of all the ladies flashing while Anna continued to be a good girl.
Fat Tuesday things changed. We had some drinks, went to a parade, and this time she chose a crochet top, which has a thin lining in the front but thin enough to see the darkness of her nipples if you’re looking close in the right sunlight, It is open weave in the back, and is one of her sexiest tops, so I had some hopes that she might earn some beads before Mardi Gras was over. We had a couple of drinks as we wandered.
We were talking, she looked up and said that there are some nice beads, so I moved to the side, she went under the balcony, motioned and pulled up her top, showing her breasts and as always when she flashes, her nipples very erect. A few guys ran up and took photos too, the guy on the balcony threw the beads, she put them around her neck and we continued up the street, pausing three more times for her to show her breasts in exchange for beads.
When we got to the restaurant that afternoon we went to the balcony where I began tossing beads to the several women eagerly showing in the street below. Anna was standing beside me and in a few minutes I noticed she was motioning to a boy in the crowd. He tossed up some beads and she reached down to her top, lifting up to display her breasts to the crowd below, where there was a lot of popping flashes and a few cheers. To show to a crowd was a real stretch for her, but she just smiled at me and sipped more on her drink.
I was throwing beads, shooting some photos, and watching some of the other ladies on the balcony as they flash, and of course drinking.
Anna flashed a few more times, and a guy in his early 30’s standing beside here was entranced with watching her show her breasts and he started talking more to her.
As the evening wore on I had to turn sideways as more people crowded to the balcony, and my wife would wander up, talk awhile, talk to the people around us, and wander back away from the edge, where she began having longer conversations with two different guys, one a guy from Ireland named Joe, who she introduced to me.
I recalled in one of my photos from the previous year a girl leaning out over the balcony and her boyfriend reaching from behind her and raising her top to the crowd. I had mentioned to the guy and his wife standing on my left, and now as I watched she leaned over and he ran his hands down the inside of her bikini top and pulled it aside, displaying her breasts to the crowd, which applauded.
My wife came up and I moved her to the front. I told her that the next time she flashed I would lift her top for her.
“That’s what the other guys have been doing with me” she told me. I was shocked, and then she leaned over to me and whispered in slurred words told me, “when we get back to the room I’m going to fuck your balls off.”
She leaned over and I lifted her top, taking special attention to rubbing her breasts in front of the crowd before pulling the top down. It was one of the most erotic things I had ever done to that point. Joe, one of the guys who had been lifting her top, she said, was standing there as I did, and he asked that I take a photo of my wife with him, so I took one photo of her and Joe with his camera, her arms around his neck, and her top pulled up exposing her breasts, and as I raised the camera he told me, “No one is going to see this photo in America,” it was going to Europe, and moved his hand to cup her breast. She didn’t object, so I took the photo, and then a second one of the same pose. They broke, she pulled her top down, and walked over to me. He asked to take a photo of the two of us, so we posed, and as he took the photo she exposed her breasts to him again.
It was turning into a horny evening, the crowd was getting rowdier and I took my place at the balcony edge again, throwing beads, taking photos. I looked back over my shoulder a little later and she was posed with the other guy she had been talking too, again pulling up her top for the photo. She was laughing and having a wonderful time and as you imagine the guys in the photos (and most of the other guys on the balcony were loving it), pulling up her top for anyone who asked. It was horny for me. I was a bit more uncomfortable when I saw the second guy reach out and cup her breast as the photo was taken. It was one thing for me to be taking the photo and quite another for her to be doing it not even knowing if I was around, but I had a good buzz myself and it didn’t seem to register.
She came back over, flashed a few more times lifting her top herself and told me she was going to the bathroom. About a minute later Joe told me he was going to the bathroom and he left too. With the drinks I had a few minutes of recognition time but it occurred to me that I probably should check on things, especially after she had had plenty of time to go to the bathroom and return. I could imagine Joe trying to sneak her into one of the restrooms for more than just flashing. I went around the balcony and entered on the other side and stopped. Anna was across the room just inside the doorway (screened from where I had been standing on the balcony). Joe was kissing her. They kissed for a while, broke it, and he kept his arm around her. One of the other guys came up with a camera, he whispered in her ear, she laughed, and he raised her top exposing her breasts for the other guy while he took a photo with Joe’s arm around her. So now not only was she flashing out of sight from me but also flashing whomever Joe was asking her to flash.
As she pulled her top down she looked up and her eyes caught mine and she went pale, knowing I had seen her.
Now at this time we were a long way from where we are today, evolving, and I this was way over the line for me. I went into the restroom and tried to get a handle in my feelings, finally calming down and saying to myself hell, it’s Mardi Gras, and went back out, I would let it go where it ran. Anna was back outside on the balcony by then.
I asked her if she was ready to go, and she said she wanted to stay. We threw some more beads, she flashed a time or two, once when I went downstairs and out into the street to show her flashing her breasts to the crowd and shoot a photo from that angle.
When I went back upstairs she pulled up against me and said told me she had enough stuff to do role-playing fantasies with for five years.
I asked what do you mean, and she said she would tell me back in the room.
It was almost midnight and I hurried her along to get her back to the hotel to hear about what I had missed, but I had to stop three times while she flashed some of the balcony holders on the side streets.
In the room we undressed and lay on the bed, her with her mouth near my cock, and my fingers reaching for her pussy. She was dripping, and she began to tell me what was happening while I was throwing beads, in between licks on my dick.
She was talking to two different guys, and no one was throwing beads. Joe told her he would help her get some beads and started pointing to guys in the crowd, motioning them to throw beads. She was breathing heavier as she told me. When the beads came in, he moved behind her and lifted her top to the crowd, then as he lowered my top he moved his hands to her breasts and slid his hands over them, tugging a little on her nipples, and then down her belly before he removed his hands she said, running her hands up my chest to demonstrate how he had felt her.
I would have expected her to slap him, or move away, but Anna stayed with him, which told me more than her voice was saying. I was very hard. What she told me next confirmed it. Joe went to the bathroom and the other guy she was talking to moved up beside her, he must have seen what Joe had done, so he waved to some guys to throw beads, and when they did he moved behind her and raised her top like Joe had, and like Joe when he lowered her top he kept his hands under her top and caressed her breasts too. I couldn’t believe my good girl who wasn’t going to flash was letting two different men feel her up in front of the crowd.
She said Joe came back over and I asked why she didn’t leave. She said it felt great, and she didn’t want him to stop, she said as she slid her mouth around my dick again. Then she added, that wasn’t all, and she continued.
Joe came back and as they talked he put his hand at the edge of her top and moved his hand up under it, feeling her breasts, feeling her up.
I asked if he lifted her top this time.
She said he didn’t lift her top, he just played with her breasts.
I asked if she had tried to stop him. She answered no.
She was panting herself, her hand around my dick, taking me in her mouth between sentences as she described how he pulled his hand out from underneath her top, talked some more and then again moved his hand under her top again, playing with her breasts some more. She told me, god she was so horny.
I asked if he had hit on her, and she said he had asked if there was any chance and she had told him no. Joe left and went over and talked to this other woman for a while, and came back, this time when he tried to put his hand under her top again, she stopped him, and that was when she came back over to stand beside me on the balcony.
She said that that wasn’t the horniest thing that had happened to her though. Toward the end of the night she went into the buffet to get a little to eat, and there was another guy, with that couple who were beside me, who had been watching her flash all night, and they talked a little, and she was eating the tail off a crawfish, he told to just suck it, and she told him she couldn’t, and he demonstrated. Then he told her wanted to take a photo of her, so she’d raised her top, and he flashed it. Then he told her to show her beaver. She asked him what he’d said, and he repeated it, and then said he wanted to eat her.
She said she wasn’t sure she had heard him right, so she asked him again. Anna said. He told her that he wanted to eat her, he asked her if she would go in the bathroom with him and she told him no. He asked Anna if she was sure and she told him no again.
She said that was it, but it was soo hot, being felt up by two guys, and being propositioned by two guys. “It’s really helped my ego tonight,” she said.
At this moment I was fighting to hold back from coming, but I asked if she liked other men touching her breasts.
She told me yes it felt great.
Caught up in the passion I asked, if she wanted more men to touch her breasts. Anna paused for a second, then grunted a yes, and at this point it was more than I could take, I rolled her to her back, crawled between her legs and sunk my throbbing cock into her soaked hot pussy in a single stoke.
As I began to fuck her I told her next year more men would touch her breasts, and I might even tell some of them they were welcome to touch her breasts. I asked if she would you like that.
Yes, Yes, just fuck me, she said arching her back as I came as she said it and collapsed.
As my breathing returned I told her that I wasn’t joking.
She answered she knew. In my mind I had this vision of two different guys posing for a photo with her at the same time, both of them holding a breast, everyone looking into my camera.

Even sober the next day she talked about how horny she was and glad she let it happen.

It was a bold step for both of us, and my reaction encouraged her for sure. Another step on her journey.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

First time flashing

This is not the first time she flashed, but it was on the same day. She had a vest on with the brush painting looking like she was painted until she opened the vest. A guy had asked her to flash and another girl ran up and they flashed together. This blog is not a picture posting blog of my wife but she was flashing in public after all!

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Mardi Gras Flashing

Showing off at Mardi Gras

We went to Mardi Gras and that was where I saw another side of her. I had always gotten off with her dressing sexy, teasing, and the idea of going where women were showing breasts for beads was hot to me, whether she indulged or not.
The first year we read all the tourist things, and she thought the guys on the balcony would just throw her beads by yelling, “Hey Mister, throw me something”. (it works but that is a parades, not under a balcony on Bourbon). So our first morning there she runs out, waves to some guys with beads, and she’s alongside a couple of college girls who flash for beads. They don’t throw her beads, and she doesn’t flash. She walks back to me, dejecting and says, “I’m not doing that.”
So we wandered around the French Quarter, enjoyed the parades and did what the guidebooks said, and came home. She didn’t flash. Not a single time. And she said she was never going back.
Then two years later we had business near there the day after Fat Tuesday, and I told her to see if she could find a last minute room, which she did.
Somehow along the time in between she had changed her mind. This time, the first few minutes on the street, up comes her top, and beads are thrown. A few minutes later she flashes the guy at the portajohns rather than pay the $2.00. She wears a sheer top with a vest, and then before the weekend is over, she is sitting on a stool on a public street naked from the waist up while a face-painter paints between her breasts with a small brush—and it takes a long time. (We didn’t know about airbrushing at that stage in the game).
And she ends up walking down Bourbon street wearing nothing but an open vest and some paint, (and a mask). Anyone that noticed, she opened the vest.
And that was only the start of fun at Mardi Gras.