Many thanks to another one of my friends, D., on Black to White for her wonderful contribution!
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Hotwife in Training
Women who flirted around or slept with other men, who cheated or dressed too provocatively... well, I never had much respect for them. I always felt they were insecure, that they needed the attention. They weren’t “respectable” women who got “honest” attention. I didn’t need to go after it the way they did. I didn’t like the ladies, dare I label them ladies (?), who walked in a room and gathered that kind of attention. Now I see, I was just jealous.
So what am I now? I AM that woman. I DO sleep with other men. I DO enjoy the attention my body, my body language or my sexiness attracts. I DO gather attention by walking in the room.
...but I still feel “respectable”. I know as much as gaining attention by my body, I can back it up with my conversation skills, my caring eyes or a genuine smile. And most of all, I have the confidence to pull it off, because my husband and I have the openness and honesty in our marriage for me to not feel guilty about it. Rare is that gift to a woman to be able to carry herself in such a manner. As Mari also has said, for this gift, this luxury, I feel thankful.
I am a hotwife. It feels empowering. But as much as I love feeling sexy, I know who I am underneath. I know me and know I am a good person.
But do I still feel insecurities, abso freaking lutely. I am human. What if my body isn’t that great? What if I’m not that great of a lover? How many better women has he had? I fear rejection as much as the next person. I crave praise or compliments as much as anyone.
About 6 months ago, my loving husband of 18 years, approached me with his fantasy. He approached me with love, and he approached me with information. He made sexy slide shows and letters, we made a blog to share with each other, to express our “us” moments and our “bbc” desires. We explored the possibility of the lifestyle TOGETHER... as we do everything in life.
I had honestly never thought of being with another man, as I had all I ever needed or wanted. And I especially had never thought of a black man, probably more due to upbringing and social surroundings than anything. I was raised in a “this is how things are done and not done” household. I was also raised in an area where black boys calling white girls just was not done. I was raised to be a “good girl”, which I did to the T... until a few months ago.
However, my husband and I veered from the path of our upbringing, ventured open eyes into the big world and always saw no color in a person, but character.
Wow. Did he really just suggest to me that I should... that I COULD... that he would LIKE... that he would be TURNED ON... did I already say that I COULD (?)... have his PERMISSION to have sex with a black man? Holy cow. Wow. Wow. Digest this, woman.
He did. But it had to be black men.
We laid out ground rules and knew they would get adjusted. The biggest factor was for this bbc to offer me something different, something other than what my husband could provide. While we knew there would be a friendship and a mental connection, and needed to be, we did not want to, in any way, replace what my husband and I were as partners. We had to keep the mental part in check. Our sexual relationship at home is fireworks, but he knew having another man touch me, that teenager feeling, the endorphins, the lust, would be a new feeling. He also knew this lust would exude into my daily life and boost my confidence. And it did, it does. We also were both strong in the idea that if it didn’t work, for EITHER of us, it ceased.
For months, we discussed this fantasy. He would send me websites and testimonials, I would ask questions, he would ask questions, we would discuss our most heartfelt feelings and fears for where this could lead. How would we juggle it, how would it make us feel? ... the good, the bad and the ugly. We communicated, and we grew. And finally we reached a point that we felt there was no more discussing, we each felt content with where conversation had gotten us. We felt unbelievably secure in our endeavor and were ready to move forward. We felt amazingly close as a couple.
And yes, we felt hot and horny enough about the idea to want to try things out. Though I say we saw no color in people, we both now knew the thought of white skin against black skin was erotic and beautiful. We wanted to see it in person. I wanted to feel, smell, kiss, taste a black man against my body. I had glimpses of a confident me in my mind, but knew a smooth black man whispering sexy sounds in my ear would have me weak in the knees. My husband remained the only white man to hold my attention, while my head turned at every black man to cross my path.
And so we have “gotten our feet wet”, so to speak. We have had great moments and a handful of not so great moments. But we have communicated every step of the way. Baby steps. We find a lot of enjoyment in the new component of our relationship. He sees me as the sexy wife HE always knew I was, but that I had to dig down to release. And I see me as that now too. He loves that I trusted him enough to try out his fantasy. And I love that he trusted me enough to confess it to me. We have enjoyed the company of other men and now a regular bull/friend, who have given us the opportunity to explore our sexuality and enhance a marriage that I didn’t even think was able to grow any broader. To say I feel fulfilled... well, it is such an understatement.
So yes, I’ll walk in that room and hold my head high when I turn heads. I may not be a model, but I have confidence in my step, and a man who loves ALL of me on my arm. And I may walk out of the room with two men on my arms, one lovely white and one beautifully black, and that’d be just dandy too!
Wishing you all luck in this endeavor. It’s not for everyone. But it’s great for some!
Communication and baby steps!
Women who flirted around or slept with other men, who cheated or dressed too provocatively... well, I never had much respect for them. I always felt they were insecure, that they needed the attention. They weren’t “respectable” women who got “honest” attention. I didn’t need to go after it the way they did. I didn’t like the ladies, dare I label them ladies (?), who walked in a room and gathered that kind of attention. Now I see, I was just jealous.
So what am I now? I AM that woman. I DO sleep with other men. I DO enjoy the attention my body, my body language or my sexiness attracts. I DO gather attention by walking in the room.
...but I still feel “respectable”. I know as much as gaining attention by my body, I can back it up with my conversation skills, my caring eyes or a genuine smile. And most of all, I have the confidence to pull it off, because my husband and I have the openness and honesty in our marriage for me to not feel guilty about it. Rare is that gift to a woman to be able to carry herself in such a manner. As Mari also has said, for this gift, this luxury, I feel thankful.
I am a hotwife. It feels empowering. But as much as I love feeling sexy, I know who I am underneath. I know me and know I am a good person.
But do I still feel insecurities, abso freaking lutely. I am human. What if my body isn’t that great? What if I’m not that great of a lover? How many better women has he had? I fear rejection as much as the next person. I crave praise or compliments as much as anyone.
About 6 months ago, my loving husband of 18 years, approached me with his fantasy. He approached me with love, and he approached me with information. He made sexy slide shows and letters, we made a blog to share with each other, to express our “us” moments and our “bbc” desires. We explored the possibility of the lifestyle TOGETHER... as we do everything in life.
I had honestly never thought of being with another man, as I had all I ever needed or wanted. And I especially had never thought of a black man, probably more due to upbringing and social surroundings than anything. I was raised in a “this is how things are done and not done” household. I was also raised in an area where black boys calling white girls just was not done. I was raised to be a “good girl”, which I did to the T... until a few months ago.
However, my husband and I veered from the path of our upbringing, ventured open eyes into the big world and always saw no color in a person, but character.
Wow. Did he really just suggest to me that I should... that I COULD... that he would LIKE... that he would be TURNED ON... did I already say that I COULD (?)... have his PERMISSION to have sex with a black man? Holy cow. Wow. Wow. Digest this, woman.
He did. But it had to be black men.
We laid out ground rules and knew they would get adjusted. The biggest factor was for this bbc to offer me something different, something other than what my husband could provide. While we knew there would be a friendship and a mental connection, and needed to be, we did not want to, in any way, replace what my husband and I were as partners. We had to keep the mental part in check. Our sexual relationship at home is fireworks, but he knew having another man touch me, that teenager feeling, the endorphins, the lust, would be a new feeling. He also knew this lust would exude into my daily life and boost my confidence. And it did, it does. We also were both strong in the idea that if it didn’t work, for EITHER of us, it ceased.
For months, we discussed this fantasy. He would send me websites and testimonials, I would ask questions, he would ask questions, we would discuss our most heartfelt feelings and fears for where this could lead. How would we juggle it, how would it make us feel? ... the good, the bad and the ugly. We communicated, and we grew. And finally we reached a point that we felt there was no more discussing, we each felt content with where conversation had gotten us. We felt unbelievably secure in our endeavor and were ready to move forward. We felt amazingly close as a couple.
And yes, we felt hot and horny enough about the idea to want to try things out. Though I say we saw no color in people, we both now knew the thought of white skin against black skin was erotic and beautiful. We wanted to see it in person. I wanted to feel, smell, kiss, taste a black man against my body. I had glimpses of a confident me in my mind, but knew a smooth black man whispering sexy sounds in my ear would have me weak in the knees. My husband remained the only white man to hold my attention, while my head turned at every black man to cross my path.
And so we have “gotten our feet wet”, so to speak. We have had great moments and a handful of not so great moments. But we have communicated every step of the way. Baby steps. We find a lot of enjoyment in the new component of our relationship. He sees me as the sexy wife HE always knew I was, but that I had to dig down to release. And I see me as that now too. He loves that I trusted him enough to try out his fantasy. And I love that he trusted me enough to confess it to me. We have enjoyed the company of other men and now a regular bull/friend, who have given us the opportunity to explore our sexuality and enhance a marriage that I didn’t even think was able to grow any broader. To say I feel fulfilled... well, it is such an understatement.
So yes, I’ll walk in that room and hold my head high when I turn heads. I may not be a model, but I have confidence in my step, and a man who loves ALL of me on my arm. And I may walk out of the room with two men on my arms, one lovely white and one beautifully black, and that’d be just dandy too!
Wishing you all luck in this endeavor. It’s not for everyone. But it’s great for some!
Communication and baby steps!
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