My hot wife was first a hot student - How that happened

A niche for stories; fiction or non.
User avatar
Des 31
OHW Addict
Posts: 3623
Joined: Thu Oct 05, 2017 11:20 pm

My hot wife was first a hot student - How that happened

Unread post by Des 31 » Sat Oct 13, 2018 11:41 am

I was told by a member that, although accurate, it would fit best within The Library. So, here you are:

I assume the few who have read our hotwife experiences here know my wife’s sexual history and how it came about. What I haven’t mentioned is that a series of events from her senior year in high school that, in my opinion, had a lot to do with it. Her mindset during that time evolved in a way that I’m convinced made it much easier for her to accept my encouragement for her to have sex with others. She has expressed some dissent from my opinion but agrees up to a point. It took more than a year of listening to her bits and pieces for me to put together a thorough impression of her story.

I apologize for what I anticipated will be a lengthy narration. To tell all that’s would require something like a novel. This is a only a summary, pieced together from notes as my wife recalled the events over more than a year.

Of all those my wife knows, only I know about her high school sex life. I refer to her background as an “alternative” sexual history for the reason that it's unlike anyone’s I know.

In the summer following her junior year, her family moved to a new home, requiring her to switch high schools. She had been on her former school’s swim team her previous two years and was assured she would be on her new school’s team. Her principal regret was that she would no longer be in touch with the friends from her former school.

During lunchtime a week after the school year began, a girl behind her in the cafeteria line invited her to sit with her friends at a table in the lunchroom’s far corner. As she took a seat with them, she recognized the five as among the school’s most envied. Four were in one or more of her advanced placement classes. I would have called them the “in-crowd,” but she says to the best of her knowledge that wasn’t a term used at her at her school. Their group’s leader didn’t officially have a title, but all understood she was the group’s top cat and called the shots through votes, which almost always went the way she wanted.

She had learned from others the tight group was known around school as The Flag Bunch. Most assumed the name came about because each wore a small, rectangular pin in the shape of a flag, on which was embossed an image similar to the school’s logo. She was later told by one of the girls that when in the tenth grade, she purchased the pins at a gift shop while vacationing with her parents. Unknown to outsiders, their “Flag Bunch” name had nothing at all to do with the pins. Instead, the pins were chosen because those were perfect for what they called themselves.

It’s an odd psychological phenomenon that popularity and a need to belong is far greater in children and teens than in most adults. The related desire to be with an in-crowd is carried on through the college age and is the reason fraternities and sororities were first formed. With some adults, they never get over that. I’m something of an oddity in that I have never had that feeling. All I wanted in high school was to be a reporter, editor for the school paper and learning public speaking. To my sheer amazement at the time, a magazine publisher accepted and published two of my short stories; all that satisfied any desire I can recall. Writers don’t have hundreds cheering for them in stands, but I didn’t care. My wife was like most teens. Being a part of a group or team was of great importance to her. I’ve since learned that at least some adults carry that need their entire lives, but that’s something entirely lacking in my psyche.

The apparent leader of the group asked her several questions - where she was from, whether she had been a cheerleader, which she hadn’t, her grades at her last school and her extracurriculars. Her extracurriculars were meager compared to the FLAG girls, consisting only of swim team three years and two small roles in 11th grade drama club. My wife didn’t think to ask any questions of the others; she thinks that’s probably because, like most young students in that circumstance, was a bit intimidated at the time.

A week or so later, the groups’ raven-haired girl approached her after a class and told her they’d like her to sit with them in the cafeteria on a regular basis. My wife was thrilled. By then she had come to learn that one particular lunchroom table was off limits to others. That rule wasn’t official but understood by others. The few times anyone violated that informal regulation, the group leader politely told them to find another table.

At lunch, they told her they have slumber parties at the leader’s home at least monthly and asked if her parents would allow her to stay over with them. Their next slumber was Friday night of the following week. The girl’s parents were away each weekend for the reaon they owned a tented flea-market-like furniture operation in addition to their downtown furniture store.

When the bell rang to end lunch hour, their leader, described by my wife as an amazing looking blond, leaned across the table and whispered to her, “Just to be clear, this little meeting doesn’t make you a member of The Flag Bunch. It’s just that we enjoy your company. You can hang with us now and then if you want.” My wife (well, the woman who’s NOW my wife) said, “I understand. I’d love getting to know all of you.” The leader nodded acknowledgement and, without another word, walked away in a different direction from the other four.

That’s how it began. She didn’t have a clue about what was to come.

(Continued below)
* * * * * *
My wife asked one of the girls after a morning class what the group’s name “FLAG” meant. She was told only members know that. She asked why that was a secret. The girl said with a smile, “I can tell you that much as a temporarily trusted friend. But if you ever repeat it, we will shun you like you wouldn’t believe. We mutually decided the secret adds just the right amount of intrigue.” She would learn on the upcoming Friday that wasn’t true. The misleading information was a surreptitious ploy to determine whether she could be trusted with even the simplest of secrets.

The test came the following day. They paid a classmate a couple of dollars to ask her if she had any idea what the group’s name FLAG meant. My wife was on an outer walkway to a class when she was approached. She shrugged and said, “Who really knows anything about that bunch? I haven’t asked and don’t really care.” Without knowing it, she had passed their first test.

It wouldn’t be long after than encounter that she would become one of most recognized at her school. Once as students filed into a classroom, the cheerleader co-captain plopped into the chair alongside her and whispered, “I with I was you.” My wife said, “Why? You’re a cheerleader.” The girl said, “You know why,” and then the teacher brought the class to attention. It was at that time she knew she had arrived. She thought, wow, I was always in the middle level at every previous school..

At 5’11”, my wife was taller than the FLAG girls. An unlikely series of events brought about another curious difference between the group and most others at the school. At their second lunchtime gathering, she learned that at age 18 she was also younger than all the FLAG girls. Their leader was 20 and the school’s oldest student. As silly as it may seem to an adult, she felt it to be something of an honor to be told the leader’s age for the reason that almost no one outside the group was aware of that. After the seventh grade, their leader's family had purchased a boat on which for eight months they explored mid-Atlantic and Caribbean islands, resulting in her loss of a full year in middle school. Two were born at a time of year to late to begin elementary school at age six and another lost two years following recovery from a childhood illness. The last of the five were inducted into the FLAG club halfway through their junior year. It was around that time the group’s social standing had become enviably unquestioned throughout the school. For that and other reasons including apparent financial wealth, my wife assumed she would never be a “real” FLAG girl. Considering the social advantages, she decided she wouldn’t mind being a hanger-on.

The following week, she made a note of the leader’s address and drove her aging Dodge pickup by the home after a class to be sure she could find it. She slowed in front of the street. The girls’ parents were on the front lawn talking to a caretaker and looked up at her, but she drove on. A few girls around campus asked how she worked her way into the group. A common phrase she heard was, “They have the best parties.”


Friday night, she arrived a few minutes before eight o’clock. The five FLAG members trickled in over the next few minutes. The parents had left around noon to prepare for their weekend business. They changed into pajamas. Two of the girls downed a beer and popular music boomed from the media room’s speakers, which the leader told them to dial down. They talked about personal problems, set a next date for their next home study session and caused some concern by my wife in the way they decided to solve one of the member’s problems. A male student had been harassing one of the girls with unwanted comments. Two others knew him as a troublemaker and voted on a way he would pay socially. My wife considered their solution to be a bit cruel but didn’t need to be told it wasn’t her place to contradict whatever they decided.

During that time, she noticed something about the girls, either out of place or not quite ordinary in the group’s behaviors, but she couldn’t puzzle out what that might be. It was just “different.” The leader said in something of an authoritative tone, “Let’slumber, gang,” and walked to her bedroom, followed by all.

The leader dimmed the bedside light. Their conversation was at first typical girl talk that advanced to talking about their dates. A member asked my wife if she dated. She confessed she did but not as often as the others for the reason her height turned off many boys . Another asked, “Ever kiss a guy?” followed by, “Sure.”

The raven-hired girl said, “Show us what it’s like,” and leaned her face near my wife. The others insisted she show how she kissed. She planted her lips on my wife’s mouth in a lingering kiss. My wife’s face burned with embarrassment. But none were laughing. Instead, they leaned closer to watch. Another slipped a hand beneath her pj top to caress a breast.

She didn’t pull away. She glanced aside. The others were removing their pajamas. The girl kissing her unbuttoned her top and two pulled away her pajamas. Their leader’s vagina was shaven. The girl asked, “Did you like that?” Unable to think of what to say, she nodded affirmatively but it all seemed alien to her. Three girls on the bed and the two standing alongside the bed began stroking her body. All were now naked. The leader plopped in a chair to watch and said, “This is the part of the club you can never tell anyone.”

The girl who kissed her urged her back to the sheets. A girl stroking her legs leaned to lick her clitoris. Within moments as the tongue manipulating her clitoris, she moaned. It felt no different from that of the former neighbor with whom she exchanged oral sex during a three-month affair. She pushed the thought of her partner being female out of her mind. Her body writhed beneath the roaming hands. Her hips rotated beneath the girl performing oral sex. The girls took turns planting kisses on her lips.

Her body writhed in an oncoming orgasm. She wrapped her arms around the black-haired girl. She cried out, “Oh gosh, I’m gonna cum!” Pushing away the black-haired girl, another dove for her mound and tongued her clitoris. At the foot of the bed, three girls formed a daisy chain and moaned. The leader stood alongside the bed and turned on a dick-shaped vibrator to masturbate as she watched.

My wife wailed and shuddered in climax. The leader tapped the shoulder of the woman between my wife’s legs. The girljoined the other girls in the daisy chain. The leader crawled atop my wife and ground her vagina against my gasping wife’s. She felt the impression of a subordinate in awe of an overpowering superior. She hadn’t before experienced sexual contact with girls but gasped at the sensation against her heated clitoris. Both reached orgasm within minutes and lay gasping alongside other as the daisy-chain girls moaned near their feet.

The leader said, “You can be in The FLAG Bunch if you want. Let me know within a week. You’ll need to take the pledge.” My wife muttered weakly, “Okay.” She had thought they were most likely weed users until one of the girls complained about a couple of school druggies. The leader turned to my wife said, “Stay away from those morons. I won’t associate with anyone who even talks to those people.”

The five talked and laughed for hours, much of it asking my wife questions about her background, sexual experiences, how serious a student she was and her what her family’s attitudes were like. She had by then been with two guys, was an above-average swim team member, kept up her grades and her parents lived conservative middle-class lives. She felt that somehow she had now landed on an alien planet but had to admit her psyche had quickly adjusted to the FLAG’s alternative life.

She thought it wasn’t so bad as she might have once thought. Considering the advantages, she turned to the leader and said, “I’ve decided. Unless there’s something else I don’t know, I’m ready tonight to take whatever ‘pledge’ you have.” The leader smiled at the other girls who giggled knowingly. There was something else she would need to do first.

(continued below)
* * * * *
The leader said, “Actually, there is one more thing.” A girl stood alongside each side of the bed. Each held a hand of my wife. The leader sat atop my wife, her knees at each side of her head and lowered her groin onto my wife’s mouth. She said, “The last test if figuring out out what you’re to do.” My wife breathed deeply and pressed her mouth to the girl’s vagina. Her tongue lathered the leader’s wet clitoris.

The girl’s eyes rolled upward and she moaned. It seemed to go on a long time and my wife’s tongue was tiring. The girl’s body quivered and she wailed, “Oh yes! You’re so good! I’m having a climax!”She stood from the bed, and her posse of FLAGs stared as if in awe. She looked down to my wife and said, “Recite after me: ‘I will never do anything to defame the FLAGs.” Then, “Nothing that happens within our clan will ever be disclosed to anyone outside the club.” MY wife repeated those and each subsequent pledge and was then told, “You’re now a FLAG.” Each girl kissed her, one at a time. She didn’t speak of her private conflicts and reluctance about these formerly unknown sexual unions, but the ceremony was over. That was it. She had relented to their sexual advances and now was in.

She asked, “Now tell me what the heck FLAG means.” The girls laughed at the question. “F” is the first letter of their school’s name. “LAG” stands for “Lesbians Until Graduation.” My wife hesitated, considering the letters and said, shouldn’t it be “FLUG?” The leader said, “That was suggested last year when we changed the club’s identity. But who would want to belong to a club with a name like that? We aren’t really lesbians. You’re whatever you were the day we met you but as of now, you’re officially a FLAG.” The other four clapped and said in unison, “Welcome to the FLAGs!”

The club had been formed when the leader was in middle school under another name. Each current member had been recruited over that time. Three original members at the outset had since moved away. It didn’t turn sexual until their junior year, but explaining how that came about that would take longer to tell than space here allows.

For the rest of her senior year, her life was nothing like that in her past. Sure, there was the monthly girl-girl activity she experienced that first night, but school life was better than she had ever imagined. On FLAG’s study nights, each girl who was considered best at any subject led the studies and homework preparation. Grades were important, she was told; their leader who recruited members into the group one at a time was responsible for setting that rule.

My wife joined the other members for movies and bowling nights but, like three others in the group, wasn’t experienced at tennis, a sport enjoyed by the leader and two other members. She double-dated with group members and their dates for dances and other outings. That routine caused her reputation to be virginal, which their leader required for all the members. Others didn’t have a clue about their alternative lives.

A few weeks after her induction, the group leader invited her to her home after swim team practice. My wife asked why, of all the girls at their school, she was invited to join the club. The leader said, “I noticed you on the walkway on the first or second day of classes. It was my idea and none objected. There’s was something different about you. I don’t know what that is, but I like it.”
* * * * *
Six parties for a host of other students were held at two FLAG members houses throughout the school year and a summer swim party two days after graduation.The group voted unanimously not to invite only select students, anyone could attend with notice, but typically only around thirty or so showed up; she thinks the reason it wasn't larger was some seemed to feel they wouldn’t fit in, although those were encouraged to come. The members and most members’ parents planned the events, but my wife’s parents were too involved with the work to become involved. My wife said those were assembled like movie sets and among the talk of the school. Those sorts of get-togethers eliminated any doubts by my wife about her joining the club.

When swim team events were held in town, the other five members attended the competitions and cheered her on louder than others. She was considered best at most diving competition and more often than not competing at freestyle and butterfly. More of their school’s students showed up to watch the local meets than did other schools during her out-of-town competitions. Their cheering seemed to increase her public profile even more around campus. She says it was like having her own cheerleadering squad even though swim meets don’t have cheerleaders. To this day, she’s a far better swimmer and diver than me.

At the year’s end prom, each girl dated a guy without another FLAG accompanying them. My wife’s date was a guy a couple inches shorter than her. She hadn’t dated before, but they ended up fucking in his parent’s minivan. His friend and his date had sex in another back seat. Although she hadn’t then even heard the term, she now says that was her first experience at swinging; the guys swapped partners as the evening wore on. Her date of that night left for college in the summer session within days thereafter. He phoned her the day before leaving to tell her that night was the best experience of his life. She never again heard from him but because she hadn’t known him well, she didn’t miss him. It was just a night of fun, nothing serious.

* * *
I didn’t know any of this until she got around to telling me in bits and pieces after becoming a hotwife. Numerous experiences and events, and even a password for certain circumstances are unmentioned here. I couldn’t include it all.

As “perfect” as all her experiences of those days may seem to some, nothing in life comes without occasional road bumps. There were occasional difficulties and inconvenience, but like most of us she chooses to forget those instances and instead remember the best of times.

I should mention one item here that isn’t quite true. The club’s name wasn’t exactly FLAG. The letters F, L, A and G were a part of the name but scrambled and was a longer word, but within those letters was the same meaning. The name is herein replaced in the unlikely event any former classmates stumble onto this website. Nothing here could remotely identify her club or school. But if you recall a tall, smoking hot chick who once attended your school, then who knows? It could have been her.

~ Des
After we married, came this: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=50057
Our hotwife history from its beginning at viewtopic.php?f=5&t=50057

User avatar
SutterKane
OHW Addict
Posts: 1608
Joined: Sun Jul 16, 2017 7:27 am

Re: My hot wife was first a hot student - How that happened

Unread post by SutterKane » Sun Oct 28, 2018 9:38 am

I'm waiting to hear how her class reunion went!
"Women and cats will do as they please,and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea"-Robert Heinlein
"Gratitude is riches and complaint is poverty and the worst I ever had was wonderful"Bro. Dave Gardner
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!

User avatar
Des 31
OHW Addict
Posts: 3623
Joined: Thu Oct 05, 2017 11:20 pm

Re: My hot wife was first a hot student - How that happened

Unread post by Des 31 » Sun Oct 28, 2018 11:23 am

SutterKane wrote:I'm waiting to hear how her class reunion went!
She leaves Tuesday and will be there eight days. (I'm anxiously waiting too.)

Thank you for your comments about her adventures.

http://ourhotwives.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=50057

~ Des
Our hotwife history from its beginning at viewtopic.php?f=5&t=50057

User avatar
SutterKane
OHW Addict
Posts: 1608
Joined: Sun Jul 16, 2017 7:27 am

Re: My hot wife was first a hot student - How that happened

Unread post by SutterKane » Tue Oct 30, 2018 2:08 pm

De Nada!
"Women and cats will do as they please,and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea"-Robert Heinlein
"Gratitude is riches and complaint is poverty and the worst I ever had was wonderful"Bro. Dave Gardner
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus!

Post Reply