Hotwife Opportunity Materializes

The Hotwife Experience Finally Materialized

As we boarded the train in Florence, my husband carried our luggage and stowed them over our seats. The car was surprisingly empty, so we talked about being able to spread out a bit once the train got moving. Our assigned seats were at the back of the car, near the bathroom. It was a typical arrangement of four seats on each side of the aisle, two-by-two, facing each other. More people boarded, and then we were underway. It was sparse enough that there was basically no more than one or two people per set of four seats, and the set across the aisle was completely empty. My husband offered to move across the aisle to give us both some room to relax on the ride to Pisa, where we planned to get our obligatory photo holding up the iconic leaning tower.

At the first stop after leaving Florence, one guy boarded our car at the far end. There were no more completely empty four-seat pods. He walked slowly through the car looking for an empty pod, but all had at least one person in them, so he was going to have to sit with some stranger. I was less than thrilled when he sat down in my pod in the seat diagonal from me. I had a bag in the seat next to him, so I removed it and put it next to me so I wasn't taking up three of the four anymore. So much for spreading out. He smiled politely as he sat down and I smiled back. I looked over at my husband, and saw a small grin appear.

The guy looked to be in his early twenties. I was a little annoyed that he sat down in my space, but he offered a simple, "sorry to intrude" that put me at ease. When he spoke, I could tell that he was American (or possibly Canadian at that point, I suppose). As my husband later commented, the young guy could not really be blamed for sitting near me considering that I was wearing a sundress that showed off my long tan legs and quite a bit of cleavage.

We were approaching the end of a two-week vacation traveling around northern Italy. It was warm, and I like to dress a little sexy from time to time. I knew I looked good, but that didn't mean I really wanted to interact with strangers. I just wanted to feel comfortably sexy, and watch a show on my iPad. Unfortunately, I could not find my AirPods that morning when we departed the AirBnb in Florence, so I couldn't watch my iPad without disturbing the whole train. Consequently, when this guy sat down, I was just browsing socials on my phone.

Looking at my phone, I couldn't help but notice that the stranger was conventionally attractive. I love my husband very much, so I don't find myself particularly drawn to other men now, but this guy was definitely someone I would have been attracted to under the right circumstances. Occasionally, I would sense that he was looking at me, but not leering such that I felt uncomfortable. He was being respectful, but I sensed his attraction to me.

About that time, my husband texted me from across the aisle. "Hey sugar, looks like you have a new friend." I looked up from my phone across at my husband and saw him grinning at me. I texted back, "Lol. No, I have a husband who should be sitting with me, but instead I'm sitting here with this stranger. 🙄😒" My husband texted back, "We were strangers once. Now I get to lick your pussy whenever I want." I literally laughed out loud a little, which caused the stranger to look up at me and smile. I replied to my husband, "lol. 👀 And you're so good at it too! ❤️😘" He responded, "I think this guy likes you. You should flirt with him a bit." I looked up from my phone at my husband again and just stared at him. Not mad, but just, really?

Some months ago, my husband had revealed to me his "hotwife" fantasy. I was more than a little concerned at first. I had questions. I was worried that he was growing less attracted to me or that this was a ruse to get to sleep with other women. But we talked about it, and he reassured me that he was still very much attracted to me and had zero interest in other women. Instead, he said that he very much found the idea of watching me engaged in sexual acts to be incredibly arousing. We talked some more. We had consistently videoed our own sex many times throughout our relationship, so why was watching those not enough to satisfy the itch of watching me engaged in sex? He said it was difficult to fully explain, but there was something fantastically sexy about watching me engage in sex with another person. I wanted to know if it was any person, male or female. He said that it was both, but that it was mostly men. That made we worry: Are you wanting to watch men because you are attracted to them in some way? Do you want to look at another man's penis. He assured me that he had no interest in the man whatsoever, and that to him, the man was really just a prop, a sex toy that moved, being utilized to display the main feature, which was me. My husband further explained that the man in the fantasy could basically be a silhouette for all he cared. He clarified that he had a wide bandwidth of who he would include in the fantasy, but that there were limits, mainly that the person not be unattractive such that he distracts from the visual candy my husband wanted to consume by watching me.

I really was not interested in other men. I am deeply in love with my husband and he is everything I want. He's a great partner in every way, and he completely satisfies me in bed. But it is that love for him that made me at least think about what he was asking. He had been vulnerable enough to share his fantasy with me, so I was trying not to kink shame, while at the same time wrap my brain around what was being asked of me. He wasn't asking me to jump right into fucking random strangers, so we explored other ways to fulfill the fantasy without me having to actually touch another man.

At first we made videos where he pretended to be someone else (massage therapist, plumber, etc), and I pretended that my husband was sitting across the room watching me have sex with this other person. My husband made clear to me that his hotwife fantasy differed from cuckoldry in that he was not interested in humiliation of him by me or the guy. Instead, he wanted to be the architect or the director of the sexual liaison, giving directions occasionally. He explained that he gained sexual satisfaction from being in control by approving whomever I would theoretically have sex with, and by controlling what was happening either by express direction, or tacit approval of what he was watching.

Most importantly to my husband, he wanted to maintain a connection to me throughout the occasion, mainly through me looking at him during as much of the sex as possible. Obviously, he was going to be watching me non-stop throughout, but he wanted me to look at him too and make lots of eye contact. It was that kind of intimacy with me he wanted to maintain all the while that I was getting fucked by whomever. So our videos included me making lots of eye contact with my "husband" as if he was sitting behind the camera, while I was getting fucked by whomever my husband was pretending to be that time. Those videos are some of the hottest to my husband; he regularly views them in hotels when he's traveling for work, and I love knowing that I could be that for him when we're apart.

In addition to making mock hotwife videos, we even tried some dating apps, in which I would match with guys, chat with them, and engage in sexual banter with them. I wasn't comfortable sending nudes to these very real people, so the sex talk remained exclusively text. Nevertheless, I would chat with them, and when I had enough of a chat that I thought my husband would enjoy, I would screenshot the messages, and send to him. He works from home mostly, and I try not to disturb him during the day, but when I sent him the messages, he inevitably would take a break from work to find me back in the bedroom, and we would have sex. He clearly found it very arousing to see me sexting with these other guys, and he would come "reclaim" me with a vigorous fuck in the middle of the day. Those sex sessions often involved lots of verbalization, including me telling him what I knew he wanted to hear, such as, "I got so wet texting with ___ (Chad or Brad or Thad or whoever it was that week)", and him reminding me that I belonged to him. Several guys I chatted with on the dating apps very much wanted to meet in person, but I wasn't really ready for that, so those chats kind of fizzled out eventually.

Needless to say, I had never actually done the in-person hotwife thing with anyone, so when my husband told me to flirt with this guy on the train, I knew where it was coming from, and I wasn't exactly wholly without experience. He was essentially upping the ante, encouraging me to do what I had done in mock scenario videos, and in my real dating app chats. But this was clearly different, and fraught with considerably more risk. I couldn't exactly just get up and walk off the train like I could delete a chat conversation on any whim for any reason at any time.

All this was going through my head when the train hit the brakes somewhat abruptly, albeit briefly, causing my backpack to slide out of the seat beside me and down onto his feet. I apologized, as he picked it up to put back in the seat across from him and next to me. Again, he was polite and gracious, and told me it was no big deal. I took that as an opportunity to introduce myself to him. He replied, "Hi, I'm Daniel." We started talking about where we were from in the States, and what brought us here. As I explained that I was traveling with my husband, I pointed to my husband sitting across the aisle. He was pretending to sleep. Daniel offered to change places with my husband so we could sit together, but I demurred, telling him it was fine now that he was sleeping, and there was no point disturbing him.

As we continued talking about our travels, we began showing each other photos on our respective phones of the various parts of Italy we had each seen. After several rounds of me finding a photo, turning it to show him, then him doing the same, I decided to be a little bold. I suggested that he just move across to sit in the seat to my left. I was next to the window. As he moved across to sit next to me, I looked past him to my husband again, who was still pretending to sleep, but I could tell he was still watching us closely. I gave him a slight smile as Daniel got situated next to me.

I started to show him some more photos from our trip. I was about to navigate to the recents folder on my photo app, but then remembered that I had sent a batch of the "best-of" photos to my best friend back in the States. I thought that would be easier than scrolling endlessly through the not-so-great photos that we had taken over the last couple of weeks. Once I navigated to the text chat with my bestie, I found the batch of photos and started swiping through them to show him. After about the 7th photo, my face flushed as I realized my mistake. He got a little tense, but quickly recovered and very casually said, "I don't recall seeing that sight in Italy, but it is clearly the most beautiful."

Unfortunately for me, I forgot that at the end of that batch, I had also sent my friend one of the boudoir photos that I recently had taken as a birthday present for my husband. He hadn't seen them yet, and here I had shown them to this complete stranger. As I swiped quickly past that one, I was doubly horrified to see that I had sent a second one to her. I hastily swiped out of the app and apologized as I put my phone face down in my lap.

He chuckled a bit at my nervousness, and then very graciously began reassuring me that he was not offended. "Don't worry about it. Honestly, I feel very lucky that I got to see those photos above everything else you've shown me." I felt ever so slightly relieved, but only slightly. He continued, "Seriously, your husband is a very lucky man. I sat here because you are the most beautiful woman on this train. I can't believe my luck in getting to not only sit near you, and talk to you, but to see you in that way." I told him thank you for saying that, as my pulse began to return to normal. I already knew this guy was attracted to me from our prior conversation, but his express statements made me more confident.

There was a bit of silence for a moment, and I thought about my husband wanting me to flirt with this guy. I'm sure he didn't mean like this given that he didn't even know these particular photos of me existed, but I had our "hotwife" conversations and mock experiences in the back of my mind. Consequently, I decided to take a small risk, one that I knew I could manage. I asked Daniel if he would mind giving me his honest assessment of some of the other boudoir photos. He looked directly in my eyes, paused, as if to discern in my face whether I was joking, and then said he would be honored. I needed a bit more from him, so I asked, "Are you sure you don't mind?" At that point, he put his right hand on my left thigh, very casually, as if to reassure me physically, while he said, "I would like nothing more than to look at every photo of you that you're willing to share with me." He returned his hand to his own lap.

With that, I took a labored breath, unlocked my phone, and navigated to the hidden photo album where I had saved all the boudoir photos in one location. I started with the ones where I was in black lingerie on a chair in front of a window with strong natural light pouring through. As I swiped to each one, he would make comments about how sexy and beautiful I looked. There were literally 200 photos in the album, and I hadn't really thought through how many I was going to show him. Would I show him the ones of me in a wet tshirt? What about the ones of me in the claw foot tub with the water pouring over me as the sun from the window behind made the water explode with light? We were going through the photos rather slowly and deliberately. I was telling him how nervous I was to do the shoot in the first place.

We were leaned toward each other with the phone between us, and we were barely ten photos in when I noticed he had a growing erection. It was clearly, but not yet obscenely, visible in his sweatpants, growing down his right pant leg. This gave me a little more confidence, both that my photos were going to be well received by my husband, and also that this guy was very attracted to me. I knew that if I kept swiping, the photos only got sexier, and his erection wasn't going to subside. I thought about stopping, but then I looked past Daniel and over at my husband across the aisle again, still pretending to sleep. He saw me looking at him, looked down at the guy's lap, and back up at me again, and gave me a wink. I gave him a slight smile back, and then handed my phone to Daniel, saying I wanted to get some water from my bag, but offering for him to keep looking.

After taking a swig of water, I heard Daniel comment on one of my photos, something about how lucky the photographer was to have permission to stare at me like that for hours on end. I gave a small laugh and then gently slapped his thigh. When I did so, the pretense evaporated. He tensed, and suddenly I felt very in control. He knew that I knew that he had an erection. I did not pull my hand away, like he did when he touched my thigh a few minutes earlier. I left it there until he relaxed enough to start swiping through my photos again. As soon as he swiped to the next one, I looked over at my husband again and very lightly dragged my nails up Daniel's shaft. My husband's eyes widened and he started to get a look of excitement on his face, but he remained slouched as if he was sleeping, trying not to draw Daniel's attention. Daniel's penis flexed under my nails, and a barely audible gasp escaped his mouth.

As he continued to swipe, I continued to look on with him at the photos on my phone that he was still holding, absent-mindedly responding to the equally absent-minded comments he was now making. We were both keeping up the charade, while I continued to graze my fingers up and down his shaft through his sweatpants. By about the 30th photo, I dragged my fingers up to his waistband, and slid my hand inside his pants. Again, I looked directly into my husband's eyes as I took this next step, to gauge his reaction to make sure his fantasy had not collided with reality in a damaging way, and because I knew my husband's fantasy included lots of eye contact with me while I am with another man. If I had detected even the slightest panic or regret in his face, I would have stopped immediately, but all I saw was lustful encouragement in the micro-expressions that only I can read on his face. Indeed, at this point my husband began rubbing his own erection over the clothes very slowly, again trying not to be seen out of the corner of Daniel's eye.

With my hand inside his pants, I repositioned his penis so that the head was at his waistband, peeking out and towards me a little. I continued to rub my palm up and down very slowly, while he continued to stare intently at my boudoir photos. I wondered what he was thinking about the pace at which he should swipe: Go too slow, and the pretense is gone; go to fast, and he gets to the last one, and then this whole experience might be over. He was clearly opting for too slow rather than risk the latter. I smiled to myself, and looked over at my husband again who was still rapturously engaged with watching me touch this stranger on a train.

After a few flat palm rubs, I tried to push his waistband down a bit more to free his penis so that I could wrap my hand around it. Just then, the car door a few feet behind us opened. I looked across at my husband who was positioned facing the back of the train and could see anyone coming through the door before us. He froze. Daniel lowered his hand holding the phone to obscure his dick poking out the top of his sweatpants, and I pulled the bottom of his shirt down over it at the same time. It was one of the train employees, and he was just passing through the car. He barely looked over at us as he walked past to the other end of the car.

Any sane person would have just stopped altogether at that close call. And I was about to demonstrate such sanity, but Daniel pulled his waistband down even further with one hand while he held my phone with his other hand. And as he did that, I looked at my husband again, who gave me that wink again, which told me he both observed Daniel's eagerness, and further told me he wanted me to continue. So I picked up where I left off, wrapping my hand around his shaft, running my thumb over the head to spread his now-oozing precum, decreasing the friction, and causing Daniel to moan every so slightly.

Daniel kept swiping every so often, staring intently at my boudoir photos that were getting more and more revealing as he progressed. He was now into the series of me in white lingerie, lacey and beautiful, in a naughty angel kind of way. I began to increase my stroke rate with my left hand, my wedding ring clearly visible as I stroked up to the top, twisted my hand around the head, picking up more precum along the way, and stroking down again. Later, I learned that from my husband's position, he could clearly see my ring moving up and down this man's penis as it caught the summer light coming into the train. He was aroused by this detail, to say the least.

As I kept masturbating this stranger sitting next to me, I began looking less at the photos and more at my husband, who was now full-on masturbating on the train. He had pulled a jacket over his lap, but all it did was keep me from seeing his penis; it certainly didn't prevent me from knowing what he was doing. About this time, Daniel glanced over at my husband and froze for a second. I leaned in a little closer to him, and whispered, "It's okay. He's enjoying the view of me as much as you are. Trust me, he very much likes what's happening right now." Daniel's dick throbbed in my hand, and I continued to jerk him off.