Musings: On Being Mr. Lucky

When I lay my head on my pillow tonight, our total number of hot-wife/swinging experiences will stand at 143 and we'll be only 16 days shy of our third anniversary of our open marriage. I read again, just this morning in an e-mail, something I've read thousands of times in the past 154 weeks or so - another reminder from a fan telling me what a lucky man I am. There's rarely a moment on any day when I'm not cognizant of that fact. I'll never be a rich man money-wise, but I wouldn't trade the joy I know with Dee for any man's fortune. Part of how lucky I am has to do with that number 143 and it's that little bit of life about which I write here today.

Nearly every day I check the new posts over at the Hot Wives Forum in spite of what seems to be an asshole to normal person ratio there that's way too high, to include their moderators who rule the board in Hitlerian fashion and their adoring devotees who remind us all the time that, "This is free and the moderators are the next best thing to God and if you don't like it go somewhere else or start a forum of your own." If you were to follow the posts there with any degree of regularity, you'd see recurring themes with variations; the main staple of posts at the HWF seem to be from guys who want to be hot-wife husbands but have a snowball's chance in hell, and from hubbies who've had seemingly nothing but long strings of awful experiences in sharing their wives. Sadly, most of them are either lamenting their lots or asking for advice - asking questions that nobody else can really answer specifically for their situations. Perhaps I visit the forum despite the sourpusses and downers precisely because it serves as an excellent reminder of just how lucky I am to have had with Dee so many great hot-wife/swinging experiences - nearly one a week for the past three years, most of them with Don and Mike.

Sometimes fantasies are best left as fantasies and it wasn't without a major amount of trepidation that I drove Dee out to meet with Don that first night that she gave herself to him - to anyone since we married. I wasn't afraid of my own jealousy, nor that Don might get too emotionally attached to Dee, but I did fear the possibility of her falling too deeply for him. Tonight Don will be with Dee for the 99th time. Mike was up front about being single when he first wrote to us. In fact, he'd feared that that might ruin his chances of getting together with us, but he felt it was best to be honest. In his case, I had some amount of worry that he might fall too deeply for Dee when we invited him to join us with Don at the motel, especially because he and Dee were becoming very close friends in chat. Tonight Dee will be with Mike too, for the 54th time. I couldn't have hoped for us to have made two better friends in the course of sharing Dee, and what we share with both Don and Mike is much richer because they've become friends and not just emotionally distant, casual sex partners.

We've been so fortunate to have met some truly wonderful people in the course of our extramarital sex adventures - guys who've "drunk from the fountain of Dee" to have their fill most appreciatively and warmly, and couples with whom we felt like old friends rather than strangers when we met with them even for the first time. Our experiences with them have enriched us deeply, not only in the intensely pleasureable sexual moments but in the others when we all just sat around talking afterwards or during breaks in the action. Mostly, our experiences have brought Dee and me closer to each other than we'd ever been in our 19 married years before that first evening with Don; you're a lot less likely to take your partner for granted after you've seen him or her in sexual ecstasy with another person, and there's a profound deeping of love it seems when your partner allows you to have experiences with others which are, for most married folks, impossible to share.

There's that lame old chestnut that was popular I think in the 70's: If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was. It's one of those sayings that seems beautiful and profound when you first hear it, but then seems stupid and trite after you've seen it on too many posters, tee shirts, coffee cups, and key rings. Well, it most certainly regains its beauty and meaning when you put your eager nude wife on a bed with another man to watch her climax over and over again while he touches her and eats her and fucks her and then does it all again. When you take her home and put her to bed after an evening like that, it's impossible not to know just what a lucky guy you really are. When I get one of those mails from somebody who tells me how lucky I am, I smile - because the writer really has no idea at all of just how lucky I know I am.