Hi! This is the true story 1000% of my first hotwife sex experience. And it took place 5 years ago today on Cinco De Mayo.
Let’s call me Amanda. At the time I was 35. I’m quiet and a little shy, I smile warmly but never the loudest one in the room, nerdy glasses, blonde hair, and a friendliness that I’m told makes people feel at ease. 5’6” and a little overweight (I wasn’t always in my younger days!), curvy, thic, size 20 jeans hugging a 42-36-46 frame and a 36D chest I never quite knew what to do with. I never thought of herself as beautiful but I’ve been told I am.
I got married to my husband we’ll call Tom in 2010. He was only the 4th man I had slept with but first without protection. We kinda had an unplanned pregnancy but love her infinite nonetheless the less, greatest surprise in my life, in 2010 as well. Our sex frequency certainly cooled after having a baby and getting married. And I was fine with that, I didn’t need it that much and Tom was often busy working. He needed it more and resorted to masturbating more. Even when we did it we were pretty vanilla.
Everyone in our world saw me as the wholesome mother/wife. I coached my daughter’s basketball team, sat on the school board, and every Christmas I was knee deep in organizing the neighborhood light show, the one everyone showed up to but nobody wanted to plan. At work I spent my days doing graphic design for a sign and screen printing company, helping local businesses look good, quietly wishing I was doing something more artistic with my degree. I was the woman who always showed up, always said yes, always had it together, at least that’s what everyone thought.
Tom is two years older than me, tall with a slim build that was just starting to soften around the edges, receding hairline, no tattoos, dark hair kept short, clean shaven, sometimes a day or two past a shave, the kind of low
maintenance handsome. He worked in law enforcement, long shifts, sometimes doubles back to back, but when he was home he was genuinely present, a great dad, he showed up. Tom was average in size length, a little on the thinner side of girthyness, but that never mattered to me, I had been with larger before and size was never what made the difference.
I carried an image I had been handed long before I was old enough to choose one. My mom had a very specific vision for me, conservative, classy, marry well and make a beautiful home out of it with lots of kids. I absorbed all of it, but couldn’t fully live up to it. My friends, coworkers, the other basketball moms they all saw the same woman, soft, dependable, wholesome. I never gave anyone a reason to see anything different.
Tom and I had always been conservative and I was comfortable with that. I came into our relationship with some experience but not much, three boyfriends, no one night stands, sex that meant something or didn’t happen. When Covid hit and we were suddenly home together constantly, Tom started sharing things erotica, videos, eventually a confession that shook me. He told me he had a fantasy about watching me with other men, that he had spent years seeking out porn that reminded him of me, imagining it was me. I didn’t know whether to feel desired or unsettled, I felt both.
My first instinct was that he was testing me, that there was a right answer and I needed to find it fast. I said no to anything real, flat out, no hesitation. he wasn’t asking me to do anything, he was asking me to watch videos with him, use toys, just explore the idea together in a safe way, so eventually I agreed. What I didn’t tell him right away was that something about being the center of that fantasy, the whole focus of it, woke something up in me that I hadn’t expected. I had spent years feeling old and invisible in my own skin and here was my husband telling me I was his obsession.
So Evan worked with Tom, a few years older than me, he filled every room with bad jokes and a laugh you could hear from two rooms away. He and Tom had a natural dynamic, Tom the quiet leader, Evan the chaos that followed him around. Back during mine and Tom’s friends with benefits phase I had used Evan to try to make him jealous, late night texts on a flip phone, photos I’m embarrassed to admit I sent, and one night that went further than it should have, hands and nothing more, but enough to know he was generously sized and that I felt guilty the moment it was over. It never made Tom jealous, it never meant anything with Evan, and I carried that never admitting the sexual enjoyment to myself until Tom’s fantasy life eventually pulled it back out of me years later.
It started with a casual dinner, just me Tom and Evan visiting, at a Mexican restaurant, a couple drinks, dirty joke laughs that instead of rolling my eyes I blushed and laughed. The three of us ended up dancing together me in between them and back n forth. Fast songs nothing slow or naughty really. I didn’t think much of it in the moment that’s as far as this would go, just dancing. I left early to pick up my daughter at my mom’s. With my blessing, Tom had spent that entire dinner after I left laying out our fantasy in detail to the one man from his past who already had a small piece of my history. By the time they got home I had already had another margarita alone and was loose and relaxed in my favorite tie dye pajamas, soft comfortable but showing off my assets.
Our raised ranch gave Evan his own space downstairs, door shut, private enough. Our daughter was already asleep before they got back. Tom said goodnight not long after they got home, declining a drink, leaving me and Evan in the kitchen. I mixed us both a fresh margarita without really thinking he or I would be brave enough to do something, it was just Evan, Tom’s work buddy, the funny one, the inappropriate one who always made me laugh.
I didn’t realize how much I was flirting until I was already doing it. It felt easy and familiar with Evan, comfortable, he was perfect to loosen something in me. I didn’t know exactly how much Tom had told him over chips and salsa after I left. I knew but how much?
Evan leaned against the counter watching me refill my glass and just said it, no buildup, no softening it. “I forgot how incredible your ass looks in PJs.” I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do with that. Then he said “I’m serious, Tom’s a lucky guy” and something about the way he said Tom’s name made the room go very still very fast. He closed the space between us, and I just stood there and let him kiss me. What was I doing!?
I took his hand and walked him downstairs, pulling the door shut behind us, then his room door too. At the foot of the bed I turned around and kissed him and he put both hands on my waist and laid me back onto the bed. It felt almost stripped, he was so down, there’s no way this would happen so easily without Tom laying out details and I knew this and went with it. Evan stood up and unbuckled his pants and I just watched him. I wasn’t thinking about anything. Until I saw his tattoos. Mmmm.
He dropped his pants and I just stared for a second. He was bigger than Tom, longer and thicker, not by a lot but enough to notice. I don’t know what came over me because oral was never really my thing, giving or receiving, but I just leaned forward and started licking the head slowly. I can maybe count on two hands how many time Tom had been in my mouth while married. Then his shaft, his balls, his stomach, his thighs, I don’t even know why I was doing half of it but I couldn’t stop. I grabbed his ass with both hands and took him into my mouth as far as I could go. I couldn’t get all the way down and I knew it, I tried anyway, drooling, moaning, completely out of control of myself. I circled my tongue around the head and lightly squeezed his balls and I could hear him react to every single thing I did. I sucked him as hard as I could and he grabbed my hair gently and said he needed me to stop or he was going to finish and he wanted to fuck me first. I pulled back and just sat there for a second looking at him thinking oh my god, this is actually going to happen.
He smacked my ass while we were shifting, and then I heard Tom’s foot steps upstairs and my whole body jumped. Evan looked right at me, he could tell immediately, I was biting my lip hard and my eyes had gone somewhere else entirely. Part of me genuinely wanted to just get up, straighten my pajamas and pretend the last twenty minutes hadn’t happened. Then without a word he slipped his hand inside my waistband and past my pubic hair (did he mind?) started fingering me and every single thought I had dissolved. He lifted my hips with his other hand and pulled my bottoms off slowly, then sat back on his heels and tasted his fingers, just casually, eyes on me the whole time, before leaning forward and getting my top off too. I hadn’t shaved in a very long time, nothing remotely close to what he would have remembered from over ten years ago when I was completely bare, and for just a second I felt every bit of self consciousness I had ever carried about my body show up all at once. He smacked the side of my ass again when he settled between my legs, told me he enjoyed it “all naturale”, and I exhaled for what felt like the first time since I took his hand in the kitchen. I’m guessing Tom warned him ahead of time of all my insecurities (my weight, inexperience, boobs less perky, scents taste, being unshaved etc.)
He lowered himself onto me and I thought to myself if he would even last after how close he had gotten from the blowjob. I winced when he started to push inside me and said quietly not to worry, he would go slow, that I was tight. He was right to go slow. I felt every inch of him and it wasn’t comfortable at first, it was pressure and fullness, I just held on. At some point I looked over his shoulder and there was a photo on the wall, Tom and me on our wedding day, and here was one of his groomsmen eleven years later making me feel things my groom never had, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so I just looked away.
He started with long slow full strokes, all the way in and all the way back, and I looked down past my pubes and realized he still had another inch or two he hadn’t given me yet. I reached down and touched where we met just to make sure what I was feeling was real. I thought about Tom upstairs. I wondered if he was already taking care of himself or if he was just lying there waiting. I felt proud of him for being patient, for trusting me, for not coming downstairs. I wanted to do this right so I could give him every single detail.
Evan slowly started picking up the pace and the fullness got more intense, he was hitting new spots. When he went from slow to actually hammering me I couldn’t control the sounds I was making and I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it. He leaned down and started sucking my breasts while he kept going and I had one hand gripping his butt and one on his shoulder just holding on. His balls were smacking against me so hard with every thrust.
I told him I was going to cum and I meant it, it wasn’t a performance, it was cumming whether I wanted it to or not. It was nothing like the handful of times Tom had managed it, this was his fullness hitting every single spot inside me all at once and I had no control over any of it. When the wave of euphoric spasms finished I was so sensitive I could barely take another thrust but I gritted through it because I could tell he was close. He never asked and we never discussed it and he just finished deep inside me. I felt it all, all the creamy hotness. Like so much cum, he was shooting multiple ropes and it was everywhere inside me.
When he pulled out I looked down and I was a mess, my lips swollen, my pubic hair messy. He pulled me into him and we just laid there kissing and catching our breath for a while, longer than I expected, just cuddling in the quiet of the downstairs. When I finally said I had to go back upstairs he patted me on the shoulder like I had just played a great game. I got my pajamas back on and looked back at him one more time, he was still laying there completely naked, and even soft he still looked big with my wetness glistening on him. He asked me if I could walk upstairs and I rolled my eyes. Then right as I turned to go he said “Amanda, that was wonderful.” I shut the door behind me.
That was the 5th man I ever slept with and only 2nd including my husband without a condom. My legs were heavy walking up the stairs like I had just pushed myself further than I ever thought I could go and my body was still catching up to it. Like I imagine running a marathon or CrossFit for the first time. I caught my reflection in the dark window above the kitchen sink and the fridge as I passed and I genuinely didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me. By the time I had my hand on our bedroom door I was nauseous and had no idea what was waiting for me on the other side of it.
Tom was awake. I just told him straight out, I had sex with Evan and I was ok. He pulled me into him and held me and said thank you, that I was so hot, that I was sexy, and I just sat there in his arms trying to believe all of it. When he reached between my legs I winced and told him I was sore and he pulled back immediately, understanding, no pressure. I told him I still wanted to make love to him, just slow, and I meant it.
He took my pajamas off carefully, folding them almost, nothing like how Evan had pulled them off earlier, and laid me back gently. He looked between my legs for a long moment, touching me softly and carefully like he was exploring something new, uncertain. I was a mess down there, wet and matted, and I could see white dripping out slowly and I watched his face take it all in. I pulled his shorts down and guided him in myself, wondering as I did whether I would even feel him.
I felt every thrust but I couldn’t feel him the way I normally could, and I knew why, and I didn’t say a word about it in that moment. The intimacy of it was something I hadn’t expected, making love to my husband this way, using what Evan left behind, whispering to Tom that I was still his, that I wanted to be good for him, that I still wanted to pleasure him. I needed to say it as much as he needed to hear it. He lasted less than a minute and collapsed onto me and I held him there. We laid tangled up together and I told him everything, every detail, and then he went again, a little longer this time, not much, and we both laughed about it after.
I called in sick the next day, which wasn’t entirely a lie. I heard my daughter off to school, the usual morning chaos, backpack and lunch box and the door slamming, completely unaware that her mother was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Tom saw Evan out, they probably high fived or idk what guys do. and I didn’t go downstairs for that, I didn’t need to see that goodbye. When the house was finally quiet and empty Tom came up and told me to come down, he had made breakfast.
We sat at the kitchen table and he talked about work, mentioned an upcoming family vacation, said something about a game he wanted to watch that weekend. He was just Tom. My husband, my daughter’s dad, the man who made me eggs on a weekday workday morning after the strangest night of our marriage. I sat across from him and listened and somewhere in the middle of all of it I felt something settle back into place.
Looking back I can say honestly it was a great experience, even if it had only ever happened once it would have been worth it but would happen more. Tom and I talked about that night every which way for weeks, and I mean every way, multiple times a day, he was like a different person and honestly so was I. What we didn’t expect was finding out I was pregnant shortly after, which sent us both into a panic I won’t pretend was small. Pregnant potentially with not my husbands child and an eleven year gap between kids was not the plan. A cheek swab later confirmed Tom was the father, which we laugh about now, and we’re pretty sure it was the sheer volume of sex Tom was having with me in the weeks after that night that did it.
That was five years ago now. We have had many experiences since and Tom has always loved when I write them down for him, every detail, we keep them all saved just for us. He encouraged me to share this one without giving away anything private, so here we are. If you enjoyed this and want to hear more let me know. I’m not here to meet anyone or share photos, and if you think this is made up that’s fine, I really don’t mind. This is just our life, and it’s been a pretty good one.