don_jetman
Moderator
Beginnings - 4
by Don Jetman
Playing the Dom. Yes, both L and I have periods of time when we slide into submissive moods and need a Dom. Mine is closely connected to the angst of seeing L "taken". The Madonna/whore thing - an innocent wife stripped and played with against her will in front of her husband, reluctantly giving in and finally enjoying it. An "innocent" housewife's secrets exposed and allowed to run rampant when her fantasy lover pushes her over the edge. It's about the corruption of the innocent in plain view of her helpless and astonished husband.
For L it's something out of one of those romance novels she used to read. The handsome, strong, virile stranger refuses to stop hitting on her, and in time wears down her defenses in spite of the guilt of cheating on her husband. He sweeps her off her feet and she loses all control. In periods of deeper submissiveness, she wants to be "owned" by a Dom, given to other men, and flaunt all of it in front of me. It becomes a strange mix of giving up her body as she's ordered to do, combined with the satisfaction of delivering my angst. It's heavy masochism with a thread of sadism woven through it. Not that it's puzzling to me - from the time we started dating, she's always loved teasing me about her past boyfriends. She's flirted with guys in front of me since the day we met. It drove me crazy back then, until she'd admit she was only teasing, that she loved to see me jealous. She never stopped, and I loved her too much to let it scare me away. Then I began to like it.
Dave developed a role playing game where he was a high level government official in an authoritarian world where powerful men had the right to fuck any woman of their choice. He'd show up in a faux-Nazi outfit - long trench coat, boots and gloves - knock on our door, and take L as I was forced to watch. She'd struggle a little at first, then she'd quickly give in and let him fuck her in our bed. He'd ask her if she liked fucking him more than her husband, she'd hesitate, and he'd threaten her until she said whatever he wanted. Soon she'd tell him on her own that he was better, and she'd moan and finally cum under him. He'd walk by me on his way out, stop and grin, and tell me to have her cleaned up and wearing something sexy for his next visit, but not to touch her because she was his now. Of course, L and I would fuck like rabbits after that. So hot.
Sometimes he'd make me strip her as he held her from behind and played with her breasts and pussy. He'd make me tell him things as I stripped her naked - that I knew she loved fucking him more than me, and that I agreed to give her to him as his property. Then he made me beg him to fuck her. L would get so wet, and I would get painfully hard as the time crawled by. He'd always fuck her in our bed after that - sometimes while I watched, and sometimes with the door closed so I couldn't.
The day came not long after a few of our "Officer Dave" sessions when Dave thought L could benefit from some "training". I was to drop her at his place for a few hours every night for five nights through the following week. He wanted her in a different short dress with nothing underneath every night, and she was to wear this black velvet collar he gave us with each outfit. It had a small silver ring attached to the front, so L and I both had a good idea of what her training would be like. I was skeptical, but L seemed much more enthusiastic.
We shopped for dresses that weekend. I was clueless at choosing dresses for L, especially the "short ones" Dave wanted her to wear. L had to remind me that a skirt wasn't a dress, and that dresses ranged from housewifey ones that bounced and flared at the bottom, to short, tight, tiny sexy black ones with a plunging neckline. She couldn't tell me what kind Dave had in mind, so she called him from one of the large department stores where we were looking. His answer was that he wanted her in something casual that she'd wear when she was out with me. Something she'd be wearing if she left my side and went straight to him for sex. Yes - a housewifey dress would be perfect. But it had to be short. When I asked L how short, she said he told her, "I want to see lots of pretty little thigh."
Finding the dresses he wanted wasn't easy. L is a petite 5' 3", and nothing "housewifey" was remotely short on her. We found going a size smaller worked in a few cases, but many of these were too small to button or zip. In the end we resorted to visiting Fredericks and Victoria's Secret where we settled on a few of the more daring party dresses. They weren't exactly something L would wear for casual occasions, or to go to galleries or museums with me on weekend afternoons, but they were short, and didn't look like hooker clothes. They did remind me of how a housewife might dress who just might be trolling for cock while her husband was out of town. I hoped Dave might at least recognize our intent. No one would have to use much imagination to see what she was there for when she knocked on his door night after night. Only Dave knew exactly what she came for.
I'll admit we were both nervous the first night I dropped her at his place. His door opened, she disappeared inside, and I went home to wait for the three hours to pass. His door always opened exactly three hours later, and she'd step outside, walk to the car, kiss me on the cheek, and tell me, "I'm fine. Let's go home."
He gave her back to me the same way each night. She wore a long, oversized T-shirt and nothing else. I could see the outline of her body under it for a few seconds as she passed under his porch lights. She was in her bare feet, her shoes and collar dangling from one hand. Her hair was always damp and straight, her makeup gone, and her skin warm and damp as though she had just come from a bath or shower.
She's never told me what happened on those five nights. It was to be Dave's and her secret to this day. She'd slip sometimes and reveal a vague hint - then catch herself and remind me that she had agreed to keep Dave's secret. It was his requirement to continue playing, to continue doing whatever he did to make her want him again.
L wasn't visibly changed after that week. We had sex more often, but as closely as I watched for some extraordinary behavior from her, there was none. We still role played with Dave on weekends, but neither of them ever mentioned her week of "training". But there were subtle knowing looks between them for a split second now and then, and L seemed to cum harder and more quickly when they fucked. But maybe that was only my imagination - their secrets playing with my head.
It was only after Dave began to invite us to his parties that I started to understand. I never knew what his guests knew about L and me. Dave introduced us to those who arrived early (usually the more vanilla crowd), so they certainly knew we were husband and wife. Still, Dave would spend most of his time with L, taking her hand or circling his arm around her waist as he mingled with his guests. I'd stand at the bar across the room and watch them. And I began to marvel at how free she had become at flirting and teasing men she had never met. He encouraged it, but she was more forward than I had even seen her. I'd get hard just watching her dazzling smile or light touches when she met a man I could see she liked. It was much like her teasing when we dated, only this was spontaneous and loaded with a sexual aura that everyone could see. "She's telling them she's available, that she might fuck them," I used to say to myself as I watched. Then I'd have to stay behind the bar to hide my raging hardon.
Later in the evening the swinger couples weren't shy about approaching me, letting me know they saw exactly what was taking place. Strangely, it was mostly the wives. I'd get comments from women I hadn't even met, like, "So, how long has he been fucking her?" and, "You like watching them, don't you?". Of course, Dave may have let them know before we met, but it caught me off-guard - it shook me a little to know the relationship between the three of us was so transparent. The most candid of four or five wives were so mouthwatering - short or tall, blonde or brunette, they seemed attracted to me while we watched L flirt with all the men. It was torture in a way - they were hitting on me, assuming L and I were swingers, but I wasn't allowed to swing.
L fucked one of Dave's guests at the first party we attended. She disappeared, then reappeared with him as they made their way down the stairs from the upstairs bedrooms. I had seen them flirting, as just one of many, and assumed she was simply cruising the room. He was younger, probably mid-twenties, all ego and testosterone, short black beard, athletic build, and an "I just fucked your wife" grin. L came to me within minutes and confessed, but as though she was brimming with pride. "He was so good," she whispered. "Just wait till I tell you how good..."
I loved the look of accomplishment in her eyes, and although I was also a bit sick, I would never had let her see it. I guess I envied the guy - young and hot, a guy who impressed my wife the first time he fucked her. Thoughts of them naked and fucking got me hard, but the hint of humiliation seemed to amplify the excitement. Imagining everyone knew, everyone who watched them come down the stairs together, pulled me in different directions. Why was I hard, knowing they all knew my wife had fucked him? Or so I imagined.
L fucked two guys that night, coming to me after each to let me know what happened. I had never seen this fire in her eyes when she told me about them. For the first time I saw her as a predator - fearless about getting a man who excited her sexually, then disposing of him and bragging about her conquest. I began to suspect Dave's magic during that week of "training" had at least something to do with it.
I began to see that Dave was L's Svengali. She did things for him. Things she'd never agree to for me. All concern about her behavior seemed to vanish when she was with him. He didn't make her someone she wasn't already - he unleashed something in her. He mined her secret fantasies and made them acceptable, shattered inhibitions from her upbringing and helped her shed the remnants. He found her submissive shadows and nurtured them, bringing them to life with real people who found her submission delicious. It worried me at first. Until I reaped the benefits of sex with an L I had always fantasized about but never realized. Unleashed, she was a cauldron of urgent sexual needs and responses. She was still L, still my loving wife, but more of a "hotwife" than I could ever have imagined. I had once been the mentor, but now she had taken the lead. Her strides were twice that of mine. She almost fucked me to death, every time. And I couldn't have loved her more for it. Still do.
Dave's parties took us for a ride. I watched L have sex with multiple men and sex before an attentive audience. Dave took nude photos of L and sent them to future guests - a kind of advertisement for what they might be able to fuck if they did their best to persuade her. L thrived in his environment, and even as a spectator I couldn't wait to see what he planned next. I just loved seeing her flirt with new men, watching them seduce her (or was it the other way around?). She was almost not my wife during those times. I saw a woman hungry for sex and unashamed to show it - pretty, classy, more cute than glamorous, but fearless in the way she flirted with new men. I didn't care that they would stick their dicks in my wife - I only cared that L's sex with them was open and honest, and that my wife was the woman they all wanted. Well, and that she still practically fucked me to death every chance we had together.
***
My relocation was good news and bad news. More money, a step up the management ladder, all with a company with a stellar track record and soaring stock prices. A bump in vacation time, double my annual bonus, and generous stock options. But L would have to leave her job, and we'd be distancing ourselves from Dave. There was never any real deal breaker - L was looking for a new job anyway, and we looked forward to a more metropolitan culture. Actually, moving away from Dave had a delayed effect. Hotwifing was really never a huge part of who were are, so the excitement of new places overshadowed our relationship with Dave. For a while.
The excitement, stress, and pure novelty of settling in a new location can dominate one's life. New friends, new attractions, sometimes a culture that's so overwhelmingly different that it takes a while to be assimilated. But eventually, we find that we still are who we are. And we needed Dave.
This seems to be an appropriate place to bring Beginnings to an end. We now visit Dave several times a year. If anything, his parties are more bizarre, his hold on L stronger and more mystifying to me. We live our lives in a new place, and L finds new lovers now and then who come and go. But we always climb this peak of horniness - until we can't quite reach the summit. Dave is always there, even though a thousand miles away, to throw us a lifeline. His home is always open to us, his generosity unlimited, his affection for L, and the two of us as a couple, has never waned. Our visits are filled with anticipation, surprise, and an expectation to be pushed to the limits of unimagined territory. But those are stories told elsewhere.
Ultimately, what survives is a rich and fulfilling sex life, one that adds mystery, excitement, heat, and yes, even angst sometimes, to a marriage that might have evolved like so many others. Vanilla? Oh please. Give us surprise, risk, confusion and danger. Sex with L is still all that and more.
by Don Jetman
Playing the Dom. Yes, both L and I have periods of time when we slide into submissive moods and need a Dom. Mine is closely connected to the angst of seeing L "taken". The Madonna/whore thing - an innocent wife stripped and played with against her will in front of her husband, reluctantly giving in and finally enjoying it. An "innocent" housewife's secrets exposed and allowed to run rampant when her fantasy lover pushes her over the edge. It's about the corruption of the innocent in plain view of her helpless and astonished husband.
For L it's something out of one of those romance novels she used to read. The handsome, strong, virile stranger refuses to stop hitting on her, and in time wears down her defenses in spite of the guilt of cheating on her husband. He sweeps her off her feet and she loses all control. In periods of deeper submissiveness, she wants to be "owned" by a Dom, given to other men, and flaunt all of it in front of me. It becomes a strange mix of giving up her body as she's ordered to do, combined with the satisfaction of delivering my angst. It's heavy masochism with a thread of sadism woven through it. Not that it's puzzling to me - from the time we started dating, she's always loved teasing me about her past boyfriends. She's flirted with guys in front of me since the day we met. It drove me crazy back then, until she'd admit she was only teasing, that she loved to see me jealous. She never stopped, and I loved her too much to let it scare me away. Then I began to like it.
Dave developed a role playing game where he was a high level government official in an authoritarian world where powerful men had the right to fuck any woman of their choice. He'd show up in a faux-Nazi outfit - long trench coat, boots and gloves - knock on our door, and take L as I was forced to watch. She'd struggle a little at first, then she'd quickly give in and let him fuck her in our bed. He'd ask her if she liked fucking him more than her husband, she'd hesitate, and he'd threaten her until she said whatever he wanted. Soon she'd tell him on her own that he was better, and she'd moan and finally cum under him. He'd walk by me on his way out, stop and grin, and tell me to have her cleaned up and wearing something sexy for his next visit, but not to touch her because she was his now. Of course, L and I would fuck like rabbits after that. So hot.
Sometimes he'd make me strip her as he held her from behind and played with her breasts and pussy. He'd make me tell him things as I stripped her naked - that I knew she loved fucking him more than me, and that I agreed to give her to him as his property. Then he made me beg him to fuck her. L would get so wet, and I would get painfully hard as the time crawled by. He'd always fuck her in our bed after that - sometimes while I watched, and sometimes with the door closed so I couldn't.
The day came not long after a few of our "Officer Dave" sessions when Dave thought L could benefit from some "training". I was to drop her at his place for a few hours every night for five nights through the following week. He wanted her in a different short dress with nothing underneath every night, and she was to wear this black velvet collar he gave us with each outfit. It had a small silver ring attached to the front, so L and I both had a good idea of what her training would be like. I was skeptical, but L seemed much more enthusiastic.
We shopped for dresses that weekend. I was clueless at choosing dresses for L, especially the "short ones" Dave wanted her to wear. L had to remind me that a skirt wasn't a dress, and that dresses ranged from housewifey ones that bounced and flared at the bottom, to short, tight, tiny sexy black ones with a plunging neckline. She couldn't tell me what kind Dave had in mind, so she called him from one of the large department stores where we were looking. His answer was that he wanted her in something casual that she'd wear when she was out with me. Something she'd be wearing if she left my side and went straight to him for sex. Yes - a housewifey dress would be perfect. But it had to be short. When I asked L how short, she said he told her, "I want to see lots of pretty little thigh."
Finding the dresses he wanted wasn't easy. L is a petite 5' 3", and nothing "housewifey" was remotely short on her. We found going a size smaller worked in a few cases, but many of these were too small to button or zip. In the end we resorted to visiting Fredericks and Victoria's Secret where we settled on a few of the more daring party dresses. They weren't exactly something L would wear for casual occasions, or to go to galleries or museums with me on weekend afternoons, but they were short, and didn't look like hooker clothes. They did remind me of how a housewife might dress who just might be trolling for cock while her husband was out of town. I hoped Dave might at least recognize our intent. No one would have to use much imagination to see what she was there for when she knocked on his door night after night. Only Dave knew exactly what she came for.
I'll admit we were both nervous the first night I dropped her at his place. His door opened, she disappeared inside, and I went home to wait for the three hours to pass. His door always opened exactly three hours later, and she'd step outside, walk to the car, kiss me on the cheek, and tell me, "I'm fine. Let's go home."
He gave her back to me the same way each night. She wore a long, oversized T-shirt and nothing else. I could see the outline of her body under it for a few seconds as she passed under his porch lights. She was in her bare feet, her shoes and collar dangling from one hand. Her hair was always damp and straight, her makeup gone, and her skin warm and damp as though she had just come from a bath or shower.
She's never told me what happened on those five nights. It was to be Dave's and her secret to this day. She'd slip sometimes and reveal a vague hint - then catch herself and remind me that she had agreed to keep Dave's secret. It was his requirement to continue playing, to continue doing whatever he did to make her want him again.
L wasn't visibly changed after that week. We had sex more often, but as closely as I watched for some extraordinary behavior from her, there was none. We still role played with Dave on weekends, but neither of them ever mentioned her week of "training". But there were subtle knowing looks between them for a split second now and then, and L seemed to cum harder and more quickly when they fucked. But maybe that was only my imagination - their secrets playing with my head.
It was only after Dave began to invite us to his parties that I started to understand. I never knew what his guests knew about L and me. Dave introduced us to those who arrived early (usually the more vanilla crowd), so they certainly knew we were husband and wife. Still, Dave would spend most of his time with L, taking her hand or circling his arm around her waist as he mingled with his guests. I'd stand at the bar across the room and watch them. And I began to marvel at how free she had become at flirting and teasing men she had never met. He encouraged it, but she was more forward than I had even seen her. I'd get hard just watching her dazzling smile or light touches when she met a man I could see she liked. It was much like her teasing when we dated, only this was spontaneous and loaded with a sexual aura that everyone could see. "She's telling them she's available, that she might fuck them," I used to say to myself as I watched. Then I'd have to stay behind the bar to hide my raging hardon.
Later in the evening the swinger couples weren't shy about approaching me, letting me know they saw exactly what was taking place. Strangely, it was mostly the wives. I'd get comments from women I hadn't even met, like, "So, how long has he been fucking her?" and, "You like watching them, don't you?". Of course, Dave may have let them know before we met, but it caught me off-guard - it shook me a little to know the relationship between the three of us was so transparent. The most candid of four or five wives were so mouthwatering - short or tall, blonde or brunette, they seemed attracted to me while we watched L flirt with all the men. It was torture in a way - they were hitting on me, assuming L and I were swingers, but I wasn't allowed to swing.
L fucked one of Dave's guests at the first party we attended. She disappeared, then reappeared with him as they made their way down the stairs from the upstairs bedrooms. I had seen them flirting, as just one of many, and assumed she was simply cruising the room. He was younger, probably mid-twenties, all ego and testosterone, short black beard, athletic build, and an "I just fucked your wife" grin. L came to me within minutes and confessed, but as though she was brimming with pride. "He was so good," she whispered. "Just wait till I tell you how good..."
I loved the look of accomplishment in her eyes, and although I was also a bit sick, I would never had let her see it. I guess I envied the guy - young and hot, a guy who impressed my wife the first time he fucked her. Thoughts of them naked and fucking got me hard, but the hint of humiliation seemed to amplify the excitement. Imagining everyone knew, everyone who watched them come down the stairs together, pulled me in different directions. Why was I hard, knowing they all knew my wife had fucked him? Or so I imagined.
L fucked two guys that night, coming to me after each to let me know what happened. I had never seen this fire in her eyes when she told me about them. For the first time I saw her as a predator - fearless about getting a man who excited her sexually, then disposing of him and bragging about her conquest. I began to suspect Dave's magic during that week of "training" had at least something to do with it.
I began to see that Dave was L's Svengali. She did things for him. Things she'd never agree to for me. All concern about her behavior seemed to vanish when she was with him. He didn't make her someone she wasn't already - he unleashed something in her. He mined her secret fantasies and made them acceptable, shattered inhibitions from her upbringing and helped her shed the remnants. He found her submissive shadows and nurtured them, bringing them to life with real people who found her submission delicious. It worried me at first. Until I reaped the benefits of sex with an L I had always fantasized about but never realized. Unleashed, she was a cauldron of urgent sexual needs and responses. She was still L, still my loving wife, but more of a "hotwife" than I could ever have imagined. I had once been the mentor, but now she had taken the lead. Her strides were twice that of mine. She almost fucked me to death, every time. And I couldn't have loved her more for it. Still do.
Dave's parties took us for a ride. I watched L have sex with multiple men and sex before an attentive audience. Dave took nude photos of L and sent them to future guests - a kind of advertisement for what they might be able to fuck if they did their best to persuade her. L thrived in his environment, and even as a spectator I couldn't wait to see what he planned next. I just loved seeing her flirt with new men, watching them seduce her (or was it the other way around?). She was almost not my wife during those times. I saw a woman hungry for sex and unashamed to show it - pretty, classy, more cute than glamorous, but fearless in the way she flirted with new men. I didn't care that they would stick their dicks in my wife - I only cared that L's sex with them was open and honest, and that my wife was the woman they all wanted. Well, and that she still practically fucked me to death every chance we had together.
***
My relocation was good news and bad news. More money, a step up the management ladder, all with a company with a stellar track record and soaring stock prices. A bump in vacation time, double my annual bonus, and generous stock options. But L would have to leave her job, and we'd be distancing ourselves from Dave. There was never any real deal breaker - L was looking for a new job anyway, and we looked forward to a more metropolitan culture. Actually, moving away from Dave had a delayed effect. Hotwifing was really never a huge part of who were are, so the excitement of new places overshadowed our relationship with Dave. For a while.
The excitement, stress, and pure novelty of settling in a new location can dominate one's life. New friends, new attractions, sometimes a culture that's so overwhelmingly different that it takes a while to be assimilated. But eventually, we find that we still are who we are. And we needed Dave.
This seems to be an appropriate place to bring Beginnings to an end. We now visit Dave several times a year. If anything, his parties are more bizarre, his hold on L stronger and more mystifying to me. We live our lives in a new place, and L finds new lovers now and then who come and go. But we always climb this peak of horniness - until we can't quite reach the summit. Dave is always there, even though a thousand miles away, to throw us a lifeline. His home is always open to us, his generosity unlimited, his affection for L, and the two of us as a couple, has never waned. Our visits are filled with anticipation, surprise, and an expectation to be pushed to the limits of unimagined territory. But those are stories told elsewhere.
Ultimately, what survives is a rich and fulfilling sex life, one that adds mystery, excitement, heat, and yes, even angst sometimes, to a marriage that might have evolved like so many others. Vanilla? Oh please. Give us surprise, risk, confusion and danger. Sex with L is still all that and more.