1
Diary of a Hot Wife
Where It All Began
Day 1
Everything in the world is about sex except sex
Sex is about power – Oscar Wilde
1
I stretch luxuriously in bed, letting a pleasant sigh escape my lips. The morning sun filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting golden specks of light across my naked body.
I gently run my fingertips over my breasts, tracing my nipples, teasing them, feeling them become erect with each delicate touch. I lightly purr as my right hand cups my breast, squeezing my sensitive peak, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.
I softly gasp as I rub a little faster and my left hand slowly glides down the length of my body, reaching my hips and stopping short of the top of my panties.
I take a deep breath and slip my fingers inside them, allowing my hand to move lower until I feel the warmth between my legs. I tease the sensitive folds, running my fingers along either side, fighting the urge to go further and instead focusing on my right breast.
My nipple is so hard that squeezing it feels incredible, especially when I occasionally twist it between my thumb and fingers.
I lick two fingers, and with feather-light touches, I circle my swollen clit. I spread my legs wider, giving myself better access and allowing my fingers to move faster, rubbing in small circles while continuing to pinch and roll my nipples.
‘Enough,’ my brain screams.
I slide two fingers into my pussy and leave my thumb to work my throbbing clit. ‘Fuck!’ I shout, my hips bucking upward and forcing my fingers deeper. The sensations are overwhelming—an orgasm is building fast...
‘I’m going to…’
Nothing
No climax. No further arousal.
I wake up.
Now that caught your attention, didn’t it?
My eyes gradually open and I slowly stretch. The air is cool, and the morning light is trying to force its way into the bedroom through the tiny gap at the bottom of the blinds. Unlike my dream, there is no sun streaming in and no golden light dancing across my body. How disappointing I think.
I slowly roll onto my back and look to my right. Danny has long since left the bed and is already on his way to work. Some mornings he lets me know he’s leaving; other times he doesn’t.
He leaves early to beat the morning rush through Manhattan. I, on the other hand, have the luxury of not needing to battle the traffic and can leave whenever I’m ready. That’s the joy of running my own business. I do have a mid-morning meeting at a coffee shop, though, so I can’t remain in bed for too long.
Danny is a manager at a law firm just off East 34th Street and has been there for about five years. It’s a great job and pays well, but he longs to run his own business one day.
I, on the other hand, am an author and speaker on sexual wellbeing, empowering women to love themselves and to respect their bodies. I’ve already written a New York Times bestseller and now I’m trying to figure out what comes next.
It has been a long journey to this point in my life, but with Danny’s support, it has all been possible. Seeing my name on book covers is an achievement that, at one point, only my wildest dreams could conjure up. It all happened by accident, but I’m glad it did.
I sit up, stretch and climb out of bed. Making my way around it, I head to the window and open the blinds, allowing the dull December morning into the room.
The day is gloomy. The rain hasn’t started yet, but it’s due later. Looking down at my body, I notice that I’m wearing nothing but my red lace panties. Anyone looking up at the bedroom window- or across from the opposite building- would be getting quite a view.
I turn from the window and head into the en-suite to get ready for the day.
The large shower is one of the best features of the apartment. We’re paying New York prices for the privilege and getting little more than we had back in North Carolina, where we moved from. Unfortunately, the city offers better opportunities and greater earning potential, so we have to take the rough with the smooth.
Even so, I miss life back in North Carolina. It was the place that helped me become who I am today.
I run the water for a moment, watching it fall from the rainfall shower head before removing my panties and stepping inside. Warm water runs over my body, and it feels wonderful.
I start by washing my hair with a mango-scented shampoo that men seem to go wild for. The shower fills with its sweet fragrance as I lather up. The sensation of water running down my body is blissful.
After rinsing the shampoo from my hair and clearing the water from my eyes, I grab the handheld shower head. It’s perfect for reaching those awkward places.
The subject of pubic hair creates endless debate in society. For years, I opted to keep things trimmed, painstakingly using a pair of scissors before eventually moving on to a more practical razor. I’ve never been brave enough to try waxing, and I’ve never seriously considered laser hair removal either.
Personally, I’ve always preferred being smooth. It feels cleaner, and I like the way it looks.
Finishing up, I grab my towel and step out of the shower. I head back through the bedroom and straight into the kitchen to make a coffee.
It’s never too early for my morning caffeine hit.
We were incredibly fussy when it came to tea and coffee. We would only source the finest coffee beans and the best tea leaves. It was one of those pleasures in life that neither of us could approach half-heartedly.
For coffee, we stocked Colombian, Jamaican Blue Mountain, and a robust Italian blend. For tea, we kept Jasmine and Chai. A great cup could really set me up for the day, whereas a bad one could ruin it.
Dramatic?
Yes, certainly, but I stand by my beliefs.
I grind some Jamaican Blue Mountain beans, tap the portafilter, and let the machine work its magic. While the espresso brews, I froth some milk before combining the two to make a latte. I give the jug a quick rinse and see that Danny has left his cup in the sink again. That frustrates me every time.
Taking a long sip, I allow the aromas to tease my senses. This is about as close to perfection as I can achieve with my home setup. The kitchen is soon alive with the smell of fresh coffee, and I couldn’t feel more at peace with the moment.
Drink in hand, I make my way back into the bedroom.
At some point between leaving the shower and making my coffee, I seem to have lost my towel. It’s probably lying abandoned on the kitchen floor. That means I’ve been wandering around the apartment completely naked without even noticing.
The thought gives me a small thrill.
I place my drink on the bedside table and begin selecting my outfit for the day. The meeting I’ve arranged is on the more formal side, even though I’m meeting a friend. She wants to help me start outlining my second book and thinks it will be easier to bounce ideas around in person. That means a blouse, a fitted pencil skirt, and a jacket. It’s far too cold for a dress now.
I choose a pair of pink lace panties and a matching bra before slipping into both. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I take a moment to admire my reflection.
I’m happy with what I see.
After finishing my coffee and getting dressed, I head back into the kitchen. The towel is exactly where I expected it to be, discarded on the floor.
I pick it up and drop it into the laundry basket.
After a final glance around the apartment to make sure everything is in order, I grab my keys and head out the door.
