From Hotwife fantasy to Hotwife lifestyle

[Cub14]

Pardon the length and lack of sexy details in this post. This isn’t intended to be a smut story. It is instead more of a diary entry into the life and mind of the husband to a Hotwife. And not any Hotwife. The one I happen to married to. Miranda. My perfect pairing. Although perhaps my experiences will ring true to you and your Hotwife, who I am sure is perfect for you. But if you are looking for true smut, that may have to wait until chapter two.

I’m writing this from the lobby of a hotel in Vancouver, BC. I am here for a business conference. As I type, Miranda is upstairs in our room. With a man she met on Tinder just two days ago. I can only assume she and he are doing all sorts of adult activities in the room, although I really won’t know for sure until I get the summons to head to the elevator. And even then, a girl deserves to have her secrets.

We have been dancing around our dynamic for years. Letting it evolve; having experiences; learning and growing. She has been with other men, extramaritally, before tonight. Not a large roster, but more than a couple. Some with me present. Some alone. Some more fooling around than sex. Some full-on sex. But tonight is…different. Tonight is marked with subtle but important, if not profound, differences.

I would characterize our past experiences as coming from a place of negotiation. Her checking in with me, sometimes with great discussion, before anything happened. We would talk about the guy, the setting, what she could or could not do with him. She came to me looking for permission and letting me define the experience. She was the one doing the act, but I was the one ultimately in control. Not today. Today is different.

We had a relationship change a few months ago, and this is the first time we are seeing it play out. And for me, from this hotel lobby, I’d say her changes are for the best. No surprise, but Miranda knew best. That change was, in one line, to go from playing a Hotwife fantasy to actually being a Hotwife. A Hotwife who is the head of what she just out and declared to be a female-led, one-way open marriage. She informed me that she was interested in experiencing other men. Potentially a lot of them. She wanted to feel the touch of new lovers, explore new bodies, and have new hands explore hers. New energies and experiences. Whoever she fancied, when she fancied them, doing as she fancied. And she was uninterested in each one being a negotiation. She no longer wished to ask for permission. This was her choice. She loudly and firmly declared her independence in her sexuality. While I was to remain monogamous, she clearly had no intentions to do so. She would share her body with whomever she fancied with my role only to support her choices and help make her desires so.

This puts the husband in this situation in a critical situation. One that, I can only imagine, could go very different ways for different men. I can only speak for how it went for me. The fact that I’m writing this from a hotel lobby is a bit of a spoiler I suppose. But there is more behind that. I listened to her declaration of freedom. The claiming of her autonomy over her body and her choices. Her redefinition of the marriage that she wanted. T.hat she expected. Or demanded. She was staring down the traditional gender roles of marriage and rejecting them. She saw no purpose for the elements of the institution that meant she lost agency over her own body. She kept the important parts of our marriage, but was clearly rejecting the tenants that expected her to be the forever faithful sexual servant of a husband’s pleasure. She was seeing a different path that rang true for her, and I was left with very little choice but to agree.

And my agreement couldn’t have been easier. She laid out her case and left little room for me disagree. Her words rang true in my soul. I just looked at her. Her courage took my breath away. She was blossoming into some new creature right before my eyes. Her inner goddess shinning strong and powerful. My only word was, and still is, awe. I was in awe of the woman my wife had become.

She somehow found such amazing bravery and courage to demand better. To let me know that she’d be sleeping with other men. And to demand better from me. She was brave to tell me what she needed. To not ask, but inform and demand. It could have went poorly. It could have set events in motion that led to the end of our relationship. But she was still brave enough to not let her thoughts fester. That level of bravery and empowerment demands respect. The only appropriate response to that level of courage is to respect the ask and try to meet its intensity.

We, of course, discussed what this all meant. She accepted that at times I would find jealousy swelling up, and I, in turn, agreed to work through it when it did. We talked about devotion as the opposite of jealousy. Redirecting the selfish energy of jealousy towards the more appropriate, shared energy of devotion. Finding pleasure in her pleasure and putting her wants first, second, and always. Jealously being about me, compersion about her, but the gold standard of devotion being about us. There was to be no more vetoes in this relationship, and for my part, I gulped, but readily agreed. Even in those first moments of the new dynamic I felt a release of pressure. No vetoes meant no stress. No worries. No place for jealousy to go. The only choice I had left was one of devotion to this powerful feminine figure standing before me.

All of that was about five months ago. There were a few fits and starts in the time since, but she hadn’t been able to actualize her Hotwife self fully. Until tonight. She hit Tinder when we arrived in Vancouver two nights ago and immediately scored a match. That was Day One. Day Two was a meeting in a park to see if each other were real. And today in Day Three. Up in the hotel room.

And without even revisiting the topic she was true to her proclamation. There was never even a crack in the window of husbandly consent. She just went and did as she wanted. Just as she said she would. Not a moment of “is this okay” or “what do you think”. Not even a glancing reference to “what am I allowed to do with him”. No need to ask because the answer was known by both of us. It was whatever she wanted. It is her body and her agency over it. There were no holds barred.

For my part, this is divine. The irrelevance of my consent is liberating. Freed of the responsibility of choosing for her, and powerless to stop it, my only path left is compersion and devotion. I can only sit here in the lobby and try to imagine the pleasures she is discovering for herself. And take extreme, and obscene pleasure in her receiving it. She deserves it. Christ, she deserves whatever she could ever desire.

[Johnann2227]

Hi,
You have expressed your feelings so well. I can relate to much of what you say. My marriage differs to yours in that we have been swingers since our early 20s and remain so (and hopefully will do for many years to come thanks to Viagra). My wife is also a hotwife. She dates and fucks guys and girls she is attracted to. She doesn't ask my permission to go on a date, she simply tells me she is going on one. As you describe it is an amazing feeling to have a powerful, confident woman in your life who gets what she wants.

[couple_uk]

An incredibly sexy, erotic and enticing start to what promises to be a wonderful thread. And beautifully written as well No need for the "smut" to catch my attention, but I eagerly look forward to it anyway!

[Her number1]

Cub14,
Congratulations! So many can't actually embrace a hotwife that has fully embraced herself. It takes real love and trust by each.
May your journey continue to be every bit as amazing as ours.

[Cub14]

Wow. Thank you for reading all of that! It may take a bit to process all of the “smut”, but Boy Howdy. I eventually was called back to a room where smut indeed occurred!! She has an AMAZING night. “Best sex of my life” she beamed. And some new ground was broken. I’m waking up a very proud husband today. She may wake up a sore Hotwife.

We’ll relive this for a while and bask in its hotness. Once digested, I can add to this string

[GenerallySpeaking]

I believe in everybody having bodily autonomy. This does not sound like a Stag/Vixen marriage to me.

[Her number1]

I believe in everybody having bodily autonomy. This does not sound like a Stag/Vixen marriage to me.

I agree that it isn't really Stag/Vixen (where both play with others), but it is Hotwife/ Hotwife husband (where it is the wife that plays, the husband does not).

Some will say labels don't matter, but we have labels because words do matter.

[Cub14]

It’s now a good few days after the “best sex of her life”. I’d love for everyone to be able to hear her account of the night, but suffice to say a good time was had by everyone. As I led with, this is the diary account of a Hotwife’s husband, so forgive my focus on my experience. I was not in the room that night, but make no mistake, Miranda was having sex with me too that night. And in the days that led up and followed. It just didn’t look like “normal” marital sex.

The success of the night was, again from my perspective, that she found ways to include me in the experience. Or at least create experiences for me that reverberated off of hers. She got the experience she wanted, but made sure I had mine too. Her experience with him on the date was profound. Her and my experience with each other was profound as well. Miranda made certain that I was fully involved in the scene. I never felt like background noise. She pulled me in and kept me in the moments, even starting from a few days out.

I feel like from the outside some of the actual descriptions of how she did this may look like humiliation. But this is purposefully not being posted in the cuckold section. I think of cuckolds as enjoying humiliation, while stags have different reasons to be married to Hotwives. Maybe not everyone agrees with that definition, but it's how I operate. I fully celebrate cucks who thrive on humiliations. I get it, and high five. That said, I call them “elations” and not “humiliations”. It much better describes how they make me feel. This part of the play isn’t about getting off on being less than. Quite the opposite. It’s the part of the experience that involves me in the “scene”. It ensures I’m not feeling left out and makes the Hotwife experience something we’re doing together as a married couple. It’s some powerful sexual mojo when we make that work. And we landed it perfect this time.

The elations also allow me to engage in devotion to my wife. I'm imaging that’s what others call compersion, but I prefer to use devotion. I never expected it going into this lifestyle, but the rush I feel when bathing in my devotion to her is a deep sensation of pleasure felt in new and unrecreatable ways. It’s these elevations that really allow me to drink in those pleasures.

This time there were some elations we’ve enjoyed before, some we talked about but never had the chance to do, and a few new ones that evolved naturally.

The tried and true is taking her lingerie shopping for a new set of bra and panties. She’s about to do something that takes the kind of courage I can’t even imagine. She’s putting herself out there and deserves to look (and feel) her sexiest. I’d say a manicure and pedicure fits in here too, but those were already done this time. Taking her to do both gives us very focused time to spend together where I can just focus on her and we can both let our imaginations light up as she tries on different choices and sends me pics of the options from the fitting room. Us both knowing that I’m not the one who will see her in them, or slide them down from her hips, is our sexy secret kept from the retail clerk. They never let on that they sense the obvious energy between us. It’s a perfect scene builder as a date draws closer. Soon it won't be just the two of us, but in those moments, the world falls away.

Another elevation was something she and I had talked about for a bit but never had a chance to try. An ongoing thing I try to do for her is make sure we have two beds in a hotel. This is regardless of any planned third person play. She has to share a bed with me most nights and really enjoys the luxury of her own bed when we’re in a hotel room. When the two of us have hotel sex, we always use my bed so that hers is crisp, cool, and dry when she goes to bed. She is quite the squirter and a bed usually has something much more than a wet spot once she’s done with it. Sometimes the whole bed is a wet spot! Sleeping in the wet bed is a small, regular devotion to her. We had long talked about her hooking up with someone in a hotel room, and once it was clear that it was going to happen, it was obvious that her lover and her would be using my bed.

And boy did they! She sent me a text before that were done saying that my “bed is fucked, I may invite you over”. But I wasn’t having that. I mean, it was pretty wet. No doubt. But I found deep pleasure being able to give her sore body a good rest in the dry, comfortable bed. For my part, lying in the moist detritus of her sexual exploits is like a time machine right back into the moments that caused the torrents to flow. The damp sheets hold all of the energy of what just happened on them and each cold spot has another story to tell. Positioning myself to find the drier spots sucks me in the scene and brings me close to the action. I had fully expected finding that joy in set up, but I was unprepared for the strength of elation I found waking up with cool, damp sheets on my legs and looking over to see her sleeping deeply with the satisfied smirk only worn by someone who just had great sex being illuminated by morning the sun streaming into the room. That is an entry in the permanent memory banks.

Then there were the elations that just spontaneously appeared due to circumstances. The first one popped up two days before the date. Miranda had just set the date and was wearing a tiny pair of shorts pajamas and was slowly stroking my now anticipatory hard on. Then she pulled away with a wink and said “I think that should wait until after my date”. Denied but excited, I did not protest. (too much). In a flash she spun around with her butt in the air and let me touch her through the thin pajama fabric. I could feel her wetness through the shorts as she swelled under them. The promise of this date had her quite excited and I wanted badly to make her cum right there. As I felt her heat near climax she pulled away and jumped to the other bed.

“I think he should be the next person to make me cum” she winked. I was a puddle. Denied access to my own wife’s body, to my ability to pleasure her, so she could give that gift to another almost broke me. My endorphins spiked and my adrenaline surged. The scene was so clearly on and her claim to her own body was underscored by one simple act of denial. I was…elated. And I soaked into my devotion to her.

The other new elation was totally unplanned. We had been in our hotel room for four nights by the time of the date, and things were not really in shape to host a guest. Suitcases had exploded, dirty clothes were piled on the floor, toiletries where unorganized across the counter. This created the perfect opportunity for devotion. Thie first thing I did was make sure housekeeping came that day to freshen the sheets and towels. And get extra towels. Lots of them! But the real fun started when she left for dinner with her date. This gave me the perfect opportunity to take my time and lovingly get the room in order. Bring the laundry to the car, repack the bags and get them out of the room, organize everything, get some drinks for the mini-fridge. Basically just slowly make the room into the kind of place that she would be proud to bring a date home to. I soaked in the elation of the task, imaging what was going to happen in that room in a few hours and ensuring that everything was perfect for her. I did one last pass of the room, straighten the bed covers one last time, and felt my heart skip a beat with a shot of adrenaline as I took one last before I closed the door. I knew the room that I returned to in a few hours would be a significantly different place.

The final elation I would like to share happened as soon as I was back in the room. I was immediately compelled to ask if I could go down on her. Now I knew that the last thing she needed was yet another orgasm. And by that point, she didn't even need the stimulation. She had already gotten all the sex she needed. But I still felt compelled. Partly to soak in the energy that was still thick in the room and vibrating from her very soul, but also to take that first step to reclaiming her. I actually don't really love that word, but I'll use it here. The reclaiming is important to me because it allows me to show her that I accept and support her choices and this lifestyle. It’s the best way for me to affirm for her that I’m onboard and she is the priority. I hope it speaks louder than words. I’m not “reclaiming” her as mine because she never wasn’t. It’s about me showing her how much I appreciate her bravery to take control of what she wants. I hadn't planned it and I barely even thought about it as I was asking permission. I just had the overwhelming desire to affirm her and show her just how much she turned me on. It wasn't a long oral session. No more than a short make out with her down there. But for me it drove home the elation and devotion I had been bathing in for the previous 72 hours or so. I had no other instinctual way to show her how I felt. And it's the sort of act of devotion that I would happily institutionalize.

Its days later and we are still basking in the glow. Back to work today, and I find those imagines and emotions flooding back into my consciousness in unepected times and ways. I catch her across the room just cooking dinner or sitting at the table and I can still see the glow from her aura. She's walking a little taller; just feeling a little sexier. That in itself is enough of a gift to fulfill me. I am married to an incredible woman. I already knew it, but each experience like this just reminds me all over again what an amazingly fortunate man I get to be.

[HausCuck]

You guys rock!

[Her number1]

A wonderful description of your perspective. It sounds like you two are doing everything just right.

[54321]

Do you still have PIV sex together? If so, how long after her dates?

54321