I’m often asked the same question by followers – “how can I ..
🕑 Added 2022-04-03 23:08:23 +0000 UTC
I’m often asked the same question by followers – “how can I get my wife to want to become a hotwife?”
Immediately, the phraseology tells me that these men have the wrong perspective on the question from the out-start.
You see, on some level, EVERY wife wants to be a hotwife. So, the hard work, really, has already been accomplished. All her pervy husband needs to do is make her absolutely comfortable enough to allow her to pursue her fantasies without fear that it will diminish or undermine the most important things in her life - her marriage and family.
And I’ll be the first to admit – as enticing as it is to be offered the opportunity to couple with sexy y0ung bulls – it can be a hard sell. Most happily married women are going to be somewhat hesitant at first. For starters, it all sounds like a setup. We’re taught rather early that if something sounds too good to be true, then it probably is. And this most certainly falls under that category.
“What man in his right mind,” your wife will undoubtedly be thinking, “wants his wife to be intimate with virile, y0unger men?” It will naturally make her wonder if you’re attempting to either manufacture some sort of excuse to end the marriage or looking for leverage in getting her to agree to something similar on your end. Either way, these are not palatable outcomes for most women.
So the uphill battle really will involve convincing/educating your wife on the following three things: (A) it’s most definitely not a trap or a setup lol; (B) it’s every bit as natural for a husband to want it as his wife; and (C) not only will it NOT hurt your marriage, if done correctly, it can open up an entire new level of intimacy between the two of you.
Since I’m the one who broached this particular question in our marriage, I didn’t have to deal with (A). But (B) and (C) were both things that I researched rather thoroughly before finally pouring my husband a bourbon on that one fateful day and starting our little discussion. So, fortunately for you, I’ve already done the heavy lifting.
I knew early on that (B) was going to be the sticking point with Scott, even though I strongly suspected that he’d been blessed with this particular little kink. Sadly, the male ego is a powerful force of nature, and a man’s self perception is strongly tied to how he feels he’s perceived by others. It’s an evolutionary throwback to less civilized times, but fortunately, this toxic little impediment to female fulfillment can be cured.
I actually turned the table a bit and stroked my husband’s ego to get him in the right mindset. Yes, it was slightly manipulative on my part, but it was the quickest way to get him comfortable with his own feelings. And honestly, would you expect anything less of me.
I told him (and this much is true) that many men are drawn to the lifestyle because (somewhat surprisingly) they’re wired to compete. For everything. And nothing – and I do mean nothing - brings out a man’s competitive fire quite like competition for pussy. I told my sweet husband to think about all of his friends who are now completely and utterly bored out of their minds with their wives. I told him that the reason isn’t because their wives are boring (although some of them truly are), but rather because these men no longer feel the need to have to compete for them. What had once been the shiniest of new toys somehow inexplicably lost its luster, and the reason is because of the husband’s misconception that no one else wants to play with it.
“But what if…, I continued, you had a magic tool hanging in your garage (or more appropriately, between the legs of a sexy y0ung stranger, I thought to myself) that could completely eliminate that boredom from ever occurring. You’d be an absolute idiot not to put it to use, right?”
With slightly more than a hint of incredulity, my husband finally relented and took the bai.t.
“You see, baby,” I cooed while taking a sip of his bourbon, “you are the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with, and the last thing that I ever want is for my one true soulmate to get bored of me – and because my love for you is so incredibly strong, I absolutely refuse to allow you to ever be stuck in a lifeless marriage.”
“And fortunately for my sweet hubby,” I continued, “I have literally stumbled upon the silver bullet. So hear me out. I’ll admit, it may sound - shall we say - a bit unorthodox at first. But trust me, it’s going to sIap a new coat of luster onto your pretty little wife quicker than you can say the word ‘cuckold.’” I laughed slightly as I delivered my setup line, which Scott took in one giant gulp.
“Cuckold?” he asked with one eyebrow raised ever so subtly, suggesting a familiarity with the term that he was afraid to let on.
“Yes, sweetie. ‘Cuckold.’ It’s the term used for confident husbands who utterly despise the thought of their wives losing the lustrous sheen that attracted her to them in the first place.”
At that point, I finished his bourbon and rose to pour him another glass. “Bottoms up,” I said handing it to him, “we’re going to continue this little presentation in the bedroom. I have a new toy that I think might be the perfect visual aid for you.”
“But trust me, there’s definitely nothing ‘little’ about it.”
Obviously, as they say, the rest is history. That one conversation led to others, which led to others, which ultimately led to me inviting the sexiest of y0ung bulls to take my hotwife cherry in the bed that Scott and I share with one another.
Since that time, I’ve been more open with Scott than ever before – sharing with him the types of secrets that I’ve previously only shared with my closest of girlfriends.
He now fully knows and accepts my desire for the type of length and thickness that he doesn’t possess, and he’s laid in the pitch black and listened to me moan like a whore from a neighboring hotel bed for a bull who’s blessed with what it takes to satisfy my more primal feminine needs.
And I truly believe that the level of intimacy we now share with one another could never have been achieved without our adoption of the hotwife lifestyle. Life is irrefutably ironic.
The takeaway recipe here? Equal parts bourbon and honesty with just a splash of manipulation, and garnished with a very thick and veiny black dildo.
