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My Husband Made Me Do It

My Husband Made Me Do It

a First-Time Cuckold Hotwife Fantasy

Book 1 of Confessions of a Cuckoldress

She Didn't Want to Do It... It Was Her Own Husband Who Insisted... Now, They're Both Deep into an Entirely New Sort of Marriage and Neither Will Ever Want to Turn Back

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She Didn't Want to Do It... It Was Her Own Husband Who Insisted... Now, They're Both Deep into an Entirely New Sort of Marriage and Neither Will Ever Want to Turn Back

She would've never considered it, never thought it possible. She wouldn't dare allow herself to fantasize about sleeping with another man. Not outside her marriage. And definitely not with a complete stranger

Blame it on the cocktail buzz. Or the feel of that tall, dark, and handsome stranger's eyes on her body. Or her husband's own obvious encouragement, his absolute lust for the idea of his wife sleeping with another man. 

She would've never imagined herself to be a cuckoldress, definitely not picture her husband as a willing cuckold. But he wanted it. So badly. 

And after she follows his gentle coaxing—one teasing, seductive move after another—at a club this night, she lures in a complete stranger, an eager man with a primal urge she's actually enjoying promising to satisfy. 

And, oh, how she does

Just when is the point of no return? Who's to say it wasn't the very moment her husband first revealed just how turned on he is by his wife taking pleasure from any man—all men—that she pleases? 

One thing's for sure: this won't be the last time her loving husband is cuckolded. Or the last time she thanks her husband wholeheartedly for changing their marriage forever. 

His Greatest Desire ~ Her Intense, First-Time Hot Wife Experience Encouraged ~ Their Unforgettable, First Venture into a Cuckold Hotwife Relationship

....  "We shouldn't have teased him."

"Why not?  That's what men want.  Believe me, that was one of the hottest moments of his life.  And I... I love seeing how much you turn on another man.  You know how sexy it is to see another man all hot and bothered and dying to have your wife?"

I didn't quite understand, but the look of excitement and pure thrill on Joe's face was obvious.

"I'm going to the men's room," he said and started to scoot out of the booth again, leaving his drink behind.

"But, wait!  Now?"

Joe nodded and disappeared into the crowd.  I tried to follow his path to the men's room on the other side of the club by the entrance, but I couldn't catch any sight of him.  I was suddenly that lone woman in the club, vulnerable prey for all those lonely men hoping to hook up.

I sipped my cocktail through my straw, then fumbled through my purse for my compact mirror.  In my slightly drunken state, I caused my favorite lipstick to fall out and off my seat and roll away from the booth.  I didn't hesitate to reach down for it; and as my fingertips stretched to reach the tube of lipstick, I glanced up and into the crowd.

He was watching me.  That total stranger's eyes were on me, and I realized I was giving him the cleavage view of a lifetime. 

I sat up immediately, adjusted the neckline of my blouse, and decided to apply a fresh coat of lipstick, as if I never noticed him at all.  With a tiny tilt of my compact mirror, I could see him.  His eyes were still on me.  And it was so obvious how badly he wanted me.

I traced the curve of my lips with my lipstick.  He watched.  I pressed my lips together—slowly—enhancing their shape and fullness with renewed color.  He watched.  I packed away my lipstick and mirror in my purse again, quickly, casually glanced in the stranger's direction.  He still watched. 

I waited for my husband's return, feeling the buzz of the cocktail in my bloodstream, decided to scoot to the edge of the booth and face the mass of sweating bodies on the dance floor to pass the time watching.

Time was moving by so slowly.

My slender legs dangled over the edge of the seat, crossed at the knee, my foot swinging to the beat of the music.  He was still watching.

Something about the piercing look in the stranger's eyes—his obvious hunger—and my own husband's excitement in the moments before made me feel extra alert, on, alive.

I tilted my head to the side slightly, let my long hair slide over my shoulder, the ends teasingly touching my cleavage.  Then, I spotted my husband.

Joe wasn't walking toward me.  He was still on the opposite side of the room, just standing there outside the passageway to the restrooms.  He was smiling at me.  And I recognized that look in his eyes, even all the way across the dance floor.  He was happy, he was turned on, he approved.

With the most casual movement, my husband slid his finger down the front of his shirt.  I interpreted the signal immediately.

I brushed the fallen strands of my hair back over my shoulder, lifted my own finger coolly up to my ear, traced the curve of my neck, and slowly slid my finger over my bare collar bone revealed by my blouse's deep neckline.  My finger continued to trail down over my décolletage as I felt the heat of those two sets of eyes on me: the sizzle of being the object of desire of men.

I may have been blushing then, but I was in complete control.  Completely confident, completely turned on.

My finger gracefully played over the top of my breasts as I teased my husband and toyed with the man my husband encouraged me to seduce.  My fingertip gently—achingly slowly—prodded the cleft of my cleavage and traced its way back out again.

I could feel it: the two crotches pulsing with new desire, growing hot and hard, and wanting me.

My line of sight was focused on my husband when the stranger approached me.  I'd caused that.  I'd invited him.

My eyes darted, still coolly, to the strange man standing beside me, then passed a quick inquiry to my husband who still chose to maintain his position far across the room.

Joe smiled.  A radiant, wide, all-approving smile.  Then, it vanished, replaced with a serious look of intent, an expression of anticipation, eagerness.

"Hello," the unknown man spoke first.

I knew exactly what I looked like to that man towering over me in that moment.  I knew full well the expression I served up to him, the attitude I portrayed, what my eyes, mouth, the blush on my cheeks, and more, said without me speaking a single word.  A woman knows.  A woman is always in control.

I fed that stranger and his deep-seated hunger the perfect picture of a deliciously edible—and available—morsel.  I communicated my answer to his question: yes, I am the ultimate catch, the best sex you may ever have.  ....

Average Rating: 5.0/5.0 from 1 reviews

on October 7, 2015
We've gotten laser-precise with the terminology in the third-wave after the Sexual Revolution. The paleolithic terms were "swinging", "swapping", and the polite but somewhat more plaintive-sounding "open marriage". In the Nineties, when I was in my twentysomething prime, these were still the terms one heard, even in my own rather bohemian milieu at that time. (Obviously not bohemian enough.) Nowadays the bold and the beautiful enjoy a range of swinging roles to play if they're so inclined, and some of these roles have new (to me) names: "cucks" (for cuckolds -- an old word, by the way, that has amusingly made a modern, trendy comeback) and "hotwives". Unlike his forbears stretching back to antiquity, today's cuck is aware of his wife's infidelities and indeed encourages them; the hotwife tenderly agrees to her husband's antlering with great zest but stays devoted to him despite her straying, straying that is, after all, prompted by him. A good game for those with the adventurousness to play.

An out-of-touch middle-aged man like me needs to be led by the hand through this brave new world; who else but Tina Tirrell, a young author with her finger on the pulse of today's freedoms, to be my equal-parts filthy-minded and compassionate tour guide? We meet our marrieds, Joe and an Unnamed Lady (as far as I can tell), in a club, getting liquored up. The Lady thinks she's going to have a night of dancing and people-watching; Joe, however, has other plans for her. Jammed at the bar, the Lady is noticed by a tall, dark stranger: this is enough to set Joe's plans in motion. "Why don't you give him a little show?" he whispers in his wife's ear. Our Lady narrates, "I was positively slutty. And I liked it." So she shows the other guy some USDA Prime thigh. Hallelujah!

I won't spoil the rest except to say that Joe, eager for what traditional folks would consider marital abasement. manages to get his wife and the stranger alone at a table: he watches while she and the man sit together for about 5 seconds before hurrying out of the club to ... well, read it to find out. Suffice it to say that this story, in both the throbbing anticipatory first half and the steamy second half, contains some of the most red-hot prose Ms. Tirrell has conjured up. But that's only part of it. Ms. Tirrell's real triumph here is that she convincingly creates a woman who may have gotten married too young but got lucky in a loving husband anyway. The Lady's thoughts shows us a woman who is spreading her erotic wings, perhaps making up for some missed sown oats, but who also acts to please her husband -- and it's important that we believe that last part of it. Finally, Ms. Tirrell grasps the psychology at work here, in terms of Joe's motives: all of us, men and women, rather enjoy being seen with an attractive mate. The cuck-hotwife scenario takes these universal feelings to their logical satisfaction; Tina Tirrell takes that satisfaction to its hottest place. It's worth noting that Tirrell's denouement is deeply romantic. And dirty. :)

5 out of 5 -- I'll discuss the interesting power-plays this lifestyle brings up between the genders in Book 2 of this series, "Savoring a Stranger" (ran out of room to do it here).

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