Sexy blonde enjoys planning hotwife fantasy with husband

“Remember, Mark, you are not unfaithful if your husband watches.”

Mark was sitting at the edge of a strange bed, in a strange hotel room, dressed in lingerie and a blouse while she waited for a strange man, but for a moment, with her husband kneeling before her, looking into her eyes, she felt comfortable. Almost.

Reaching out, Mark touched Carl’s face, sliding his fingers through his soft, familiar beard. Gray spots had turned it into salt and pepper, but Mark liked the look. This man became more beautiful as he got older.

“We really do, don’t we?” She said. Her nerves were back, leaving Mark trembling and nervous as the adrenaline rushed through her. She took a strong, intoxicating breath, as did her husband.

He said, “Only if you want it again.”

Mark’s lips curled before she could stop. She wanted. She really wanted it. It riddled her with guilt and made her feel like a terrible woman and mother, but she really wanted.

The look of hunger that crossed his wife’s face sent an excitement in Carl’s stomach. Everything about what they were about to do came in a rush – to watch her roll her black thighs over her legs, to help her shave her pussy in a neat and short corner, to do love one last time last night before giving herself to another man but seeing how in he Mark overcame it all. She didn’t do that just because he wanted to. She didn’t just entertain her fantasy. At one point in this unlikely wife’s trip to hotwife, her fantasy had become hers too.

“I want to,” she said, the color leaping on her cheeks. She looked down, flapping her long lashes, biting her lip, then looked at him shyly. “I am sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He asked, holding it.

“I shouldn’t want as much as I do …”

“I love what you do.” He was so hard, so excited, that he almost threw her back on the bed and made his way with her. He could read Mark’s body language well enough to know that she wanted it too. Her breathing was shallow, her pupils dilated and she couldn’t stop rubbing her fingers nervously. “I will be here,” he said. “All the time. Just in this chair.”

Mark nodded, glancing at the ornate hotel chair they had placed in the corner. It comforted her to know that he would be watching.

“But I want you to pretend that I am not. I don’t want you to hold back.”

“I’m not sure I have this problem,” she said, blushing heavily.

Carl smiles. Reaching out in the pocket of his sports coat, he pulled out a band – white and fringed with frilly lace. Mark’s breath caught. “It should help you forget me.”

“You don’t have to …” Her voice died out as Carl walked over and slid the blindfold over his wife’s eyes, folding her blonde bangs out of the way.

“Can you see something?” He asked.

Mark shook her head, a shiver ran through her. She couldn’t, and she felt so vulnerable because of it. She felt her husband rise, his warmth leaving her. She pulled her blouse around. The room was warm, but goosebumps formed on his bare arms anyway. Her nipples pressed tightly against the black lace of her bra.

The mechanical groan from Carl’s old Polaroid camera sent him a shake. They had already played with it, taking dirty pictures of each other and reveling in the lingering mist of sex. But it was different. It was the documentation of this ultimate line crossed. She shivered.

A moment later, she felt something squeeze in her hand, cool and smooth. A wine glass. She brought it to her nose and sniffed the earthy aroma of white wine.

“To calm your nerves,” Carl explained.

“Thanks,” said Mark, licking her lips. “Carl?”

“Hm?” Carl paused, stepping back and watching over his wife. She was sitting perched on the edge of the deliciously made bed, looking stiff and nervous and so beautiful – innocent in the sexiest way possible. The sight would greet another man in minutes.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too darling. No matter what happens.”

She smiles under the blindfold. “Go get our man.” I’ll be here, meanwhile. “

Carl smiled, the heat flowing through his body to order. He nodded, looked at her one last time and left.

Mark heard the door slam, and for a moment, panic subsided around her. Blindfolded, she felt so helpless – ready to be a toy for a strange man. She should have hated this objectification. She still felt shivers of indignity and shame. She had always kept her sexuality to herself, isolated, even from Carl. Until Carl entered his masturbation.

She raised the glass of wine and drank quickly as her stomach turned and her face burned with mortification. She had tried to cover herself, but it was too late. He had seen. He knew his secret. Even now, although she is all alone, she wanted to bury her face in her hands. But she didn’t. She pushed back the wave of panic, called in all those hours of yoga and calmed her breathing. What was done was done, and it turned out that moment was one of the healthiest they had ever shared.


Carl’s heart was pounding while waiting for the elevator to arrive. His breath was gasping. He let himself laugh, but it came out nervously. When the elevator rang, he was grateful to have it all.

The elevator fell and he fought to keep his stomach from falling with it. He could still back away. Instead of getting out of the elevator when the doors opened, he was able to go back up to her. He could pretend that he was the stranger, use the blindfold to his advantage. They had played this way before, and it was fun.

When the doors opened on the hotel lobby, and he heard the murmur of conversation escape from the hotel bar, he knew they would not pretend tonight.

Preparing with deep inspiration, Carl went out and headed for the crowded bar. There were a lot of business travelers and convention goers who relaxed after a long day, many looking for evening entertainment. The bar was not so crowded that Carl could not choose it immediately – the man who was going to fuck his wife.

Ridge was a handsome boy, but very different from Carl. First of all, he was younger and athletic in a way than Carl had ever been, with the short hair of a soldier. He held his broad shoulders, releasing confidence as he flicked his phone. A trio of young women walked past him, giving him a long time. Ridge ignored them, though his secret smile let Carl know that their assessment was not missed.

Carl dove into the bar, sneaking into the sea of ​​bodies without seeing them, barely feeling them. He moved closer before losing his temper.

“Hey, man,” said Ridge, standing up and offering Carl his hand before he was close enough to take it. It was the only outward sign that this man was as nervous as Carl. Her smile was bright and delivered without hesitation. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Ridge,” said Carl with a nod. He always wanted to melt in the ground, but it was a little easier now that he was face to face with their fantasy creator. “Let me get you another drink.”

Ridge shook his head, taking a glass of whiskey from the bar and handed it to Carl. “I’ve already covered you.” He raised his matching glass in a toast. “To your wife.”

Carl’s heart throbbed. “To Mark.”

He was proud that his hand was not shaking when he tipped his glass against Ridge’s, or when he lifted it and swallowed it. He was burning against his throat.

“So where’s the evening lady?” Asked Ridge.

“In our room.” Carl reached for the Polaroid. It was still filmed, not quite developed. He only hesitated a beat before handing it to Ridge. “Wait.”

Ridge took the photo, confused for only a moment. When he looked at him, his eyes widened. “Blindfolded,” he said without taking his eyes off the picture as she slowly darkened into sexy clarity. “Nice touch.”

Carl and Mark had sent photos to Ridge before tonight, one of whom was completely naked except for the stockings – they had been careful enough to blur his face, but the vulnerability had intense summer. It was on a different plane. Carl watched Ridge study the photo, the spirit of the other man drifting in a nice place, a place that caught his smile in his eyes.

Ridge blinked, seemed to remember himself, and slipped the photo into his own pocket. Carl did not protest. “She’s very hot,” said Ridge. “Are you sure you are going to share it?”

He did not ask if Carl wanted to to share it – he asked if Carl was okay. Ridge was a man who had been in this situation before, a man who presented himself as a bull for new couples who adopted this lifestyle. He had been a perfect gentleman through all of their emails, someone who could show Mark a good time without complicating the emotions or talking about a relationship. And this man knew the right questions to ask.

Carl took another sip of his scotch tape, really thinking about the question. He had had this fantasy for years. He had seen the way other men always looked at Mark when they didn’t think he was looking. He had seen them flirting with her when he was busy doing other things. Jealousy was there, tangled in sticky insecurity, but more than that was this intense and deep excitement.

Before confessing his fantasy to Mark, he was not sure. Since that frightening moment, however, they had spent hours together, talking about their emotions, exploring the confusing and sometimes contradictory emotions that accompanied it. It was his confidence that made this question easy to answer.

“I’m fine.”

Ridge twirled his scotch without sipping it, studying Carl with a look that seemed to go through him. “Are you going to watch your wife take my cock in her mouth?”

Ridge’s words struck him like lightning, crackling and powerful. Her mouth became dry; his pants tightened. He lost the ability to speak as Ridge leaned closer, never releasing him from that look.

“Are you going to be fine when I sink into her pussy?”

Carl gasped, seeing him, imagining his wife – his best friend – with his legs spread around this guy.

Ridge said, “I’m going to fuck her until she begs me to fuck her harder. Until she screams, Carl. Will you agree then? “

“Yes.” He drank his drink. “I think I will.”

Ridge smiles, finishing his drink with as much enthusiasm. “Okay then,” he said, looking toward the hall. “Let’s go.”


Mark was sitting in the dark behind her blindfold. Time lost its meaning as she waited, nervous and excited and vulnerable. His mind went to Ridge, the stranger they were about to invite into their bed. He was the kind of guy she knew she shouldn’t want – the bad boy, mundane and hardened at the edges because of it.

She had written it off almost as soon as she saw his photo – a photo of him shirtless taken at the gym. He was too arrogant a man for his own good. However, at Carl’s request, she emailed him.

The real surprise was how down-to-earth he looked. They had had a lot of questions about the arrangement – have you ever done it? Is it okay if my husband watches? Can we take photos? He had answered them sincerely, offering advice on his past experiences, making them feel comfortable.

She is still blushing when she thinks of the first time she sent him a photo of herself: a bikini photo with her face cropped. She feared he would not answer her. Instead, he replied with one word – more.

She was forced to, asking Carl to take more and more daring photos. She was in a rush every time she sent them, whenever she waited for her response. He was never disappointed. You are beautiful, he would write. So sexy, he had text. And always, always, Send me more.

Tonight he would see more. So much more.

The wine glass was trembling in his hands. She took a sip – the smallest sip – knowing that it left the red smear of her lipstick on it. Would Ridge find it sexy? She leaned over, touching the lace at the top of her stockings. She knew he would like it. He had asked for them.

I want you to wear stockings for me. Black and mean, because tonight you’re going to be bad. She still had this text on her phone. She considered removing the blindfold to read it.

Before she could, she heard the click and felt the pressure in the room change. His ears opened, trying to fill the blindness. Was it the steps of another man on the plush carpet? Was this stride longer, different?

And then she felt it – felt it him. Carl didn’t wear cologne like that. Carl was not wearing cologne at all. Below, however, she smelled of another man’s musk, hungry for her. He felt exactly the way he imagined Ridge would smell.

His hands touched his fingers, caressing the back of his hands as he took his glass of wine. She turned her head towards his face, wishing she could tear off the blindfold – magnet that she hadn’t.

But it wasn’t Ridge that broke the heady silence. It was Carl who said exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m here, darling. And remember, you’re not unfaithful if your husband watches.”

She smiled at himself, the moment Ridge leaned in to kiss him. Yes, she was ready for it. They were ready for it.