Monday, April 21, 2008

My husband's letter

I may appear to whore (here), and I may swing, but I love my husband and I will never make fun of him. I never make him out to be a cuckold. He is the proud husband of a deliciously slutty, part-time lesbian MILF hotwife.

And I always keep a copy of his letter he wrote about my experience to a swingers forum. Compersion is a set of feelings harbored by a spouse in a triangle relationship, where the feelings are the opposite of jealousy. This letter is a treasure. Besides slutdom, hotwivery, a beautiful facial, and classy, CEO MILFdom, I never shy away from a good interracial wife romp. As usually, downloads further down.

*************

I don't think I am a cuckold, though I got the taste of the thrill on several occasions. I think it's called compersion. My wife works for a talent agency, and that job allows us to go on business trips/ paid vacations to Europe, which brings some color to our cushy suburban life.

The most thrilling, as well as nerve-wracking feelings I experienced was when her old friend, who she once dated, came to visit our area and try to improve his not-so-lucky streak in commercial acting. He needed an up to date advice on the business of acting, the SAG-AFTRA union politics, etc. to move up from being a familiar face from department store and car dealer ads on TV.

My wife spent her childhood in Europe, which made her have a shy and elegant disposition. She is passive, gentle and kind, eager to help, but not submissive. The first situation happened when she and the actor friend went to a local SAG-AFTRA party at a fancy diner, and she did not come home at about 8:30-ish as planned. I called her mobile and heard the party still going on. I already had funny feelings and electric type of butterflies in my stomach, with no intuition or concrete images yet.

I enthusiastically gave her till 10:30 or so, which she said will be plenty of time to also finish up talking to the friend. Well, she did not come at 10-30. I already had the feverish premonitions of the truth. I could not get into our late night preparations for going to bed, and I could not watch TV or surf the net. I alternated between drinking coffee and beer. She called me at 11:15 that she was coming home. Her voice was strangely soft and aloof, though she said it was good that I gave her the opportunity to spend time with her colleagues and to help the friend.
By the time she came through font door, both of us sensed something big. We love each other and are very honest with each other. My said that she was thankful for the time on the town I let her have, and for being late, but it did turn out not so much the way I might have liked.
I jumped ahead of her and asked if she "became close with the friend." She said yes. That churned my stomach with feelings of jealousy and at the same time, impatience, and excitement.
She was surprised that I would not be upset at hearing her explanation, and that I also wanted to hear details of what most men would consider private or embarrassing, and was interested in these details.
Both of them went to her friends' house where he was staying. The friends were late coming from the same party, and the actor guy had plenty of time to talk to my wife alone. We are very conscious of her being alone with other men, which she is very careful to control. This time, she said, she was overcome with the need to help the man, who admitted to her had fallen on bad times, and was jealous of me as her husband. He was grateful for all the inside info and advice my wife provided to him.

Just when they thought it was time for her to go, he hugged her, and that became a kiss. She controlled the situation enough that she would not let her clothes to come off, but, she admitted, she was not 100% in control when she got down on her knees and went down on him.
While I was listening to her, I was hot, trembling and taking her clothes off to also check her panties. Everything (including the scent of Fa body wash in her pubic hair) was in a state that assured me that they, in her words, "did not have intercourse," which she confirmed by telling me in the first person plural, "we", with her ravishing eyes and the incredible look on her face.
I was consciously asking her what-how-when-who questions, in order to avoid prompting her to answer yes or no, and to get as much exciting bits of description out of her. She never offered more than I asked, and that excited me more, since it felt like she was telling me the total real truth, instead of trying to make up fantasies just to titillate me.

A carefully constructed line of questioning revealed that she gave him "what must have been at least 10-15 minute" BJ, the skill she honed with me, which means that she alternated licking his testicles and his length, with stroking her face with his member. She reported that she did not want his ("someone else's") seed in her mouth "at the time" (the wording I found puzzling, but did not want to interrupt), so she had it ejaculated on her face. He cleaned her up right there, in our friends' TV room, with tissue, she washed her face in the kitchen, and freshened up right there, in front of him, which made him visibly depressed, since he told her it was sad to watch her prepare to go back to me. This must have been the pangs of reverse cuckoldry.

I was excited enough that I wanted to punish her, and she told me I better take her the way her friend would have, had she "felt real slutty." My cock felt tingly and I took more time trying to punish her with long, punishing, teasing strokes. We fell asleep like kids at college, when we heard the birds in the morning. When we woke up, we discovered that we were still overcome with strange mix of intense feelings of great sensuality, jealousy, distance, and unresolved role for the third person.

That was Monday. Come Tuesday, she said she would have to take the friend to an important meeting. My wife told me she wanted to take him back to the same house. I interrupted with a bold and a matter-of-fact question, if she thought they "might have oral sex" afterwards. She still surprised me by hugging me, shrugging her shoulders and promising me that by 8:30 they'll be done "with the meeting," she emphasized.

I stayed home after work, knowing I could not go out to a bar with my friends, and I concentrated on our kids. I could not leave them with a babysitter while trying to ignore my state of mind by going out.
She kept the time well, and came home clinging, tingly, and horny. She said that our friends must have assumed that she was having an affair behind my back, and that was why their house was conveniently free for my wife and her friend.
She did have a faint smell of musk, if not seed, on her face, which was unusually smooth. She read my mind and commenting for me in a thrilling way, "makes my skin feel new."

During sex I questioned her about why she allowed the oral sex to happen, which she explained that she finds her friend not so much attractive as me, but his simple, "unrefined face, and natural, manly smell, almost very faint body odor," made her want to "taste the pungency of his penis," his hair, "under his testicles." It was also the sense of strong, country-type man feeling lonely, and helpless, all the more helpless before her oral skills. This, she said, she let him come into her mouth, with a taste very close to mine, nevertheless sharp, which she could not swallow, and spit into a tissue which he prepared beforehand. She said he asked her to stay, but that "pathetic request" made her only more horny for me.

She said the sense of being secure from any threats to our marriage, and his insecurity relative to me made her accept the intimacy with him. After the meeting they went to the friends' house, where she almost businesslike, sat him down on the living room couch and welcomed herself to his "animal smell" which she smeared on her face, and tried to inhale, almost trying to suck out of his cock while making him hard. I was bursting with desire to rape my wife.

I asked when the guy is going back to wherever he came from, and it was to be Thursday morning. I asked what meetings would happen till then, She said, "after work, the 6:30 pm as usual." I asked, more to confirm the unavoidable, "the 6:30 Bj meeting," to which she nodded, with a most beautiful, straight look, not a slightest hint of dirty, slutty smirk or crude sex.

Wednesday I came home at about 5:30 to see my wife pack her attaché case with paperwork. It was not the usual scene where she was primping for a lover. She was as exactly she was, after work. She said she is going to leave earlier, and that might let her come home earlier . I was sure that considering his flying back in the morning, I would suddenly and not-so-unexpectedly face spending the night alone. She did come back early, about 8 pm, considering that it took 30-40 minutes to drive back from that end of town.
Again, she described the animal smell as being that irresistible attractant, in addition to the image of the guy being a "helpless truck driver type." She does have fantasies about truck drivers, the intelligent and strong ones we hear on my CB radio during our cross country drives. They knew it was they last time together, and she said "we went at it" meaning she let him dominate her, by encouraging him, so that he would have a sense of "nirvana satisfaction to go home with." She said that " we got so hot that" she thought she would let him get into her panties, because they were getting wet. She wanted him to go down on her, but he started fussing spastically with her dress and panties, that by the time he "sucking in my labia" he was licking too fast and making her too frustrated. She knew that to get satisfied she would have to come several times, and that meant staying very late, while the friends were supposed to come home at about 10:30. She "helped him" by fingering herself along with his head-bucking and licking, till she had an orgasm and wanted more. When prompted, she told me that she rather wanted his cock back in her mouth, and was too concerned about letting things too far and his cock into her pussy.

He was making her more frustrated, because he would not come, and the situation was heading for straight sex. She sucked him stronger, squeezed him, mouthed and licked the whole of his pubic area, eventually getting him incredibly hard, and then started our favorite sloppy sucking while on her knees before him, and looking up honestly and appealing into his eyes. That always make me come, but it made him groan with torture, because she asked him whether he is "trying not to come," and he said yes. He did come, and she said she enjoyed the facial, letting the seed "shamelessly" coat her face, and to let him keep the fragrant member rest on her face while getting flaccid. This cool-off took a good 5-10 minutes, according to her estimate. He cleaner her up, and they parted, saying good byes with a tinge of awkwardness, a sense of unrequited tryst, his jealousy of me, and her worrying about the quality of our sex life.

She did not have to worry, because I really raped her that night, and once again at about 9 am, when his plane was supposed to leave, to drive the point home deep into her that it was me who was her master dominator. She is still shy but is always grateful with her shyness, guilt-flavored elegance and European tact to let me know that she is happy the experience only improved our intimate life.
For me the gratifying and exciting factors were the image of another man seducing my wife, while feeling jealous of me. It was also the passive responses to my questioning, and her discussing their contact as "we", which did not include me. It was also the fact that I did not see any of their night out, be it the party, their driving to the house, and the raunchy BJ. It was comparable to the thrill I got when she was in labor and did not want to let me watch the delivery, so I would not see her messed up. The same feeling I get when I bring her to a OB/GYN, and the doctor with a nurse take my wife into a room, and only afterwards I glimpsed my wife's thigh-highed leg and its calf tensed in the stirrup. The intimate part of my wife that was not for my eyes. I also enjoyed what is called compersion, that it was good for my wife.

***
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