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My First Hotwife
by Sir Edward (siredwardg@yahoo.com)

***

I had never even thought that a man would like his 
pretty wife to have sex with another man. I found out 
during a stay in the Louisiana swamps country many years 
ago. (MF, swingers, voy, rom)

***

Sherrie stood in the doorway of my bedroom. Her jet 
black hair was matched by the thin black nightgown she 
wore. It covered her, and concealed nothing: She had a 
perfectly formed body. 

She stood not more than 5 feet tall, her skin like 
alabaster, her dark eyes flashing. She looked like a 
three-quarter scale Venus

"My husband said to make you feel comfortable, you 
know," she said in a slight voice, her Cajun accent so 
strong it took me a few moments to register what she was 
saying. Her beautiful face brightened into a smile.

"When he said anything in his house is yours…he meant 
anything."

And she moved across the room toward me, languidly, 
sensually, a female creature too good to seem true.

It was a complete surprise when, for the first time in 
my life, I met a Hotwife. It was her husband who gave 
her to me, and it was such a delightful sexual time that 
I remember like it was yesterday.

It was, in fact, a little over 40 years ago, when I was 
in my early 20's. I had never known about Hotwives. I 
doubt if that term was used back in those days.

Today, the Internet and a generally more permissive view 
of sex has made the term much more well known. A Hotwife 
is a married woman who has sex with other men, with her 
husband's knowledge and permission.

A Hotwife does not consider herself a cheating wife, and 
neither does her husband. There is no "affair." The 
husband not only knows of her sexual adventures, he 
likes the fact that she is a sensual creature, enjoying 
her female sensuality.

I did not even think for a moment that such a thing 
existed. It was the mid 1960's. I was in Louisiana, 
doing a series of stories for the Baltimore newspaper 
where I was a reporter.

The town was called Houma. It was then a smaller mostly 
fishing community in the Bayou country. I checked into a 
smaller motel and made it a point to ask the desk clerk 
where I could hear some good Cajun music. She mentioned 
a nightspot within walking distance, and added a 
warning: "You better have you dancing shoes on."

It was a rustic spot, rather unpretentious. There was a 
bar along one side, and one big open room. To my 
surprise, there were no individual tables for two or 
four people. All of the tables were communal ones, 
seating probably a dozen or more. Several of the tables 
were half or mostly full.

The music had apparently begun earlier, but the 
musicians were on a break. I moved to one of the empty 
tables and sat down. I was aware that I was out of 
place. I was the only man in the room wearing a jacket 
and tie. All of the other men seemed the rugged he-man 
type. Jeans, and not very new ones, and open shirts, 
mostly flannel and mostly patterned. The women were of a 
wide variety…all size and shapes and ages, but dressed 
fancier than their men.

If there was one thing I noted about the physical 
appearance, it was that the general height of those 
there, was somewhat shorter than I was used to. At 6 
foot even, I stood taller than any other man in the 
room.

I had not been seated more than a minute when a male 
voice boomed out from a nearby table.

"Hey, Yankee!"

I turned toward the voice, and chuckled. "I guess you 
have me pegged," I said.

The speaker was a man who seemed to be in his early 
30's, if you judged by his eyes. But his skin was tanned 
and weathered. There was no gray in his dark, wavy hair. 
And he was smiling.

"Take that tie off. Take that jacket off. And come sit 
over here with some friendly people. No one here will 
eat you," he said.

I almost certainly would have joined him and his friends 
anyway, but the extremely attractive female sitting 
beside him was an added inducement. She looked a little 
younger, and not weathered at all. Her eyes were as 
black as coal, her hair also raven, and long, wavy, in a 
style like that of a 1940's movie star. She was very 
pretty.

I will not dally with the events there at the dance 
hall, except to say the music was fast and furious. 
Zydeco it is called these days, although I understand 
there are differences between Zydeco and more 
traditionally Cajun music. 

The dancing was also fast, and so was the drinking. Herb 
was the guy who had called me over. Sherri was the 
pretty thing at his side, and his wife, he said proudly, 
for the last 7 years. Herb, like most of the men, was 
drinking beer. Budweiser. Sherri was having a Brandy 
Slush, which I was obliged to taste, enjoyed, and 
managed to finish a couple of glassful's of.

The dancing was, if anything, faster than the drinking.

Though they varied, each number seemed to have a 
specific step of steps, all of them extremely 
complicated and extremely fast.

I was made to try, and became the butt of good-natured 
kidding when I could not even begin to keep up.

There were some slower numbers, ballads. I could 
understand little or nothings of the French Arcadian 
dialect, but was informed each was about some form of 
love gone wrong, or a cheating man or cheating wife.

I had designs on dancing with Sherri, or one of the 
other attractive wives, but no such luck. Each of the 
husbands made certain that when a slow number began, 
they were the one holding their wife on the dance floor.

Well, friendly enough to a stranger, I thought…but not 
that friendly.

I was to find out differently.

It was toward midnight when Herb, having learned my life 
history and my reasons for being in Louisiana, asked 
where I was staying, and for how long.

When I told the name of the motel, he let out a whoop.

"Nah, buddy, you ain't," he said. "Let's go get your 
things. You're coming to stay with a Cajun fisherman!"

Herb said he lived in a little community named Cocodrie. 
"Just down the road a piece, closer to the water."

He turned to his wife and told her he was bringing me 
home. She looked over at me and smiled. It was a smile 
that would have melted an iceberg, and it certainly 
warmed places I like warmed.

We three drove to my motel in his car….I got my stuff 
loaded quickly in my car, and followed along a winding 
road through what looked like swamp country to their 
house.

"I built it myself," Herb told me. It was sitting on 
what looked like dry land, but it was raised on stilts. 
I could see the moonlit water very near.

Once it was determined that I was not hungry, or needed 
anything more to drink, Herb showed me to my room. I was 
asleep in moments, drifting off to the sound of 
bullfrogs and, I thought, the muffled sounds of two 
people making love in the next room.

The sun was not up when I awoke suddenly, being shaken 
by Herb.

"I'm goin' shrimpin'," he said. "You wanna come with me 
today or another morning?"

It had been maybe 4 hours since I fell asleep. I managed 
to say I would like to do it another day.

"K, buddy. Rest easy. And as my guest, anything in my 
house is yours." With that, he was out the door.

A few hours I began to stir. The smell of fresh coffee 
brought me to life. A cup of black coffee sat on the bed 
stand. I could hear someone moving nearby. After a few 
moments, I called out: "You have any sugar and milk for 
this coffee?"

"It's considered a sin to put that stuff in good coffee. 
Try it first." Her voice was silvery and light. I was 
not unaware that I was alone in the house with a 
beautiful woman.

The black coffee tasted surprisingly sweet. Some sort of 
tang to it…like perhaps chicory or another nut.

Then she appeared in my doorway, clad in that short, 
lacy black nightgown. It was thin, see-through, and she 
looked like an angel.

I had been erect upon waking. Now it stiffened even 
more.

Sherri walked toward me, smiling, and reminded me of 
what her husband had told me in the wee hours of the 
night. When she reached me she leaned over and kissed 
me, sweetly. It turned into a kiss of heat and passion.

I pulled her down on the bed and we continued to kiss, 
now with our hands searching.

She broke the kiss and leaned back slightly, and lifted 
the covers. Her eyes move to my cock, and again she 
smiled.

"The first thing I better do is take care of that," she 
said. Her mouth moved toward my cock. First she just 
barely licked it with the tip of her tongue. As I 
moaned, her mouth moved to engulf it.

This was an erotic dream come true.

She knew what she was doing, and my excitement grew 
quickly, especially when she was able to move her mouth 
to the very base of my penis, to deep throat it. She did 
not gag, but kept her mouth there for what seemed like 
an eternity. The sensation of having my cock buried to 
the hilt in this beautiful young wife was incredible. 

"God, how can you do that?" I said.

She pulled away at last, releasing my cock but still 
holding it with her sweet little hand, moving back and 
forth slowly.

Again she gave a little laugh, and a toss of her head.

"We Cajun girls are expected to learn how to do that," 
she said. "Herb could have had his choice of almost any 
girl around here, but he said he married me because I 
could take all of him down my throat."

She moved to suck it again, but I held her shoulder, 
showing her not to proceed.

"Wait," I said. "I want to fuck you."

"There will be plenty of time for that. I'm here for you 
to have anytime you want it. But I want to feel it, too, 
and first I want to relieve all that pressure built up 
in your balls. Then we can do other things."

I did not stop her again.

You know there are some women who are just better at 
cocksucking than others. Sherri must have loved it, and 
it showed. This many years later, I still remember…can 
almost feel again…the heat and passion.

As I grew close to cumming, I told her.

She did not stop or slow down, but continued to lick 
along the shaft, paying special attention to that 
sensitive spot just below the crown.

When I did begin to cum, moaning and, I believe, 
shouting, she made little mewing sounds of content and 
sucked it up like a baby.

It has been over a week since I had cum, and she 
swallowed twice, then a third time…and after moving her 
mouth away, and licking her lips, she bent over again to 
claim the last few drops that seeped out.

She rested her head on my shoulder as my breathing 
slowed.

"That was wonderful," I said, when I could finally 
speak.

"Thank you, sir. Glad to please," was her reply.

"Do you welcome all guest like this?"

"Pretty much. Sharing is sort of a tradition here."

"Nice tradition," I said, "I'd like to see you, Sherri. 
Will you take off that nightgown?"

She rose, stood by the bed, and slowly removed the thin 
sheer clothing.

She was indeed a beautiful woman.

"Would you like some breakfast?" she said.

I pulled her toward me.

Breakfast would have to wait.

END

Want more?

For those who wonder, all of my writing is based on true 
events. This happened many years ago, and I am sure I do 
not remember every detail accurately, but this is a true 
story as best as I can recall and recreate.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 66