Love The Way You Describe Your Emotions. Thanks For Sharing. Would Like To Ask You Who Was The First

Please complete your story about your first encounter with your stag, how he managed to make you meet him?

Maybe someday I will...

HI shefaali Would request you to please take time and complete after part 4 of the incident of you having it done with your stag the first time. Also would like to inform u that i had been able to copy many of your write up to mewe account. Of course have given reference of your blog.

Thank you. Will write the ending shortly.

You haven't mentioned about the people you saw in bed together when you returned home early.. I'm still curious about it

It's too embarrassing to mention about on the public page. Please message me separately.

Such intensity and passion in massaging is usually in my husband... And my bf from the swimming club who is a big time boob lover.

A testimonial...thank you.

Hey,

I have been following your blog for quite a while now and i must admit that the stories which you share here are really damn erotic and it never fails to turn me on. I wish I had a GF like you…. keep sharing more stories as your stories do better job of turning me on than most of the blogs here with pictures on them….

Cheap

[Cheap; Low in price, especially in relation to similar items or services; Inexpensive because of inferior quality.]

It was a cheap hotel. One that he found on the fly. One that he knew will not ask too many questions or proof of identity from either of us. One that wasn’t in either of our locations and one where once we came out of it, nobody will question and (hopefully) wouldn’t know where we came from or where we are headed towards. One where the ‘management’ knew the purpose of the rooms being let out, sometimes only at an hourly rate because it was often uncertain for the guests to decide beforehand the time that would spend indoor. One with a dim yellow bulb inside it which barely about let the couple see each other. One where the room had the bare essentials, a bed (double bed; they knew single rooms were useless for their purpose) with sheets which often are not exactly the cleanest, but also acceptable enough to use for the brief period while we were there, a small bedside table to keep the various ‘items’ which are typically involved, wall hooks and cheap plastic hangers to rest our clothes when they are not being used (which is about the most part of the time that we’re there), and a bathroom which had a shower which sprinkled just about the water required to ‘remove traces’ and be ‘civilized’ when we would step out of the room. One where the rickety wooden bed squeaked and creaked in the rhythm of the violent movements it so often endured. One where a passer by outside the room can hear the noise and voices and expressions of pain & pleasure (unless the inmates are completely muffled and stifled) and will still not bother because he/she would be more eager to get inside their own room (the irony being it is to remove the muffles and shackles from one’s mind that one has entered upon those premises in the first place). One where the rooms had that typical smell of being used for a certain purpose. One that would upon entering it, or even approaching it through the passage, would remind one of the purpose for which couples enter inside. One that will imprint on the memory that we are not the same anymore when we exit the room.

He took me there because the place we both are from, there exists a strong social/financial-status bias. While neither he nor me cared about the bias, we knew once “it” is over we would need to return to our respective neighbourhoods. And the bias would have raised questions if I were to invite him to my house…and his wife being a homemaker, his house was out of bounds. Thus was the need for him to identify the hotel.

I knew that I was fascinated by his ruggedness and coarse behaviour, and strange as it may sound the use of his words which were ‘absolutely unacceptable’ in the so-called society I belong to, and yet words, which instigated in me an uncontrollable desire to be his personally owned whore, to let him have his way around (and on) me. He was a bull, who I selected for myself, someone I knew for a brief while from before and developed the need to be together. For him, it was getting a high-society ‘housewife’ free for his personal use, which motivated him to spare the money on the hotel room. It didn’t take him a moment’s shyness to get rid of his own clothes, but did take some cajoling and maybe a slight exertion of force to tear the inner clothes off me despite our mutual knowledge that that’s why we were there, so he would ensure he gets his return from paying for the room rentals. It came naturally to him to get on top of me and move himself, but it took some convincing by him to get me on top of him to have myself so exposed as opposed to when under him, his body would keep me shadowed underneath it, that too with the lights on. He did had to pay extra because we used the room for a while longer than he estimated initially. I suppose he liked it more than he thought he would.

Love to be ur stag

Haha, thank you. Already have a fully functional one.

For some reason I am not able to send you direct messages. Just have a small confession to make - I recently cheated on my fiancée and it all came out bad and nasty - she got really badly hurt and i just now stopped spiralling down in guilt and shame and agony. I wish she heals soon and the love and trust regrows. I had posted and reposted a lot of shit so far, 99.99% promiscuous. The last reply of yours to a booksandquotes blog post was so deep and beautiful, could not resist writing to you.

I am not sure why you aren’t able to send a direct message, but I am happy to receive messages here, rather than directly to me. To begin with that quote wasn’t mine. I just re-blogged that quote because like you, I also found it a very meaningful one.

If I go slightly deeper into the situation you described, I think you are confusing between two things. It is one thing to read about someone else’s life in a blog and fantasize about it. It is quite another to accept one’s own principles and be at peace with own conscience. The trick is to be able to reconcile with what YOU want. It is not about seeing someone else’s life and imagining enacting their part. It never works…in fact, as you may have experienced it, it can be devastating. One of the reasons why it can be devastating is because when someone is trying to copy another’s life, he/she is only able to copy the physical manifestation of the other’s life…what one doesn’t realize, or rather get to know is what the other person went through in his/her mind when he/she committed to that act (the mere manifestation of which excites the audience). Thus the picture the reader gets is only half…only the physical part. He doesn’t get to know of the emotional turmoil that the character has gone through.

Naturally, when one imitates without having the full story, set-back is obvious. Coming back to the concept of cheating, one possible reason why I may have been able to survive in my lifestyle is because I have never labelled myself a cheater to any of my men…i don’t care what others label me, they are not living my life, I am, and I am very clear to my conscience. So far (and I don’t know how far it will be sustainable, so far it has), I have been able to compartmentalize ‘love’, ‘lust’ and ‘love & sex’ and never overlapped them.

So, please never make the mistake of falling for something that you do not possess full information of, as it could well lead to shame and agony and severe mistrust. I sincerely hope that with time you are reunited with your loved one and…and you don’t fall into the same hole again.

Cheers.

what is the most illicit thing that you have done or fantasised about

To put it differently, every aspect of my life as a hotwife is illicit; the very concept is when compared to the definition of marriage.