I’m having a repetitive fantasy about handing off my spouse. It’s a variation on previous fantasy about the trusted friend.
My spouse and the friend are finally going to start having sex, and I want to be part of the processes. I ask if I can show our friend my spouse’s body before they have sex, and we agree to a time and place.
At the rental, my spouse takes off his clothes. He’s hard immediately–his erection poking out is obscene. Our friend looks over his body, and she loves the beauty.
“This is his dick,” I said. “It likes to be touched here.”
My spouse shudders as I touch the ridge of his dick, where the head meets the shaft.
“His balls are so soft and good,” I said, reaching for them as our friend watches. Her eyes widen, and I like seeing her aroused.
I’m fascinated by the emotional aspects of open relationship. I want the diversity, and I deeply respect freedom. But my spouse and I are both disabled, demisexual, and cautious. I’m scared of less security and having less access to my spouse.
It’s brave to share. I’m sorry I live in the mentality where it’s even sharing. Sometimes I’m ashamed of the depth of our marriage commitment and inter-dependence. And I don’t own anyone–I don’t want to act like I do.
I love us. I love me. Exactly the way our relationship is–it’s pretty amazing. I love our little family. But I don’t want to keep anyone captive. My spouse deserves excitement and diversity. I am only one person, no matter how amazing I might be.
Increasing the amount of people in a relationship increases the stress. But theoretically, many hands make light work. I can imagine a polycule making life easier, though I haven’t personally experienced that. When I want a bigger family, I have many reasons.
They hug, and he’s happy to be nakedly held by someone other than me–this friend we know and trust for so many years. She takes off her clothes, and her naked body feels so soft and new in his arms. His whole being lights up. The novelty is electric. The handing off is going well.
She moves her hand to his dick, and my spouse’s knees buckle. So my spouse and our friend move to the bed, and she sits while he stands. She kisses his dick, and my spouse looks like he will pass out. The pleasure is so intense, long anticipated. She begins to blow him, and it’s just what he always wanted.
I watch them, transfixed. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time, and I feel an illusion of control. This handing off feels sacred and liminal.
Every time they have sex from here on, I won’t be involved. Their relationship is right now slipping into being as its own force, partly controlled by both of them, but partly a wild thing, free and mysterious.
My spouse moans for her, and I feel honored to witness this change before my eyes. He slightly pushes her away, and she lets go of his dick with her mouth.
“Can I go down on you?” he asks.
She says yes and spreads her legs on the bed. He lies between them and kisses her thighs, not in a hurry. She quietly moans and tries to relax as she waits for his mouth on her hairy pussy.
My spouse loves to lick my clit, and I don’t let him do it very often. I’m happy he gets access to this other person’s body with all different needs.
Yes, I love them both. Feels good to trust them. The handing off is a treat. They have their own desires but will also think of what’s good for me, for her family too, and for the world. We’re responsible anarchists.
I’m losing something with my spouse–an era of having him mostly to myself. But I’m gaining the integrity of our behavior matching our values.