A Borrowed Wife Not Returned

A continuation of a fictional tale with some familiar real-world characters doing what they may or may not do in the real-world if given the chance. As the title implies, this is a tale of cuckolding and infidelity, if such is offensive to sensitive readers, or ones that can't differentiate between what is fantasy, and reality, I suggest the Hallmark channel as an alternative. These characters are intentionally imperfect by design; but really aren't we all?

To almost everybody else on the planet that doesn't require such a disclaimer, I apologize for this "caution, this hot coffee is hot" PSA moment, but such is apparently the world we presently live in...

... To recap a bit; Ken and I had just returned from a fabulous hubby-paid-for two week vacation down in the islands, so we've returned to the proverbial scene of the crime to collect my marooned husband, left behind at our camper back in the states while Ken and I had our fun in the sun. Two weeks earlier we had transported him the whole way there, and dumped him off, nude, with except of his emasculating clear-plastic Holy Trainer nub chastity device. So marooned in the middle of nowhere on Ken's remote land for his own two weeks solo vacation.

I had packed a special kind of a suitcase for him though, and in it was an alter-ego feminine kit I had put together, consisting of some new things, as well as some hand-me-downs from my own closet. It was intentionally nothing the least bit masculine to wear, unless of course he wanted to go nude the whole time instead. So solo self-feminization, or ala-natural in his quasi-masculine skin were his two options for his sequestered stay in our camper. So lots of time to ponder the future, and his own life choices going forward; in other words a giant mind F either way he went.

That suitcase was my own very special gift to him, so he could try out his dressed feminine alter-ego for more than a few hours at a time, in private, all see if that was something he wanted. Hubby had about zero interest in other men though, or really any kind of intimacy at all these days, so where this little "dress-up" adventure might lead was still anybody's guess at this point...

This vacation of ours had also been paid for by my husband, as he originally intended to go with me himself, but simply put, Ken's post-divorce mindset meant that his apparent need was greater than my giving husband's. So, with my husband's encouragement Ken went in his place while playing the part of my loving husband, and he took over a greater part of my heart as a result. Perhaps not exactly where I wanted it to go myself, but to also be honest with myself I did allow for the possibility with my unanswered physical needs. So not behind hubby's back, but still providing some small measure for quasi plausible-deniability at this point. So, to walk an impossibly fine line here, hubby "knows," all without "knowing" if he so chooses; mental cuckold gymnastics at it's finest!

Ken and I have a long history together, and from a certain point of view this was just picking up where we'd left off on my deck during the heatwave, so a quite natural progression once given the go-ahead alone-time opportunity. Hubby gave us this, selflessly, way back on that hot night by pretending to be ignorant of the building lust and inuendo Ken and I were giving each other.

So maybe not one hundred percent strategically wise on my husband's part, but surely selflessly generous and giving; and surly not "out of the blue" unanticipated either. Nothing evil though, Ken was just accepting that which was graciously offered by implication, which in all reality was potential long-term ownership of both a husband and a wife. Ken was perfect for this role in our lives, because he had played a version of this once before for us, although this time his act was a bit more refined, his own strategic goals a bit more obvious.

... So on the flight down, with a million conflicting emotions bouncing around in my head, short on sleep, and just a few hours after dumping my selfless hubby's bare-ass off at the camper, we met a young couple named Cathy and Henry. And unbeknownst to them they had casually chosen a new "dressed" name for my left-behind husband, suggesting Rose as "her" feminine name. At first they thought they were helping us name a new pet we were coming home to, so in an ironic prescience kind of way maybe a half-truth.

To be fair, hubby's manly-dysfunction had him seeing life from a softer more feminine side anyway, (long before Ken and I hooked up on the deck) so he's more like a close girlfriend these days. And while he's still loved, he's also incrementally much less like a husband to me.

Along those lines of reasoning, if men swagger a bit when they're "gettin it right" with the ladies in their life, isn't the reverse also likely true, that men who fall short of expectations also feel that intuitively?

... Ken and I (in an ad hoc little private ceremony inspired by none other than hubby himself) had "lost" the only two keys to his chastity device in the ocean, the same ones he had given each of us to presumably keep safe. So fair to say a bit of symbolism there; hubby had gifted us those keys to his chastity-encased defective masculinity, and we casually discarded such as superfluous, with Ken now there to fill the void. So not quite a full-snip emasculation, but surely leaning in that general psychological direction, all to self-deport hubby and make room in my life for Ken.

So, while I still love my husband, I also love Ken a bit more deeply now, and my gratitude for what he brings to the table can't be understated. And while I'll always appreciate what hubby lets me have, the life we've had together as well, I really appreciate what Ken gives in his place, making me feel vibrant and alive again.

Anyway, this is the next part of the adventure, and a necessary new understanding for all three of us...

______________________________________________________

..."So Mrs. B, how confident are you in this seven year thing?" hubby asks quietly as Ken starts to walk towards the camper for another load, but I can also see in Ken's face that his goodwill here is coming to an end. He was a bit twisted up about hubby's presumed demise, (we both were) but that was like a half-hour ago, and he's so getting over that now with every step he takes. Ken is obviously letting hubby and I have our time, sort things out face to face, but his own generosity has it's limits.

Ken generally speaking isn't a "hugger" either, not of other men anyway, but he was so genuinely relieved to see that hubby was fine and healthy that he hugged up on him anyway, even dressed up as he was. Guys being anything but masculine kind of takes Ken in an uncomfortable direction though, and hubby's little hand-me-down tennis skirt and frilly pair of panties was certainly quite far from masculine. Yes, the culture is changing, and I think it's wonderful that people feel free to express themselves however they wish, but at the same time Ken was pretty much "old-school" manly. I generally liked that aspect of Ken's character, dare I say that I preferred it, as it was a more natural compliment to my own feminine one.

I also know that Ken's still quite grateful for hubby's many personal sacrifices here, (he'd have to be an oaf not to be) but just like at the drop-off two weeks prior, Ken's also likely mindful of the parts we must all play now, so that he gets to keep the prize he's earned. Ken's no longer borrowing me though, he's keeping now, that vibe is in the air for both of us. The shirtdress I'm wearing hints at this as well, Ken likes me in dresses, hubby knows this too...

Forever with Ken though? Well, forever is a very long time, most especially for Ken where romantic relationships are concerned, but this is both hubby's and my own lingering question, the five or seven year thing. So obvious food for thought for myself as well on playing our parts faithfully here, how long this "play" will run is the obvious question.

Hubby's tone here is familiar and loving, so no overt grudge or conflict, but it's also quite natural for him to want to understand where he fits into this new Ken and I relationship too though. So Ken and I... and hubby too, but where exactly, and for how long exactly.

Hubby's "Mrs. B" moniker has also now been used with me twice, it's no accident at this point. So maybe a subtle reminder that I'm still his wife with a shared last name, the one he gave me a long time ago, along with a ring. I'm not presently wearing that ring, nor most certainly acting like his faithful wife either, but hubby's still wearing his ring, so there's perhaps a message in that too, one of mono-directional commitment; which could of course be another term for obsession, or I suppose even possession. I own hubby's heart exclusively, (I always have) although I share my own now, somewhat unequally between two men, so a built in conflict without some firm barriers established.

"Ken had been there for that other notable 'ring-moment' as well though, as best man in our wedding, he even handed hubby those rings himself before friends and family, funny if you think about it like that" I tell myself.

... I further wonder what that was like for Ken back in the day, selflessly aiding hubby, his best friend, claim me for himself, name and all; perhaps from a today's point of view a prize he may have wanted for himself on some level. For myself, that entire part of my life was a bit surreal, but I was young and overwhelmed, so in the weeks and months leading up to the actual wedding, hubby and I were perhaps a bit too busy to notice how this effected Ken. Not hubby's, nor my own best moments, but it was nothing evil either as we were very much in love and more focused on each other. Ken had a place with us back then too though, but a lesser secondary place...

To be fair though, Ken didn't push that issue at all back then, he took the high-road as a best friend should, even with our earlier shared intimate exploits to muddy the waters. Still it's a bit "full-circle" surreal for Ken to be in my life like this again, and I further wonder if he doesn't have some buried regrets of his own, most especially with two failed marriages now under his belt. If I had sinister thoughts I'd think this is why Ken had stayed in our lives all along, lived close by, all to be there if the opportunity ever availed itself.

"Was I perhaps the single antidote to Ken's own relationship problems?" I asked myself.

"You know, seven years would technically make us common-law married ourselves" I tell hubby flippantly with a somehow straight face. Then I ask how confident he is in his five year assessment. Hubby's "SHIT! I didn't think about that" deer in the headlights look was priceless to see, so presented this way maybe not a proper divorce, (that neither of us truly wants) but way more than our friends with benefits arrangement of the past; so more connotations of keeping, as opposed to borrowing. We've talked on the phone about something vaguely more long-term, conceptually, even some of the "nuts and bolts" things, but this was perhaps "in your face" real now, with either of our stated timelines.

The legal ramifications were obviously a bit tenuous anyway, I'm really not clear on if you can be common-law married to another while still being legally married to the first, but I'm no lawyer either. We have casual friends that are walking this line themselves, the husband living on the bottom floor, and the wife with her long-term boyfriend in the master suite upstairs, and I'm reminded that I should reach out to them, just to say hello. Really I just said the seven year thing to playfully twist hubby up a bit, lighten the mood, but the words formed in my brain and have left my lips, and there is no taking them back. So perhaps a slight push-back on the Mrs. B thing, reminding him that another has a claim now, so still subtle, and well short of a rebuke.

There's a near-sexual light in his eyes now, so if I've twisted hubby up with my flippant common-law suggestion, he isn't responding like one might expect a husband to do under the circumstances. Hubby tells me he doesn't think his "little thing" will ever work again anyway, but after seven years, or for that matter even five, it really-really won't work. So fair to say that he's been thinking about this condition of his, perhaps even this exact scenario with Ken as the long-term antidote to my celibacy, and still there's zero interest in seeing a special doctor, humiliation be damned. So, in other words he's good with his dysfunction, it's who he is now...

He's therefore not put off by this five year commitment with Ken in our lives either, but instead excited by the possibility; I hear it in his tone, see it in his eyes. So, in my mind he's already been emasculated, mentally-neutered by both the lost-key locked-on device, as well as Ken's intimate presence in our life again; even though his actual guy hardware is obviously still attached, presumably still doing something. Ken is there for me though, so maybe this is a kind of freedom for hubby, free from guilt for his non-performance, knowing that another trusted man has that covered. Non-performance, and no desire to perform either, so two interrelated masculine problems.

... That's something else he's started, ever since his dysfunction, describing his guy parts in non-flattering terms. It's like he's wanting me to jump on the mocking-bandwagon myself, but a part of me also sees this as a logical next step, disparaging and mocking that which doesn't work. Humor keeps hubby sane, makes some things a bit less serious for him, so a kind of mental armor for him.

In my mind it's still cruel, and I've resisted the urge to play long for that reason, for the most part anyway. But he's subtly encouraging this "path of emasculation," this ever-diminishing manly role in my life, and with Ken in the picture now it's somehow easier for me to engage in this mild form of private humiliation. Not some of my finer moments to be sure, but no excuses either, other than I was maybe humoring hubby's self-deprecating humor, giving what he wished, all in exchange for what I now know I needed.

Ken had even drifted into a bit of this himself, when he had first seen my nude and shaved hubby wearing only his tiny chastity device, saying something like "wow, that's small!" Whether Ken was specifically remarking on hubby's present day shrunken endowment, or the device itself was perhaps left a bit unclear though. It wasn't delivered with anything but a tone of sincerity though, and maybe that's what made it ring so true, made it so profound. Yes, the H. T. nub is quite tiny, and what it contains has shrunken from extended inactivity as well. It may sound cliche, but if they made a smaller one, that one would likely fit hubby too, perhaps even better than the nub.

That early morning hubby was there in our kitchen on full naked display for us though, and his own reaction to that little episode with Ken wasn't anything close to resistance either, in fact, looking back on that moment now, hubby drifted further down into the submission rabbit-hole after that. He's comfortable in that submission though, to myself, even to Ken, both Ken and I've seen it first hand, sometimes accompanied by a shared look between us. He's happy in his servitude, it's a great submissive hiding place, and maybe at this point we just need to stop asking why this works for him, and simply enjoy the gift of his selfless labors.

"So here's my offer, if you'll accept the terms" hubby tells me quite seriously.

"If you guys are still a happy couple five years from now, if this isn't just that 'new man smell' for you, get me neutered, like for-real, call me Rose, dress me up, anything you two want, with one hundred percent willing cooperation on my end. And, if you're happily together for the full seven, maybe I take off my ring and put it in the lockbox, and this is just the way it is going forward. Think about it, you and Ken would be happily common-law married, and this way Ken wouldn't have to take still another walk down the isle, it's perfect really" hubby offers optimistically.

"Perfect for Ken maybe, as in zero manly competition, and from a certain point of view even perfect for me as well; but the cost..." I tell myself, "as in what kind of man makes an offer like this, or for that matter what wife accepts it?"

"Either a man that doesn't feel very worthy of being a man, or one that loves me that much" I tell myself logically.

"Or perhaps both" I realize a second later.

His words, if in text form, might suggest that he's making a dark kind of joke here, but both his expression and tone says he's dead serious. I myself had made the neutered-dog suggestion earlier, but playfully, as a joke, in regards to the tiny chastity device he's encased within. Neutered dogs are still dogs though, they still serve a purpose, do a job even, and they're most certainly still loved; and they're also quite obedient and focused without all those urges distracting them too.

My face initially tells hubby that it's no-deal, it's perhaps darkly tempting to humor him for a bit here, test the bounds of his kink like this, but in my mind I'm just not going there, altering his body. At the same time I also realize that he's given so much of himself here, in a way he's even more invested in this than Ken and I are. He's therefore very "out of the box" thinking at the moment, I'd even say thinking with his guy parts maybe; although that's unlikely. Still this is likely a result of his extended alone time, in combination with his recent erotic reading choices. This tiny chastity device has also detached him from his guy parts though, metaphorically speaking, and the conclusion I'm coming to is maybe on some level he's happier without them.

"Undeserving, or unburdened?" I wonder.

Five years is also a very long time, both to get Ken over this midlife hurdle of being unmarried once again, as well as for hubby to reconsider what he's put on the proverbial chopping block. That's however a double edged sword, because after five presumably happy years with Ken, in my bed, every night, hubby's guy parts either being there or not will likely be even less important to me than they are now, so pretty much irrelevant. I'll be used to having a part-time maid, (even if he's still dressed as a man while serving us) and doing just as much of the cooking and cleaning myself as I wish; not to mention that Ken and I will presumably be used to having each other as often as we wish as well. Not to mention that if it's somehow possible for hubby to go the whole distance while still wearing that little plastic device, he'll know for certain, by then, that he can live without his little man bits forever.

"Be careful what you wish for oh 'flobbly one'" I respond with a bit of snark to preview how playfully evil I could be for him, all while staring down towards hubby's caged and inert guy parts under his borrowed clothing, (so addressing them directly, all so they get the message directly) "... you might just get it!" I warn, with a wagged index finger.

Hubby has pushed for a bit of this snark lately though, he likes it when I talk down to him when "in the moment." It's not something I was ever comfortable with earlier, but so much has changed here with Ken back in my life that I'm changing myself. Not outright public disrespect, (can't go there) but some playfully harsh comments, delivered with a smile, and also some love too though.

"I double-dog dare you!" hubby taunts, clearly playing into the dog-aspect of this, and clearly trying to top from the bottom as well, all to give himself what he really thinks he wants here, as in no path back after the offered five year commitment, no matter if he changes his mind later on. His kink for this extreme "solution" will eventually pass, "it has to" I tell myself, and the vacuum of reality will seep in, perhaps gradually, perhaps explosively as the chop-date approaches.

This is like hubby's lifelong servitude-kink, but times a thousand, so if it somehow goes the full romantic distance with Ken still in my life, without my intervention he'd potentially be a eunuch, so not desirable to any other woman, nor really myself either. So much less than a man in that altered condition, but not a natural woman either, so something androgenous and in-between, although with historical precedent too. So a one-way trip with a singular option of owned chaste servitude for the rest of his life, serving this harem of one for that life, but with a bit of residual love and gratitude as well...

"How did you like dressing up?" I ask, I needing a bit more time and wishing for some more input, before I said yay or nay. I know what he thinks he wants, maybe for himself, maybe just for Ken and myself, so perhaps the ultimate gift for the new couple, if we can prove to him that it will work long-term for us. So a kind of a common-law wedding gift for the new couple; as in, no man-bits, no other husband to muddy the waters...

Hubby obviously resents my verbal interruption to the flow of conversation here, but I'm the more dominant of the two of us, and I'm verbally reminding him of it. I know what hubby needs here; a firm, but loving hand. I was about to tell him yes, maybe just to shock him a bit, but I'm trying to be measured here too, looking for a way to insulate both Ken and I from this potential event, if it should actually happen one day. It's obviously extraordinarily unlikely, but I'm trying to not say "never" any longer, recent history with Ken in my life again has told me that never doesn't exist for me.

Hubby tells me dressing up isn't one hundred percent his thing, that shaving all the time is a pain in the ass, but he also admits to me that he got off two more times while dressed up and deeply into this mind fuck that we have going on here. This is profound, I'd tried all sorts of ways to get him off myself, and each time I failed, but somehow the mind F of Ken and I being naughty with each other gets him off. So he obviously gets off on Ken having me again, maybe even the fantasy aspect of possibility having him "fixed" in some way for-real. In my mind maybe just a vasectomy though, to compliment my own tubal ligation.

... Back when we'd decided one of us needed to get snipped (to free me from the hormonal conflicts that birth control pills sometimes caused) I'd told him it would be me. My overt reasoning was simple, he wouldn't ever be dipping his wick in anybody else, (I'd not allow it) but I would retain the freedom to fool around with my hall-pass if the opportunity arose. No birth control hormonal disturbances, no extra babies brought home accidentally, most especially ones to explain to others if I had a fixed husband waiting back home for me...

"Very well" I tell hubby, answering his double-dog dare with a tone that says there's a price here from me as well. Shock value here though, hubby's face tells me he didn't expect me to agree at all, let alone so quickly. So maybe I've called his bluff and ended this insane desire of his, or maybe from hubby's point of view this was a test, to see how committed I was here myself. Ken being in the mix now has altered my perceptions, and it may be cruel to even think it, but would I really need hubby's guy junk if I kept Ken? For that matter, in it's present state if dysfunction; did hubby?

I go back to "it can't work" vs "it won't work" both are dysfunctions, but the former suggests medical reality, where the latter suggests a lacking desire, so personal sexual failure. One makes you a victim, and the other incompetent as a man, and I suspect a bulk of the men presently on planet earth would likely choose the former.

"So here's MY deal, five years from the date Ken and I tossed your keys into the ocean, I'll have you neutered, castrated, or maybe just vasectomy-snipped, whatever Ken and I decide is appropriate at the time. Oh yeah, Ken gets a say in this too by the way, so maybe he'll step in and decide that your entire package needs to end up in a jar of formaldehyd on my desk... Orrrr, I suppose we could make it a bit more fun, interactively involve you in the process, and put the various options in a jar, written in your own hand on scraps of paper, and then we'd have you select which it will be when the day approaches; if of course Ken and I manage to happily go the full five years."

Hubby's expression is priceless, I'm doing this for a sense of realism, but my acting is apparently top notch, so he buys into this. He'll choose his own fate this jar-way, by chance, so he can't come back later and say we did this to him. I have no intention of letting it go this far, not at this point, although the concept of a vasectomy for his defective guy parts is obviously a bit amusing; with our present health insurance it's even a freebee. Intentions can obviously change in five long years, just as easily as hearts can change on a two week romantic vacation, most especially for two people with so much already in common.

"And, all I ask for now is a small tattoo to mark the date, to document this little agreement between us so we don't forget. It will be like right before Ken and I left for the islands, counting down the days on the calendar. But, if you safe-word out any time before the five year mark, our deal is null and void, you keep your 'little-man' parts, and Ken and I discuss our other options for you going forward."

"So it's simple, if you really want that jar-option for yourself, you'll be the best little subby-hubby slave-bitch on the planet, treat Ken in such a deferential way that he won't be able to imagine it any other way, nor kicking your naked fem-ass out on the street either. So help me keep Ken a happy man, treat him like the rightful king of whatever home we end up in, and I won't feel guilty at all if we get all the way to 'jar-time' with you. Oh, and the cage stays on until I say differently too, I happen to think it's a great first step to living without your guy parts" I tell my rather shocked husband.

His look says it all, he didn't expect this, really though I didn't expect this either. "What would Ken think of all this?" I wondered. "Would he tell us we're both nuts, that it's no deal for him? Or would he see the self-serving angle in this, that a neutered hubby isn't really a hubby, so unworthy of further consideration? Would he come to the conclusion that hubby's clothing choices were hinting at this eventuality anyway, that maybe we were doing him a favor?"

... I'm already exclusively Ken's though, but my intention was to elevate Ken in hubby's eyes, let him understand the new power dynamic here. Hubby isn't asking for clarification either, not on the surgical parts anyway...

"A tattoo?" hubby asks with trepidation. In my mind I laugh, theoretically chopping off his guy parts in some vague way, no problem, get a little tattoo with a date on it, big problem. Fantasy vs reality, and in the back of my mind I'm feeling a bit better about making this unwise wager with him now. In my mind that jar will never be picked from, but the long five year mind F for my husband will be epic! And suggesting Ken has a say, even over my own on whether he keeps his little boy parts or not, pure theater. And, if Ken and I do somehow go forever, the template for our unique relationship will be firmly established by then.

... So after our little talk, and the tentative agreement, Rose helped Ken load the truck with everything that shouldn't be left behind, and I even walked a load out too, folding his girly things nicely and packing them up for him. I'd also left some clothing behind, thinking about the next time we might want to dump him off up here. Did he wear all this stuff at least once, or just one or two outfits? Really, how would I know either way, other than he wasn't working very hard at keeping his feminine-secret from Ken, clothes drying on the clothesline and all. It makes him something less in Ken's eyes either way though, I feel it, so a further gift from my devoted and loving husband.

... The trip back home was uneventful, but the neighbors did get a late evening eyeful of a tanned up hubby unloading Ken's truck, with shaved and very feminine looking legs in my old short-shorts on our return. Not a fully fem outfit, but well short of anything traditionally masculine. It was late by the time we got things put away, too late to send Ken home, so even though I didn't want to have him fully displacing hubby under this roof on day one, we sort of fell into that anyway by happenstance.

Hubby was perfectly accepting though, he even did laundry like a maid that night, after Ken and I went to bed, even folding Ken's like a high-end hotel's laundry service; so it's fair to say that he was being very accommodating here. I wondered when the resistance phase might start, even in mock form just to test the waters. I myself could be a bit playfully cruel when in the moment with him, if he was testing me, so a light paddling, or even just a stern "talking to" if warranted for some minor misbehavior. So consequences for his misbehavior were already in place from our earlier FLR playtime.

To date Ken himself hadn't engaged in anything physical like that with hubby, and nothing sexual obviously, Ken just doesn't go there, and I'm pretty sure hubby wouldn't either, no matter how he was dressed. Things change though, and hubby's desire for a different kind of playmate eventually could as well, especially if both convincingly dressed up as Rose, and neutered in some way. Not my present day goal here, but neither was replacing hubby with Ken like this either, not to mention that never was a very long time.

Hubby slept in the spare bedroom that first night back, technically the guest bedroom, making him, I suppose, a guest in his own home; with Ken and I by default occupying the master. We didn't do anything, we were just too tired, maybe even acting like an established married coupe just a bit. It felt natural to sleep with Ken at this point, and we had already "broken-in" our shared bed as well, on two separate occasions, once with hubby home, and once without. So nothing new-feeling, profound when you think about it like that. Hubby for his part was doing his best to make this "business as usual" for us as a couple, and we followed his lead, odd when you realize that hubby's most certainly the least dominant of the three of us.

So by sleeping arrangements alone Ken was already the master of this home, effortlessly displacing hubby, even though he didn't dress fully fem that first night, or do any of the other more cliche kinds of things that some do.

... Hubby was up and out early the next morning, leaving for work before Ken and I woke. He left a note though, and a brewed pot of coffee too; "Had to go in early, love you both." So nothing suggesting any conflict at all, quite the opposite, and when Ken and I saw his clean and folded laundry we just gave each other a look.

"I could so get used to this" Ken tells me with a smile, and I agreed. Hubby is upping the bar still again, showing us both how wonderful this new life of ours could look. I was raised very "working-class" myself, really all three of us were, but the concept of a real maid, of that kind of personal service suggests all sorts of wonderful options and freedoms in this new life.

Even with hubby doing his fair share, (and then some) some Saturdays were spent just sorting out the home, cutting the lawn, catching up on laundry and cleaning bathrooms, that kind of thing. Then maybe add in some visitors, a holiday meal, painting a room even, and at times even in our little home I wondered if we really owned it, or if it owned us!

If the maid, if Rose the maid did everything, inside, outside, grocery shopping, cooking, all of it, that would literally free up countless hours for both Ken and myself every week. I could take on more work, make proper use of my gym membership, go on long weekends with Ken, or just sip wine on the deck (that Rose had served) and watch the sun set. Working class roots or not, it would be hard to be humble with such a life, nor go back to doing such things myself.

This wasn't just a kinky little game of permitted adultery any longer, but an entirely new life of luxury that hubby was offering up, allowing us to preview one with Ken taking care of the womanly part of me, and Rose the maid providing everything else. This is quite literally the best life he could possibly provide for me, really for both Ken and myself, and at this early stage of the game all I apparently have to do is play along...

Hubby texts while I'm at work, after I've spent the morning gushing about "our" vacation to the other ladies at the office, all while I'm pondering my new life of luxury with a perpetual smile. They've noticed that I'm uncharastically wearing a dress, and my manager has as well, so new habits for this new woman that I've become. So in some unanticipated ways Ken is very good for me too.

Hubby tells me that he has a remote job, something broke and he needs to fly out to fix it. Hubby is senior there, and flying anywhere is something I thought was behind him at this point in his career, but then I maybe think he's manipulated the schedule and voluntarily taken this job on, all to give Ken and I a few more days alone to adjust to living together. It's something hubby would actually do, he's extraordinarily selfless and giving like that.

So the bad news is I have to cook for a few days, but the good news is Ken's in no hurry to go back home to his parent's, although we do visit together after work to pick up some clothes that first night. His folks have always loved me, and I them, but the look I'm getting now is new, like "we'd always hoped you two would end up together." They know hubby, know I'm married to him as well, but they're also wise enough to see the way I'm behaving around their son too now, dare I say possessively. And while nothing is overt, there is a different feeling in the air now with them.

So the look Ken's mother gives me right before we leave with some of Ken's clothes (implying he's moving in with me, without saying so specifically) reaches my heart, it's as if she's saying "thank you for watching out for him." I hug her, I don't even have to say anything, confess my permitted adultery, she somehow knows, and technically I haven't even told her. What Ken told them exactly, about being gone for two weeks I'm not clear on, but we both have nice tans, and one might assume we got those tans together someplace...

Driving back "home" in Ken's truck I'm a bit subdued, thinking about that little exchange. Hubby has always told me that I could do better, it's like his mantra with me, but I realize that he hasn't said that lately either. "Was Ken the "better" man that hubby had always envisioned I'd be with one day, just like Ken's folks apparently did?

So once back home with Ken and his things we're painted into a bit of a corner; as in where to go with them? The master closet is the obvious answer, but that means moving hubby's things out to make room, and that's something I'd prefer to discuss in person, face to face, as it's a profound thing in my mind.

Logically it makes all the sense in the world, hubby's clothing should be where he's now sleeping, but the emotional impact could be brutal if not handled properly; really for all of us if it causes a scene. Hubby simply isn't looking for conflict here, he's facilitating this dramatic change in the foundational order of our happy home, selflessly, going so far out of his way to make this work it's crazy, but doing this poorly on our end threatens to wreck all that good will of his. I far prefer hubby as an ally here, facilitating this potentially awkward change, it makes the loving three element structure I'd prefer to promote a bit easier. So in my mind no conflict, and therefore no losers here, just some intimate changes not seen easily from the outside.

I check hubby's phone location, he's now half-way across the country just like he said he'd be, so there's just no way he'll be home that night, or even the next night as it worked out. Anyway, I text him, asking how his job is going, and when he'll be home. He answers by telling me he's not sure yet, but then he asks why, perhaps assuming something is wrong. So maybe he thinks there's a plumbing problem in the house, or a car problem, but he's not taking into account that Ken's here now to do those "man" repairs, making some of hubby's other skills a bit redundant. Do I lie, tell him it'll wait, or should I be brutally honest with him so that Ken can be more comfortable and settled himself? Ken is doing quite well here himself, but this is new for him too, and of the two men hubby might just be the more mentally resilient at this point yet.

I go with honesty, telling hubby by text that I wanted to talk with him about moving some things in the house. "Things?" he texts back, to which I reply "clothing." This makes far more logical sense than asking his permission to move the couch, I'd simply never do that.

"... Would you prefer I did that instead?" he asks after a long pause, again making this easy for me, for us really. "Are his coworkers right there with him?" I wonder, "what must that be like for him, texting such things while in the company of people who can't possibly know the kink going on inside his head? Do they know he's wearing a tiny chastity device, that it encapsulates a defective part even?" The obvious answer is no, but what a mind F to keep a secret like that, especially with Ken and I back home doing who knows what together.

It's so much more than it seems to have a husband move himself out his wife's bedroom, so that another man can then move in; it's most certainly not just the physical act of moving clothes from one room to another. So this is no casual thing, for all of us really, as it suggests permanence, even though we kind of realize that we'll have to sell this home and buy another one now. So implied permanence in my life, not necessarily just inside this present structure.

So even via text message I get the feeling that hubby wants to be made to do this humbling chore, that the "gift" of my doing this for him is depriving him of a certain feeling that he wished to have for himself. It's all about perceptions here, and my own and his aren't in proper alignment. I wanted to preserve some small element of his male ego here, so make this easy as a loving gift, so more plausible-deniability for him. But he instead wants this feeling of being adroitly replaced on some level, facilitating being less needed, less of a man, so demoted from a husband to something less, or so is the conclusion that I reach.

"How about I temporarily put Ken's things in 'your' closet in the spare bedroom, and when you come home you could move everything yourself? I think that might be a nice surprise for Ken to come home to after a long day, make him feel welcome and loved here with us" I text. I've used both "love" and "Ken" in the same text now, telling hubby what he should already realize, but he's generally speaking perceptive in such things.

"Thank you, gotta go" hubby texts back...

Hubby's physically safe, and also very far away, so no interruptions are possible, and I don't feel very much like cooking as it's getting late. I don't care to clean up from dinner either, and I wonder when exactly I had gotten so lazy. I work at work, I'm pretty good at what I do, lots of connections in other offices too. But once I'm home I'm a bit accustomed to being pampered, by a husband that also works at least as hard as I do. He's made me this way over the years though, ruined me for anybody else, not that I was necessarily shopping for a replacement. This one kind of fell into my lap, and not as a straight up trade either, but we're here now and it's not like I'm complaining, as this adventure has me as the focus, so very good for my own ego too.

Anyway, when hubby and I first moved into this home we did it just about everywhere, the kitchen counter, the spare bedroom, hell even on top of the running washing machine. Not to fully erase hubby's presence in this home, but I think I'd like to do a load of wash, or make a sandwich on the countertop with the naughty vision of Ken and I doing those things there too.

My mind works like this though, hubby is safely "put away" and can't interrupt, so Ken and I can have our naughty fun. It's not a secret that I've ever kept from hubby either, he knows how much this stuff twists me up, it's a reason that we've discussed having a jail cell in the next home. So locked up and helpless does something for both hubby and myself, a shared kink.

So Ken and I temporarily hang his clothes in hubby's closet, and I tell Ken hubby has a little loving surprise for him, but it'll have to wait until he gets back home. I tell him quite playfully that I'd do anything for some Chinese take-out as I don't feel like cooking, and he knows there's a place nearby that even delivers. My look, that he easily recognizes, tells him the "anything" that I'm offering, and to punctuate this I tell him I'm jumping into the shower. I like being shower-fresh, it's a near-fetish for me, and both my men know this, again, it's another secret that I'm not necessarily trying to keep.

So my mind is all over the place with lust, just thinking about this new life of mine. A year ago I was for all intents and purposes frustratingly celibate, and now I'm walking into the next room fully expecting to be properly made love to. I'm more than just randy, I'm needy and ever so slightly feeling entitled for putting up with no-sex for far too long. Ken's the antidote to that dry spell though, and perhaps simply grateful doesn't properly cover it...

In my mind Ken needs a special gift from me too though, and I'm thinking something that lets him feel the ownership I wish him to have. He'd asked a while ago about our handcuffs, if we still had them; which we do. So a plan to both gift myself to him, and give something else he's wanting starts to form in my mind. I dig the cuffs out from the bottom my lingerie drawer, and a simple gold chain goes on my neck, with the key to our cuffs on that chain. Next I slip into one of Ken's flannel shirts, buttoning maybe three buttons, the garment half hanging off of my left shoulder it's so big. It's a near-dress on me, but I wore his shirt once before too, back on that camping trip as a teen, the one when hubby shared me with Ken the very first time ever.

I look at myself in the bedroom mirror and I see a sultry and needy tan woman staring back at me, not a faithful wife. No rings either, Ken has asked me not to, suggesting wearing them would send a mixed message, and he's right obviously. The ladies at work didn't notice my missing rings, or if they did they didn't comment on such while noticing my new dress, so I saw no reason to wear them going forward.

Anyway, I hear Ken talking to somebody, his voice is powerful, just like his body is, so this is Ken being comfortable in his environment and basically just being Ken. I also assume that means my timing is perfect, and I'm about to walk out to our just delivered late take-out dinner, but perhaps dressed as I am I can convince Ken to have his dessert first. Now the handcuffs go on behind my back, its l leap of faith as I can't reach the key with where I'm wearing it. So I'm presenting myself as a hardly-wrapped gift to Ken, in exchange for feeding me, and perhaps for saving me from a sexless boring life too I suppose.

One more look in the mirror tells me that my arm's positioning makes my ample bare chest fairly prominent, as in one more button might have been better. Ken likes my chest, along with the rest of me too, so I don't think he'll mind the exposure all that much. I have to catch the light switch with my mouth, and the high doorknob is a bit awkward as well, but small prices to pay in the big scheme of things.

I listen at the open door like a thief in the night first, I'm not wanting to strut down the hall and give the teenage delivery driver a free show here. I also go inside this place for take-out too, as have hubby and I together on a few occasions in the past. I don't hear any voices and I make my entrance to the main part of our humble little home, and Ken feels my presence and turns, he looks like he's just won the lottery, which pumps my ego like a drug! I do my version of a non-ballet pirouette, in place, and show him the cuffs, telling him I seem to have gotten myself ino a bit of a predicament here, and I'm apparently at his mercy until he sees fit to release me.

"I'm never letting you go!" he tells me softly, his tone suggests it's a promise he intends to keep.

I don't like to give head, it's not my thing, but back in the day I had, bound up in a similar way with Ken even, choking on his manhood almost comically. And to let him know how willing I am to do anything he can possibly dream up, I take to my knees in the center of the room. In my mind I'm Ken's to do with as he pleases, "no" a word stricken from my vocabulary. I maybe get just a taste of what it's like for hubby to not be in control of his destiny, what it's like to gift yourself to another, to be owned by another. In a word it's liberating, although I realize that this is counterintuitive.

I'm weak in this moment, but Ken isn't taking advantage, proving unnecessarily that he's truly a good man. Instead he swoops down and picks me up like a toy, his toy, placing my ass on the corner of our kitchen table. My borrowed shirt is roughly unbuttoned and slid down my arms, my cuffed wrists behind me for support. If Ken is making me feel like a wanted woman, I'm most certainly making him feel like a wanted man in exchange, and I feel his confidence surge. He might not want my mouth, but at least he's stopped asking, nursing on me before going lower. It feels good, very good in fact, but I want something else, oral is something I associate with somebody else, and he's not here, and truthfully not interested either.

When Ken gets up off his knees he's nude from the waist down, like Houdini getting out of a straightjacket. Little-Ken is very awake and ready, rudely pointing at where he'd like to go exploring, but cuffed as I am Ken has to start him off in the right direction, stroking up and down a few times at my slick entrance. My head is just so twisted up with cuffed-kink though that I pop-off just as he pushes inside, it feels like an electric jolt of energy it was so violently-sudden, and my anguished exhaled yelp perhaps startles him a bit...

So not what either of us was expecting, but if Ken thinks for a second that he's hurting me, my legs wrapping him up reflexively like a pro wrestler's perhaps tells him everything is more than just fine. I don't like to curse, I generally don't have a foul mouth, it's not only rude, but not welcome in any office I've ever been in. Despite that, my follow on "fuck, Fuck, FUCK!" makes Ken beam with pride. He did this to me, and for me too, the man in him more than up to the challenge a mere three seconds in.

So Ken pounds me hard on that table, to half a dozen glorious orgasms, his lovemaking both aggressive and epic; although truthfully I brought a fair bit of this with me in my head with the cuffs. My arms eventually get sore being stretched out behind me, and I beg Ken to finish up, which he does. He's generally speaking like a machine in his ability to hold off his own orgasms, and half of me wants to ask him how he does it, and the other half is just happy that he can, maybe letting him keep this particular secret.

So if that wasn't enough, that Ken and I managed to do it in a new place ourselves, he then threw my borrowed shirt back over my shoulders, left my cuffs on me, and proceeded to feed me spoon for spoon of our lukewarm take-out. It was possibly the most romantic and loving meal that I ever recall having, certainly in recent memory...

... Later that night in bed while Ken and I are having a good post-coital cuddle; "sweetheart?"

"Yeah babe."

"I need one of those large mouth mason jars with a lid, and a nice place to get a tattoo as well; do you know one?" I ask a very sated Ken. He feels very good with himself, I feel it; not cocky or arrogant, just secure in the knowledge that he's more than enough man for me. I couldn't do something like this with hubby in attendance either, my mind just couldn't be free enough, so still another reason that we need to find a new home, one with a separate living arrangement for the maid...

"Some of the guys at work are really into ink, I'll ask around" he tells me.

"Not for me by the way, it's something for Rose, I'm keeping my end of a bargain I've made..."