In My Opinion

 56% percent of married men fantasize about their wives having sex with other men according to studies.

 Of those, maybe 20 percent actually go through with it.

I happen to be the wife of a man who enjoys it when I fuck other men. I also happen to love it. After all, what’s not to like? I get to meet handsome, sexy men and, with my husband’s encouragement, I have sex with them.

 If you’re inclined to engage in some slut-shaming, this would be the time. However, I prefer you just keep that to yourself. mmm’kay? Thanks!

I’ve read a lot of theories as to why men fantasize about their wives fucking other men. I think most of those theories are full of crap. Here are a few of those cockamamie (see what I did there?) theories.

Some psychologists say that men like the idea of their wives fucking other guys because of a thing called compersion. That’s when somebody enjoys knowing that a loved one is experiencing pleasure even if they, themselves are not involved.

If that’s all it is, my husband could achieve compersion by giving me a nice plate of chocolate chip cookies, pouring me a glass of cold milk, and sit across the table to watch me enjoy.

Or, he could get a brand new credit card, drop me off at the mall, and say, “Don’t call me to pick you up until the card is maxed out.”

Now, that’s compersion! No fucking other guys involved.

I call total BS on this one. Supposedly, there is some biological need for men to put their seed into a woman so that they can beat the other guy’s sperm to the finish line — Puuullleeeezz!
When I come home from a Hotwife date, after two hours of hot sex with another man, I’m 100 percent certain that Mark’s thoughts are not, “I gotta get my sperm in there before the other guy’s little beasties reach the egg!”
Mark has plenty of delicious, sexy thoughts about me having naked, Hotwife sex, but Sperm Competition is definitely not one of them.
Besides, when the other guy shoots his load onto my tits, there’s no need for sperm competition. All those little tadpoles are going to be dead in a few minutes, anyway.

To this one, I have to give a little credence. Men are visual creatures. Having pictures of me in the throes of hot sex with other guys is definitely a turn-on for Mark. I can get into looking at them, myself under the right conditions.
Also, my husband enjoys watching me in person as I’m getting fucked by another guy or two.
So yeah — there is voyeurism involved.
But, that’s the case with any sexual encounter, isn’t it? The visual is very much part of sex. When some guy is standing over me stroking his hard cock, I become quite the voyeur.

I can only speak for one man on this issue. But, Mark is most assuredly not bisexual. Not even a little bit, and nothing latent. His enjoyment of me getting banged by another man is not in any way driven by some hidden desire to see the other guy’s dick.
Of this, I am one hundred percent sure. Cross that idea off the list.

Being a Hotwife is empowering. That’s absolutely true.
Mark has always supported my endeavors in all areas, not just as a woman, but as his best friend and partner in life. That has nothing to do with his reasons for encouraging me to have sex with other men.
He wishes the best for me. But, I could never imagine him saying, “Darling, I want you to feel more empowered. Why don’t you go fuck and suck a few other guys to help you feel more confident.”
Uh….. no.
So, what is it, then? What makes a husband encourage his wife to be a sexual vixen? I’m no psychologist. I have no scientific data to back this up. But, I have a theory as to why many men fantasize and even encourage their wives to be naked in the arms of other men.

I wrote an article some time ago called It's The Skirts Who Rule, in which I said that in general, women control whether or not there will be sex. It’s their power.
Men are naturally envious of that power. A man with a loving wife might begin to think about how she could go out and pick up a man for sex with little effort.
He realizes that the woman who stands in the kitchen making pancakes for the kids in the morning could easily dress up that same night, go to a bar, and end up with a stranger’s cock between her legs with little effort.
She won’t do that because it would be cheating, betraying her marriage, and risking everything she holds dear. But, she could! That idea of it is a huge turn-on. That’s why stories of cheating wives are so popular.
Her husband doesn’t want to be a woman. He doesn’t want to have sex with men. But, he envies the potential sexual power that his wife holds.
The next best thing he can do is fantasize about it. When he imagines her with other men it gives him a vicarious thrill. The woman he loves could be turning on other men and even fucking them. That thought may stir jealousy, but it also can stir erotic impulses.
As I said, more than half of married men have this fantasy, and a surprisingly large number actually go through with it and let their wives fuck other men. Mine happens to be one of them.
That works for me.

Don wanted his wife to try something new. Rather than talking to her about it, he set it up as a surprise. He figured that, in the heat of the moment she’d go along to please him. Bad idea!

Mark would never do that. But, we got caught up in such a situation, and I bore the brunt of it.

We had been swinging a few years and for added anniversary zing, Mark set up a date for full swap with another couple. I was looking forward to it.

We were to meet Don and Sylvia at the restaurant. After dinner, the plan was to bring them back to the hotel for some foursome fun.

Mark had given me Don’s cell number ahead of time so that he and I could text each other all afternoon. I liked Don’s easy personality. He was fun and teasing in his texts.

“Sylvie’s a hot Latina,” he wrote. “Very sexy, like you.”

Another Latinx. I hadn’t met too many Latinx women, or even men thus far in the lifestyle. I was looking forward to some commonality.

When we got to the restaurant, Don stood at the entrance with his beautiful wife, Sylvie behind him. She had light brunette hair, was small in stature, and had a bright, sweet smile.

Mark stood in front of me so that Sylvia didn’t see me right away. She greeted Mark with a bright, flirty smile and extended her hand to him. As Mark moved forward, she caught sight of me.

Sylvia’s smile dropped to a sour, albeit surprised frown. Her demeanor completely changed.

I wondered what had happened. Was I dressed wrong? Was I not beautiful enough? Did she suddenly take ill? What was it?

Despite Sylvia’s cold reception, we got our table and ordered drinks. Mark and Don got along fine. They talked about their histories in the lifestyle. Their conversation flowed with friendly tones and occasional laughter.

I couldn’t figure out her deal. I tried to be polite and I asked her where she was from.

She said that, although she had been born in Mexico, her family was pure Spanish. She didn’t have a drop of Indigenous blood, and her family were lighter-skinned, not dark like me.

I was born in California. It’s true; I am a Latina with golden, olive complexion.

For only the second time in my life I felt the barbs of racism, and from another Latinx, no less.

I whispered to Mark that I was ready to go home and that I wasn’t comfortable.

We made an excuse to leave. Don and Sylvia left with us. In front of the restaurant, a couple of men were walking in and there was a little momentary human traffic jam.

The two men moved aside as they excused themselves.

“Oh, that’s alright,” she purred and gazed at them, as she played with her hair. “In fact, you can join us, if you like.”

She was inviting them to her lair.

The other men just smiled and passed us as they walked into the bar.

After awkward goodbyes, Mark and I went back to the hotel.

I was confused by the entire incident. Then, Mark told me what had actually happened.

Sylvia thought she and Don were going to meet Mark only for an MFM threesome. She wanted two men and was actually hoping for a ‘Double Penetration.’

Don wanted a couple’s swap and he hoped that Sylvia would go along if he surprised her. Pissed, she took it out on me, instead of her husband.

She was angry that I was there, but didn’t handle her disappointment in a kindly or even classy manner. She went for the jugular and I had no idea why.

Communication is key in the lifestyle. If Don had told Sylvie the truth, she could have accepted it or nixed the idea.

It would have saved us the trouble and saved me from feeling attacked and insulted.

I love surprises. But when it comes to the lifestyle, it’s best to be truthful.

I was blindsided by both Don and his bitch of a wife. It takes skill and experience to handle a situation like that. At the time I had neither.

And Feeling Okay About It

I was raised traditionally.

Despite my mother’s warnings, I let boys touch me. Obviously, I didn’t save myself for marriage. I was never a wild child, but I was a child of the 70s.

His name was Greg. We met him online, invited him to meet us at a hotel lounge, then went up to our room. Greg came with us.

There was a hot tub in the room. My husband, Mark suggested that we all get naked and jump into the tub. Mark had no interest in seeing Greg naked. But he did want to see me naked with Greg.

I kissed Mark. I could feel Greg’s hands on my naked back. I turned around and felt his hands on my front. He ran his fingers over my nipples and squeezed my tits.

I went back and forth, kissing Mark, then kissing Greg. The two of them ran their hands and fingers all over my body. Eventually, Greg was the one who suggested we dry off and move to the bed.

I climbed onto the middle of the king-sized bed with the guys on either side of me. Mark was on my right and Greg on my left. They were both running their hands all over my body.

I could tell that the guys took care not to touch each other. Neither of them had a phobia about it. They just weren’t into touching other guys. They wanted to touch and make love to only me.

Mark was being very generous. He was allowing Greg to fully enjoy the pleasure my body. I looked over at Mark’s face. He smiled almost proudly as Greg sucked my nipples. He leaned forward and kissed my lips with delicious hunger as Greg moved further down on me.

Greg’s kisses moved along my breasts to my tummy and then slowly toward my dark bush. Soon, his tongue was engaged in the folds of my moist pussy. The hot tub had somewhat dried my juices, but as Greg licked me, my own excitement was quickly replenishing the natural flow of wet, glistening pussy moisture.

Mark’s kisses were insistent and probing. At the same time, Greg’s tongue was gliding over all the right places. He is one of those men who knows how to properly lick a pussy. He concentrated in just the right spot and kept up the fluttering of his tongue in a rapid pace.

“Oh yes!” I whispered. “You do it just right.”

Greg brought me to a glorious orgasm. I almost bit Mark’s lower lip when I came. He backed away from my mouth for a moment. I think he was enjoying watching my face as I climaxed.

I’m a loud cummer. I scream and squeal and then I laugh. I can’t help it. I know it’s just the release of joy. One would think I was watching the funniest comedy ever. Instead, I’m crashing through an immense wave of orgasmic joy.

Mark said, “Please do.”

I opened my legs wide as Greg climbed on top of me. I was already very wet, so it was easy for him to enter me. He was decent in size and filled me up well. I tingled to the tips of my fingers as I felt him slide into my pussy, while at the same time my husband kissed my mouth. I turned my head toward Mark and made a guttural moan.

Greg began to talk to me. “Do you like that cock? Do you like that cock inside you?”

“Mm-hmm,” I squealed.

“Do you want it deeper? Do you like the way my cock feels in you?”

“Mm-hmmm.”

Mark leaned back. He stopped kissing me and just took in the view. He told me later that this was the first time he ever actually watched another guy’s cock sliding back and forth in my pussy. He said it fascinated him to watch another guy slip his hard cock past my curly hairs and to watch it disappear in my happy, wet hole.

Greg’s rhythm increased. He moved in, filled me fully, then pulled back. He didn’t pull out but pulled it to the tip and then came back into me until his cock was buried to the hilt. He did this repeatedly.

After a lot of this, Greg gritted his teeth and I felt his body quiver. He released a stream of cum inside of me. I could feel him shooting the juices in my pussy.

When Greg was spent and finally pulled his wet, but deflating cock out of me, Mark took his place. My husband eased his hardness into me. I was well lubricated from my own juices and the oozing cream of Greg’s cum.

My mind reeled in ecstasy as I felt a second man filling me, this one being my husband. From all the foreplay and anticipation, plus watching another man fuck me, it didn’t take Mark long to release his passion into my waiting pussy.

After all of this incredible passion, I thought briefly about all the things I had been told not to do.

“Don’t let a man touch you down there!”