It was years ago and before I met Dave and before I even imagined that I would be partaking in anything resembling the shared hotwife style that I began to have certain fantasies. I would fantasize about threesomes, swinging, and even the occasional “gang bang” (what girl hasn’t, right?). I mainly imagined these fantasies when I was alone, pleasuring myself, as my husband at the time and I did not have the greatest of sex lives (that’s another story entirely). My fantasies would get pretty involved. I could picture the way that the men were touching me, their hands on my skin, around my neck, gripping my waist as they took turns taking me - usually vigorously. I never admitted to anyone about having these fantasies, because my marriage was on shaky ground. I didn’t feel comfortable or safe in sexual situations with my husband at the time, and I guess, it was partially because “good girls” didn’t have these types of fantasies. Fast forward to now. I’m divorced and remarried. I’ve have the man of my dreams. He’s everything that I’ve ever wanted. He makes me feel safe, loved and secure. There is this one little thing, though, this little thing involving sexual desires. I’m extremely sexual and I have an active sexual imagination, but when it comes to acting out these fantasies, it’s never been the easiest thing in the world for me. In the beginning, things with Dave and I were purely on the fantasy level. I would write him stories detailing fantasy sexual encounters and we would talk about all of the dirty and fun little things that turned us on. At some point though, things turned from fantasy to reality when he started asking me “would you really do this”. At first I said, “Of course I would, baby” (I was playing along with the fantasy), and then I began to have difficulty distinguishing whether he was actually “playing” or suggesting I do this for real. Making the jump to “for real” is a big thing. I don’t think I’m alone in this. For women especially, there are a lot of emotions surrounding the idea of being a hotwife. The number one thing for me was the idea that while I wanted desperately to do whatever I possibly could to keep the man of my dreams - who basically rescued me from the belief that I would never find love again - happy and interested. I also struggled with his desire to “share” me. People don’t share the things they care about the most, do they? Kids like to keep their best toys for themselves, so they don’t get broken. Was it really so easy for him to put me out there so that I could possibly be “broken”, or so that our relationship could get “broken”? If it was that easy, did he really love me the way that I loved him? I feel I need to say that I have zero desire to share Dave whatsoever. He’s my man and while the “fantasy idea” of him thrusting himself into another woman while I watch is undeniably sexy, making that into a reality would probably cause me to lose my mind. I have tried many times over to “be okay” with the idea of sharing him, but I just can’t seem to get there. Does this mean that I’m somehow less evolved than he is? Does it mean that I care about our relationship more than he does because I fear the consequences of him being with someone else? Would I actually like it if it happened even though every fibre of my being says “no”? I don’t know the answers. Eventually Dave was able to convince me (at least enough) that his wanting to share me did not mean that he loved me any less. It meant that he actually loved me more (crazy “upside down world” thought right there) because he trusted that I could go out and be with someone else and come back to him afterwards. So, I tried it. I went on a few dates, had a few minor sexual encounters and eventually went on a date where I went “all the way”. Let me tell you, I got “fucked sideways” (pardon the term) by the Bull that I chose. It was certainly an experience that I will never forget; this man did things to me that have never been done before or since. After my first “all the way” encounter, I found myself having strange feelings. I actually liked this guy. I wondered what it would be like to be with him again, or more often. I wanted him to hold me after we were finished, and when he did, I enjoyed it. My head pressed against his neck, listening to him breathe and talk to me as he stroked my hair. It was very romantic and very nice. And then I felt guilty, terribly so. I thought about Dave and how much I loved him, and I wondered what fickle part of myself was able to have any shred of emotional feeling for this guy who I had just been with when I really only did it to please my husband in the first place. Confusion was an angry tide, and I was being pulled out to sea. Was it sexy? Yes. Was it everything I had hoped it would be? Not entirely. Why did I do it? That’s the big question, and the simple answer is that I wanted to make my man’s fantasy of having a hotwife come true. Although I can’t deny there was a part of me that was curious or turned on by it all. It was, after all, a fantasy that I had just made a reality. Lastly, and most selfishly, I did it because of the reaction that Dave said he would have once I had done it. I had made a grand gesture by stepping out of my comfort zone and doing something crazy, and he was going to return “the favor” (if you can call it that) to me by doing all of the things that I crave most as a woman - romance, grand gestures, writing me music, desiring me uncontrollably and loving me even more than he had before. So, here we are today and I am mulling over the ideas of fantasy vs. reality and how we get from one to the other. I’m wondering how much of our fantasies should be acted upon, and if we acted upon them all, would we still derive the same sexual pleasure and charge from them. Would we still “return the favor” to one another in the same ways? Would we be changed somehow? I’m wondering whether once you act upon a fantasy if other things are still as meaningful or fulfilling. Will my man ever be as turned on by “just me” as he is by me being with another man? I’m also wondering about my fantasies. I’m wondering why I’ve been so hesitant to act some of them out. Is it because there is still some puritanical aspect to my psyche that tells me that I should be with only one man forever? Would it feel good to be between two men, feeling their hands on my skin, feeling one inside of me while I take another into my mouth, bringing them both to orgasm and tasting their sweet offerings? Would I derive an undeniable sexual power from giving the ultimate pleasure to more than one man at the same time, or to multiple men at different times? Of course I would. If, though, I embark upon a quest to fulfil these fantasies, will the “regular” ever be enough anymore? I suppose only time will tell.