Despite the title, Mike and I are very happily married. Somehow, we feel that each of us has managed to find the one other person with just the right mix of understanding, patience, love, and lust that matches the other. Not mirroring, as we are individually very different, but we are certainly quite complementary. And don't get me wrong, we wouldn't trade what we have for anything.
But last night, after we finally managed to get out of the house, away from children, and aging parents, and finally were able to sit down with a drink and just each other, we got to talking. And we were talking about a friend of a friend who is divorced. With all you hear about divorce rates, you'd think we would know more divorced people, but I'm starting to think we all travel in different circles. Maybe the Dad I see picking up his daughter over at the elementary school is one of them. She's a fourth grader, compared to our first grader, and I'm sure it becomes more prevalent as children age. But for now, the friend of a friend is the best I can do.
And as we were talking about this woman, and fretting about how tough her life must be, and how sad it must be that her daughters only see their Dad two weekends a month, we kind of looked at each other and paused. And then Mike says, "so what you're saying is that both the Mom and the Dad have two WHOLE weekends per month all to themselves? No kids?"
That got us thinking. About all the things we could do with so much time. Books to read, movies to watch without interruption. Working out, walking in the park, volunteering at the church. Not to mention all kinds of hotwife fantasies on top of it all. That really got us thinking.
Back in another life, we used to own a three-flat in the city, and we talked about how cool it would be if we had a building like that now, with an apartment that either of us could escape to when we were playing out our divorce fantasies. How neat it would be to alternate "custody" of the kids every weekend, letting the other spouse escape alone to this little place in the city and just pretend for a couple of days that all the obligations of marriage and family were lifted, and we could just be "single" again.
And talking about all that could involve really got us going. So much that we soon cashed out our check at the crappy little suburban chain restaurant so that we could run home and play out all of our hotwife fantasies in our comfy bed, and how we could really have some adventures if I had an apartment that I could bring some of those sexy divorced dads back to for sex.
Let me tell you, with all that hot talk, Mike didn't last very long at all. And neither did I.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Storytelling . . .
So a lot of our fantasies revolve around MFM threesomes, but we do like to vary our scenarios from time to time. On Friday night, after I came home from the Mom's night out Christmas spectacular (sorry - no action. Wrong crowd to get wild with!), Mike and I played cocktail party.
Mike has always liked the idea of the perfect hostess. His perfect hostess is a yummy little suburban cupcake who makes time during a busy party to lavish him with little caresses and witty asides just for his ears only. At some point during this little fantasy party, the hostess slyly asks Mike if he could help her get down some glassware or some such thing that she keeps in her closet in the master bedroom. Of course, when they are finally alone, her little flirtations become much more overt, and Mike soon finds himself lowering himself into the hostess on the floor of her bedroom, her simple black skirt hiked high around her waist. It's the little details that matter to Mike, so, in my guise as the "hostess", he quickly finishes when I whisper that I want him to fuck me, to come in me, but that it can't be on the bed, because that's where I fuck my "husband".
So during this fantasy session on Friday, Mike is done after only a couple minutes, but I'm still hanging, not to mention having rug burns on my ass from the carpet where he laid me. So I told Mike to go get the Purple Rabbit and snuggle up next to me on the bed and tell me a story.
When he comes back, he comes up with one of my favorites. You see, Mike used to travel often back before we were married. And he used to wander quite a bit during his visits to towns across America. On one of these visits, he happened to find himself in a porn store late one night. This particular store was one of those that happened to feature those little booths. Now I know that men have their needs, but I've never been enthralled with what I imagine might go on in there. Or that is, until Mike told me the story of how he wandered into a booth that one night.
It's kind of cute how he tells it (and it makes me ragingly horny, too). Mike had already spent what little cash he had on him on a trashy mag for his hotel room when an adorable young college girl happened to wander out from the booth area, looking bored. Guess it was a slow night or something, but apparently she had to come out from behind the glass to drum up business. And seeing Mike, she asked if he'd be interested in a show.
Mike was up front with her - he showed her the few crumpled ones that he had in his pocket, and said he'd love to see how she looked, but that he didn't have the $20 minimum posted on the sign over the entrance. She gave him a smile and said not to worry, she wouldn't tell the boss if he didn't.
So she led him into the back, showed him a door that led into the booth, and then disappeared behind another door. Mike went in the booth, which was about three feet square, with plywood walls on three sides and a plexiglass window on the fourth. Behind the window was a little raised platform with some cushions on it. And from behind a little curtain, this young girl soon appeared and seated herself on the cushions.
Apparently, she was wearing a very ordinary cotton bra and panty set, like you might pick up at Target. And next to her on the cushion was a notebook. That's the detail that Mike remembers most from the adventure, and it's the detail that really sends me over the top as well. He said that if the girl had been some aging, strung-out woman down on her luck, he would have wished her well and gone right back to his hotel room. But instead, he asked her about the notebook.
With that cute young face, it turned out that she was in college. And a wannabe writer, which immediately set the hook in Mike. (Sometimes I think that Mike only called me back that first time because I happened to write for a living, even if it is only technical manuals and the like.) She told Mike that the notebook was where she liked to record details of her nights in the booth. Being young himself, Mike wasn't sure exactly what went on in the booth either. So he asked her.
She said it was usually pretty clinical. The men would push their money through a little slot in the plexiglass, and then she would push the bra up over her breasts so that the men could see her nipples. Then they would usually pull their penises out of their pants and begin to masturbate. She said that she could usually hurry them along by pulling her panties down so that they could see her pubic hair, and by fingering her clit while they played with themselves, they would come that much more quickly. Apparently, turnover is important in all businesses.
Now Mike had read an interview with a prostitute in Studs Terkel's Working (highly recommended) that the illusion of arousal was all an act, and he asked the girl about this. She said that for the most part, it is fake, but that, being a young girl who sees a lot of cocks, she did occasionally need to relieve the tension. And then she asked Mike if maybe he would like to relieve some tension.
Always the Boy Scout, Mike reminded her that he didn't have enough money. She said not to worry, just slide whatever he had through the slot. So he shrugged and gave her three or four dollars, and asked her what to do next. She told him that most guys just liked to stand and jack off, so he pulled his jeans and underwear down and began to masturbate while she laid back to do the same.
Now these are Mike's recollections, but he said that it was weird to be standing there beating off for a stranger, but that watching this angelic young woman smiling and stroking her glistening clit had him horny instantly. And the idea of that notebook, and becoming an entry in this girl's journal, was more than enough to send him over the edge. He told me that he soon sprayed big thick globs of semen on that window, and that the smile that she gave him after, knowing that she made this cute young businessman come, was one of the most genuine smiles that he has ever had the pleasure to receive.
And even though I wasn't there, I absolutely love hearing Mike tell me this story over and over again. And on Friday night, with my Purple Rabbit buried deep in the pussy that Mike had just filled with his semen, my fingers furiously stroking my clit, I made Mike tell me every last detail of this story from his past. I was just laying on the bed with my eyes tightly closed, fantasizing for all the world that I could be this girl who gets to see all these different men and their cocks from behind my little window on the world. Looking, but not touching. Chaste, in a weird way.
My God. It took me a long time to get over the mountain, but when I did, I came in buckets, squeezing so hard that I don't think there was even a drop of Mike's come left in me when I was done orgasming.
Maybe this story ties in somehow with our mutual fantasies of me experiencing more men, or maybe it's just a good story in its own right, but let's just say that I slept like a baby on Friday night. And so did Mike.
Mike has always liked the idea of the perfect hostess. His perfect hostess is a yummy little suburban cupcake who makes time during a busy party to lavish him with little caresses and witty asides just for his ears only. At some point during this little fantasy party, the hostess slyly asks Mike if he could help her get down some glassware or some such thing that she keeps in her closet in the master bedroom. Of course, when they are finally alone, her little flirtations become much more overt, and Mike soon finds himself lowering himself into the hostess on the floor of her bedroom, her simple black skirt hiked high around her waist. It's the little details that matter to Mike, so, in my guise as the "hostess", he quickly finishes when I whisper that I want him to fuck me, to come in me, but that it can't be on the bed, because that's where I fuck my "husband".
So during this fantasy session on Friday, Mike is done after only a couple minutes, but I'm still hanging, not to mention having rug burns on my ass from the carpet where he laid me. So I told Mike to go get the Purple Rabbit and snuggle up next to me on the bed and tell me a story.
When he comes back, he comes up with one of my favorites. You see, Mike used to travel often back before we were married. And he used to wander quite a bit during his visits to towns across America. On one of these visits, he happened to find himself in a porn store late one night. This particular store was one of those that happened to feature those little booths. Now I know that men have their needs, but I've never been enthralled with what I imagine might go on in there. Or that is, until Mike told me the story of how he wandered into a booth that one night.
It's kind of cute how he tells it (and it makes me ragingly horny, too). Mike had already spent what little cash he had on him on a trashy mag for his hotel room when an adorable young college girl happened to wander out from the booth area, looking bored. Guess it was a slow night or something, but apparently she had to come out from behind the glass to drum up business. And seeing Mike, she asked if he'd be interested in a show.
Mike was up front with her - he showed her the few crumpled ones that he had in his pocket, and said he'd love to see how she looked, but that he didn't have the $20 minimum posted on the sign over the entrance. She gave him a smile and said not to worry, she wouldn't tell the boss if he didn't.
So she led him into the back, showed him a door that led into the booth, and then disappeared behind another door. Mike went in the booth, which was about three feet square, with plywood walls on three sides and a plexiglass window on the fourth. Behind the window was a little raised platform with some cushions on it. And from behind a little curtain, this young girl soon appeared and seated herself on the cushions.
Apparently, she was wearing a very ordinary cotton bra and panty set, like you might pick up at Target. And next to her on the cushion was a notebook. That's the detail that Mike remembers most from the adventure, and it's the detail that really sends me over the top as well. He said that if the girl had been some aging, strung-out woman down on her luck, he would have wished her well and gone right back to his hotel room. But instead, he asked her about the notebook.
With that cute young face, it turned out that she was in college. And a wannabe writer, which immediately set the hook in Mike. (Sometimes I think that Mike only called me back that first time because I happened to write for a living, even if it is only technical manuals and the like.) She told Mike that the notebook was where she liked to record details of her nights in the booth. Being young himself, Mike wasn't sure exactly what went on in the booth either. So he asked her.
She said it was usually pretty clinical. The men would push their money through a little slot in the plexiglass, and then she would push the bra up over her breasts so that the men could see her nipples. Then they would usually pull their penises out of their pants and begin to masturbate. She said that she could usually hurry them along by pulling her panties down so that they could see her pubic hair, and by fingering her clit while they played with themselves, they would come that much more quickly. Apparently, turnover is important in all businesses.
Now Mike had read an interview with a prostitute in Studs Terkel's Working (highly recommended) that the illusion of arousal was all an act, and he asked the girl about this. She said that for the most part, it is fake, but that, being a young girl who sees a lot of cocks, she did occasionally need to relieve the tension. And then she asked Mike if maybe he would like to relieve some tension.
Always the Boy Scout, Mike reminded her that he didn't have enough money. She said not to worry, just slide whatever he had through the slot. So he shrugged and gave her three or four dollars, and asked her what to do next. She told him that most guys just liked to stand and jack off, so he pulled his jeans and underwear down and began to masturbate while she laid back to do the same.
Now these are Mike's recollections, but he said that it was weird to be standing there beating off for a stranger, but that watching this angelic young woman smiling and stroking her glistening clit had him horny instantly. And the idea of that notebook, and becoming an entry in this girl's journal, was more than enough to send him over the edge. He told me that he soon sprayed big thick globs of semen on that window, and that the smile that she gave him after, knowing that she made this cute young businessman come, was one of the most genuine smiles that he has ever had the pleasure to receive.
And even though I wasn't there, I absolutely love hearing Mike tell me this story over and over again. And on Friday night, with my Purple Rabbit buried deep in the pussy that Mike had just filled with his semen, my fingers furiously stroking my clit, I made Mike tell me every last detail of this story from his past. I was just laying on the bed with my eyes tightly closed, fantasizing for all the world that I could be this girl who gets to see all these different men and their cocks from behind my little window on the world. Looking, but not touching. Chaste, in a weird way.
My God. It took me a long time to get over the mountain, but when I did, I came in buckets, squeezing so hard that I don't think there was even a drop of Mike's come left in me when I was done orgasming.
Maybe this story ties in somehow with our mutual fantasies of me experiencing more men, or maybe it's just a good story in its own right, but let's just say that I slept like a baby on Friday night. And so did Mike.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
I wish every doctor visit was like this...
Haven't gone out with Marcy yet, still working out the details....
I had to go to the doctor this past week and I had my husband's voice in my head the entire visit. Kiss a guy, go ahead and flirt with men, I kept hearing as I waited in cold examination room. I had on jeans and a white camisole which totally provides me with lots of cleavage. The view from the mirror on the door assured me that my nipples were surely popping through.
Now somehow I've been blessed to have pretty handsome medical practitioners all by accident of course. My dentist in the city looked like Aidan Quinn (hard to flirt when you mouth is full of dentistry tools!), a physical therapist that was so good looking I kept saying my back was never healed just so that I could keep getting massages from him and now I have this internist. It's not that he's drop dead handsome, but more of the naughty nurse fantasy kept popping up into my mind during my appointment that he just turned me on.
During the exam, he asked me to take off my camisole. I realized that it was part of the exam, but I took it a step further. As I reached up to pull off the camisole, I looked at him directly in the eye. Never breaking eye contact, I gently carassed my breasts as I placed the camisole on my lap. He was so close to me, all I wanted to do was kiss him. All of a sudden I was fantasizing that I was wearing one of those tight, short nurse outfits and that he was massaging my breasts as I lay there. I have no idea what the doctor was saying to me during that time because I was too busy thinking of what his dick looked like hard and how good it would feel to get fucked on the table.
I was wet. I could feel it in my underpants. My mind started thinking again that I should just kiss him and see what would happen. He told me I could get dressed. So there I was getting dressed in front of this man, who in my fantasy mind is still fucking me hard with his cock on the table. I started getting red in the face and he was trying to make small talk and I was fumbling with my clothes. I looked at him in the eyes and said "well next time I see you, hopefully it will be under better circumstances." He said, "oh no, you should get better in no time."
This is what I thought but didnt say: "Well what I actually meant doctor, is that maybe that next time it would be necessary for me to take off my pants for the exam and you can see how wet I am!" But I didn't say it.
I went home with racy, sexy thoughts in my head and a wet pussy. Mike still has no idea of what I was thinking that night as we had sex, but I'm sure he's all in favor of a nurse outfit hanging in my closet in the near future.
Here's to all of us who ever had a naughty nurse fantasy!
I had to go to the doctor this past week and I had my husband's voice in my head the entire visit. Kiss a guy, go ahead and flirt with men, I kept hearing as I waited in cold examination room. I had on jeans and a white camisole which totally provides me with lots of cleavage. The view from the mirror on the door assured me that my nipples were surely popping through.
Now somehow I've been blessed to have pretty handsome medical practitioners all by accident of course. My dentist in the city looked like Aidan Quinn (hard to flirt when you mouth is full of dentistry tools!), a physical therapist that was so good looking I kept saying my back was never healed just so that I could keep getting massages from him and now I have this internist. It's not that he's drop dead handsome, but more of the naughty nurse fantasy kept popping up into my mind during my appointment that he just turned me on.
During the exam, he asked me to take off my camisole. I realized that it was part of the exam, but I took it a step further. As I reached up to pull off the camisole, I looked at him directly in the eye. Never breaking eye contact, I gently carassed my breasts as I placed the camisole on my lap. He was so close to me, all I wanted to do was kiss him. All of a sudden I was fantasizing that I was wearing one of those tight, short nurse outfits and that he was massaging my breasts as I lay there. I have no idea what the doctor was saying to me during that time because I was too busy thinking of what his dick looked like hard and how good it would feel to get fucked on the table.
I was wet. I could feel it in my underpants. My mind started thinking again that I should just kiss him and see what would happen. He told me I could get dressed. So there I was getting dressed in front of this man, who in my fantasy mind is still fucking me hard with his cock on the table. I started getting red in the face and he was trying to make small talk and I was fumbling with my clothes. I looked at him in the eyes and said "well next time I see you, hopefully it will be under better circumstances." He said, "oh no, you should get better in no time."
This is what I thought but didnt say: "Well what I actually meant doctor, is that maybe that next time it would be necessary for me to take off my pants for the exam and you can see how wet I am!" But I didn't say it.
I went home with racy, sexy thoughts in my head and a wet pussy. Mike still has no idea of what I was thinking that night as we had sex, but I'm sure he's all in favor of a nurse outfit hanging in my closet in the near future.
Here's to all of us who ever had a naughty nurse fantasy!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Wishful Thinking . . .
Ok, so as much as we love following all of the wonderful hotwife blogs, in practice, Mike and I have been underachievers. As in, with kids and all, we barely have enough time for ourselves, let alone working out the logistics we'd need to bring someone new into the mix again.
But we do keep talking. And lately, we've been talking about my friend Marcy. See, until recently, I'd lost touch with Marcy. But thanks to Facebook, we've been hanging out, doing mommy stuff. Stuff that makes Mike's eyes glaze over, to be honest.
The thing that gets him thinking is me and Marcy's sordid past. No, we're not talking sapphic love here. More like post-college, drunk chick hookups. Most weekends would find us cruising the Lincoln Park bars, meeting guys and going home with them. I wasn't quite as daring as Marcy - she ended up with more than a few one-night stands during our cruising days. Me - I tried to maintain some semblance of my good girl past, and usually got away with giving my guy a handjob or a blowjob (see my last post).
That's what gets Mike going. And when I mentioned that Marcy and I wanted to go out for drinks, sans kids, Mike was all to happy to promise to be home early. I guess I kind of let it slip that Marcy is feeling a little bit restless, and what with all the racy conversations Mike and I have been having lately, he got it into his head that Marcy and I could get into more than a bit of trouble if we get a few drinks into us.
And that led to the Bet. But is it really a bet if I win either way? Maybe it's more like a dare. So with all those yummy divorced dads on the prowl, Mike has kindly dared me to lure one of them out to the old mini-van for a makeout session. I know, I know, pretty tame stuff for most of you, but I gotta take baby steps while getting back into the pool. And if I do manage to get lucky, Mike has graciously offered to take over the laundry chores for the next three months. That's an offer I can't refuse. And who knows - one day, I might actually follow in the footsteps of the lovely Suburban Hotwife . . .
I'll keep you posted.
But we do keep talking. And lately, we've been talking about my friend Marcy. See, until recently, I'd lost touch with Marcy. But thanks to Facebook, we've been hanging out, doing mommy stuff. Stuff that makes Mike's eyes glaze over, to be honest.
The thing that gets him thinking is me and Marcy's sordid past. No, we're not talking sapphic love here. More like post-college, drunk chick hookups. Most weekends would find us cruising the Lincoln Park bars, meeting guys and going home with them. I wasn't quite as daring as Marcy - she ended up with more than a few one-night stands during our cruising days. Me - I tried to maintain some semblance of my good girl past, and usually got away with giving my guy a handjob or a blowjob (see my last post).
That's what gets Mike going. And when I mentioned that Marcy and I wanted to go out for drinks, sans kids, Mike was all to happy to promise to be home early. I guess I kind of let it slip that Marcy is feeling a little bit restless, and what with all the racy conversations Mike and I have been having lately, he got it into his head that Marcy and I could get into more than a bit of trouble if we get a few drinks into us.
And that led to the Bet. But is it really a bet if I win either way? Maybe it's more like a dare. So with all those yummy divorced dads on the prowl, Mike has kindly dared me to lure one of them out to the old mini-van for a makeout session. I know, I know, pretty tame stuff for most of you, but I gotta take baby steps while getting back into the pool. And if I do manage to get lucky, Mike has graciously offered to take over the laundry chores for the next three months. That's an offer I can't refuse. And who knows - one day, I might actually follow in the footsteps of the lovely Suburban Hotwife . . .
I'll keep you posted.
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