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"My wife is a Cuck queen."

"Oh really," I said.

"She likes watching me fuck another woman. It gets her very excited," V said.

That explained why his wife was fine with the swinging, except for the part involving having sex with other men while V nailed his woman.

At least for the first time, Wifey wasn't okay. After their first encounter with the couple. "It didn't go so well," V said. "We're taking a break."

"What was wrong?" I asked, excited to hear the details. It wasn't every day that I got to ask what went down in a couple swap sex.

"She didn't like the guy," he said.

Agreed. Swinging is a couple things. It was hard to get both sides to like each other. V might like the woman and the man might like V's wife but that didn't mean that Vic's wife might like the man and the other man's woman...you get the gist.

"Even though we had our dinners twice," V said.

"Where did you find those swingers?" I was beyond curious.

"Usually, Tinder or X," he said. "I talk to the guy and we share pics of our wives or partners and chat about them."

Okay. That was weird. Felt like it was old-fashioned bartering. Their wives commodities to bait and use.

Ever since H and I started yolo-ing, we knew objectification was part of the game. He took pics of me and told me to post those sexy pics on Ashely Mad, Insta, Tinder, Bumble, and so on.

I was his Hotwife. He enjoyed seeing the guys have hots for me. All wanting a piece of his delicious wife's booty. It felt good. Knowing he owned me and they could only get a taste of it because he said it was okay.

That was the difference and why he was definitely not a Cuckold, and I wasn't a NTR wife. Code words like these which two years ago I'd be like — "What?" And now I threw them out like it was a walk in the park.

I had a flasher fetish, I was fine with flaunting. The more eyes on my pics, the more excited I got, the more my ego boosted.

Yes. I loved making people horny. It was an awesome feeling. Watching a person get out of control, to release their inner self. I enjoyed watching them explode and be set free. Their happiness was my happiness. A mass hive of sexual energy flowing through the invisible waves of the Internet or right before my eyes. I ate them all. That delicious sensation of sex.

"I think you need to see a sex therapist," H said once.

"Why?

"Because that's all you think of."

"Not always," I said and thought about it. "Recently...not always..."

"I think you think about sex more than I do," said some of my Korean online friends.

Guys in their prime of 24 to 27 years old who should be jerking off every other day but don't.

"I haven't had sex in two months," said one.

"I haven't had sex in a year," said another.

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