Whenever I Get Tired Of All The Anti-masculine Sentiment So Prevalent In Western Culture I Come Here

How do we know you are a real woman and not a man trying to be a lady? No offence intended but just curious. it is the internet after all.

Dear “Anonymous”, there is no way you can know that. So feel free to hold onto your belief. It indeed is the internet after all and you should be cautious and avoid my blog at all costs. Because you chose to use ‘anonymous’, I would tend to believe you already are following my posts, in which case I would strongly recommend you to refrain.

Cheap

[Cheap; Low in price, especially in relation to similar items or services; Inexpensive because of inferior quality.]

It was a cheap hotel. One that he found on the fly. One that he knew will not ask too many questions or proof of identity from either of us. One that wasn’t in either of our locations and one where once we came out of it, nobody will question and (hopefully) wouldn’t know where we came from or where we are headed towards. One where the ‘management’ knew the purpose of the rooms being let out, sometimes only at an hourly rate because it was often uncertain for the guests to decide beforehand the time that would spend indoor. One with a dim yellow bulb inside it which barely about let the couple see each other. One where the room had the bare essentials, a bed (double bed; they knew single rooms were useless for their purpose) with sheets which often are not exactly the cleanest, but also acceptable enough to use for the brief period while we were there, a small bedside table to keep the various ‘items’ which are typically involved, wall hooks and cheap plastic hangers to rest our clothes when they are not being used (which is about the most part of the time that we’re there), and a bathroom which had a shower which sprinkled just about the water required to ‘remove traces’ and be ‘civilized’ when we would step out of the room. One where the rickety wooden bed squeaked and creaked in the rhythm of the violent movements it so often endured. One where a passer by outside the room can hear the noise and voices and expressions of pain & pleasure (unless the inmates are completely muffled and stifled) and will still not bother because he/she would be more eager to get inside their own room (the irony being it is to remove the muffles and shackles from one’s mind that one has entered upon those premises in the first place). One where the rooms had that typical smell of being used for a certain purpose. One that would upon entering it, or even approaching it through the passage, would remind one of the purpose for which couples enter inside. One that will imprint on the memory that we are not the same anymore when we exit the room.

He took me there because the place we both are from, there exists a strong social/financial-status bias. While neither he nor me cared about the bias, we knew once “it” is over we would need to return to our respective neighbourhoods. And the bias would have raised questions if I were to invite him to my house…and his wife being a homemaker, his house was out of bounds. Thus was the need for him to identify the hotel.

I knew that I was fascinated by his ruggedness and coarse behaviour, and strange as it may sound the use of his words which were ‘absolutely unacceptable’ in the so-called society I belong to, and yet words, which instigated in me an uncontrollable desire to be his personally owned whore, to let him have his way around (and on) me. He was a bull, who I selected for myself, someone I knew for a brief while from before and developed the need to be together. For him, it was getting a high-society ‘housewife’ free for his personal use, which motivated him to spare the money on the hotel room. It didn’t take him a moment’s shyness to get rid of his own clothes, but did take some cajoling and maybe a slight exertion of force to tear the inner clothes off me despite our mutual knowledge that that’s why we were there, so he would ensure he gets his return from paying for the room rentals. It came naturally to him to get on top of me and move himself, but it took some convincing by him to get me on top of him to have myself so exposed as opposed to when under him, his body would keep me shadowed underneath it, that too with the lights on. He did had to pay extra because we used the room for a while longer than he estimated initially. I suppose he liked it more than he thought he would.

"... Mind turning around?"

(Repost - after Tumblr moral policing)

It is indeed funny to observe a fully grown, quite-masculine a man to show his softer side and request for a permission to use my hips. And mind it, it’s not something that’s apparent only in the men I have known before, but even with most that I have been sent as a courtesan to, or even by the ones I got myself ‘hunted’ down and then taken away with him.

I have observed that most men, feel that the conquest over their woman isn’t complete until they have done something that is drastic enough to either make their efforts to do it look satisfactory, or, they have inflicted (which sometimes may just be a belief) pain on their woman to make her cringe before him and submit. Both of these conditions are satisfied when they receive the consent to do it there, for no matter how experienced one is, it still needs effort to get into the ‘position’ and the inflicted ‘pain’ when the union happens.

In either case, an element of force becomes necessary for him to convey the message to the woman that she is his property, for minutes/hours/days, however temporary the ownership is. The need to establish control has been a fundamental criteria, more with the men who have hunted me and those I have been sent to as a part of my courtesan arrangement. My husbands have been more secure and they know that they don’t need to ask me for my permission to use my hips. They have developed the ability to sense my mood and know the answer even before they would ask. The hunters, on the other hand would feel the need to exert authority and it is often when after they have attained the primary satisfaction, and is in mood to pleasure himself once more, would have popped the question, “mind turning around? really feel like using your hips”…well, that’s actually a much watered down version of the actual words used to convey their desire.

Being asked that question makes me feel proud as a woman. It tells me that he found me attractive enough to want to explore more about me. The element of pain involved in allowing a man to 'use my hips’ is always present, but the satisfaction from knowing that I am being owned by him and he is getting satisfaction from ‘using me’ for that phase is exciting enough for me to usually consent to his request for use.

With you restarting blogging after the Tumblr purge, maybe now's a good time to finish the tale of your stag.

Thank you for the message, maybe I will finish it sometime. Incidentally, any particular reason why you choose to remain ‘anonymous’?

do you have any other blog ???? no new updates from you ??

No. I have just this one. I haven't been able to manage myself well against the time to be able to write. I hope to be able to do soon again

I love how you relate every post with your own experience, and express it so sensually. Will you please write a small post or a story describing how you started this sexual journey with your husbands colleague...

I am so thankful to you for the kind words. I can do so but not sure if a public post of that will be appreciated by the other members here.

Also, I only reblog those that I can relate to my life and try to add my experience in the similar situation to give the reblogged photo a personal touch. Thank you so much for the encouraging words.

Gairik & I (1st & 2nd part)

Let's call him Gairik.

I had recently started working. I had not worked before and had to take it up under duress. I possessed neither the experience nor degrees to get a high profile job. The dialogues I used here are just indicative and not an exact reproduction of reality. For those who have read my previous posts would know that my husband is deputed abroad and I am here with my children who have just started school. The school operates a bus service that picks and drops the children home. On the rare occasion when the bus service fails, the parents need to go over to collect their wards from the school.

My younger daughter's best friend in school is a nice girl and I know that the two friends genuinely care for each other. My daughter's friend, who, for the sake of this narrative we shall address as Durba (not her real name) does well in her studies and has exceptional behaviour (as opposed to mine, who at one time walked-in on us one night while we were engaged in a coitus...I believe I have written about that before). Durba lives with her father, who is separated from her mother. I could not but appreciate the wonderful upbringing that her father was undertaking. I would meet him (his name starts with G, for the sake of this narration let's call him Gairik) occasionally during the school parent-teacher meets. With the passage of time I had built a nice friendship with Gairik and I knew that he liked me quite a bit. He would often go out of his way to make things easier for me and to drop my daughter home from his house after she and Durba has spent the evening together. I liked G as a parent, and also as a man, and had often wondered what circumstances led to the separation of such a complete man from his wife. Subconsciously, at times I actually used to be on the lookout for him on the evenings when he would come to drop my daughter home, but never expressed it to him because I thought it would constitute behaviour "inappropriate" for a married woman. Sometimes on my request he would stay back a while at my house for a short chit-chat before returning home. He often made very polite requests for us to go somewhere for a cup of coffee; and just so that I didn’t feel uncomfortable he would mention that we can bring our kids along, almost as a guarantor that the parents won't do anything naughty. The wishful request was never fulfilled despite both of us wanting to. Despite the infrequent meets, our friendship grew still and we addressed each other informally enough and banter over phone-calls in the evenings, almost always ending with a promise to 'get-together sometime soon'.

It was one of those days at work, when there was a high-importance agenda meeting to take place in my office, and things were pretty going all topsy-turvy in the preparations therefor, that the school authorities called me. The conversation was on the following lines.

"Mrs. Shefaali, we regret to inform you that the bus service on your route has broken down and you need to come over to collect your daughter". "Oh! But I am about to get into a meeting in another fifteen minutes". "We are really sorry but you need to come over and collect your ward. Or else you need to have someone else collect her from the school". "But I don't have anyone else at home who could come over now". "We understand your inconvenience, but this is an emergency situation. Please reach before xx:xx because the school authorities will not be in office after that. Thank you for your cooperation". And the line was disconnected.

For the next few moments I broke into a cold sweat, unable to figure out how to manage both the sides. My phone rang again and I answered it even without checking who the caller was.

"Shefaali, Gairik bolchi" (This is Gairik calling). "Han Gairik, balo" (Yeah, tell me). "Shono, the school called and ..." (Listen...). "Han jani, ki korbo bujhte parchi na, ekhane bhishon important ekta meeting suru hote choleche" (I know, I cant figure out what to do, I have a very important meeting starting in a few min from now). "Shefaali, kono chinta koro na, ami Durba-ke ante jacchi, Prodiptaa (my daughter, not her real name) keo niye aschi. Ora dui bondhu amar kachei thakuk. Tumi nischinte office-er kaaj sesh kore amake call koro, ami eshe tomake office theke pick up kore nebo" (don't worry. I will collect your daughter along with mine and the two friends can stay together at my place. Call me once your work is over and I will come over to collect you from your office). 'Oh Gairik, eta koto boro help tumi nijeo jano na" (Gairik, this is a very big help from you). "Charo to osob formality, jao kaaj koro, edikta ami samle nicchi" (don't be so formal, go and complete your work, I will manage this side).

The meeting went long and still showed no signs of conclusion. When I asked my boss for the permission he was most reluctant to let me go, but the situation was such that he couldn’t refuse. But it came with a warning that this is the first and the last time he is letting me go when there is a VIP client in the meeting.

I called Gairik.

"Gairik?" "Haan Shefaali, bolo? Meeting sesh hoyeche?" (Tell me Shefaali, is your meeting over?) "Haan, I mean sesh hoyni, kintu allow koreche phirte ajker moton" (the meeting isnt over but I have been exempted and allowed to return for today). "Darun khobor. Tumi okhanei thako. Ami aschi tomake pick up korte" (excellent news. Be there and I am coming over to pick you up). "Ami cab niye chole aste pari, tumi keno unneccesarily asbe? tai asbo?" (I can hail a cab and come over. Why do you want to take unneccesary trouble. Should I?) "Shefaali, office theke ek pa-o berobe na. Okhanei darao, ami ekkhooni aschi" (don't take a single step out of the office. I will be right there). "Accha baba. Esho." (Ok, ok. Come), I said, as I smiled and hung up the phone. I don't know what made me smile. Was it because I don't have to take the trouble of getting a transport back home? Was it because my daughter is safe and cared for? or was it because I would get to meet Gairik, just me and him in the car?

to be continued...

I have been fortunate. All my bulls found me attractive enough to pursue and capture. I never had to try too hard to convince the prospective bull. Often the bulls have themselves proposed to host me for the few required glorious hours either at their apartments or their hotel rooms.

Could there be a better selection of words? or expression?

Hi, aren't you afraid of catching a sexually transmitted disease from your bulls and giving it to your husband? Do you take any precautions against this?

With anyone i am not sure about, i insist on using a condom. I carry some in my purse in case he forgot to get them in the heat of the moment, as a SOS situation.