Got young Oliver coming over shortly for some afternoon delight. My first playdate since I restarted posting on here. I've been slacking - I know! Need to up my game!
Do people on here prefer just photos, or the stories, or both?
#hotwife #slutwife #horny
Thursday, October 25, 2018
Monday, October 22, 2018
So what happened to me?
I was blogging fairly regularly up until 2013, and then suddenly - just like that - I disappeared. So what happened?
If you were following me at the time, you’ll have seen that I was enjoying a very indulgent and luxurious situation with a handful of regular lovers (including Philip and Teddy), a wonderful husband (Paul) who was aware of my dalliances but chose to turn a blind eye to it, as long as I was careful not to bring any trouble or scandal to the business or our family home, and I had to ensure that everyone’s identities were protected and kept out of the limelight.
The problem was that as my online following grew, Paul, my husband became increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, even though I’d never used anything more than people’s first names, and always kept faces and any distinguishing features or places out of shot on any pictures that I’d posted. Then one of my play partners, Edward (also called Teddy), became aware of my online activities and asked me to desist. I didn’t stop altogether, but I did blog more about my past than about my present and future.
However, then everything went horribly wrong, horribly fast.
I fell pregnant.
I still have no idea how it happened, I was on the contraceptive implant and had been for a while. I wasn’t due to have another implant for another three months and yet after I had a weird spotting for a few weeks, and that familiar feeling of ‘something being up’ - I did a test, and it came back positive.
The first thing I did was tell Paul. Which was a mistake. He’d been in Australia, Vietnam and the US for the past three months, and we’d barely made love at all even when he was home. With the timing, he knew it wasn’t his, and he was, understandably furious.
At the time, I was in somewhat of a lull (for me); out of my five regular playmates, I was only sleeping with one for various reasons, my husband’s Uncle Philip. When I told Paul who it was, he became even angrier.
Things couldn’t have been worse. Of course, we had the option of abortion. I’m not going to tell you my exact age, but while I wasn’t ‘too old’ to have a baby, I already had two kids and we were happy with that. I didn’t want more. However, the idea of abortion has always seemed abhorrent to me. I’m not going to get into a discussion of the rights and wrongs of abortion. That’s a very personal subject to many people. But at this time, despite Paul wanting to discuss it, I couldn’t bring myself to abort the baby.
I knew it was awkward, with Philip being family, and yet somehow in my mind, that made it a little easier. I didn’t know how Phil would react, so I didn’t tell him straight away that it was his, although we did tell him, and my other lovers that I was pregnant and we made the decision for me to stop seeing any of them for a while.
It wasn’t really a ‘we’ decision. Paul insisted on it. He’d always told me he was happy for me to sleep with other men. He knew he wasn’t well-endowed enough for me, and that he wasn’t ever going to be able to keep me and my appetites satisfied, especially with him travelling around the globe as he does, so it had been a convenient arrangement but somehow, even though this was an accident, he blamed me for it. He didn’t want another child, but much more than, the fact that I was pregnant with another man’s child and I wasn’t going to get rid of it for him or our marriage felt like a betrayal, much more so than me being intimate with other men outside of our marriage.
So, we made an agreement. I would stop seeing other men, we’d pretend to everyone, even Philip, that the child was his, to save him embarrassment, and we would try to make it work. But all of this caused resentment in me, which added to the hurt in his heart and to say that things were impossible would be understating it hugely.
After six heartbreaking months of arguments, self-doubt, and loneliness due to Paul still having to work, my frustrations got the better of me. Although I hadn’t been sleeping with any of my play friends, I was still friends with him, especially Teddy, the oldest and wisest of them, and he invited me over to his restaurant as he often did. I went, just expecting to have a nice dinner and talk with him for some company, but somehow he ended up taking me to his house and even though I was six months along, and had a considerable bump (and huge breasts to go with it), he fucked me all night.
I shouldn’t have given in to my frustration but it was more than that. Paul had been distant with me, and I needed some love and cuddles as much, if not even more than I needed the sex. It was just one night. I thought it would be fine. There would be no way Paul would find out. But he did. I had no idea that he’d done it, but he’d put some tiny cameras in the house, to keep an eye on me while I was away. Even Cerys, our nanny didn’t know.
The following morning he called me, asking me where I’d been during the night. He told me about the cameras, and that he’d seen that I hadn’t come home. I was so angry at being spied on that I told him the truth. I need some company, some love, some affection and that I’d made a mistake and spent the night at Teddy’s. He told me it was over. He wanted a divorce. It was broken and couldn’t be fixed.
I was utterly heartbroken. He let me keep the house, we agreed a way forward regarding a regular income for me and access for him to the children, and just two months later, I signed the divorce papers and that was it.
Two months after that, I had the baby. A beautiful little girl, who I still called Esme, a name that Paul and I had decided upon together, despite us no longer being married. She brought me so much joy; she was a light in the darkness, but it didn’t stop me from becoming deeply depressed. I hadn’t slept with anyone since that night with Teddy, partly out of choice but also because I became so big during the last few months that it was impossible and due to a difficult birth, I wasn’t in any fit state to have sex for quite a while. Added to that the fact that I’d put on a lot of weight and couldn’t bear to let anyone see me naked.
I’d lost my husband, my lovers, most of my friends due to not being able to explain to them the real reason for my divorce, and even the little hobby of my blog.
It was an awful time, but eventually, I managed to lift myself out of it. It took Cerys and Teddy a long time to convince me, but they did encourage me to start going to the gym, to get my figure back by eating healthier, to go out and shop and treat myself to some nice things rather than spend everything on the children and slowly, my confidence came back and I started to feel like the old me again. I slept with Teddy a few times during that spell, but I didn’t ever want him to get too close and think that we might ever be a couple. He’s a lovely man, but thirty years older than me and not someone I’ve ever been able to spend that much time in his company without him irritating me with his funny little ways. So I kept him at arms’ length while making sure I was being a friend to him like he was to me, and not just using him.
Then I began dating. I’ll save that three years of my life for another series of blogs because there’s a lot to tell. A lot of dates. A lot of complete failures. A lot of one night stands. Several men that saw second and third dates. Numerous men that lasted longer than that. And two men who I called a boyfriend for a long while. The second of whom, as we broke up, decided to spill the secret that I’d shared with him, that Philip is Esme’s father.
Phil was shocked at first, then angry at not being told that he had a young daughter, essentially missing out on the first four years of her life, but he did eventually come to understand my reasons why. And in the end, it turned out to be a good thing, because he contacted Paul, his nephew, to ask him why he hadn’t told him when we’d split up.
That brought Paul and me face-to-face for our first proper talk in a long time. We’d spoken regularly, of course, to discuss the children and seen each other at handover times, but we’d not talked properly. Not like this. About the repercussions of our actions. About our feelings.
We’d loved each other deeply once. The kind of love that never goes away. When we’d split up, anger had been the overriding emotion. Anger, frustration, humiliations, shame, all of these feelings had ruined us at the time, but that was four years ago. Those intense emotions were all in the past now. And for whatever reason, as Paul and I began to talk about how to handle the situation with Phil and how to move forward now more people were learning about the truth of why we’d divorced, somehow we reconnected.
Paul had dated a couple of women while we’d been apart, but he’d never been the most highly sexed man anyway and hadn’t found anyone he cared for. I’d been with dozens of men, which I told him about candidly and he appreciated my honesty. Then, unbelievably, after we’d confessed that we still had feelings for each other and the fact that maybe that was why we’d never moved on, we went to bed and had sex.
It was surreal. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, several years apart with barely any emotional conversations or connection, we just fell back together almost instantly. The moment he was inside me, I remembered why I’d always still enjoyed making love to him, despite his shortcomings when compared to my lovers.
Because he’s the one. My one. There’s just something about Paul that I love; that indefinable quality that I can’t quite put my finger on. Some would say we’re soulmates. I don’t know, but it’s definitely there. Even after all we’d been through, all the time apart, it was still there. The two jigsaw pieces that just fit together perfectly.
I’m not going to write paragraphs upon paragraphs on how we got back together. He wanted it. I wanted it. The kids wanted it. Even Cerys wanted it. The only resistance we met was from Paul’s Uncle, who was just getting used to the idea of being a father, so that put a spanner in the works, we talked it over, the three of us, in a very awkward conversation over dinner at Teddy’s restaurant who even took on the job of being a mediator, if we needed it.
There were a lot of things to sort out before we could move back in together, and give our relationship a second chance. Just because Paul had exploded back into my life, didn’t mean that he would be able to keep me satisfied this time around. I’d learned a lot, but that side of me hadn’t changed. He hadn’t suddenly become Superman in the bedroom either and his dick hadn’t grown by four inches. So, we had to be realistic. If we did this, he would sooner or later have to accept the fact that I would get frustrated and horny and wanted a lover. Could he handle that?
How would we deal with Phil being Esme’s father? He wanted a role in her life, and I wasn’t going to deny him that. Could Paul be a stepfather to her, with no resentment and be a positive figure in her life?
Finally, the cat was out of the bag with a lot of people now, about what kind of relationship Paul and I had been in during our marriage, the rumours that he’d been a willing cuckold were rife and almost as common was the knowledge that I was a dirty slut or a cheating housewife, however you choose to see it. How could we get back together and get our lives back on track with that looming over us?
But we found answers. Paul agreed to let me take lovers, as I had before, but with the promise to be even more careful than before and to be absolutely honest with each other about our feelings and whereabouts at all times. He agreed to take on Phil’s child, even though I could tell he found that difficult. Philip has full access and has Esme every fortnight, but the rest of the time, Paul treats her like he’s his own child. I know he finds it humiliating at times, with some of his friends being aware that he’s raising another man’s child from an affair that she had, but we changed a large circle of our friends and avoided the scrutiny of our neighbours by moving. We still live in Cheshire, but thirty miles from where we were before, further from Manchester than what we were before.
I’m still in touch with some of my old playmates, and I’ve got several new ones, including one of the boyfriends that I made during my marriage hiatus, and another guy that I fucked in that time who was quite memorable and I decided to see again. I’ll detail all of them more as I get back into the swing of blogging.
Which of course is that last part of this post. As I got back into being a hotwife, and life began to get back to something approaching normal with Paul and I (it’ll never quite be normal again), I told him I wanted to write again. That I enjoyed blogging back then, making new friends and some new lovers, and that I’d like to give it another go.
I’d stopped for all of the above reasons - life takes on new priorities when your marriage breaks up, and when everything changes, so do you, but it’s funny how often you come back to where you started.
So this is a new start. Five years after my last proper post, I hope you’ll follow this journey with me again as I write my book about my life experiences.
And hopefully, this time, nothing will go wrong and stop me.
If you were following me at the time, you’ll have seen that I was enjoying a very indulgent and luxurious situation with a handful of regular lovers (including Philip and Teddy), a wonderful husband (Paul) who was aware of my dalliances but chose to turn a blind eye to it, as long as I was careful not to bring any trouble or scandal to the business or our family home, and I had to ensure that everyone’s identities were protected and kept out of the limelight.
The problem was that as my online following grew, Paul, my husband became increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, even though I’d never used anything more than people’s first names, and always kept faces and any distinguishing features or places out of shot on any pictures that I’d posted. Then one of my play partners, Edward (also called Teddy), became aware of my online activities and asked me to desist. I didn’t stop altogether, but I did blog more about my past than about my present and future.
However, then everything went horribly wrong, horribly fast.
I fell pregnant.
I still have no idea how it happened, I was on the contraceptive implant and had been for a while. I wasn’t due to have another implant for another three months and yet after I had a weird spotting for a few weeks, and that familiar feeling of ‘something being up’ - I did a test, and it came back positive.
The first thing I did was tell Paul. Which was a mistake. He’d been in Australia, Vietnam and the US for the past three months, and we’d barely made love at all even when he was home. With the timing, he knew it wasn’t his, and he was, understandably furious.
At the time, I was in somewhat of a lull (for me); out of my five regular playmates, I was only sleeping with one for various reasons, my husband’s Uncle Philip. When I told Paul who it was, he became even angrier.
Things couldn’t have been worse. Of course, we had the option of abortion. I’m not going to tell you my exact age, but while I wasn’t ‘too old’ to have a baby, I already had two kids and we were happy with that. I didn’t want more. However, the idea of abortion has always seemed abhorrent to me. I’m not going to get into a discussion of the rights and wrongs of abortion. That’s a very personal subject to many people. But at this time, despite Paul wanting to discuss it, I couldn’t bring myself to abort the baby.
I knew it was awkward, with Philip being family, and yet somehow in my mind, that made it a little easier. I didn’t know how Phil would react, so I didn’t tell him straight away that it was his, although we did tell him, and my other lovers that I was pregnant and we made the decision for me to stop seeing any of them for a while.
It wasn’t really a ‘we’ decision. Paul insisted on it. He’d always told me he was happy for me to sleep with other men. He knew he wasn’t well-endowed enough for me, and that he wasn’t ever going to be able to keep me and my appetites satisfied, especially with him travelling around the globe as he does, so it had been a convenient arrangement but somehow, even though this was an accident, he blamed me for it. He didn’t want another child, but much more than, the fact that I was pregnant with another man’s child and I wasn’t going to get rid of it for him or our marriage felt like a betrayal, much more so than me being intimate with other men outside of our marriage.
So, we made an agreement. I would stop seeing other men, we’d pretend to everyone, even Philip, that the child was his, to save him embarrassment, and we would try to make it work. But all of this caused resentment in me, which added to the hurt in his heart and to say that things were impossible would be understating it hugely.
After six heartbreaking months of arguments, self-doubt, and loneliness due to Paul still having to work, my frustrations got the better of me. Although I hadn’t been sleeping with any of my play friends, I was still friends with him, especially Teddy, the oldest and wisest of them, and he invited me over to his restaurant as he often did. I went, just expecting to have a nice dinner and talk with him for some company, but somehow he ended up taking me to his house and even though I was six months along, and had a considerable bump (and huge breasts to go with it), he fucked me all night.
I shouldn’t have given in to my frustration but it was more than that. Paul had been distant with me, and I needed some love and cuddles as much, if not even more than I needed the sex. It was just one night. I thought it would be fine. There would be no way Paul would find out. But he did. I had no idea that he’d done it, but he’d put some tiny cameras in the house, to keep an eye on me while I was away. Even Cerys, our nanny didn’t know.
The following morning he called me, asking me where I’d been during the night. He told me about the cameras, and that he’d seen that I hadn’t come home. I was so angry at being spied on that I told him the truth. I need some company, some love, some affection and that I’d made a mistake and spent the night at Teddy’s. He told me it was over. He wanted a divorce. It was broken and couldn’t be fixed.
I was utterly heartbroken. He let me keep the house, we agreed a way forward regarding a regular income for me and access for him to the children, and just two months later, I signed the divorce papers and that was it.
Two months after that, I had the baby. A beautiful little girl, who I still called Esme, a name that Paul and I had decided upon together, despite us no longer being married. She brought me so much joy; she was a light in the darkness, but it didn’t stop me from becoming deeply depressed. I hadn’t slept with anyone since that night with Teddy, partly out of choice but also because I became so big during the last few months that it was impossible and due to a difficult birth, I wasn’t in any fit state to have sex for quite a while. Added to that the fact that I’d put on a lot of weight and couldn’t bear to let anyone see me naked.
I’d lost my husband, my lovers, most of my friends due to not being able to explain to them the real reason for my divorce, and even the little hobby of my blog.
It was an awful time, but eventually, I managed to lift myself out of it. It took Cerys and Teddy a long time to convince me, but they did encourage me to start going to the gym, to get my figure back by eating healthier, to go out and shop and treat myself to some nice things rather than spend everything on the children and slowly, my confidence came back and I started to feel like the old me again. I slept with Teddy a few times during that spell, but I didn’t ever want him to get too close and think that we might ever be a couple. He’s a lovely man, but thirty years older than me and not someone I’ve ever been able to spend that much time in his company without him irritating me with his funny little ways. So I kept him at arms’ length while making sure I was being a friend to him like he was to me, and not just using him.
Then I began dating. I’ll save that three years of my life for another series of blogs because there’s a lot to tell. A lot of dates. A lot of complete failures. A lot of one night stands. Several men that saw second and third dates. Numerous men that lasted longer than that. And two men who I called a boyfriend for a long while. The second of whom, as we broke up, decided to spill the secret that I’d shared with him, that Philip is Esme’s father.
Phil was shocked at first, then angry at not being told that he had a young daughter, essentially missing out on the first four years of her life, but he did eventually come to understand my reasons why. And in the end, it turned out to be a good thing, because he contacted Paul, his nephew, to ask him why he hadn’t told him when we’d split up.
That brought Paul and me face-to-face for our first proper talk in a long time. We’d spoken regularly, of course, to discuss the children and seen each other at handover times, but we’d not talked properly. Not like this. About the repercussions of our actions. About our feelings.
We’d loved each other deeply once. The kind of love that never goes away. When we’d split up, anger had been the overriding emotion. Anger, frustration, humiliations, shame, all of these feelings had ruined us at the time, but that was four years ago. Those intense emotions were all in the past now. And for whatever reason, as Paul and I began to talk about how to handle the situation with Phil and how to move forward now more people were learning about the truth of why we’d divorced, somehow we reconnected.
Paul had dated a couple of women while we’d been apart, but he’d never been the most highly sexed man anyway and hadn’t found anyone he cared for. I’d been with dozens of men, which I told him about candidly and he appreciated my honesty. Then, unbelievably, after we’d confessed that we still had feelings for each other and the fact that maybe that was why we’d never moved on, we went to bed and had sex.
It was surreal. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, several years apart with barely any emotional conversations or connection, we just fell back together almost instantly. The moment he was inside me, I remembered why I’d always still enjoyed making love to him, despite his shortcomings when compared to my lovers.
Because he’s the one. My one. There’s just something about Paul that I love; that indefinable quality that I can’t quite put my finger on. Some would say we’re soulmates. I don’t know, but it’s definitely there. Even after all we’d been through, all the time apart, it was still there. The two jigsaw pieces that just fit together perfectly.
I’m not going to write paragraphs upon paragraphs on how we got back together. He wanted it. I wanted it. The kids wanted it. Even Cerys wanted it. The only resistance we met was from Paul’s Uncle, who was just getting used to the idea of being a father, so that put a spanner in the works, we talked it over, the three of us, in a very awkward conversation over dinner at Teddy’s restaurant who even took on the job of being a mediator, if we needed it.
There were a lot of things to sort out before we could move back in together, and give our relationship a second chance. Just because Paul had exploded back into my life, didn’t mean that he would be able to keep me satisfied this time around. I’d learned a lot, but that side of me hadn’t changed. He hadn’t suddenly become Superman in the bedroom either and his dick hadn’t grown by four inches. So, we had to be realistic. If we did this, he would sooner or later have to accept the fact that I would get frustrated and horny and wanted a lover. Could he handle that?
How would we deal with Phil being Esme’s father? He wanted a role in her life, and I wasn’t going to deny him that. Could Paul be a stepfather to her, with no resentment and be a positive figure in her life?
Finally, the cat was out of the bag with a lot of people now, about what kind of relationship Paul and I had been in during our marriage, the rumours that he’d been a willing cuckold were rife and almost as common was the knowledge that I was a dirty slut or a cheating housewife, however you choose to see it. How could we get back together and get our lives back on track with that looming over us?
But we found answers. Paul agreed to let me take lovers, as I had before, but with the promise to be even more careful than before and to be absolutely honest with each other about our feelings and whereabouts at all times. He agreed to take on Phil’s child, even though I could tell he found that difficult. Philip has full access and has Esme every fortnight, but the rest of the time, Paul treats her like he’s his own child. I know he finds it humiliating at times, with some of his friends being aware that he’s raising another man’s child from an affair that she had, but we changed a large circle of our friends and avoided the scrutiny of our neighbours by moving. We still live in Cheshire, but thirty miles from where we were before, further from Manchester than what we were before.
I’m still in touch with some of my old playmates, and I’ve got several new ones, including one of the boyfriends that I made during my marriage hiatus, and another guy that I fucked in that time who was quite memorable and I decided to see again. I’ll detail all of them more as I get back into the swing of blogging.
Which of course is that last part of this post. As I got back into being a hotwife, and life began to get back to something approaching normal with Paul and I (it’ll never quite be normal again), I told him I wanted to write again. That I enjoyed blogging back then, making new friends and some new lovers, and that I’d like to give it another go.
I’d stopped for all of the above reasons - life takes on new priorities when your marriage breaks up, and when everything changes, so do you, but it’s funny how often you come back to where you started.
So this is a new start. Five years after my last proper post, I hope you’ll follow this journey with me again as I write my book about my life experiences.
And hopefully, this time, nothing will go wrong and stop me.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Well, that took longer than anticipated...
So, after 5 years of enforced hiatus, one divorce, a baby and a reconciliation later, I thought maybe it’s time to have another go at ‘conquering the internet’ again. Does anyone still follow this blog? Let me know…
If so, I'll explain why I had to remove myself (see the above) and hopefully, we can get the ball rolling again on this little hobby of mine.
xxx
Claire
If so, I'll explain why I had to remove myself (see the above) and hopefully, we can get the ball rolling again on this little hobby of mine.
xxx
Claire
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