It all started with my fascination for photography-themed erotica. I wasn't into random, meaningless porn; I craved stories that felt more realistic and authentic. I was particularly drawn to narratives where a model would pose for a photographer, and as their relationship grew more intimate, so did my interest. Over time, these stories evolved in a way that intrigued me even more—the model was now married to a loving husband who didn’t get upset when she shared what happened at the studio. Instead, he encouraged her to explore her desires further. I found myself becoming deeply connected to these stories and the characters within them.

Gradually, those stories led me into the world of hotwifing. It wasn’t an overnight shift; it took about two years for me to go from reading voyeur stories to diving into hotwifing. Once I did, I became wholly immersed in this genre. For the past five years, I’ve read nothing but hotwifing and cuckolding stories. Later, when I read these stories, I imagined my beautiful wife as the woman in them, and that gave me incredibly intense arousal.

Sarah and I had a real connection—we talked about everything. But bringing this up was terrifying. What if she didn’t take it well? I couldn’t just erase it from her mind. I’d have to live with the fact that my wife knows I get turned on thinking about her with other men. It was a risk; once it was out there, there’d be no taking it back.

One evening, while my wife, Sarah, and I were having dinner, I finally decided to bring it up. “You know, I’ve been reading these stories lately,” I began cautiously, unsure how she might react. “They’re about couples where the wife ... explores things with other men, with the husband’s encouragement.”

Sarah was stunned, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Wait, like an open marriage?”

“Not exactly,” I said, feeling my heart race. “It’s more like the husband gets off on it, seeing his wife with someone else. It’s not about love or anything like that. It’s more a turn-on for both of them.”

She put her fork down, staring at me with a mix of curiosity and confusion. “So that’s why you’ve been glued to your Kindle lately, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, feeling a little exposed. “It’s been on my mind a lot. I started wondering what it would be like if we ever tried something like that.”

Sarah gave me a look that was hard to read, her smile fading into something more serious. “I appreciate you telling me, but I don’t know if I’m into that. I mean, we’ve got a good thing going, right? I’m happy with us.”

“I know,” I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I’m not saying we have to do anything. I just wanted to be honest with you, you know? Get it off my chest.”

She squeezed my hand, her expression softening just a bit. “I’m glad you told me. It’s good we talk about this stuff, even if it’s weird.”

We sat there for a moment, the air between us feeling heavier than usual. Finally, she spoke again, her voice more thoughtful. “I love how we can talk about anything and that’s why we work so well together. But this ... it’s a big deal. I don’t know if it’s something I could actually do.”

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “I’m not trying to push you into anything. It’s just something I’ve been curious about, and I wanted you to know.”

She looked at me, her eyes searching mine. “I appreciate the trust, but honestly, the idea of being with someone else doesn’t really do it for me. At least, not like it seems to for you.”

“It’s not that you’re not enough for me. You are. It’s just something in my head, you know?” I expressed myself again.

Sarah leaned in, her hand cupping my cheek. “I know, and I’m glad you felt like you could tell me. But I want you to know I’m happy with what we have. I don’t need anyone else.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” I said, placing my hand over hers. “I just want us to be open with each other like we always have been.”

She smiled, the tension easing a little. “I love your openness even if it's weird. But for now, I think I’m content with just us.”

We left it there, the conversation hanging in the air. I knew she wasn’t ready to take things further, and I respected that. But at least now, it was out in the open.

A few months later, Sarah started talking about a colleague from work, Mark. He was new in the office, and since our house was on his way, he began giving her a ride to and from work. At first, it seemed like a convenient arrangement, but as the weeks passed, I noticed that she was mentioning him more often. She would talk about their conversations, his sense of humor, and how easy he was to talk to.

One evening, as we were getting ready for bed, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “You know, it almost sounds like he’s taking you to fuck in the morning and dropping you off after.”

Sarah turned bright red, “Don’t be ridiculous,” she shot back, but there was a nervous laugh in her voice. She quickly changed the subject, brushing off my comment like it was nothing.

Later that night, as we were making love, the thought kept gnawing at me, so I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Would you do it for me?”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide with shock. “Wait, are you asking if I would actually sleep with him?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “Yeah, I am. I’ve been thinking about it, and I want you to.”

Sarah stared at me, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. She didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity, and I didn’t push it. I could tell she needed time to process.

A few days later, while we were having breakfast, she suddenly looked at me, her face serious. “Do you really want me to do this? With him?”

I met her gaze, trying to gauge what she was feeling. “Yeah, I do,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure how this would change things between us, but I couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

She nodded slowly, still processing. “I’ll think about it,” she finally said, her voice quiet.

The next evening, Mark dropped her off as usual. But there was something different this time — a look in his eyes as he waved goodbye, a smile that seemed to hold a secret.

Sarah walked up to me, hugged me, kissed me softly, and then, with Mark still in the driveway, she looked into my eyes and said, “It happened, honey. We didn’t go to the office today. We went to the city, got a room, and spent the whole day in bed.”

My heart pounded as I processed her words. I searched her face, desperate to understand how she felt about it.

“How was it?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

She smiled, a mixture of emotions playing across her face. “It was different; Intense. But I kept thinking about you. About how this was something you wanted.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice calm. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, I did, and are you okay with what I did behind your back?”

I nodded, taking her hand. “I am. It’s something we did together. It was an experience we shared, and it made me realize how strong our connection is. You should tell me all about it tonight.”

And that’s how our journey began. Even now, having a hotwife of my own, I still enjoy reading those stories and these days I’m drawn to even more intense ones. If you're curious about my favorites, I highly recommend checking out "Wife Celebrator" on the Amazon Kindle Store. His book "My Sweet Wife in Black Hands," which begins with a photography theme, is a favorite of mine.

Lately, I’ve been more intrigued by his latest release, "One Vacation Changed Everything," published just two weeks ago—it’s rich with emotional depth and packed with various challenges for the couple. Reading it reminded me of our own journey and how one decision can lead to an entirely new chapter in a relationship.