voyeurism

Hotwives and cuckolds

As a writer of erotic stories, I’ve often found that real life is sometimes harder to believe than fiction. Usually, I’ll experience something that gives me an idea for a story, and remembering a past experience is one such event.

When I lived in Houston, I ran around with a guy who lived in the same apartment complex. One night, over a beer, he said, “I had a weird experience the other night!”

“Really, what happened?” I asked.

“I walked into a neighborhood bar on Bellair, which was empty except for a couple sitting at a four-top. I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer.”

“After a few minutes, the woman got up and sat down beside me. She was hot and asked me to pass her the peanuts, which were on the opposite side from her. She pointed at the peanuts while bending over to give me a good shot of her boobs in a low cut top.”

“She tried to make conversation with me, but it freaked me out with her husband sitting at a table, not ten feet from me. She finally gave up and went back to her husband.”

“Then the bartender came over and whispered, ‘Don’t you like her?’”

“I replied, ‘Yeah, but not with her husband sitting there.’”

“The bartender chuckled and replied, ‘They come in here all the time, and she picks up a guy to take home with them.’”

My friend said that after thinking about it for a minute, he got up and asked the couple if he could join them. After a few minutes, the husband suggested that they go back to their house.

Going back to the couple’s residence, they had a drink, and then he ended up in bed with the wife while her husband sat in a chair by the bed and jerked off.

Initially, he was self-conscious about banging the guy’s wife, but after a few minutes, he completely forgot about her husband and had one of the best times of his life. Afterward, hubby invited him back anytime to take care of the wife.

At the time, I was a young single guy and would have never believed that married people would do such things. Fast forward a few years, and here I was married at a swinger’s party in bed with another guy’s wife.

Pam was a gorgeous older blonde MILF with a fabulous body that belonged to a much younger woman. Jack, her husband, had followed us into the bedroom and stood in the corner, watching.

When she noticed me looking at her husband, Pam asked, “He likes to watch. You don’t mind, do you?”

I said, “No,” because what else could you say in a situation like this?

She was insatiable, and one of the best lays I’ve ever had. The whole time Jack is whacking off watching us.

Towards the end, Foxy came in and climbed in bed with us. She often checks on me to be sure I’m doing okay. She kissed Pam, and I could see that Pam didn’t enjoy it as much as my wife did. Pam said that she’d never been with many women before but figured out if she wanted me, then she’d have to play ball.

It turned out that Pam and Jack lived a few minutes away from us, and we became good friends. In addition to screwing, we did bar hopping, dining, movies, and strip clubs together. Where we lived in the Midwest, strip clubs were typically in a less than attractive part of town. Jack was a cop and could legally carry a gun, so there were additional benefits to running around with them.

When I started writing porn, I have often included them in my erotic stories. I named the fictitious couple Pam and Jack in their honor. Hotwives and their cuckold husbands can be found at most swinger’s parties.

Pam has come over to the dark side and enjoys women as much as my wife does, but she still likes dick better. Jack is happy to hide in the closet to watch his wife get her lights drilled out and makes no bones about enjoying it.

A lot of my stories are based upon our experiences with Hotwives and their cuckold husbands. Hotwives are a popular theme in erotic literature, and it’s always fun to write about them.

I’m Larry Archer, and I love to write those stained and stuck together stories you read in the privacy of your locked bedroom or bath. My stroke erotica with somewhat of a plot thrown in is based upon our adventures in wife swapping. Join me on the twenty-fourth of every month to update our struggle to remain sane in this pandemic. For more perverted stuff, check out my blog, LarryArcher.blog, for more of the same. You can find my stories at Amazon, SmashWords, Apple iBooks, and many others for your reading pleasure. Remember, if you need some strange stuff, try your left hand!

Stay Safe! Love Foxy and Larry

The Value of Voyeurism: Perusing Erotic Letters from the Past

By Donna George Storey

It’s a deliciously “dirty” job, but a writer of historical erotic fiction has to do it. As part of my ongoing research for my novel, I’ve been reading the romantic and erotic correspondence of couples whose private letters have been published due to their literary and/or historic value. Sometimes both sides of the correspondence have been preserved, but this is rare. Intimate letters tended to be destroyed by at least one of the partners; more often it is the man’s that survive. If the woman’s do, frequently the racier portions are missing, no doubt for modesty’s sake. Still, many fascinating examples of both lovers’ seductive words remain for our curious modern eyes to enjoy.

Napoleon and Josephine, Thomas Jefferson and Maria Cosgrove, Mabel Loomis Todd and Austin Dickinson, Michael Collins and Kitty Kiernan, Elizabeth Bowen and Charles Ritchie, Maud Hart and Delos Lovelace, my voyeur’s list may grow further still as I continue my research. But I doubt new examples will challenge my main conclusion: Romantic love and sexual passion are timeless human experiences. Of course there are references to split drawers and dressing gowns in these letters, but the words and emotions truly transcend any particular time and place.

Most of all these letters prove that people in olden times–even prominent, “respectable” people–did enjoy sex, as much as the guardians of moral order would like to erase such evidence.

On that note, I must mention one unwitting member of this immortal erotic letter-writing tribe, a man named Godfrey Lowell Cabot, who was mentioned in a number of works I’ve consulted on sexuality in nineteenth-century America including The Humble Little Condom: A History and Devices and Desires: A History of Contraceptives in America. Mr. Cabot was from a very distinguished Boston family and a member of that city’s Watch and Ward, a group of gentlemen who reviewed pornographic images and writings in order to censor them for the good of the community. While protecting the lower orders from lustful thoughts and deeds in his public role, Mr. Cabot himself was the author of a number of intense sexual fantasies written in letters to his wife, Minnie. These letters are certainly the most transgressive (not to say “sickest”) of my sample—“dreams” wherein Mr. Cabot urinated in his wife’s mouth or was swallowed whole by her, his entire body pleasurably lodged inside hers. Of course, he wrote these fantasies in German, so perhaps that made them less obscene by Mr. Cabot’s measure. One does wonder if Minnie, reportedly a social climbing snob who complained of her husband’s incessant sexual demands, bothered to get out the German dictionary or was fluent enough to understand the “dreams” without such an effort.

In any case, there are some who question whether modern readers should intrude on a private, intimate correspondence by an otherwise respected historical figure. Perhaps they worry that the dignity of the personage and of the very value system that elevates great men over the rest of us will be compromised. Mr. Cabot is an excellent argument for openness because it benefits us all to know how hypocritical the guardians of public morals can be.

But most of the time, reading sexy love letters from the past is just plain fun.

My favorite example of historical love and lust comes in the letters James Joyce wrote to his common-law wife Nora while he was away on a long business trip in Dublin. The letters date from December 1909 and only appeared in print in Richard Ellmann’s Selected Letters of James Joyce (1975). Thanks to the Internet, we can read some of the letters in one form or another. I think they’re well worth reading for the boyish, uninhibited pleasure the letters convey. Joyce is not editing himself for public consumption, he is revealing his fantasies and desires to the woman he loves. Many call them “dirty,” but I would characterize them as “sincere.” Occasionally Joyce worries his “fuckbird” will find his fantasies perverted, a nice touch of reality, but although her replies have not survived, it is obvious she was a passionate partner in the exchange and not just doing it to keep him away from Dublin’s brothels.

However, rather like the controversial tampon scene in Fifty Shades of Grey, James Joyce’s “dirty” letters draw disgust for one natural physiological aspect in particular–his obvious joy in his partner’s farts during intercourse.

“You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole. It is wonderful to fuck a farting woman when every fuck drives one out of her.” (Excerpted from December 8, 1909)

A goodly number of online commentators are really grossed out by this (they are less vocal about Joyce’s delight in the image of Nora masturbating while she defecates, but perhaps that one was too much to tackle in a public forum). Surely anyone who’s read Ulysses–and haven’t we all?–could have guessed that Joyce is a butt guy:

“He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation.” (“Ithaca” chapter, Ulysses)

And dare I suggest that anyone who has experienced heterosexual intercourse knows that the insertion of a rigid penis into the woman’s pelvic region results in the passing of gas on occasion? Joyce’s celebration of his lover’s farts during intimacy could be seen as endearing, an unconditional acceptance of her body and all of its qualities in the throes of passion.

In American Taboo: The Forbidden Words, Unspoken Rules, and Secret Morality of Popular Culture, Lauren Rosewarne contends that farts and fart jokes are allowable in low humor genres and as a way to portray male characters as unrefined and undisciplined. However farts invariably decrease the sexual attractiveness of women. Desirable women simply never fart, although they are supposed to endure with patience the farts of their male partners. Above all, one is never supposed to couple a towering god of twentieth-century literature such as James Joyce with something as crude as farting.

Now, if you find farts during sex disgusting and unspeakable, that’s fine. One should be no more judged for that reaction than the opposite preference. But I’d also suggest that this glimpse into other couples’ intimate lives does give us a chance to acknowledge how sex and the taboo are closely linked. Rather than recoiling in disgust, why not wonder at the variety of humanity’s sweet perversity? And be grateful to these lovers whose words show us we are all connected through time in our erotic desires?

Write on!

Donna George Storey is the author
of Amorous Woman and a collection of short
stories, Mammoth
Presents the Best of Donna George Storey
. Learn more about her
work at www.DonnaGeorgeStorey.com
or http://www.facebook.com/DGSauthor

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