Reflections... on this blog & my journey this far

Dear Readers,
I apologize for the lack of posts recently. I had some time off a few weeks ago before transferring to a new department at work, which allowed me time to enjoy and write about my Afternoon Delight, and practice my oral skills with DH and The Pilot. Now, I am settling into my new role at work, learning new policies and procedures, as well as getting to know my new clients. My return to work coincided with the shout out from Fleshbot, and now a link on Love Boudoir. I hope my new readers will continue to check back for future confessions. I blog about my confessions in real time, which means that I go out in search of playmates when life allows. As a working mother, I have to make sure that my hotwife endeavors do not compromise my family or my job performance. I am hopeful that my new position at work will not be as stressful as my previous role (something that I never really blogged about, but I was very unhappy in my old department). DH has a new job, too. So far, our new schedules are better, and we are enjoying more time together, rather than acting like two ships that pass in the night.

Last night, I went out in hopes of finding a playmate, but came home without a confessions to share. As I sipped my wine, I enjoyed thinking about previous successful hotwife nights. The Seducer will always be a fond memory, as he was the one who really initiated me into this lifestyle, although he will never know it. Our passionate encounter turned me on more than I ever though possible in regards to extramarital activities. I wish I had paid more attention to things, like the color of his eyes and the size of his cock. I was so excited by the events as they happened, that I neglected to take the time to commit all the details to my memory. I do remember feeling surprised that I was actually flirting with and kissing another man. I also remember feeling shocked when he took my hand and placed it on the growing bulge in his jeans. When we talked, there was a mutual connection, a sense of naughtiness, and attraction, all of which added to the experience. In retrospect, I wonder if I should have gone to his hotel room... Oh well.
I also thought about The Italian Kisser. Despite the issues I had with him after the fact, I still enjoyed my encounters with him. There was a strong attraction between us, and he took my hotwife cherry. He is the only man that I have been with more than once in my hotwife adventures. As a read back on my first post about him now, I realized that I never fully explained the moniker that I bestowed upon him. The pick up line that he used after he helped to rid me of the annoying old man went something like this: "Have you ever had an Italian Kiss?" I looked at him coyly and asked, "Is that a drink, or are you referring to yourself?" Then of course, as the evening went on, we kissed quite a bit, and it seemed appropriate to to name him The Italian Kisser.
I would be lying if I did not say that I am little disappointed that The Pilot never contacted me after our get together in his truck. I thought about his thick cock for days, no weeks, after sucking him and giving him a hand job. I enjoyed our conversation and our playtime. That encounter left me hungry for more. So hungry in fact, that I have even started checking out Ashley Madison (thanks for the tips, RiffDog!). I have not seriously tried to find a playmate on there, but getting wink messages is entertaining! Should I feel guilty for having a profile there if I am not 100% sure that I want to meet someone face to face?

I have had a few requests for confessions from my pre-hotwifing days. As any of my regular readers know, my early posts explained how vanilla and typical my sex life was. However, there are a few tales to tell, which I would be happy to share if more than just a few fans are curious.

We are both enjoying the hotwife lifestyle more than I ever imagined we would! Thanks to the readers who left comments on an earlier post about their experiences. I enjoy the process of getting ready to go out with hopes of a sexual encounter with a new friend. The thrill of the chase turns me on. The 'newness' factor arouses me. The first look, the first touch, and first kiss ignite something deep inside me. I still can't believe how much DH is turned on by having a hotwife. Honestly, I can't believe how turned on I get from this double life, too.

Well, I have created a random/potpourri post that is equivalent to a sitcom clip show, complete with links to other posts for you to enjoy. I want to thank my loyal readers for coming back even when weeks go by without a new post, and welcome new readers who have found my suburbia via links on other blogs and sites.

Until next time,
~SuburbanHotwife
;-)

My 6th confession continues... a familiar face

…DH texted to check in on my progress. Just as I replied that I would be home soon, the evening took a turn for the better ...

I had been slowly sipping my drink at the hip and trendy bar, but almost ready to leave when I sensed someone leaning against the bar very close to me. I turned to find myself face to face with The Italian Kisser! At the very same instant we recognized one another and began to laugh with surprise and disbelief! “Wow!” I blurted out. We exchanged greetings in between laughter, and looked into each other’s eyes with a certain knowing sense of what could be in store. He said that he sure was glad that he decided to stop by, even though it was very late. I agreed. I was glad we had run into each other as well. Then we kissed. I do not recall feeling aroused, but I was definitely excited and happy to see him. I was mentally taking note of his features while we spoke and gazed at each other. His cleft chin, olive completion, husky voice, and short dark hair were all as I had remembered them. He lavished me with compliments between kisses. “You have the most amazing eyes I have ever seen,” he whispered. I melt when I hear a man compliment my eyes. They are my best feature (if I do say so myself), so when a man takes note of them, it is a sure way to turn me on! We talked more about how we had both ended up in the same place in the wee hours of the night, and kissed. We talked about our last chance encounter, and kissed. He told me I was the hottest woman in the bar (which awakened the butterflies in my stomach), and we kissed. This was a new experience for me – the element of thrill was certainly there, but there was no chase. The chase is usually the fun part for me. I like to flirt and be someone else for a while. I admit my mind was racing with what might come of this pleasant surprise…

He told me that my beautiful eyes were so hard to resist, to which I replied, “Who says you have to resist?” I am sure it was then that he knew he could have me, and I knew that I could not take those words back, even if I changed my mind. With a swift and confident move, he turned my barstool to face him straight on. He nudged my knees apart, boldly stepped between my legs, and embraced me. I could feel a bulge behind his zipper. I was starting to feel the excitement build inside of me. He rubbed my shoulders and slid his left hand down over my breast, sending chills down my spine. He asked if I had to get home soon, so I reminded him that DH knows I go out for flirtatious fun, just like the last time, and that there was no rush (although it was about 2 a.m.!). He nodded his head to indicate I should settle my tab and finish my drink, which I willingly did. We were on our way…

Ok, this is going to sound so out of place, or at least it felt out of place, yet endearing when I noticed it. As we walked out of the bar, both last time and this time, The Italian Kisser sweetly held my hand. I don’t know if it was a romantic gesture, an act of chivalry, or just one of his usual moves, but both times it gave me a thrill almost as much as our kisses. Silly, I know, but feeling his grasp was just the right tender touch to ease my nerves.

On our way out to his SUV, I stopped in the ladies’ room so I could text DH and tell him what was going on. DH asked if I’d be staying out a little longer now that I’d found a friend, so I told him we were on our way to find a more private location. I asked if he had any last minute requests. I needed to give DH the opportunity to tell me to stop. We had previously talked about what I would do if I ever met The Italian Kisser again, so I think he knew there was a good chance I’d allow things to go to the next level. I think he also knew that I still had the condom in my purse from the last time I’d gone out. He did not tell me to stop, but let me know it was OK to let things proceed.

I rejoined The Italian, and we walked hand in hand to the parking lot. He asked for ideas of places to go so we could have some privacy. I reminded him that he was more experienced at this kind of thing that I was. He scoffed and said he did not believe me. I shared a brief summary of what I have done, which as you know, only amounts to flirting, kissing, and fondling, whereas he had tested the waters of infidelity more than once in his past. I am not sure if he believed me or not. I teased him about acting like he didn’t know what he was doing, but quickly added that I was not judging him. He drove and parked the car in an empty parking lot nearby. We sat in the front seat talking for a bit before he reclined my passenger seat, climbed over my lap, and knelt between my legs. He slid my blouse and bra up to see and feel my breasts. I was trapped underneath him, but enjoying the sensation of being slightly dominated. In between fondling, kissing and licking my nipples, he told me that he wished we had more time and were in a better setting. He also inquired a little about why DH and I have this arrangement. I explained what it means to be a hotwife. We made out and explored each other’s bodies, and he asked me what I would do or feel if he was better than DH. I firmly put an end to that line of questioning by telling him that I don’t do this to compare; I do it to add to my already wonderful and satisfying marriage and sex life. We went back to kissing, and I reached down to rub his dick through his jeans. At some point my blouse came off and was tossed aside. That’s when he began to talk about the next time we meet. Next time, I wondered? Maybe things were not moving to the next level as I suspected they would. I teased him that the next time had better not end with me unsatisfied like the last time. I reminded him that he had the pleasure of cumming, but I was left feeling disappointed that he did not return the favor those months ago. He promised that would never happen again, and moved to the back seat, pulling me along with him.

The cramped quarters made things awkward in the back seat at first. He removed his shirt while I tried to slide my hand between his legs, but our positions were not conducive to such activities. I said something like “I am having a little trouble here,” so The Italian quickly remedied the problem by moving over and swiftly taking off his jeans. I was a little taken aback by this move. He was now stripped down to his boxers, and I lay back awaiting the next move, slightly dazed and shocked. I was suddenly struck with the enormity of what I was doing. My mind filled with thoughts of my DH, wondering what he was doing. Oh my god, I thought to myself, this is happening! The pleasing sensation of The Italian’s tongue on my clit snapped me back to attention. In a matter of moments The Italian had pulled down my jeans and thong, and I had been too consumed with my own thoughts to notice. He used his thumb and tongue in harmony to stimulate me. I heard myself moan with pleasure. I writhed beneath him. I felt the head of his penis tease my lips. “You are so wet,” he said. O.M.F.G.! He is starting to fuck me! I quickly fumbled for my purse and took out the condom. I showed it to him, but he said he would pull out. I felt him thrust in and out of me. I know I insisted more that he should wear the condom, but we continued, with his assurance that he was going to pull out. I remember vacillating between moans of pleasure and feeling tears well up in my eyes as thoughts of DH flooded my brain. I felt slightly scared. Before I knew it, I felt The Italian shift his weight over me so that he could jerk off onto my stomach. His knuckles rubbed against my clit. I honestly do not know how long we were at it. Even though I had heard the gasps and groans of my own voice, I don’t remember feeling true pleasure, and despite being dripping wet, I did not cum. I guess my feelings of fear and thoughts of DH had distracted me too much.

We kissed a few more times and cleaned up while we redressed. The mood was light and we joked around, which was just the relief I needed. I was conscious of making sure there was no evidence to be found. I found my broken fingernail, a casualty of the awkward fumbling when we first climbed to the back seat. The Italian asked me what would happen when I got home. I truthfully told him that I would share every detail. He asked if I’d get fucked again. “Of course,” I replied. “Does that bother you?” I asked. “No,” he answered.

He asked for my number so he could text or call me. I must say, I was never in search of a regular fuck-buddy. When I go out, I look for no strings attached situations. But, I thought, we do have fun together, and dare I say some sort of chemistry, so I gave him my number. He drove me to my car, and he told me to call or text him sometime. “No,” I told him, “you’ll contact me.” He agreed, and we parted ways. I knew my DH would be up waiting for me...

The Italian Kisser. . . my 5th confession

I tried to make plans with some girlfriends to go out and catch a sneak peak of a new movie one night at the last minute when my DH could stay home with the kids. When neither of the girls were available, I decided to go out anyway, since DH was home, and I needed a break. I wasn’t especially gussied up because I was not planning on ‘playing around’ that night (since I didn’t expect to be going out alone). After the movie let out I decided to pop into a bar that was walking distance from the theater and have just one drink.

When I arrived, I noticed that the bar was a bit trendier and hipper than I expected, and felt a little out of my element, but surveyed the place and found a seat at the bar. I ordered a chocolate martini, when I heard a voice ask me some random question. I turned to find an old man to my right trying to strike up a conversation. Now, I thought I was out of place, but next to him I felt down right young! He looked older than my father! I like older men, but not that old. I tried to be polite, yet limit my end of the conversation as much as possible, so that it didn’t look as of we were together. I was feeling relaxed and began to check out the other men in the place, just in case someone struck my fancy. All the while the old man kept talking to me, so I decided to give up. Just as I was about to down my drink and bail, out of nowhere a guy positioned himself between the old man and me and said, “Hey, I’m back.” I was startled and bewildered, and I took me a moment to realize what he was doing. I burst out laughing when I dawned on me – he was trying to get rid of the old man for me!

His plan worked! We began talking and the old man left. I was feeling rather good – after all, I had the attention of 2 men at a hip and trendy bar! I realized that I was acting bolder and more confident that usual. I tried to be flirtatious and mysterious as we exchanged banter filled with subtle sexual references.  He asked me if I had ever tried an 'Italian Kiss'.  I asked if he was referring to a drink or himself.  I learned that he was indeed Italian, we once lived in the same small community and attended rival high schools, and he too was married. He stood very close to me as we talked, and I felt his hand ease down the small of my back and his fingers slid into the top of my pants. I made no secret of the fact that I was married, and inquired about his wife. He told me that he frequently goes out to bars at night alone just to chill. I shared that my DH knew that I was out looking for flirtatious fun, and asked what his wife would think of the fact that we were getting to know each other in this manner. Of course he said that she wouldn’t need to know, so I point blank asked him if he had ever been unfaithful, to which he replied, yes. I explained my situation with DH, and assured him that what ever happened between us would be shared in detail when I got home.

It was clear that we were enjoying each other’s company. The Italian and I had our arms around each other’s waists, and we began to kiss. At some point a woman sat next to The Italian, and the 3 of us chatted a little. She seemed fine, but abruptly move to a seat across the bar from us. We continued our banter and kisses, and I remember thinking that I was more sober that in my previous escapades, and I was taking in every detail. The Italian took a break to find a restroom, and the woman we had been talking to came over to me to warn me that The Italian, who she mistook for my boyfriend, was a player, and that he was flirting with her and other women in the bar. I thanked her for her concern and thought to myself, ‘If she only knew!’

When The Italian returned, I told him about the warning I received, and we laughed. He whispered in my ear that the only woman in the bar that he was interested in was me. I smiled and told him that he was welcome to move on to a hotter woman, and even began to suggest possibilities in the bar. We talked about their assets, but he always came back to why he would rather be with me. I admit, I liked hearing his compliments. He told me I was sexy and confident. I reminded him that I had been a damsel in distress when the night began, and thanked him for rescuing me. The Italian said, “I didn’t come over to rescue you.” So I asked him why he interrupted the conversation the old man was having with me. He said that he just wanted to meet me, but that he saw the old man was still nearby and offered to invite him back over. “No thanks,” I replied and we kissed deeply, intensely, and I was getting turned on. He slid his hand underneath my shirt and let his thumb graze my nipple, so I began to touch the growing bulge in his Levis.

We carried on for quite sometime right there at the bar. He asked if I wanted to go somewhere else, but I suddenly felt a little nervous. I had never gone all the way in any of my nights out. To stall things, I asked if he was ever going to offer to buy me a drink. So he ordered a round for us, and we resumed out public display of affection. I rubbed his dick, he teased my nipples, and we continued to kiss - deep kisses and light teasing kisses. The Italian had me really turned on, so the next time he asked if I was ready to moved our fun elsewhere I agreed.

The only realistic location was to his SUV parked near mine in a parking structure. We sat in the front seat and talked for a few minutes before deciding that the back seat offered more room to fool around. I boldly straddled his lap while we kissed. I was grinding my pelvis against his dick, which felt large. I kept thinking how juvenile it seemed to be making out in a car, yet slightly thrilling to be in a public place with a man who was not my DH. As things heated up in the back seat, The Italian and I traded places, so I was on the bottom, and he unzipped his pants and took his dick out. I started to give him a hand job. He lifted my shirt to grope my breasts. Next he moved my bra and rubbed his big, hard dick between my breasts. I used my hand to help. I remember thinking that this was a virtual stranger, a man other than DH, and I was jerking him off! His penis was longer than DH’s and I was enjoying the power I had over him at that moment. I helped him reach orgasm and he came on my breasts and abdomen. He was a gentleman and offered to find something to clean me up. I was feeling unsatisfied, and tried to get him to finger me, but eventually had to masturbate while he watched so I could climax. I must admit, that left me feeling somewhat disappointed with the experience. We pulled ourselves together, and he drove me to my car. We said goodbye and kissed one last time before heading home to our spouses.

I went home and woke up DH. I told him about my night. He was turned on by the fact that The Italian came on my chest. I relived the details on more than one occasion, adding spice to our bedroom activities.

During our time at the bar, I learned of The Italian's frequent hangouts. I admit, I have looked for him on a few occasions, and I fantasize about meeting him again, but in my fantasies, things go further...

I am still amazed by the fact that my DH is turned on by these nights I go out and play. The hotwife phenomena is something I never would have predicted in our marriage. It surprises me that DH ever suggested it, but I am even more surprised that I enjoy it.

I like the power I feel knowing that I can turn a man on.

I like the thrill of the chase.

I like the butterflies in my stomach from the first kiss.

I like having a double life that no one but DH (and you readers) know about.

I like telling DH all the details.

I like feeling naughty…