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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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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