A Borrowed Wife, The Covid Camper Ch. 06

"Up early?" Ken asks in a slightly groggy voice without even lifting his head, apparently a little surprised that I'm up and moving so early after yesterday's full day in the sun. So, it's fair to say that the two men in my life are obviously a bit different in this too; hubby's feet hit the ground at one hundred percent pretty much every morning, ready to serve, where Ken is a bit slower to get vertical in the morning. With hubby I wake to my coffee already made, where with Ken I'd likely have to make it myself. Now this of course assumes a hubby fully removed from my life, something I however have no intention of ever doing. We're riding this proverbial train to the very end of the tracks together, it's just the specific seating arrangements that's in question these "dysfunctional" days.

So, fair to say that Ken can't be hubby's full-replacement, not happening, and not just because of coffee; but he could take over some of hubby's unfulfilled manly "duties" going forward, and by that I mean well after this little experimental "honeymoon" as well. It's truthfully so much to sort out, but I also realize that I'm not alone in this task, that there are potentially two others involved in this unique adventure with me to help make this happen...

I told Ken that hubby and I text each other in the mornings now, (although not the specific details) and he asks how he's doing, but almost in a "I should really ask" perfunctory way. Now reading into it a bit, (tone-wise) but also bearing in mind that Ken's head is still on his pillow, his tone to me is still ever so slightly dismissive, as in "how's that old dog of yours getting along without you there?" So it's still politely inquiring about hubby, (in a way) but tone-wise also placing him on a lower tier of relevance. It may sound just awful bearing in mind hubby's generous gift to both of us, but this is part of the adult games we play, but in this particular case also for far longer than we've ever played them in the past.

To be perfectly fair, hubby pretty much does this "self-diminishing" thing himself quite adroitly, with both of us lately, so I don't know that this is indicative of any lacking character on Ken's part here; more so he's just playing the proverbial room. But it's also fair to say that the vibe I'm getting is while hubby is actively demoting himself to make room for Ken, Ken himself is feeling a bit more empowered, justified even in taking hubby's rightful place beside me; so perhaps both guys working towards a common goal. I can't say this is necessarily good or bad at this early point, but it's just an honest observation of what I see. Hubby graciously opened the door though, and Ken "came" inside, quite literally by invitation.

... Anyway, I remember reading an article in a psychology magazine once, and the premise was that whether you were talking about a military campaign, or a sports team on the field; at some point the winners realized that they were winning and acted accordingly, while the presumptive losers realized that they were going to lose. Winners act like winners, losers act like losers; so it's not a very deep conclusion, but it's relevant here with the three of us is obvious.

Now to be fair this isn't a real competition, nobody is getting bloodied or bruised, in fact, one of the two competitors has pretty much rolled over on his back and surrendered, without ever firing a shot. Or, perhaps a better metaphor might be he's raised his little pink-pantie flag of surrender, the terms to be determined magnanimously by the victor at some later date...

So I guess it shouldn't really be a big surprise to me that my emasculated and submissive husband might willingly surrender to the apparent better man, but one he also knows won't harm me in the least; so there is a kind of security there. To actually see this husband of mine so easily surrender his masculinity though, to watch it happen in real-time, all while he surely knows this isn't some simple "scratch that itch" weekend fling for us does cause one to have thoughts. "Was hubby happy to be rid of the sexual burden that I was, (perhaps even just temporarily) maybe even willing enough to trade those keys to his dysfunctional man-bits for this, for lack of a better word, freedom?" I asked myself.

Or, was this nothing but selfless love, hubby gifting me to trusted-Ken, perhaps while retaining the privilege of future cohabitation with Ken and I on some lower social status, all in exchange for a life of slavish servitude to the new loving couple? We'd potentially live like husband and wife (Ken and I) less the actual ceremony, and hubby would get to continue to serve me, Ken too in this scenario; and I know how he so likes to serve others, he was practically made for it. He'd be doing what he was undeniably good at, and Ken would be doing what he was good at too, a win-win, at least from my specific point of view.

"I think I'd rather clean the toilets and mop the kitchen floor myself dear" said no wife ever, not while having a stud rock her world was a viable option. Yes I love my husband, but I'm not willing to be "old" yet either; call me greedy on this one subject!

I also logically realize that Ken can't live with his elderly folks forever, (it's not good for him psychologically) so he'd soon need a place to call his own, either one he had to somehow buy himself while being "divorce-poor" once more, or perhaps one we (meaning hubby and I) already owned.

"What would the neighbors think?" I asked myself.

"Or for that matter, where would hubby sleep? Surely not next door in the guest bedroom long-term, listening-in through the thin walls like some kind of perv while Ken and I went at it like horny teenagers," I told myself with a laugh.

"Look who's measuring for the proverbial drapes now, all while still negotiating the price of the home?" I think to myself a moment later.

So bearing in mind Ken's evolving attitude towards chastity-caged, I've played maid before hubby, I tell him what I want to do that day, and while he's a bit shocked at my boldness, he doesn't come out and tell me no or anything. We're going to the beach, and I'm wearing my new string bikini for Ken because hubby called me chicken, (topping from the botom one could easily argue) and both Ken and I will be wearing one other thing too, something once belonging to hubby. I also want Ken to record the event on his phone's high end camera, to be shared at some later date of our choosing if I don't lose my nerve and actually chicken out for real.

So showers and bathing suits for both of us, and Ken just can't keep his hands off of me once in my bikini, so I suppose hubby had some good "guy-instincts" on this whole bikini thing. Oh yes, hubby will get his bikini picture too now, and something a bit extra, inspired by none other than himself.

So this last part is just out there, but I'm inspired to work with what I have on hand, so I take some dental floss and form a belly chain with it around my bare waist, capturing hubby's special key in front with a simple knot so that it hangs right over my mound on the outside of my bikini. Ken gets a picture of that, and it's clear that this is hubby's key, the resolution is so good you can clearly read the stamped in "holy trainer" right on it. It looks a bit foolish hanging there though, so I can't imagine walking onto the beach like that either, even this early when few people are up and out yet. Then a naughty little epiphany hits me, and I tuck the little unique key inside my suit, nestled right up against my bald box. Ken gets a picture of this too, little bump on the front of my ultra-thin suit and all. I just can't fully describe how this feels, but safe to say that I feel that cold little key emotionally too, and not just it's physical intrusion with every step I take.

Next it's Ken's turn for his "hubby-key" jewelry, but in his case we repurpose a hair-tie rubber band, and he puts this on his left wrist, so not something to gain any attention at all, unless of course one were to somehow read the Key's brand name stamped into it. I've told Ken what my rough intentions are, but I think he's thinking I'll chicken out too, or that I'm bluffing for the sake of getting some provocative beach pictures of me in my bikini while wearing hubby's little key, all to taunt hubby with a bit later.

So it's a beach sundress for me, and a shirt for Ken, and we're off to the beach hand in hand, with nobody paying any attention to our unique fabricated jewelry. I toy with the hanging key while holding Ken's left hand, I just can't believe that we're actually doing this, but I also feel a bit possessed, like I'm not one hundred percent in control of my own actions. I know what I'm planning, it's a surreal, near out of body experience as we pick our umbrella and then strip off. Ken is watching me, lusting on me in my bikini, but perhaps waiting for the moment I'll call this off. I also feel this though, and don't want to disappoint him, in other words, show any lack of courage for what potentially lies ahead for us as a couple. Ken and I have this established habit of goading each other on with sexy things, so we're truthfully not always the best for each other in these matters, and hubby many times gets the brunt of our mischief too. Hubby plays along too though, he's no helpless victim here, he truthfully enjoys the bottom position.

So anyway, it's like I'm watching another do this instead as Ken and I make our way to the surf, and on top of everything else I feel scandalously naked in this little string bikini, even though it's a relatively modest triangle cut, so it actually fits me and offers some level of support. I'm also a bit more pale that I'd like to be, but Ken doesn't seem to mind at all, nor do I mind his tee-shirt tan from working outside in the yard. I'm not looking for Mr. Perfect, nor obviously am I offering a version of that myself.

So anyway, Ken snaps away with his phone's camera almost like some rude wannabe paparazzi, (inflating my already growing ego) and he even gets a few right handed video selfies with the both of us and our brand new temporary jewelry. I feel like a demoness wearing so little on the beach, like I'm on display, like this provocative woman that I'm emulating can do almost anything. "The clothes make the woman" I'm reminded, it's something I read once quite some time ago, and the phrase stuck with me for some reason.

So while I'm not twenty-five any longer, Ken still can't keep his hands off of me, and I'm almost thinking "lets sneak back to the room instead and do something fun." I don't come out and say so, but in the pictures you can clearly see the fire of desire in my eyes, my erect nips pushing at the thin material of my bikini top. A couple walking on the beach see Ken and I doing the handsy, selfie-thing, really just acting like newlyweds, (and maybe even the fire in my eyes too) and after we make eye-contact the wife offers to get some pictures with Ken's phone, which Ken thanks her for. The best of those has Ken's left arm draped over my shoulder, his large hand open casually, as if poised to squeeze and molest my bikini-covered left boob the second she turns away, key hanging intentionally. Ken then gets some of the couple with their own phone too, ocean in the backdrop; it seemed only fair to reciprocate.

We then wade out into the gentle and flat low-tide surf, my bikini bottoms apparently about fifty percent transparent when wet. My grooming is perfect so this is only so bad, (so the general shape of my slightly puffy and bald "peach," and not the details) but the oddly shaped chastity key also prints through, as if I had some bulky piercing down there instead. Ken's eyes light up on seeing this, and he gets a short video with the ocean in the backdrop, maybe even thinking this is my real goal; to flaunt hubby's key laying so dangerously close to my wifely prize, all while being held by almost-nothing dental floss.

I'm picking up on Ken's desire here, he likes what he sees, what he has once again to play with and hold; fair to say that his second divorce had been pretty terrible for him, ego-crushing really. There are just two things between Ken and what he obviously wants and needs in life now; that key, and my bikini bottoms. He kisses me deeply while standing in that water with me, it almost feels like there isn't another soul on that beach with us; although quite truthfully we're nearly alone at this early hour. His finger stealthily strokes me overtop my bikini, bottom to top, and he gives that little key a playful tap when he gets to it, reminding me as well what's figuratively in the way of one potential future for us. He may not be able take hubby's place totally in my life, but he can and does take his one-time place there quite magnificently...

It's something hubby doesn't use himself any longer though, and one of the reasons for that (the key) is laying right on top of it, so the imagery is profound to me, more so than I thought it might be when I thought this up. In my mind it was a tauntingly playful quasi-public scene, especially bearing in mind hubby's shared dream, or perhaps more accurately, desire; I'm not clear on that part to be honest.

'Lets make another video" I tell Ken in a tone that any straight man would recognize. I'm full of lust, and my tone is as well, my actions almost like watching another do them instead. I've been there before with Ken though, quite recently, it's that, "I need you now" thing, no matter who's watching, nor listening. It wasn't quite like this a few years ago though, there's a burning "time-sensitive" urgency to my needs now, and apparently Ken's as well. So to say that we're simply physically-compatible would be an understatement.

"Go get that key stud... drop it in the water!" I command with lustful tones while looking down between us, all while I'm holding Ken's filming-camera up and out to get the best view. He hesitates for just a moment, looking back at me like "for-real?" He's on his knees in the water just a few seconds later though, and he fishes out hubby's tiny key with his teeth, holding the dental floss in his lips, shaking the dangling key beneath. He's waiting for something though, perhaps to see if I'm serious, or if this is just for show despite my earlier stated intentions; in other words just for the camera. It's unspoken, but hubby's just never going to one of those special doctors with that embarrassing little device locked on his guy-parts, and that long look Ken and I share says this.

There's is of course Ken's key too though, if my own should become "lost."

Ken unties it and drops it into the crystal clear water between us, both of us plus the camera follows it to the bottom. A small wave then comes through and already you can't see it, but I take my foot and grind where it landed anyway, driving it deep into the eternally shifting sand. "That'll never be found" I tell both Ken and the camera, although as they say, "never say never!"

We work our way out a bit deeper after that, Ken's "holy shit!" expression amusing to me. So I've managed to shock this man that knows me as well as Ken does, since literally before I was a woman, and I feel a bit accomplished about that. Despite Ken's earlier indifference, his minor empathy for hubby's plight apparently eclipses my own, but I also remind him that it's a plastic device, so he's only really trapped for just as long as he wants to be. It's therefore perhaps only a symbolic emasculation, but powerfully-so now that Ken holds the only key; so implied here is that Ken is hubby's very last chance for any key-actuated chastity-clemency. It's also implied, (perhaps less than seriously with hubby's safe-word option) that Ken has an obvious manly vested interest in a certain outcome, and as long as hubby continues to wear that device, he'll have nothing to offer me physically in competition with Ken.

I tell Ken what I want to do next, actually what I want us to do together, symbolically. We get out a bit further from shore, but the grade is gentle here, so a hundred feet further out and the crest of the gentle waves is up to my boobs, soaking that part of my bikini too. My top is about half transparent now, but in this case my rather untanned skin is in higher contrast to my darker areolas, making me feel wantonly semi-nude in public. So perhaps a tiny bit embarrassed, but also on display for Ken the stud, although down here in the islands where nobody really knows us. I maybe get just a bit of what hubby sees in this too now, "forced" exposure I mean, so overall it's excitingly naughty.

Back to Ken's key though, I want to do something even wilder with it, and with Ken filming with his free right hand I remove the rubber band with the key from his left wrist. I could simply drop it into this deeper water and it would be just as lost as the first, but something a bit more dramatic for the camera is on my mind.

"Launch that last little key and 'Rose' is officially born" I remind both Ken and the camera. Such was maybe implied earlier, but this is documented linkage between that new name, and it's recipient. It's just so fricken hot and naughty, especially for me as I know what I packed for hubby to wear. I'm also bearing in mind where "Rose" initially came from, the name's casual beginnings as a pet's name, chosen by a stranger on the plane. I have half a mind to just ask Ken to send both videos to hubby as soon as we're done, letting them download onto his phone whenever they magically do, with like no explanation at all. But then I think it might be especially edgy if Ken put a little taunting text in there, like "wait till you see this!" This way when the text loaded first he'd be nothing but anticipation until the videos actually loaded, and with the buffering it might take hours, or even a day; who knows? I know it sounds cruel, but hubby gets off on the cuck angst thing, submission too obviously.

I'm so twisted up over this key thing though, unnaturally so, and this causes me to wonder why. Is it because of the mock finality, as in once that last key is properly disposed of, Ken is a bit more permanently mine, as in safe-word or not the only other way that device comes off is with cutting pliers, ending our game and trashing a $ 165 device? Hubby's frugal where he's concerned, he'll not destroy that device easily, and perhaps not at all if Ken or I specifically forbade it.

"Imagine that; his manhood forever trapped by a piece of plastic he not only put on himself, but one easily cut off too, it staying on though because Ken simply told him it must" I ponder. So, not handcuffs, chains, nor even rope, not even a piece of special plastic, but in reality restrained and emasculated with words alone; that's raw power and domination. I don't know that Ken could actually go that far with his friend though, even to get the prize for keeps. There is however hubby's safe-word too, I for not the first time marveling at the long-term thinking that led Ken to offer it in the first place. With his unused safe-word in place we'd still know hubby was a willing participant, even if his actions at times overtly suggested differently.

Ken's obviously hesitant, this is "out-there" for even us. I want this bad myself though, (irrationally so) and I decide to sweeten the pot a bit, telling Ken that if he can launch that key over twenty feet, I'll do anything he wants, as in right here, and right now. There's also no proper way to measure that distance at hand, so if Ken says it's twenty feet, I'm pretty much obligated to accept that.

"Deal" he tells me quickly, empathy or not Ken want's what I have to offer, and his very good friend isn't going to get into the way while wearing that pathetically small device either. Maybe Ken was actually hesitant, or perhaps just getting a feel for my own wants here so he didn't overstep, but I sense that a decision has been reached in his mind.

He tells me to stick my left hand out towards the ocean, middle finger out slightly and palm down, so not quite flipping the bird to the open ocean, but kind-of. He's behind me now, so we're both facing the open ocean, his stiff cock grinding on the cleft of my ass, I left to wonder if my "anything" offer included that as well; something Ken hasn't had one single time. Hubby actually has, twice, a very long time ago when I'd try almost anything with him, but I truthfully didn't care for it either time and he knows that.

Anyway, Ken has me loop the open end of the rubber band over my middle finger's nail, and he uses his free left hand to grasp the key in slingshot-fashion, all as he films with his phone on the shelf of my boobs for stability, just above the waterline. It's the very most recent phone with all the upgrades, so somewhat waterproof, although you wouldn't want to go swimming with it in your pocket either.

I realize a bit late that this is my ringless left hand, (both rings left behind just like hubby) the impressions from my rings' absence obvious. This can't be an accident on Ken's part either, so there's an obvious message in this too, several interrelated ones actually. He's witty, quick with situational things in general, so after maybe a bit of vacillation he's finally on the same page as I am with repurposing my defective hubby; and one of those necessary first steps is the disposal of this final key.

"One, two, threeeeee... say goodbye to your manhood 'Rose'" Ken and I say in perfect harmony, all as he draws the key back and lets it fly. It goes way farther than twenty feet, the little plonk! sound it makes as it breaks the surface of the ocean the official end of our video; at least as far as I knew.

With that key gone from sight, and the human appendage it contains also gone from sight too, is extraordinarily liberating for me, and apparent-cruelty aside I feel positively giddy and owned, yes owned. Ken officially owns my ass now, and every other part of me as well, it's a delicious feeling, and I only hope that Rose gets a bit of this too at some point. Not the sex obviously, but the service above self that I now feel too, perhaps something else hubby and I oddly enough share.

Ken's feeling something special too now, I feel it, and not just because he's about half-pushing my bikini bottoms up my butt with his very erect self. I feel his head at my shoulder, and I turn my head reflexively to kiss him, our tongues dancing and mingling together, all as Ken stealthily films this too. There simply is no faking this...

"Hold my phone over your head with both hands" Ken instructs, once we break our kiss. This isn't him asking, but I lost our wager fair and square. I feel silly but I do as I'm told, maybe at a distance it even looks like I waving to one of the fishing boats way out on the water. Ken rubs across both boobs with one hand, and slides his index finger back over my box with the other, a groan escaping my lips.

Then like a devil he pulls all my bikini strings and strips me nude right there, in like two seconds flat, all as I hold his phone aloft; for all intents and purposes "handcuffed" to inaction by his phone. I did offer anything though, and this could be the anything, or just the prelude to the anything he instead has in mind. I duck down in the water so most of my floating boobs are submerged, but unrestrained in this buoyant salt water they do ride high and youthfully on my chest too, so flatteringly I'd say, with of course little humility.

He grabs his phone from my hands and is several steps away with my bikini by the time my "HEY JERK!" escapes my shocked lips, but he's also laughing as I turn to watch him. Beyond him I also see several more people on the beach now, and chasing him, naked, to recover my stolen bikini is unwise, as is calling out and making a scene. I'm trapped, trapped and nude is a wet prison without bars, at least until Ken comes and rescues me...