Pristine White

More Stag & Vixen captions at: http://stagandvixen.tumblr.com/

Whenever I get tired of all the anti-masculine sentiment so prevalent in western culture I come here to your blog. It is almost restorative to read the musings of a woman who genuinely seems to enjoy men and everything about. Here we are made to feel guilty and ashamed for wanting a woman. You not only enjoy being wanted you appear to revel in it. I wish you a wonderful day sexy woman.

Thank you for the message. I have respect for all of them who are fighting for the social justice for women. But I think the fight is often misinterpreted as a fight against men. It isn’t. The enemy is the system, not the men. It is just that that some men have created the system and yet some men have been following it like gospel. It is not that the entire ‘man’-kind is at fault.

The men that I have been mentally associated with have all displayed the single characteristic of utmost respect to women and seeing a woman as an equal partner in their life. I think the other thing that may have confused some is about the particular behaviour of man-kind during the act of physical union. Behaviour at that phase is NOT necessarily what constitutes the behaviour of the man overall. Some men, my two husbands included, who I am soul mates with, change their behaviour when it comes to deriving pleasure from their woman, and I have absolutely no problem with acknowledging or encouraging them to let them exert all their ‘ownership’ over me at that time. Deep down I already know the respect that they have for me, and I am most willingly open to be their wanton whore when they demand me to be.

Similar behaviour is exhibited by some of the bulls that I am sent to. One of the primary traits that my stag looks for in a bull is the combination of masculinity and respectfulness. In other words, the bulls that I am eventually made available to for them to ‘hunt’ me down (it’s usually always letting them believe that they hunted me down, instead of being served on a plate, to make them feel they need to cherish their win thereafter) have in most occasions displayed both these natures. In some instances, a few of those who i have played a courtesan with may have been outliers and bordered mostly on the masculinity trait, but then that’s fine too. I am not looking for any association with them and the game ends with us getting dressed once he has made himself happy.

Not sure if I could articulate my views properly, but am happy to answer further if you wanted.

One of the sexiest blog I came across Loved it to the core And I am happy that you are an Indian Thank you existing dear

Thank you for the kind words.

I studied your blog many times and came to conclusion that You are the hotwife whom I was seeking but You meet the people whom your stag introduced you. My question is how to contact your stag so I can meet you.

~ While I am flattered at your compliments, I must also point out that I do not meet anyone from here. Thanks for taking time to read my posts.

How does it feel to be a hotwife ?

I was very apprehensive of how it would be to let random men, men who I have hardly ever met before to fuck me, sometimes completely random strangers who neither me nor my stag would have met before.

I would think that the way my stag had planned my transition and metamorphosis from being a wife to a hotwife is really remarkable.It took him time to convince me of the potential pleasures, but I believe he found an eager student in me. So beginning with men who would be known to me, or at least to him, we gradually moved on to men that he, or even I would fancy...yes, he also inculcated in me the need to fancy men and then letting them hunt me down to boost their masculine ego.

In short, yes, I am happy to be a hotwife now and I have no regrets about my decision.

I have been fortunate. All my bulls found me attractive enough to pursue and capture. I never had to try too hard to convince the prospective bull. Often the bulls have themselves proposed to host me for the few required glorious hours either at their apartments or their hotel rooms.

Wow shefali... have u ever tried writing an erotic novel... ur writing would put the bestsellers to shame... in fact , ur writing doesnt need the cock to be even touched coz its getting hard with just ur words... one question , have u ever tried with close relatives? If yes, hows the experience been?

Never been with a close ‘relative’ as such...however, my brother-in-law, as in my sister's husband and I had come quite close for a brief period of time before they migrated...and yes, it felt really good, though at times i would suffer from pangs of guilt.

Love your attitude

Waiting for part 4 😋

Thank you. Will soon post it.

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.