A Borrowed Wife, The Covid Camper Ch. 05

"How was your flight?" I read on my phone with like one open eye. It was a great "break the ice" topic, but this was my husband, not some stranger; despite the more recent vibe we had going on back at home leading up to Ken's and my own island vacation. Hubby was distancing himself like never before, but to be fair two weeks straight with Ken was a "never before" kind of thing too. I'm actually half-worried that I'll overdose on Ken myself...

The text actually came in silent, but when it did it also illuminated my phone's screen, and it's this that's apparently woke me from my light sleep reflexively in the dark room. It's early for me, but I must remember the time zone shift as well though. Ken is still peacefully sleeping right next to me, (something else to get used to to be sure) but I also have both the time and privacy to remotely interact with my generous husband, the one who selflessly provided all this for us. It's the very least I can do, but one must also be careful as inflection is sometimes difficult to both project and receive in a text format; even for two people who know each other like we do.

"First class is the only way to go, so thank you for that too" I tell him by text after getting out of bed stealthily. "Does hubby come to the conclusion that I'm speaking of Ken's 'first class' performance, rather than our actual plane tickets though?" I ask myself.

"We met a young couple who sat right next to us on the plane by the way, oddly enough they live in Bradbury," I added. It was the truth, but more importantly it linked my first text to the actual plane ride, and not the proverbial "Ken-ride" a few hours later; which truthfully had been straight-up earth-shatteringly "first-class" too.

"Bradbury is posh" hubby reminds me, but posh is also a word that I don't ever recall hearing him use before, so I wonder what he's reading, as in where did that specific word come from. He's spot-on with the posh thing though, but more importantly he's obviously also thinking plane here, and not specifically Ken's impressive lovemaking skills. Bradbury is where the wealthy live, horse farms, servants, and large gated estates, but the young couple did have first class tickets too. They didn't dress, nor come off like they had that kind of money though, at least to me; "but is this my own working-class prejudice coming through?" I wondered.

"Did you wear any of what I packed for you yet?" I asked. It's too much talking about me for my tastes, I know hubby puts me first and all that, but I want to visit with him like this too, see this from his proverbial eyes; make sure he's still good here. My perception is that hubby is the proverbial weak-link in this crazy three-way adventure of ours, as in if this thing goes south, hubby will be the most likely cause. It's a logical premise; Ken and I are having fun and doing things that are familiar, (with the long history we have with each other) where hubby most certainly isn't. In addition to all that, Ken had just F-ed all the bitchiness right out of me the night before, and my empathy was therefore a bit more womanly and normal.

I don't like how I get sometimes, that aspect of my own emotional stability is a bit vibrant for me these days. Sated is "very relaxed and sated," and needy is "I need you so badly that I can't imagine not having you right now!"

Hubby tells me he's wearing the yoga pants, matching pink bralette and panties, and the hot-pink Victoria Secrets hoodie, as it's slightly chilly this morning. He tells me he's standing by the ridge right now to get the best signal, that he watched the sun rise dressed as described with a hot coffee in his hand. He further tells me that while it's extraordinarily peaceful where he is, it's also a bit surreal for him too.

I tell him it is for me too, but I bite my proverbial tongue on actually asking his if he's still alright with all this; as in all practicality if he wasn't there were few good options for correcting such. It's the hazard of being remotely marooned I suppose; so it's a mental isolation for him as much as it's a physical one.

"Tell me something I don't know?" hubby asks. It's like a secret intimate thing between us, (this particular phrase) ever since he first shared me with Ken that very first time while camping, it's like "tell me something without any judgements on my end." So most certainly not a confession, it's just a super-honest way of having me share what I've been up to; mostly with Ken over our long history, but there have been a few others as well. So the proverbial "get out of jail free card" I suppose; but then again we do have an established hall-pass arrangement between us too though.

I'll come right out and tell him sometimes, but my preference is actually to tell him a bit more indirectly, sometimes just with a special look, leaving the door open for more details if he feels the need. To give too many details without him asking, for me, comes very closet to gloating, or rubbing his nose in it; neither productive, nor in my best interest either. If hubby were arrogant, or cocky, he might need such a dose of humility, although he's anything but that, most especially these days with his dysfunction.

I've said it before, "plausible-deniability;" he needs to be able to legitimately pretend that he doesn't know what's going on; or as I'd soon learn, that's the way it used to work with us...

So for us, "no-secrets," it's the only way this thing could ever work, but hubby's desire to know something he doesn't, something additional, tells me he's hungry for a bit more from me now, also telling me he's comfortable with what he already knows, or thinks he knows. Or I suppose it could be straight-up boredom, wanting to live vicariously through my own sexual exploits, bearing in mind his isolation from every other human that we know. I reminded him before we left not to text anybody else unless it's an emergency, for the obvious reasons of promoting this little "swapped-husband" charade that we have going on. But back to Ken, he's my paramour and we're on vacation together, it's really no stretch of the imagination to realize that we've already done-it; hell, hubby pushed us to do-it together even before we left...

"You first ????" I text, wishing to playfully remind him that while he's still loved, he's also at the bottom of the proverbial "food-chain" here, at least while playing our game. "When this particular game ends has been left a bit vague though" I tell myself. He loves the domination aspect of this though, it trips his trigger to selflessly serve others, to be directed and commanded. Some people live to bend and break the rules, but others are comforted to know the rules are there, like guide rails on a slippery mountain road. A great many years earlier I came to a conclusion on this very subject, I could either embrace his selfless desire to serve me, or try to "correct" it; I obviously choosing the former.

"I had a wet dream last night! I creamed my brand new panties while dreaming about you and Ken throwing my keys into the surf."

... It took a few seconds for me to process all that, realize which keys he was referring to; I actually reread it several times before I responded. I'm fully awake now, this was profound to say the least. It's sufficient to say that I didn't even think an orgasm was technically possible for a guy while in a chastity device, and most certainly not for one with hubby's specific dysfunctional condition!

"So he actually popped himself off? In a 'Holly Crap!' kind of kinky dream too, one that remarkably had Ken and I not only conspiring to take his masculinity from him, but locking it away, permanently, even if we changed our own minds at some later date" I tell myself. To the best of my knowledge he hasn't had a real orgasm in months, maybe even a full year at this point, so much pent-up 'OLD' spunk, all drained at once; and I wasn't even there myself to make it happen, see the messy results. But in a way I guess both Ken and I were; vicariously at least in his dream.

"How do you feel?" I ask. Not about being marooned, nor about Ken stealing me away from him for a romantic vacation, but how did it feel to actually orgasm once again... dare I presume almost like a normally functioning man might.

"In a word, drained, so thank you both" he tells me. He's not only thanking me though, by implication he's telling me to thank Ken for him as well, share his, (dare I say) humiliation; implying there will be both knowledge and an additional debt associated with this "gift" of a dream-induced orgasm! Tell me how twisted up this actually is, up is down, and left is right, it's just so flippin surreal; so now maybe I'm on the same proverbial "surreal" page with him. Three very different people, (different needs at this stage of our lives to be sure) but all three sexually satisfied... so in a way hubby also got "something" wonderful for his selfless gift vacation.

"That's fricken hot, and you're welcome..." I typed out. I obviously had a whole bunch of thoughts associated with this most recent revelation, but to share them with hubby at this particular time would be counterproductive.

"My turn," I then add. "Ken used his belt and tied me to our big bed last night; I haven't been tied in years, haven't cum like that in years either. He even had to gag me with my ripped-off panties, so I didn't wake the other guests yowling like a banshee," I embellished. Ken obviously knew he was pushing those "abduction fantasy scenario" buttons with me, and he also knew us well enough to know that hubby wasn't the only one that responded to a certain level of domination.

"Ken is the perfect man to do this, for both of us really, he's literally one in a million" I remind myself.

"That's hot as hell!" hubby tells me, pretty much like no "normal" husband ever would under the circumstances. He knows that he's been underserving me in matters of the flesh though, and he sincerely wants me to be happy. To be fair here, I'm not exactly "feelin-it" sexually for him either these days, so it's not all him.

So reading into hubby's text a bit, while also replaying his most recent "upped" level of subservience with both Ken and myself, I come to the conclusion that he's truly happy with how things seem to be going here. It's certainly nothing an alpha man would ever do, but hubby isn't wearing that particular mask either.

In light of all this, hubby's "key-dream" has me thinking though, "was this a for-real dream, or something he's hinting at wanting in the real-world instead?" It's a fricken plastic device, it could still be cut off; so even 'discarded in the surf' keys didn't make his emasculation truly permanent, more so just symbolically so.

"Now that hubby can apparently cum again though; how long could he possibly endure actually being in chastity, nonstop?" I further wonder. A year is the obvious starting point, but if he can get himself off, even once in a blue moon in a wet dream, there should be no rush to unlock him... other than seeing a real doctor for his condition. That would entail his actually wanting to correct said condition, and so far I both see and hear about zero desire for such. In a word, hubby is happy in his servitude.

I ponder the obvious irony here; "what if the only way hubby COULD cum now was with Ken and I being naughty with each other, AND he being helplessly locked in chastity while it was actually happening?"

"... Ken's up, so I have to go now, but before I do; have you ever known anybody named Rose?" I ask. It's a version of that same choice that I've made before with Ken; Ken over hubby. One man is just a few feet away, and the other over a thousand miles away, and emasculated (by his own hand) with a tiny plastic device that Ken and I have the only keys to.

"No, I don't think so; should I?"

"No, not yet anyway, just checking" I reply cryptically. "Same time tomorrow?" I ask, ending our back and forth communication on my end by implication.

"????" Hubby sends back, which honestly strikes me as just a bit of a feminine response. In my minds eye I can almost see what he looks like standing there on that ridge texting me though, so this makes sense from a certain point of view. I can also turn my head and see the very naked, masculine, and backlit-silhouette of Ken making his way to the bathroom for easy comparison. Hubby just got off (possibly at the exact same time that I did) pondering Ken and I symbolically emasculating him for good, and Ken just made me feel like a woman still again; the one hardly any competition for the other.

He may be my husband for life, but surely there's a place in this new (post-sex with hubby) life of mine for Ken as well; but in what exact place, and then what of hubby's new role going forward? So much to ponder, so much to sort out in a short two weeks...

Hubby also makes a great maid, he's very naturally serving, and boy-howdy can my husband cook. In the management seminars I've attended they teach you to match people's skill-sets to the jobs at hand, and it just so happens that I finally realize that I need two different men, with two entirely different skill-sets, at least these days. At one time hubby was the "fits-all" bomb, and the only reason that I used my hall-pass at all was a bit of traveling-boredom, uniquely mated to random and rare opportunities.

Then of course my empathy taps me on my proverbial shoulder, and I realize that if this is tough for me; what must it be like for him? Imagine an injured jockey that suddenly can't ride any longer, or a pilot that can't fly. You still have the jodhpurs, you still have the wings for your epaulettes, you just can't do the actual physical activity any longer; and the only thing worse is if you no longer have the desire to either. So maybe it's quite natural under such circumstances to develop new interests, throw your remaining passions into something you actually can do?

So I'm "mostly" feeling pretty good about some things here, but there are obviously some lingering details to be sorted out, although in the short term hubby is apparently in a good place mentally, and really physically too. I assume not cumming for over a year has to have health considerations for a man too though; so this is really a good sign for hubby. It also links our individual needs together in a rather peculiar and unanticipated way, but we'll just have to come back around to that one.

So, Ken has rocked my world quite a bit here in the last day or so, and as a result my girl-parts are a bit "untucked" and in need of rest, and I think Ken needs a bit of time to recharge his batteries as well. So, we're off doing touristy-type things like a husband and wife might, seeing the proverbial sights, and this means taking a boat ride out to one of the tiny islands for a very unique "catch of the day" lunch on that island's beach. We meet Cathy and Henry from our flight once we board the boat, and we get caught up on things, this lunch trip part of a package that hubby bought into, apparently just like our new friends did. This likely means we'll be seeing each other a bit down here, on and off, and that draws my mind back to my insane daydream involving both of them.

I snicker to myself, "I guess we really are 'doing-lunch' together." They're friendly and outgoing though, great company even with the age gap we all have, and truthfully they don't live all that far away from "us" either; so near-neighbors. Their affection for each other is contagious too, if you have a heart it just makes you smile.

"So, having fun so far?" Cathy asks, she obviously the more outgoing of the pair.

"YEAH!" Ken answers for both of us with his "I'm being naughty" smile. I can tell by his near-swagger that he's feeling pretty good about the way he treated me the night before, and truthfully he should. Ken's also a natural charmer, and even though he's here with me, (and he's also like twice Cathy's age) he can't seem to turn it off. But, I have to remind myself that Ken's still a very good looking and fit man, he projects raw-masculinity; his confidence building by the day. It was one of our "dual-purpose" goals here, but it's nice to see it actually working out that way too though. Henry doesn't seem threatened at all, but Ken isn't giving off that exact "I want her" vibe either, it's more one of "you're a very lucky young man Henry, watch out that somebody like me doesn't steal her away from you one day."

Speaking of "stealing away," I then remember my crazy daydream about Cathy walking me around by my improvised belt-leash like a fricken dog, and calling me Rose too, before stripping me and taking me back to her hotel room for her version of fun. "How to possibly share something like that with anybody else though?" I wonder playfully.

"Not in a million fricken years!" I answer myself a heartbeat later; people are hugely judgmental, they claim to understand the nuances of a complex intimate relationship, all without being personally involved in it...

So, sufficient to say that our first full day down in the islands together was magnificent, even without sex, and this forces me to come to terms with the old Ken sometimes being a bit one-dimensional in my mind. He's obviously a friend and we have a past as well, (many fun adventures for the three of us without sex too obviously) but this forces me to think of Ken in slightly updated terms, as a fun-date, as a romantic companion even, so not just a sexual playmate to scratch a particular itch.

At the same time it's also nice to be seen down here on Ken's arm too though, and until I actually felt such myself, I didn't realize what else I was missing back at home. Sitting next to him in either his truck (or even my car) I got a bit of that vibe, but here without hubby "tagging-along" it's amplified and vibrant. Hubby's hubby, he's my soulmate best friend for life, but Ken just projects something that others notice too, masculine pheromones of vitality maybe, perhaps explaining why hubby doesn't "do-it" for me any longer. So it's not just the missing sex with hubby, but something chemically-attractive that was missing there as well these days. So in short, hubby's morphed into more of an obedient servant for me, (really for Ken and I in this present scenario) and therefore something less than a proper husband should be. Some of that is obviously physical, but some of it is also psychological too.

... I know, I know, it doesn't sound very loving at all, but one must also remember that there are all kinds of "love." You may sincerely love your pet dog, and your husband too, but if both were drowning in the surf and you could only choose one to save, the choice would be obvious! Hubby's hubby, he'll be there in my life forever like a best friend should be, but doing what exactly, (going forward) is the new question...

Anyway, there were several couples that were on the boat with us too, boy-girl, and man-woman respectively, so good opportunities for "people watching" as I like to call it. It's fun to see how people interact with each other, you can tell a lot by just observing.

There's even one middle-aged same-sex couple too; no judgements or anything, live and let live and all of that. Viper and Wackadoodle are the guy's names, so they're distinctive enough names to get my attention, and I have to admit that they seem very much in love; so probably a whole lot in common with each other. If nothing else it proves that there are all kinds of love, so really who am I to judge?

That being said, I don't necessarily want to watch two guys making out or anything like that, (and thankfully they don't take their obvious passion for each other "there" for us while we're watching) but I'm also sure they might not want to watch Ken and I lovin up on each other either. Then of course I wonder what they'd think about my secret, that this man in my company isn't my husband; that my captive and temporarily emasculated husband was instead marooned in a camper a thousand miles away. Would they have "man-sympathy" and side with my submissive husband, even though much of this was accomplished with his active cooperation?

Or for that matter, what would Cathy and Henry would think of hubby; learning their chosen "pet-name" was perhaps intended for a temporarily neutered human instead. Would they be intrigued, or perhaps revolted instead?

"Maybe they already realize some of this" I tell myself, wondering if I can somehow learn for certain one way or the other, without tipping my own hand in all this.

So in short it was a great day, and Ken and I obviously end up in bed with each other again, but this time exhausted from all the sun and wind. There's only one bed in the room anyway, but in a rare departure from our norm we don't do anything together, so very "hubby-like" while sleeping next to me, Ken's arm even possessively draped over my midsection for a bit. The goodnight kiss (from him) was surely different though, Ken pretty seamlessly moving into this part of my life too apparently.

... I'm up early to communicate with my marooned hubby once again, (in what becomes a daily ritual) and he seems just as happy as the day before in his texts. I snap a few pictures of the room with the flash off, catching Ken sleeping on our bed yes, but also giving him some necessary knowledge of the actual room layout in case somebody should ever ask. I imagine the pictures will download slowly, so he'll have them eventually, but the precise technical details as to why I'll leave up to others.

"Try on your new bikini?" I nudge, he's just like most other men in that regard, bikinis excite him, and his was a fairly adjustable triangle string bikini, I having it in my mind that if he sunned in it enough he might even get some bikini tan lines. I didn't know if his wearing one would be just as sexy for him, but it was on sale, and I was feeling both curious, and naughty. I actually bought one for myself too, but oddly enough wearing a bikini (in public) these days might push my own levels of comfort. I was more thinking of the irony of hubby and I wearing the very same things while a thousand miles apart, for me though likely just for Ken in the privacy of our room. I know, I know, Ken had my boobs out on a public beach only the day before, but in my mind that was impulsively different than choosing a bikini for the beach, as irrational as I know that sounds...

"I thought that was your's packed by mistake" hubby texts back. Now that he has this image of me wearing something specifically sexy, for Ken, I wonder what Pandora's box I've unintentionally opened here. I have to bear in mind that this was not only after his own mood-altering year-overdue big O, but also obviously a million miles away from the plausible-deniability he seems to want. But, then my mind wanders a bit; "he didn't specifically say no to wearing it, did he?" I ask myself.

"So, did it fit?" I press...

"Must I?" he counters.

"Tell me something I don't know and I'll do the same" I type. The grammar is a bit sketchy, but he gets the idea, and he won't dare correct me on something so trivial either.

"It actually fits, and I felt very sexy in it, but this body-shaving thing sucks!" he adds.

"I do my legs every few days, my girl-parts for Ken too now, on about the same schedule."

"Is that my secret, that you're bald now?"

"No, just general information for somebody new to... well body-shaving I suppose. So my secret is that I bought pretty much the same bikini for myself, except mine has a much larger cup size obviously."

"Send me a picture of yours and I'll do the same" he offers. This is straight-up offered blackmail material, but hubby has to know this.

"I haven't worn it yet" I tell him honestly.

"????" he sends back, clearly challenging me to up my own game, all while presenting what he no doubt sees as a very sexy and highly desirable version of me to my paramour. Nothing subtle in that at all...

"Gotta go, 'maybe' I'll have some more pictures for you tomorrow" I send, hubby clearly goading me to up my game with Ken, but hubby's "end-game" goals are just a bit foggy here. "Topping from the bottom?" I wonder, there have been elements of that here with him now that I think about it, goading both Ken and I to up our intensity level with him; as if all this wasn't enough already...