Once my husband discovered that developing and maintaining a secondary relationship was more of a challenge than he was willing to take on, he opted for seeking a woman to hook up with casually on a regular basis. He joined several dating sites and shared some of his finds. The light flirty banter was right up his alley. On several occasions he matched with women who quickly unmatched him after more closely examining his profile to reveal his open marriage status. A few were open to the idea of dating or fucking a married man, but the majority were off put or looking for a life partner. Hearing about his dates entertained me. I enjoyed our discussions about his attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof) with various women. He was learning more about what his needs and desires were outside of our marriage. He found that dating a 22 year old sounded appealing, but the lack of common ground made it difficult to form even a sexual connection. I laughed in agreement as he explained how she posed for multiple selfies during their date.
After a successful first date with another woman, he was excited to make plans with her the following week. He asked if I minded if they “hung out.” They were getting acquainted, enjoying the new flirtation. It was only their second date, he didn’t mention any plans to have sex. I was already asleep when he arrived home that night. We didn’t discuss the date the next day either as our work schedules conflicted. I assumed it was uneventful or he would have mentioned something. Two days later we were catching up on our days and I asked about his date. He gave a few details, nothing exciting. I asked, “You didn’t have sex with her did you?” He said “Yes.” I was overcome with nausea and rage. How could he have misled me into thinking they were just “hanging out”? Why wouldn’t he find the time to disclose that information over the past two days? Why wasn’t sex part of his replay of their date? Why did I have to ask point blank? I felt like he had lied to me. We had previously determined that I didn’t enjoy or require every sexual detail of his hookups, however I did expect to be generally informed of who he was dating and fucking. That little hiccup clarified one of our rules. If you’re planning on having sex with someone or consider it an option, a simple head’s up is expected. If it happens unexpectedly, a conversation should reveal that information as soon as possible. I’ve learned to appreciate these mishaps as opportunities for growth.
While my husband found his entertainment on dating sites, my friendship with J deepened. He intrigued me with details of his more intimate relationships. I began to gather just how broad and intense his capacity to love is. Being unexposed to the poly world, I learned through his experiences different kinds of love that exist. He stimulated me with relationship scenarios I had never considered. He was in love with three women at that time, his wife included. Each relationship vastly unique. I was enamored listening to him discuss the dynamic of each, of how they had evolved, and why he cared so genuinely. He described his adoration for one woman as similar to the way a parent loves a child. Almost unconditional, wanting nothing but happiness for her. Being a mother, I empathized, but not entirely, as the sexual aspect made it an interesting concept to ponder. The pondering is what captivated me. He fucked my mind with such fascinating ideas. As a lover of love, particularly the deep love of a long term partner, I was drawn to his undoubted dedication to his wife. There is something incredibly attractive about a man who so clearly and faithfully loves and respects his wife, who will put in the work and sacrifice to maintain their happiness, and always be her number one.
Each conversation unveiled new details in his relationships, to which I responded with inquisition. I recall his hesitation in confiding in me with increasingly personal information. We had a memorable conversation about trust. I have a history of being forth coming with details most would deem personal, secretive, even inappropriate to disclose. With just about anyone I meet. He is on the opposite end of the self exposure spectrum. He asked me for an honest self evaluation. Was I able to know something and never share it? With anyone. Ever. I remember where I was when he proposed that question. How distracted I must have seemed to my husband for over an hour as I mentally examined my character. J’s apprehension was understandable. I concluded that I can in fact keep a secret. I am trustworthy, but unless it’s clear which details should remain private, I enjoy spilling it all to at least one other person. I’ve always lived by the motto “nothing is too personal.” I clarified that my husband was exempt, that I would almost certainly share everything with him. J decided he would determine which of my personal questions he felt comfortable answering and that it was best saved for a phone conversation. Those chats got longer. His confidence in my ability to respect his privacy heightened. His divulgence, despite being guarded, steadily progressed.
I soon learned one reason trust was of prime importance to him. He was newly involved in the BDSM world. My experience was next to nothing. Sure, I enjoyed a moderate ass smack or two while getting fucked from behind. Along with every other woman under the age of 60, I had read Fifty Shades. That was it, right? Getting tied up and struck with various instruments? It wasn’t on my list of preferred porn genres. I had assumed, without research or exposure, that it was degrading, sometimes even gross. He sent me a few artsy sort of pics displaying minor dominance and restraint. Every detail of those images is engrained in my mind. I described to him what turned me on about the scenes. The way the man’s fingers dug into the skin around her hips as he pulled her backward onto his cock. Her closed eyes and open mouth, her head extended by the force of his tight grip of her hair at the base of her neck. The arch in her back as she bent forward, her slim wrists restrained by metal cuffs over her head. A perfectly proportioned brunette on all fours, her naked ass in the air, her face against the carpet. She wore a metal collar, her arms extended forward with cuffed wrists. The suited, classically handsome man sitting above her intrigued me. His elbows on his knees, his hands together, his eyes so intently adoring the beautiful woman positioned in front of him, helpless, at his disposal, anticipating the things he was about to do to her. That one was my favorite. Maybe J was testing the waters, determining my inclination to be aroused by submission. Aroused didn’t begin to describe it. And so my interest in BDSM was born. The intricate culture of this new world, over the next several months, would change life as I knew it.