Wednesday, July 30, 2008

She says set it up.

I emailed her black guy, asked him if he had received the photos of him with his hands on my wife’s boobs. He emailed back, yes he had. He said he went to New Orleans several times a year. Then he threw in the hook. “Let me know when you’re going down again.” A second email a few minutes later (after he had thought about it no less) was “Give her my email address so we can keep in touch.”

Wednesday night: In the hot tub I told her the progression, and although buzzed she was apprehensive. When I had the computer on I called up his email, clicked reply and asked, “What do you want to say?” She was silent and just shook her head “No.”
“It was a fantasy, and now you want me to start emailing him.” She said.
“I don’t understand, you’re contradicting yourself.”
“I know, I’m a woman.” We went back and forth like this, “You want me to and I want to do it for you.”
“I think it would be hot, but it is because I think you would love it.”
“I know I would love it and it would be hot, but I don’t want to think about it.”
Round and round.
Finally she said, “Well tell him when we’re going down there again and if he’s there we’ll do it.”
“You mean that if I arrange for him to be there and don’t tell you about it, you’re not going to be all over my ass?”
“No, he is so hot. I mean we were in this room with a bunch of balding, beer bellied, middle age men, and he comes in. Every woman in the room wanted him.”
“And he wanted you.”
“Yes he did.”
“And you wanted him”.
“ Yes.”
“That was dumb,” I said, “You know nothing about him. Over time we could do some limited checking out, talking, etc. feeling him out about things so we don’t end up with a weirdo.”
“You need to do that. You do that all the time, you talk things to death, you go over and over and over it until it is not fun anymore.” She said.
“Versus you just doing it spontaneously” I asked?
“Yes, that’s the difference between us two.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, waiting for the final word.
“Tell him we may go down there in May, and if he shows up we will do it.”. Rather than talk it to death as she had accused I shut up. Later I lay awake in bed as she dozed off, thinking over in my mind that she had just told me to arrange with this black guy for them to get together and fuck.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Ever Closer to the Flame

Monday 2:30. Day 8

I’m going to change tense here for a while, and give you my actual journal entries for that time. I think it tells more of my frame of mind:

There has been no response to my second email. In the hot tub last night I told her I had found the photos of her being felt up by ‘her black man’, that I had phoned him for his email address and had sent him copies, and asked her if she could fuck someone without being involved, emotional, or trying to meet them behind my back even if it was fantastic fucking. “Yes,” she said.

“Well those are my only reservations” I answered. We got buzzed, came in and watched an interracial gang bang. At the scene where the girl is getting fucked by one black guy and a hard cock in each hand she looks at me and says, “I want that to be me.”

A few minutes later, still watching the video, she said “Maybe he could bring some of his friends.”

I think the end result of this, of my telling her what I wanted last Thursday, of her flirting with the black guy on Sunday, and the conversations since are.
1. She is willing to do it, wants to do it.
2. It is at the point of no longer IF but WHO. She wants to pick the guy.
3. She probably at this point prefers it be with a black guy.
4. A gang bang soon after would probably be in the offing.
5. She doesn’t want to do much of the work, wants it just to happen, see the guy, approve, and go.

Monday, July 28, 2008


CONTACT: Thursday

I figured I would email “her black guy” in order to send him a copy of her photo, the one with his hands on her breasts—and open up a dialog perhaps.

We got back on Wednesday night after MG. I spent Thursday looking for an email address. My mind was working overtime, imagining our actually taking this further. If they had really connected like Anna felt, then he would find some excuse to make contact. I decided to make a move myself. I had his card but no email address, so I called his number, hit his recorder, reminded him of who we were and offered a copy of the photo of him with Anna if he wanted it. A day later he emailed, mentioned Mardi Gras, asked when we were going to New Orleans again, and left what I felt was a light implication that there was more potential.

Friday: Response Day 6

I hyperventilated when I opened the email folder Friday p.m. and saw his response.

I wrote a quick response which I didn’t mail. Shortened it to “It was fun, she liked flirting with you, I enjoy her doing it, and we chat on this name online sometimes” and gave it to him…adding that it would be a surprise to her and then say I had given him the online name. That was as strong as I could get without overplaying it—although I may have anyway. I wrote in my journal “I just mailed it now. Saturday, noon. Can’t seem to get this out of mind. Damn.”

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Anyone reading?

Just wondered if anyone is bothering to read this blog--not much posting. Rather than poll just post. Tell us your interest and involvement in hotwifing, interracial, and or both. Are you involved, just enjoy the subject, want to get involved?

Also if you have any questions we will try to answer them as honestly as possible. If you're read this from the start you already know we've had plenty of ups and downs along the way (and not just the sexual "ups and downs".

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Fat Tuesday and the day after

Fat Tuesday Day 3
The next morning I woke up thinking about it and told her, “I don’t mind you doing that in the bathroom with the guy but we set up ground rules that you could do what you wanted if I was there. I wasn’t there. You were with a complete stranger and in potential danger. That was dumb.”
“Well I couldn’t very well come get you and tell you come into the bathroom and watch me make out with this guy.”
“No but you could have been more careful and kissed him outside if that’s what you wanted to do. That’s not the problem. It was putting yourself in danger.” She nodded that she understood.

Wednesday after Mardi Gras Day 4
Wednesday after Mardi Gras, going home: That was the extent of our step taking—but on the drive home the subject came up again in the conversation. We were driving through the town he said he was from and she said, “Someone we met this weekend told us they were from here.”
“You know who?” I asked. She didn’t. “Your black guy” is how you referred to him.
“Damn, he was so hot. And you said the other night that you wanted me to do a black guy and watch it.”
“Yes I did,” I said. “He doesn’t have to be black.”
“But you did say it would be hot for me to do a black guy.”
“Yes I did, and I know it is one of you fantasies too. You want to do a black guy.” She didn’t answer, just sat there in silence, which is always a “Yes” she doesn’t want to utter. “I know you do.”
“I would do him.” She said.
“Well you do recall that he said when we told him where we were from that he said, ‘That’s only 3 ½ hours away, I could come up there.”
“Yeah, I heard him say that.”

She didn’t mention it the next day (she was sick, went to the doctor, catching a cold from one of the guys she had been kissing was my best guess). It just hit me that she is beyond the point of whether she would or not—and now at the point of picking who she wants to do it with. It is a short list: articulate, not a gangsta, very well built, good looking, wide shoulders—and—black.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

A Day Closer

Monday before Fat Tuesday Day 2
Monday we were in a bar and a friend came in with a hot top, semi sheer, with a bra underneath. She told us where she had bought it, and we went to the shop and bought one. It was a loose weave sequined top that tied around her neck and with just two ties on the back to hold it on. She put it on, with in certain sunlight and in flash photos here nipples were distinct. She looked down as she pulled out her other shirt from underneath and said, “Damn, you can see my nipples right though this thing.”
“Oh, just come on, it’ll be all right,” I said, and she shrugged and smile, posing for a photo, and began walking beside me up the street. I watched the other guys looking at her, and she did too, and got excited buy it.

She posed for a lot of photos with guys, and then disappeared to the bathroom.
It came time to leave, and as we walked up the street she told me, “I saw my black guy go up the street today.”
“Your black guy?” I asked.
“My black guy.” She responded.

We got back to the room, and when there she got me on the bed, got on beside me and said, “I need to tell you something.”
“What?” I said.
“Well I went to the bathroom and was standing in line and this grungy Mexican guy was standing there waiting to go into the men’s room. He was getting obnoxious and was drunk. A young guy standing behind him asked me, ‘Do you need some protection?’
‘I just might’ I told him. When I went into the ladies room he came in with me and shut the door. I sat down to pee and he peed in the sink. I turned my head. When I got up and he zipped up he moved toward me and kissed me.
I asked him how old he was and he told me 26, and I told him I was old enough to be his mother. ‘Then I like mothers,’ he said, and kissed me again.
He has his hands on my bare boobs under the top, feeling me up. I was rubbing his pants but he wasn’t hard.
Then someone started beating on the door and I told him ‘we’d better go’ so we did.
“And?” I asked.
“That’s it. I told you about it.”

We started fucking, and talking, and I mentioned the black guy again, she was getting close to coming and I told her, “You know what I’m going to do? I have his card, I’m going to set it up for him to come to a resort we go to and spend two days fucking you.” She started coming immediately.
As we lay there she told me, “If I have to think about it and plan it then I will have a problem with it.”
“I know,” I said, “that is why I would just take you there and he’d show up. What do you think about me doing that?”
“I think that would be a fabulous gift,” she answered.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

She Meets THE Black Guy

What follows is a day by day narrative of her last days as a non-hot-wife. If you've followed the blog so far you've seen the gradual steps that got her ever closer to these final days. If you're new here I would hope you'll go to the start and read how this began--and evolved to where we are today. This happened a little over two years ago.

Comments are welcome, and appreciated. If you have specific questions, ,we'll try to answer them. (She looks over my shoulder through much of this correcting me here and there).

Sunday before Fat Tuesday -- Or Day 1 in the final steps before the BIG step.

My wife and I had gone to a stripper supply store to buy a horny dress for this party we were going to attend, and as a second thought she bought a top that pushed her boobs up, and was sheer in the back and down the arms. In fact the top was sheer except for the push up panels that covered her breasts, and the way it pushed them up it doubled her cup size and appeared to be threatening to have a nipple pop out at any minute (in reality covering more than that). It was the hottest (and sluttiest) top she’s ever worn in public, and she looked fabulous in it.
We went to a bar, out to their balcony, and in a few minutes she went down to the end of this balcony where this large black guy was, and came back in a minute. “He’s played in the NFL” she said.
What she didn’t tell me at the time was that he was making some very serious moves on her, complimenting her, telling her he loved brunettes, grabbing her ass, and pulling her over to try and kiss her. (Of course she didn’t tell me this until later) She kept resisting, telling him at one time, “My husband isn’t going to like your hand’s on me.”
“Where’s your husband?” he asked.
“Out on the balcony,” she said. And at that point he backed off.
He kept coming round to her periodically, telling her that she was the most gorgeous, hottest thing he’d ever seen (i.e. the top was working). The more compliments and attention she got, the hornier she became.
Another girl flashed, and the black guy walked up behind her and grabbed her boobs from behind. I’d mentioned to my wife previously that I wanted to get a photo of her boobs being touched from behind by a black guy—but I didn’t think she really understood. After I saw him fondle the other girl I figured this was the time. He was standing there and I told my wife, “let me take your picture with him.”
She told him, he moved behind her, and as they both looked at my camera, she reached down, took his hands, and moved them up to her breasts, holding them there with her hands over him, waiting for long seconds while I took the photograph.
He whispered in her ear, “That’s more than I could have ever asked.”
I walked closer to them, he shook my hand, and asked where we lived. I told him and he responded his town, which I wasn’t familiar with and asked him for a larger nearby city, which he told me.
“Yeah, that’s not far, I could be up there in 3 ½ hours,” he said.

I handed him a printed out card that gave our website address without an address, phone or anything. He handed me his card, which gave his phone number and pager. I put it in my wallet.
What are you all doing today?” he asked.
“Just hanging out here, then we eventually end up at another bar down the street.”
“Kool,” he answered, “My brother and here will be here until Wednesday morning”. The tone of his voice was heavy with the implication that we would be around each other before the week was up.
We moved apart, and my wife said he came around and complimented her another time. We left to move to a different balcony, going back to our room first.
In one of her recent phone sessions with her regular guy she had cammed with him using a large black dildo I had bought her (the Sean Michaels lifesize version). I had wanted to film her using it with the camcorder (usually when I request it she says it is too big and hurts and doesn’t want to use it, but after she had used it with her cam friend I wanted my own better video of the same thing. )
As she started stripping she started talking about the black guy from the bar. “MY GOD he was so hot. He was the perfect body, did you see how wide his shoulders were?”
“Liked him?” I asked.
“Oh my God,” she repeated, “You said you wanted to watch me fuck someone, he’s the one.”
I hesitated, probably too long.
I had her repeat it, she said he was good looking, articulate, not a gangsta, and hot.
“You want to fuck him.”
“Yes, he’s the one.”
I put her on the bed naked, handed her the black dildo and told her to fuck herself with it. She was as hot and turned on as I have ever seen her in her life, she didn’t fuck herself with the dildo, she literally fucked the dildo, never really knowing I was there. Finally she looked up, saw me looming over her with my hard on and the video camera and she told me, “Fuck me now.”
As I began to fuck her I asked her, “Were you thinking about the black guy fucking you as you did that?”
“Yes,” she said.

We went back to the bar, he wasn’t there, and we hung out some more. She started flirting with a couple of guys. One was a large black guy (heavy through the gut too) and a German guy, and as they chatted one guy lay his head other on her chest, then the other, and finally she looked up, saw me with the video camera, and leaning down told both guys to kiss her nipples at the same time. She stood there a black guy on her right breast sucking and the German on her left, smiling at the camera. The both kissed an licked in the room full of people for a moment then she came closer to me, walked right up to another black guy, who was accompanying the heavy guy, pulled up her top, and he took sucked on her nipple while I filmed it.
A few minutes later a white guy came up with a spinner on his shirt, inviting here to spin it, and she did. It landed on a French kiss and she immediately moved into his arms for a very long intimate French kiss.

We left and went to a different balcony, from which we could see the one we had just left. I got to talking to friends on the new balcony, looked across the way and down in the street was my wife and one of our friends going back to the bar we had just left. I could see her inside, knew she was drunk, and new that she didn’t need to be alone there. (unbeknownst to me one of our friends wife had gone back over there earlier and he had asked my wife to go check on her). I went back to the bar to just to be sure was ok.

We went back to our hotel room buzzed and satiated, and I fucked her again once we got back, the stimulation still so very vivid in my mind. I told her the next morning, “Well that was a hot fantasy, but you saw the signs on the front of the hotel that say absolutely no visitors will be allowed in our room—under any circumstances”? I asked.
“Yeah, I did,” she said.
“So it would have been impossible to bring him back here.”

So ended Day one

Monday, July 21, 2008

The Turning Point

Thursday before Fat Tuesday.
When nothing pushed, expressed other than what I have mentioned, we left for New Orleans, several hours of driving.

Prior to leaving I spent time downloading erotic stories for her to read, and she started reading some very hot ones, most dealing with hot wives. She started having some drinks to make the trip go faster (which usually opens things up for horny talk, and she unbuttons her top so I can see her boobs from time to time as we drive. But she got sloppy drunk, and was got totally out of it.) She was physically panting after reading a couple of very hot stories, one in which a supposedly real wife over a period of time does a lot of different guys set up for her by her lover. Another was a married couple who are invited to dinner at a resort, and when visiting their host’s club discover he is running a brothel, and before the night is over she tries and ends up doing a black guy as her first john.

When we got to Mardi Gras on Thursday night we went out, had some drinks, walked up and down the street. Friday we started drinking early, drank all night again.

Friday night I was really out of my zone, and as we lay on the bed both drunk, me much so drunker than her, I told her, “We’ve talked about you fucking other men, and how I was ok with it, but that has changed.”

She looked up, questioning on her face. “I WANT you to do someone else.” I had never come right out and said that before.

“I don’t need anyone else,” she said.

“I didn’t say you did,” I said. “Maybe it is something that I need, to see and know that you can do that and still come back to me, or maybe it is just something erotic you can do for me, or whatever.”

“I can do that, since I did have an affair that is the least I could do.” She answered. We talked further but I was so drunk I really don’t remember exactly what we said.

We woke up Saturday with hangovers from hell. We did basically nothing erotic on those three days. But that would change.

Friday, July 18, 2008

The Final Serious Talk

Having learned by this time not to push anything, other than saying that the night had been fun, a few nights later we were in the hot tub, drinking, and we got to discussing our goals for an upcoming trip (yes Mardi Gras again).. I told her one of mine for her to get body painted, and another was a photo of her with a different guy kissing each nipple at the same time. Later she said, “And if we want to bring someone back to the room with us, can we?” I didn’t take the bait.
“We’ll have our friends with us.”
“We just need to leave them alone and go off by ourselves sometime,” she said. Then she started thinking about a family relation who has said that they might be attending, “We’d have to do it before they get there!”
Somewhere in the conversation I reminded her of her saying that she would be intimidated if I were there. I told her, “Well I’ve given it some thought, and I would want to be there for the first time to be sure you were safe, then I’d have no problem going to another room or downstairs and leaving a video camera on so you could really let go without me there.” She didn’t answer.
When we went inside I suggested a DVD, and told her to pick it. Surprisingly she put in, “Black Cocks in White Holes”, and as we watched a white girl being fucked by three large black guys at the same time, she was kinda quiet, commenting at times, “Damn they are all so bigg!” and she wasn’t saying it to me directly, just commenting.
I began touching her as she watched, and out of the blue, she asked, “Did you say you’re talking to a black guy that wants to come fuck me?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “he’s British, and all I know is he’s 6’4” and says he has a 10” cock.”
She started going down on me at this point.
A day or two later, in the hot tub, drinking, which is our common way of starting a sexual evening, and where she often lets the real erotic side of her open up. The talk got pretty hot. We started fucking in the tub, and she arched her back pulling backwards and in doing so I pull out.
“Sorry,” I said, “I’m just not 12”.
“I think I’m ready for that now, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“What, fucking someone with a 12” cock?” I asked.


“Well I’ve realized I’ve been waiting for four years for my friend on the phone to come back and do me, but now I know it is not going to happen.” (This is the guy she was calling behind my back.).
So I simply let it drop.
At Mardi Gras she showed me her costume, which was harem pants and she said she might wear a thong underneath. “Can’t ,” I told her, “You were those with a thong you’ll end up getting fingered.”

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Admitting that she wants to try another guy

She kept talking about it and dropping subtle hints but always went back to, “I don’t think I could really do it with another guy in front of you” She had said at other times, “I figure I will do it sooner or later.”
She said one night, “I will do it for you if you really want me to.” To which I responded that I knew if she did it to please me that at some point there would be some resentment there. I wanted to be sure SHE wanted to do it.
“Well I do want to, but…” is how she ended that conversation. Don’t get me wrong, all this was great foreplay for sex even if we never took it further, and I made that exact notation in my journal at the time. But not taking things further is not my nature. She says she wants to do something, and I go to work figuring out how to make it happen.
With her permission I ran an ad on a few meeting sites, with our plan being I would screen out the guys that would turn her off from being crude, or stupid, or someone that made me be wary as well. I gave her the responses, she read through them, and then she got a big case of cold feet. She picked out a half-dozen, Two white guys in their 30’s, an older articulate black guy, and couple of younger black guys, and one Italian. She told me to write them back and start a dialogue, but when it came time to read their responses or pick a time to chat online, she refused, saying, “None of them clicked.”
As we talked further she said, “I want to do it, but I don’t like the idea of it being pre-planned. I would be a lot more likely to do it if it was spontaneous. When I get to thinking about it I get second thoughts.”
This all happened in 12 months. One night she asked if she had received any more responses to our ads (which I had left up) and I said a few, and she said asked about the follow up letters she had not read, and remarked, “the older black guy was by far the most interesting, I would like to read his letter.”
Later in bed that night she said, “Tell me about how it would work with the Italian guy again,” and we fucked from the arousal of talking about it. And for a while what happened can best be described in snippets. Nothing significant in itself, but just little things that indicated more of her expanding sexuality and openness.
One of her best friends invited us to her house to sleep over and meet her new boyfriend, and we got drunk, went swimming, and got to talking about Mardi Gras, and before long both the women had their tops off. She loved it. She later said she got a rush out of being topless in front of another man.
I bought her a top with “SLUT” on the front of it, for photos, and finally got her to wear it under a sweater at Mardi Gras. When she would open the sweater so it could be read when the float got there she was showered in beads.
She was hard to pin down on what she really wanted at this time, but I think part of the reason was she didn’t know herself. She had often said, “I changed my mind, I’m a woman, it happens”.
For my birthday she gave me a book of coupons she had typed out on the computer, redeemable in a variety of tasks, that she had downloaded from a romance site, and two tickets had been modified for a “slut day.”
I had talked about a couple of wives on the internet who had slut days with their husbands, which usually entailed her fucking someone else. But I knew better when she gave that to me. “What does that mean?” I asked.
“I’ll do anything you want that day” she said.
“Anything?” I said.
“Well anything within reason. You know what I meant.”
I said nothing because I really didn’t know what she meant, but I figured I’d rather leave it open for possibilities. One thing I ran by her was for her to go into a bar ahead of me and flirt with guys, get hit on some, which would certainly lay the groundwork for something spontaneous. Of course finding a suitable bar (classy, with dancing for a crowd ranging from late 20’s up to mid-40’s) is not as easy as one might thing for a couple not in the bar scene).
So the coupons remained in my computer case, waiting for the right moment to be redeemed. (Many of them are still there, as things evolved she was going beyond what the coupons offered on her own.
Her current mood became “it will happen sooner or later”, but when I agreed that something she had said was a hot idea, if I brought it up later I was “pushing it.” And her natural inclination was to resist it.
The one sticking point was that she didn’t want to randomly fuck someone, but wants to have some kind of relationship with that person—going right back to the old idea that she should fall in love with anyone who stick a dick in her. I said to me it was no different than someone sucking on her nipple for beads, but she says, “That’s the difference between a man and a woman.”
The other thing was I wanted to be involved, to watch, to preview the guy for her safety—and she says I would inhibit it. My response is, “OK, recognize the first time you will be inhibited, and after I’m sure you are safe I’ll leave the room and you can let go then.”
Her preferred idea was to meet someone on her own, online or some similar way, to go meet him, fuck him, and tell me about it afterward—with my full knowledge of course but my “knowing” being my total involvement.
Sorry, but that was not enough for me. Especially knowing how I have had her review her sexual escapades of her affair, and describing sex in role playing. If she did meet some other guy, and reported back it would be, “OK, I meet him in the hotel. We went up to his room. He fucked me twice, and I came home. That’s what happened.” I needed more than that. I had to have more than that if I was sharing my wife with other men.
She had a regular guy who was still camming with her over the phone site, buying photos of her. He loved her ass, and she’s even trying to put a dildo in her ass at his recommendation, which is an absolutely verboten subject when I’m involved. He emailed and wanted to cam, and she wanted to raise some money. The idea of it must have turned her on because she wanted to go to the hot tub, and we did, with drinks.
When we came in from the tub, we started watching a porno, “Black poles in White Holes”, and as we watched she started saying as she watched, “I wish that was me…” I got out her black dildo and she was saying softly as she watched and got into, “I want to do that”. I said what, fuck a black guy or just fuck another guy,”
“You know, fuck a black guy,” she said huskily, “ I just don’t want it to be a thug, I want it to be an educated professional black guy.”
“Well I talked to a black guy online who is in the British Navy who is willing to come ot the US when he can to fuck you. He’s 6’4”—and said he has a 10 inch cock.”
“That’d be great, can I? We could take him with us to the resort, and just fuck all weekend, that would be soo hot.”
We ended up fucking and the next day she said, “I was glad I was able to open up with you last night, usually I would have shut up and held back.”

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Camming and The Decision

We eventually got beyond the betrayal of trust, although it was a set-back and we certainly not expanding our sexual adventures in any way, but instead going back and trying to rebuild.
Then I bought a webcam. I showed her how to webcam, which she did sometimes until Yahoo stopped letting members set up private chat rooms.
She would go into a chat room and let as many as 30 guys watch her strip and fuck herself with a big black dildo. She was careful to not show her face. At other times she would cam one on one and would show her face and watch the guys play with their cocks as they watched each other. She seemed to enjoy doing it more with hung black guys. They were much easier to get online to cam than white guys, who always seem to want to talk for an hour first.
She has said at different times that Denzel Washington, Prince, or Lenny Kravitz are among the sexiest guys she’s ever seen, and would do any of them in a heartbeat. Funny thing is I’ve never heard her say that about a white guy.
When black athletes came on TV and reveal a rock hard torso more than once she has just taken a gasp of air and said, “Wow.” I didn’t comment, just salted the thought away. I knew she had a curiosity about black guys, but she didn’t talk about it.
Sometimes she would remark, “Yeah, that one could fuck me.” But then she says one night as I am setting things up, “The only guys that want to cam with me are black guys, I don’t know why I’m not appealing to white guys.” Of course based on her earlier statements one reason was she got more turned on with black guys, and when I would pick a chat room while she was putting on her make-up for camming I would usually surf an interracial room. Black guys tend to say “Turn on your cam and let’s play” while most white guys tend to want to talk about it for 10 minutes, which frankly bores my wife.
One night she picked an Italian guy to cam with 1 on 1, and for the first time she started voice chatting with him over Yahoo. This happened with him three or four times. After the third time of camming she had joked about meeting him when he came to the US for a business trip. I also gave him my Yahoo account name he and I chatted several times. He was serious about coming to fuck my wife when he was next in the US and I was curious to see where it would go. During one of the early conversations he said, “Let’s be friends.”
I responded, “Since you will probably be fucking my wife soon that’s a great idea.” I found out his schedule, and we started planning the logistics. He would come over New Years. It was a subject of hot conversation with her and I on how we would bring in the New Years in a special way.
Several times I asked her, “What are you going to do if he really comes here expecting you to be with him?”
“Then you’d better be reserving a hotel room” was her reply.
“You mean it? You are sober now,” I said.
“I know I’m sober, and I mean it.”
She asked how it would work and I had it pre-planned in my mind, and she agreed. We’d meet in a hotel bar, she’d be dressed really hot, we’d have a nice dinner, and if the vibes were right we’d take it farther. I’d be there to photo and video, and he would leave that night and go back to his room so we could talk it out. The next day if things were ok I would cut the video camera on and leave them alone for a fuck.
Of course we are talking reality here, and before it could happen he stopped talking to her on cam, and we later found out he had a car wreck that had make it impossible for him to come to meet my wife. After what I called the “near miss” she went back to saying, “Well it is for the best, because I am not sure I would have gone through with it.”
The one thing I keep remembering though is the day she came to me with a calendar and said, “We’ve got a problem. I think I’m having my period during New Years this year.”
When I told her he had changed his schedule and was coming a couple of weeks later she simply said, “Good.”
But unbeknownst to me at the time there is this one rule I’d heard about women but didn’t have in place, and that is once they have made the decision to do something, then the real hurdle is over. Once she had decided she would meet this Italian guy, the idea that she would or would not meet someone else had already been decided. She would do it. Although the wheel would turn a few times before it became reality.
Looking back I don’t think either one of us recognized it at the time, but subconsciously she was already fucked…it was just finding the right man and opportunity for it to happen.

Monday, July 7, 2008

OK, What do you think is going to happen next?

Just for fun, (and to see who's reading this blog to start with), you know how this ends up as that is how we started this blog. And you've seen the steps we've taken up until this point in the narrative (which in the timeline is about three years ago). But just for fun why don't you put some comments on what you think happens next and when, or even if you think we're insane to continue going down this road considering our past history.

We just want to see how stereotypical this all sounds. We know at times as we've recalled it and wrote it down it crossed our mind that it didn't sound real--but the wild thing is we're sitting here writing it as it actually happened.

So let us hear from you.

Phone Sex

Phone sex operator
While watching the movie “Short Cuts” we were watching Briget Fonda doing phone sex while changing a baby’s diaper, and she remarked, “That would be so kool. I’d love to try that.” My enabling ears perked up, and after some searching on the internet I found a site where amateurs could sign on to do phone sex on their own schedules, and the calls were routed through the site so no one would know her real phone number. When I told her what I had found out she was intrigued, and wanted to try it. I had only one ground rule—no one offline, nothing going on that I didn’t know about.

So my wife became a phone sex operator, or a “phone whore” as she called it. "I'm having sex for money, what else would you call it?" she said. She was enjoying the hell out of it, staying horny when she would do it for an afternoon, but then feeling guilty, and hesitating to try it again until she go horny again and would go back at it. Some were quick hang ups, which she hated, some were weird, which she listened to, and some lit her up. There were a couple of guys that were very dom with her and she got off on that, but when I tried playing dom during a role play she said it was just too different, too close, with me. She couldn’t let go doing it.

The sex while she was doing this was unbelievable. The second line in our house would ring (the one set up for the phone sex incoming calls), I’d hear a pause, and then she come through the den heading up the stairs with a coy smirk on her face, her “I’m up to something hot” look.

Sometimes I could hear her screaming as she cums. Sometimes she cames back down from upstairs looking like she has been fucked for real, flushed face, mussed up hair, clothes half on. And sometimes she comes down, smiled from around the corner and says, “If you’re not doing anything come up here a minute.” When means some caller just got her started. I loved it.

When she first started I would quietly go into the bedroom where she was having phone sex with another guy and try to listen, or be in the room with her but she said me touching her (or fucking) while she was having phone sex with someone else broke her concentration and she couldn’t really enjoy it. So I contented myself with the follow-up, which was good enough.

There was one in particular guy that really got her off. He became a regular caller and he brought her along sexually in a lot of ways. He taught her how to get herself off with a g-spot orgasm, and she was soon squirting whenever she had a good orgasm. It opened her up even more.

I was grateful, and was even thinking that this guy should be invited for a real meeting in a neutral place sometime just as a way of saying thanks for getting her to that level of sexuality. But then the day came that I discovered that her favorite caller was calling her directly, not through the service, which violated every bit of trust and rules we had agreed to for the phoning. At my insistence she quit accepting calls from him and put him on the ignore button of the service. It was a big source of disagreement for quite a few days. I saw it as a betrayal. She didn't.

A couple of times a year we would leave the kids with family, go to some quiet isolated resort and fuck the weekend away without distractions. We would role play, take photos, video ourselves, and in general devote the time to ourselves and to our sex life. It was our getaway time.

A couple of months after I had discovered the back channel phoning she was doing behind my back, I thought we were beyond all that. I had brought my computer and she used my laptop on our trip to check her email. Later that day after sitting in the hot tub, getting drunk, and fucking the afternoon away I went to my laptop to clean out some files while she took a nap. She had left aol open to her account and and there I found a copy of her email to her regular phone sex guy, telling him how she was actually doing with me what they had role played over the phone.
This was a major setback on the trust issue.

Needless to say that also ended her career as a phone sex operator. All I wanted was for her to have some control over her own emotions. Obviously it was a lot to ask.

But it was one step closer to her becoming an official hot wife. Another inhibition had been broken down. Mentally she was over the hurdle of being guilty about considering sex with other men.

As I said this blog starts with the steps leading up to her being with other men. But I feel it is important to show how we got to that point--the steps and the stumbles along the way. The dishonesty I've just described was a step--and a setback. While I'm posting regularly, when we do get to current events this will not be a weekly post, as we just don't play that much--what I have described so far took place over several years. But if you follow it you will see that things will speed up quite a bit from this point forward.

Besides, I am getting impatient myself into getting into writing about when she actually does get her first BBC.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Public Nudity

If you haven’t figured this out by now, I really enjoy Anna showing off. That’s part of the excitement for me about Mardi Gras, and one of the reasons that on several occasions I included vacation sites that boasted nude beaches. She was reluctant at first, but toward the end of the first trip she thought nothing about it. Maybe it was desensitizing her modesty. All I knew at the time was that I loved seeing the change in her.
About this same time there were a lot of websites that I considered glamour sites, in which women would host sites with teasing shots of them, topless but no nipples showing, etc. And since Anna was reaching a point in her life that she began to worry about her appearance, and I had always loved taking photos of it, it evolved that I set up a web site showing hot photos of her, and offering (for a fee) more revealing photos. We went to great pains to remain discreet, using a mailbox in a different town, and it was a great turn on to have someone email a check for topless photos of my wife—especially when they re-ordered more photos. She was apprehensive at first, but was soon getting into it.
I saw it as an incentive for us to set aside the time to get more hot photos of her, she was getting her confidence returned, and it was fun for a while.
Then it became something we “had” to do. Whether we had the time or were in the mood or not, we had to take photos, and about that time the glamour sites that linked to us started shutting down, and it was almost like a switch had been turned on that everyone started going totally nude on the preview site, and most of the photos they sold were of the wife having sex. It was more than we wanted so we shut the site down, but a further step had been taken. She was much less hesitant about other people seeing her nude.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Cybersex seduction

When we started going online, I encouraged her chat, but she refused. She couldn’t keep up with pms the times I tried to get her online with me. She did start checking her emails on aol though. I set up another aol online account she didn’t know about, put her name on my buddy list, and one day a few weeks after she had .set up her email account I pmed her one day while she was checking her email. I opened up under the guise that she was someone else I had talked to earlier and it was a mistaken identity and we started chatting. The next day it was a longer chat, and she had no idea it was me.
I steered the conversation to sex, and was amazed at how open and revealing she was about our sex life, and her thoughts in general. I asked her about cybersex, and when I explained it she became intrigued. In two weeks this stranger (me) had had cyberfucked my wife, and as I was traveling a lot we were her new online lover was cyberfucking her regularly. She didn’t know it was me, but she didn’t say anything about it to me either, although I had encouraged her to chat.
One day during a hot cybersex session I described her being on her knees on the bed while I stood in the floor and fucked her from behind. That night we started fucking and she said, “Wait, I want to try something”, and she got on her knees on the bed, instructing me to get behind her just as I had described earlier that day.
It got to the point she wanted to talk to her online lover on the phone so I made up a few excuses (company monitoring incoming calls, etc.) but I knew that I was going to have to find some way out of it. During my recovery from her affair with the help of some psychological counseling I read some stats that said one time cheaters were very likely to do it again.
Once while eating with a private detective friend he looked over my shoulder and says, “There’s a certified fool.” When I asked why he told of following the guy’s wife at the husband’s request, following her to a hotel room with another man, bugging the hotel room, and given the husband the proof. “He has just come in with his wife, and is still with her,” he said. “Once they start that they will always do it again.”
With that in mind I tested her, asking to set up a meeting for real. She said she wouldn’t fuck me but she would give me a blow job, and she did set up a time to meet. I had visions of walking in on her as she sat in the bar and confronting her.
She said she would meet. She had failed my test.
But later that night as we watched tv she crawled up into lap and told me she wanted to meet a man she had been chatting with on the internet for sex. Of course since it was me, so I had to fess up, and she was a little miffed but then started laughing, telling me I had seduced her twice, and it was great as she could sleep with her online lover without feeling guilty. It ended better than it could have.