Donna

You quietly watched as Donna applied her makeup, a familiar ritual that now sent a pang of unease through you. Tonight was another "date," another carefully curated evening for her to explore the hotwife lifestyle she so enthusiastically embraced. She'd meticulously recount every detail later, the drinks, the conversation, the eventual intimacy, all for your supposed enjoyment. But lately, something had shifted. The dates were becoming more frequent, the stories more…involved. She'd started mentioning "Matt" more often than necessary, lingering on his intelligence, his sense of humor, the way he made her laugh. It wasn't just a detached recounting anymore; there was a softness in her voice, a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "He really gets me." she'd said last week, a statement that felt like a punch to the gut. Was this the beginning of the end? Had your experiment in freedom somehow morphed into something you couldn't control, something that threatened to steal your wife's heart away? You had to decide if you would confront her about it or continue down the path you had both chosen.