Our Journey

[RealWithRy]

Originally Posted by SunKing

Wow, what an utterly inspiring thread!

The pair of you approach a lifestyle that, in truth could be a rather testing experience if not comunicated thoughtfully, with such a deep understanding and respect for each other’s preferences.

As an outsider, what shines most by reading this is the level of trust, transparency and honesty that has come from all concerned. And what I hope you have learned is that talking clearly and openly discussing your feelings harbours a deeper level of love and therefore loyalty, than you might expect from a more conventional relationship.

I’d say you are so lucky to have met someone who loves you so deeply that you’re able to share your feelings with so openly. But it isn’t so much about luck and more about the ability to make sure you are honest enough with each other regarding boundaries, communication and commitment, all of which takes work and dedication and should never be taken lightly.

I wish you both well and look forward to following your journey together in future.

Thank you so much for such a thoughtful and encouraging comment. I really appreciate you taking the time to read our story and, even more so, to understand what we're actually trying to share with people.

You hit on something that has probably been one of the biggest lessons for us throughout this journey:*communication really is everything.*None of this would have worked if my husband and I couldn't talk honestly about our feelings, boundaries, insecurities, and expectations. We've definitely had moments where things felt complicated or uncomfortable, but being able to sit down afterward and talk openly has always brought us closer rather than pushing us apart.

I also really appreciate what you said about trust. That's something we never take for granted. There have been plenty of opportunities over the years to let jealousy, uncertainty, or misunderstandings get in the way, but we've always tried to remember that our marriage comes first. The lifestyle only works for us because underneath everything else is a tremendous amount of love, trust, and commitment to each other.

I don't know if I'd say we have everything figured out, we've certainly made mistakes and learned from them along the way, but looking back, I think those lessons have helped us grow tremendously as a couple. What started as something neither of us completely understood has become a journey that has taught us a lot about ourselves and each other.

Thank you again for following along and for such kind words. It genuinely means a lot to know that someone who's been reading our journey can see the love and communication underneath everything else. I'll definitely keep adding to our story, so I hope you stick around for the next chapter!

[SunKing]

Oh I fully intend to follow you on your journey and thank you for your very kind words.
You do write so beautifully, you also have incredible eyes.

[RealWithRy]

About a year later my husband's job did it again.

Another transfer.

I remember sitting at the kitchen table staring at the news we'd just been given, trying to imagine packing up our entire life yet again. Three little kids meant that moving wasn't simply putting clothes in boxes anymore. There were toys everywhere, a crib to disassemble, mountains of baby supplies, and all the little things we'd accumulated since the last move.

But this time there was another person to think about.

Tom.

He'd become such an important part of our family that the thought of leaving him behind genuinely bothered us. We'd originally expected his stay with us to be temporary, but life had worked out differently. He'd become part of our routines, our children's lives, and our everyday conversations.

The hardest part was that we didn't know what he'd want to do.

One evening, after the kids were asleep, the three of us sat around the kitchen table talking about the move. My husband explained the new location, the job situation, and what we'd learned about the area.

Tom listened quietly.

Finally, he looked at us and said, "Honestly, there's really nothing keeping me here."

I looked at him.

"You'd actually come with us?"

He shrugged.

"Why not? I've already started over once. I could do it again."

That wasn't quite the answer we'd expected.

We talked for another couple of hours. We didn't want him to feel obligated to follow us simply because he'd become part of our household. We made it clear that we'd understand completely if he wanted to stay behind and build a life where he was.

Instead, he surprised us.

"I'd rather go with you," he said. "At least until I can get myself established."

So we made a practical arrangement. Tom would move with us, stay with us temporarily, and use that time to find a job and eventually get his own place.

Suddenly, the move became a three-adult operation.

And it was chaos.

The week before we left, our apartment looked like a cardboard-box factory. Every room had stacks of boxes.

Tom became our unofficial packing supervisor.

"Do you actually need this?" he'd ask, holding up something I'd apparently been saving for no reason.

"Yes."

"You haven't used it in two years."

"I might."

He'd shake his head and put it in the box anyway.

The actual moving day was exhausting. We had three kids to keep track of, furniture to load, and an entire household to transport several hours away. By the time we finally pulled away from our old place, I was sitting in the passenger seat surrounded by snacks, baby supplies, and enough children's entertainment to stock a small store.

I remember looking back at the place one last time and feeling that familiar mixture of sadness and excitement.

We had done this before.

But somehow, this time felt different.

Maybe it was because we'd built something unusual with Tom and were taking it somewhere new. Maybe it was because our children were old enough to understand that they were leaving friends and familiar places behind.

Or maybe we were simply tired of starting over.

When we finally arrived, our new apartment was...underwhelming.

That's probably the nicest way I can put it.

It wasn't terrible, but compared with our previous place, it felt like a downgrade. The rooms were smaller, the kitchen wasn't nearly as nice, and there were boxes everywhere before we'd even had a chance to unpack them.

Tom stood in the doorway looking around.

"Well," he said, "it's got potential."

My husband laughed.

"That's generous."

I dropped onto the couch.

"We'll make it work."

And that's exactly what we did.

That first night, none of us bothered trying to make everything perfect. The kids were exhausted, so we got them settled as best we could. We ordered takeout because the kitchen was still buried beneath boxes, and the three of us sat on the floor eating dinner because we hadn't even put the dining table together yet.

It wasn't the beautiful new beginning we'd imagined when we pictured moving somewhere else. There were boxes everywhere, the furniture wasn't assembled, the kids were overtired, and we were all exhausted.

But there was something comforting about looking around that messy apartment and realizing that the people who mattered most to us were there.

That first night, after the kids were finally asleep, the three of us sat quietly in the living room surrounded by half open boxes. I generally don't have sex on a couch, but our bed was buried and with Tom, it was a spur of the moment decision. So we improvised the best we could. Tom sat on one side, and my husband sat on the other. I did my best to ride him until my legs gave out and I had to flip over on all fours. Typically I don't enjoy giving head while being f***** doggy style but my husband was exhausted and needed a release. After that, my husband and Tom went to unpack more and I fell asleep on the couch.

Over the next several weeks we started piecing together the new place and it became more of a home.

Tom eventually found a job, which was a huge relief. We'd been worried about him getting established, and suddenly he had something lined up and a path toward having his own place. The funny thing was that none of us were actually ready for him to leave. By then, he'd become so woven into our daily lives that the idea of him moving into an apartment of his own felt strangely sad. We talked about it openly and realized there wasn't any practical reason he had to rush out the door just because he'd found work. So he stayed.

What was supposed to be a temporary arrangement ended up lasting another year, and honestly, we all loved it. We settled into a routine that felt almost effortless. There were family dinners, movie nights, weekend outings, game nights, date nights when we could get a babysitter, and plenty of evenings where things would get spicy after the kids were asleep. Tom helped with the ordinary stuff too, school mornings, errands, fixing things around the apartment, and being another pair of hands when life got hectic. We still had our private time together, but what made that year special was everything surrounding it. He wasn't just someone sharing our home; he was genuinely our friend and part of our household. By the time that year was coming to an end, the thought of him eventually getting his own place felt bittersweet. We'd all started out thinking of it as temporary, yet somehow we'd built a version of family life that none of us had expected.

[RealWithRy]

Tom meeting someone at work was something we'd always known could happen, but knowing it was possible didn't make it any easier when it actually happened. He came home one evening with that unmistakable smile and told us he'd met a woman he really liked.

I was genuinely happy for him. My husband was too. We'd spent enough time together to know that Tom deserved a relationship that was completely his own, even if a selfish part of me wished we could somehow keep things exactly as they were.

Eventually, Tom moved out and got a place with his girlfriend. They seemed genuinely happy together, and seeing that made the transition easier. We stayed in touch, but our household suddenly felt different. There was one less person sitting at the dinner table, one less voice joking around in the evenings, and one less person who had become part of our everyday routine.

After a few weeks, my husband and I finally sat down and talked about what we wanted to do next.

"I think I need to get back out there," I told him.

He smiled. "I think you do too."

We decided that renting a house for a few days and going back online would be a good way for me to blow off some steam and rediscover the excitement we'd enjoyed earlier in our journey. We talked through boundaries beforehand, and then I started messaging people.

That week turned into something considerably wilder than we'd originally imagined.

I ended up meeting around*20 or so guys*during the week. There were late nights, flirting, new faces, plenty of attention, and a constant feeling of anticipation whenever another message popped up on my phone. It was exhilarating being able to walk into a room knowing absolutely nothing about the person I'd be meeting and wondering whether we'd click.

By the end of the week, though, I was completely spent.

When I finally came home, I looked terrible. My hair was a mess, I was exhausted, and I had that unmistakable look of someone who had spent several days forgetting what a normal bedtime was. I barely made it through the door before dropping my bags and heading straight for the shower.

My husband was waiting for me when I came back to the living room.

He looked me over and laughed.

"Wow. You really went for it."

I laughed too. "You have no idea."

We sat together for a long time afterward and talked through everything. He admitted that he wished he'd been there to watch at least some of it unfold. He was curious about the people I'd met, the atmosphere, and what had made the experience so exciting for me.

One night during that time, a guy asked whether he could take a few pictures while we were together. My immediate reaction was no because we'd always had a pretty firm boundary about photographs, and I wasn't comfortable changing that on the spot. He got a little frustrated when I declined, which honestly made me nervous for a moment, but I stayed calm and explained that it wasn't personal, I just hadn't been comfortable with the idea before. Eventually he backed off, the tension disappeared, and we were able to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening. Later, when I told my husband about it, we talked more seriously about the photography issue. The more we discussed it, the more we realized that the photos themselves might not necessarily be a bad thing if we were the ones controlling them and had clear rules about privacy, storage, and consent. We hadn't completely changed our minds yet, but we agreed that our original blanket rule might have been worth reconsidering rather than treating photographs as automatically off limit.

I think part of our reconsideration was realizing that my husband might actually have appreciated having a few photos to look back on afterward, especially since he enjoys hearing about and sharing in my experiences.

After losing Tom, I'd been feeling a little lost. The attention, flirting, and sheer unpredictability gave me a confidence boost I hadn't realized I needed. There was something liberating about having a completely no-strings-attached encounter and knowing neither of us expected anything from the other afterward.

My husband understood that better than anyone.

We talked about how much easier it was, in some ways, to have one regular person. You developed trust, learned each other's personalities, and didn't have to start from scratch every time. But there was also something undeniably exciting about the opposite, someone new, a little mystery, and no expectations beyond whatever both people wanted from that particular evening.

That became the pattern for roughly the next year.

Hotel rooms. Rental houses. Occasionally our own place when we were comfortable enough with someone. We became more confident about talking through boundaries beforehand and much better at recognizing the difference between someone who simply wanted an exciting night and someone who might actually become a meaningful part of our lives.

James was probably the closest thing I had to a regular during that period.

We first met at one of the rental houses, and he immediately stood out. He had a confident personality and was particularly interested in dominance and rougher dynamics. At first, I was intrigued but cautious. The more we talked about boundaries and trust, though, the more I realized that some of those dynamics appealed to me more than I'd expected.

Eventually, James came over to our place a couple of times. My husband was comfortable with him, and I found myself looking forward to those evenings. There was an intensity to James that was different from the other guys we'd met, and I was beginning to discover that I enjoyed that side of myself.

We probably met up half a dozen times before things simply faded. No argument. No dramatic ending. One day the messages became less frequent, and eventually James just drifted out of our lives.

Oddly enough, I wasn't devastated.

By then, I had started realizing that maybe we weren't actually searching for another Tom anymore.

We still hadn't found another long-term partner, and part of me wondered whether we ever would. But the more we embraced this new chapter, the more I understood why the unpredictability appealed to me.

Tom had been wonderful, but having someone permanently woven into our household could eventually start feeling almost like having another husband. The routines, expectations, and ordinary responsibilities naturally became part of the relationship.

This was completely different.

There were no expectations that someone would be at our dinner table every night. No wondering whether they'd stay forever. No pressure to turn every connection into something permanent.

Sometimes it was simply about meeting someone interesting, feeling that spark, having a memorable night, and waking up the next morning knowing we'd all go our separate ways.

And honestly?

I was enjoying that freedom.

We still hoped that someday we'd stumble across another person who could become a genuine long-term connection, but we weren't forcing it anymore. Until then, my husband and I were having fun, learning more about ourselves, and discovering that our journey still had plenty of surprises left in it.

Bonus: (Lesson Learned)
There was another night during that wild phase that really brought home to both of us that there was a difference between being adventurous and putting myself in a genuinely risky situation. I went out to a bar by myself, got far too caught up in the atmosphere, and drank much more than I should have. At some point I ended up leaving with a guy, but the details of the night were incredibly hazy afterward. I woke up the next morning somewhere unfamiliar and immediately realized I didn't even know exactly where I was. My first instinct was to call my husband. He stayed calm while I tried to figure things out, and we ended up using my phone's location to realize I was actually a couple of towns away.

Thankfully, I was okay, and he came to get me. But sitting in the car afterward, we had a very honest conversation about how easily that situation could have gone badly. It wasn't the fact that I'd gone out alone that bothered him as much as the fact that I'd been drinking enough that I couldn't reliably remember where I'd ended up. We both agreed that if I was going to continue having adventures on my own, he needed to know where I was and have a way to reach me. He was actually becoming more comfortable with the idea of me having some wild nights without him there, but he wanted the reassurance of knowing my location and knowing that I could get help if I needed it. For both of us, that became an important boundary going forward: freedom was fine, but neither of us wanted that freedom to come at the expense of basic safety.

[RealWithRy]

During my wild phase, a few weeks after we'd last seen James, he unexpectedly texted me.

"Can I ask you something?"

His next message caught me completely off guard.

"Would you ever be comfortable being tied up?"

I'd never tried bondage before, so I was immediately curious but also a little nervous. I told him that if we were going to explore it, my husband needed to be there, we'd establish a safeword, and I needed to know that I could stop everything at any moment.

James understood. He explained that bondage had always been a fantasy of his. He also admitted that his girlfriend had no idea he was exploring this side of himself. He'd told her he was simply spending the evening hanging out with some buddies, which technically wasn't entirely untrue, considering my husband and he were becoming pretty good friends.

I brought the idea to my husband that evening.

"I'm interested," I admitted, "but I'm nervous."

He asked what would make me feel safer.

"You being there."

We talked through boundaries, expectations, and the safeword. My husband eventually told me that if I genuinely wanted to try it, he was comfortable with the idea as long as everything stayed within the boundaries we'd established.

Friday evening arrived, and James showed up around five. He and my husband talked for a while before heading out to pick up some Asian food for dinner and some supplies we'd discussed. James also brought the shock collar he'd mentioned, although we agreed beforehand that it would only be used if I specifically agreed in the moment.

After dinner, I put the kids to bed and came back downstairs. The house was quiet, and suddenly the whole thing felt much more real.

We went over everything one last time.

"Still comfortable?" my husband asked.

I nodded.

Before anything started, James asked another question. He wanted to know whether I was comfortable with degrading comments as part of the role-play. I'd never really explored that side of things, so I admitted I was unsure. I made it clear that anything that crossed my boundary would be stopped immediately. My husband was there for that conversation too, which made me feel much safer about experimenting with something so unfamiliar. After agreeing on some limits and reminding ourselves that the safeword applied to everything, we were ready to continue.

James waited for my signal before beginning. He was very deliberate and confident as he made his moves. "You want to help me with this bad girl?" James asked my husband. My husband grinned and walked over towards us. James grabbed both my hands and held them up over my head and pinned me with my back against the wall. "Kiss your wife's innocence goodbye." James told my husband as he kissed me on my cheek. That comment struck me as funny. I hadn't been innocent in a very long time, but we were doing this and I was going along with it. My husband grinned. They both spun me around and pushed my chest into the wall and while they restrained my hands behind my back.

At this point I was wearing only a bra, my pajama pants, and my underwear. They both walked me over to the bed and manhandled me face down, arms still restrained. "We need to get her naked." James shouted. Both of them started taking my clothing off piece by piece. They started sliding my pajama pants off, as well as my underwear. That only left my bra. My husband came over and unclasped it before James finished the job.

I laid there for a minute, completely naked, face down, and arms bound behind me. That's when I heard James rustling around in his duffle bag. He was getting the shock collar out. He placed it on me and used a length of rope to act as a leash.

"You may want to go sit over there," Directing my husband to go sit on my vanity. "This could get intense."

He asked me if he untied my hands if I would be a good girl. I nodded in agreement. He untied my hands and ordered me to roll over on my back. I complied like the good submissive girl he fantasizes about. He then tied my hands to the posts on the headboard stretched above me.

"You didn't think I was going to let you off that easy did you?"

After that, he ordered me to lift my hips up. I complied again and he put a pillow under my lower back, exposing my ass. He stepped back for a minute, and I was left unsure of his intentions, but I went with it. He came back with a bottle of lube and a butt plug and with no warning at all, pressed it to my ass until it went in. I wasn't expecting it, but the feeling was unmatched.

The sensation of being restrained with a butt plug inserted was completely unfamiliar, and I could feel my nerves building as I realized I was actually going through with something I'd only ever imagined before.

James paused several times to check that I was comfortable, and my husband remained the person I could look toward whenever I needed reassurance.

James spent a couple minutes caressing my restrained body and kissing me everywhere which was a big turn on for me. I could feel myself getting aroused. Then, he gave me a quick, light pulse with the collar, more startling than painful. I jumped at the unexpected sensation, and both of them immediately checked my reaction. After I confirmed I was still comfortable, we continued cautiously, gradually increasing the intensity until I said to not go any higher.

My husband walked over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek and told me that I was being a good little sl*t. When he sat back down at the vanity, James came over and started fingering me with the butt plug still inserted. I felt a little pressure, but it was very pleasurable. He got me to climax here, back to back, 3 times.

After that, he untied me and led me with the leash to the floor.

"Get on your knees, face on the ground, and keep your ass up"

He lightly mashed my face into the carpet and got my husband to come help tie my hands behind my back again. Then he restrained my ankles together with rope. He pulled the plug out of me and slipped his c*ck inside my ass. James was probably in the top guys I've had concerning length. I was told he was 10 inches but never measured myself. However, he wasn't extremely girthy. Slightly smaller than the butt plug. It went in smoothly but I could feel it deeper than I had ever taken anal before and it was turning me on.

He thrusts in me several strokes before he picks up the pace for a few minutes. While my hands and ankles are restrained and my face is resting on the carpet, I asked him to stick it in my p****. He glady did and proceeded to f*** me doggy style, while shouting and name calling. It didn't make me mad or anything, but it was definitely different. At this point, he could have called me any name he wanted because I was getting one of the best f*** sessions I had ever had.

After a few minutes of that, he ordered me back up on the bed. Still restrained, him and my husband had to help me. They laid me on my back and James ordered me to look up and relax my throat. I knew what was coming and I was nervously hoping he would like it. He climbed up on the bed and as my husband was watching, he stuck his rod down my throat almost to the base. Of course, I choked and gagged a little, but I had never had one this long in my mouth.

This went on only for a couple minutes before he pulled out, placed the tip of his c*** on my upper lip, and continued to stroke. Within seconds he was cumming all over my face. I was still looking up, so part ran up my nose and I had to blow it out. He politely asked if I was ok. I told him that I was and I just needed to blow my nose.

Still restrained, they brought over a towel and wiped me up and helped me blow my nose. They untied me and returned everything to the duffle bag. By the time the evening was winding down, I was still on the bed, catching my breath and taking in just how far outside my normal comfort zone I'd gone. James had returned to his usual calm, matter-of-fact self, but there was a satisfied smile on his face as we talked about the experience. He asked how I felt about everything, and I admitted that I'd been nervous at first but had ended up enjoying the intensity more than I'd expected. My husband stayed close, and the three of us joked about how an unexpected text had turned into such an adventurous night. Eventually James got ready to leave, and my husband walked him to the door. James left the supplies with us, joking that they might come in handy if we ever decided to revisit the fantasy. When my husband came back, he found me still waiting on the bed, and we laughed as we talked privately about the evening, what had surprised me, what had excited me, and whether we'd be willing to explore that side of ourselves again.

More than anything, though, it felt good knowing I'd helped James finally experience something he'd fantasized about for a long time. Seeing how relieved and genuinely happy he seemed afterward made the whole experience feel meaningful to me in its own strange way. It wasn't just about trying something new for myself; there was something satisfying about trusting each other enough to help him explore a side of himself he'd never been able to share before.

My husband and I spent the rest of the night watching some adult videos together having to do with bondage and BDSM, exploring an entire world I had previously been unfamiliar with.