About Your 1st 3some

Bulls with a sense of humour, those who could get me laughing and giggling silly...priceless.

How does it feel to be a hotwife ?

I was very apprehensive of how it would be to let random men, men who I have hardly ever met before to fuck me, sometimes completely random strangers who neither me nor my stag would have met before.

I would think that the way my stag had planned my transition and metamorphosis from being a wife to a hotwife is really remarkable.It took him time to convince me of the potential pleasures, but I believe he found an eager student in me. So beginning with men who would be known to me, or at least to him, we gradually moved on to men that he, or even I would fancy...yes, he also inculcated in me the need to fancy men and then letting them hunt me down to boost their masculine ego.

In short, yes, I am happy to be a hotwife now and I have no regrets about my decision.

I would disagree. In the porn cesspit Tumblr has become, a thinking woman is refreshing, however twisted she be. I can't remember who to attribute it to, but hell yeah brain be the most ergoneous part of man's damned body.

I'm sorry! To what is this response to?

Gairik and I  (part 5)

Contd from part 4...

Gairik stepped out of the car. I heard the door shut with a gentle thud. The cold air swept inside the car from the brief moments that he had the door opened. Outside I could see the narrow lane with not many houses that have still been completed, mostly dark and silent. The neon of the pharmacy lighted up the adjacent area to an extent. Looking at the dark uninhabited houses my mind wandered (or may have raced) back to the earlier moments where Gairik touched me in the darkness. I kept playing back in my mind his coming closer to me, his warm breath on my face, his hands which were trying to pull me closer to him, my own eager self that wanted to be pulled closest to him. I jolted back to reality hearing the click of him opening the door from outside as he returned from the pharmacy. He held a small brown paper packet in his hand.

"Ato ghamcho kano? AC switch-on korbo?" (Why are you sweating so much? Shall I switch the AC on?), he asked as he got inside the car and closed the door. "seat belt ta khule boste parte to, bhalo lagto" (you could've unlocked the seat belt while you waited, would've felt better).

I realized I actually was sweating. Despite the cold outside, I was surprised to find my brows and face had sweat on them, so were my palms. A sensation of heat was emanating from within me, almost making me feel that only if I explode, will I get some peace. I quickly reached for a napkin from the box kept on the dashboard. I wiped myself and muttered, "na na, nothing wrong, I am fine".

I am fine? I am fine? No, I am not fine. I have not been 'fine' ever since I knew Gairik loves me, ever since he touched and held me closely against him for those brief moments. My mind screamed, "pull me close again", while my face just smiled at him. Gairik handed me the packet and said, "please eta bag-er modye rekhe dao" (please keep it inside your bag). I extended my hand to receive the packet, and kept it inside my handbag.

"Gairik?" "Yes Shefaali?", he answered while locking his seat-belt and starting the car. "Amra bari kokhon pouchobo?" (how long before we reach home?)

I think I saw Gairik smile. He said, "Arekta jaigay jete hobe amader, tarporei amra bari pouchobo, khub taratari, promise" (we must visit one more place and then we 'll reach home, very soon, promise).

He reached out and held my sweaty palm in his and drove on. I clasped my fingers over his palm. A short drive in silence brought us to a stationery shop. "Come with me, I need your help here", he said. We got off the car and went inside the store.

A nice and cheerful store it was. Gairik seemed to search for something along the aisles. Finally he reached a section and stopped. "Pradiptaa loves to paint, doesn't she", he asked. Pradiptaa is my daughter's name.

"Yes, she loves and can spend hours doing it". "Great, so does Durba. This will keep them occupied". "Pradiptaa is very fond of drawing and painting and it is difficult to divert her once she is engrosses in her activity. She would participate in all the sit & draw competitions in school. She is...", and I suddenly stopped. The full implication of 'keeping them occupied' and diverted sunk in. I blushed upon my late realization and I think Gairik saw my face turn red, and smiled.

"You are a beautiful and wonderful mom, Durba keeps telling me how much Pradiptaa talks of you in school", he said. He picked up two sets of drawing and colouring books, pastels and crayons.

"Gairik, these are very expensive, you do not have to get such expensive gifts for them". "Shefaali, I will be borrowing her very precious mother from her to be with me. These mean nothing in return", he replied with a smile. We walked to the cashier and he cleared the dues.

As we stepped out of the warm store, the cold winds hit us. Instinctively I drew myself closer to him. We walked back to the car.

to be continued...

This is common. I have hardly ever stepped out of a bull's bedroom without being gifted. Though cash is usually not gifted, it's usually jewelry that I have been fondly gifted by my bulls. Piercings are the most common jewelry that's gifted to me, navel pins of gold being the number one item gifted to me.

My emotions knows no boundaries after reading your sexual experience

Well, I am not sure if that’s a good, bad or ugly thing to happen. Assuming you are considering it to be a good thing to happen, let me thank you for the words.

Experienc(ed & ing) this first hand.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

— Neil Gaiman, The Sandman

love the way you describe your emotions. thanks for sharing. would like to ask you who was the first man towards whom you were attracted?

TY for the kind words.

Hey madam why don't you share your experience your thoughts and memories with us on daily basis. May be you don't I wait every day for your .......... you are really amazing 😊😊😊