A Borrowed Wife the Covid Camper

...Ken and I wore each other out on my proverbial marital bed, making a proper mess of the bedding in the process, but also eventually having the sated sleep of kings and queens; as in magnificently deep and rejuvenating. The room was left smelling of sex, perspiration too; cum in general to me having a particular and unique smell, even man to man.

My husband had been remotely marooned by Ken for still another time in our long on again, off again taboo relationship, and this time as well he couldn't possibly interfere with our naughty fun; it was the entire idea, but this time also part of a grander scheme. He had to once again become something less, so that Ken could temporarily take his place and become something more. It was a pattern that had repeated for us many times in this long adventure; observed for what it was, but truthfully not fully understood by myself.

There was just something special that happened in my brain though, when I knew he's safely out of the way, it's like I could let go and really be the woman that Ken needs, so that he could be the man that I need him to be, most especially lately.

Both my husband's "little problem" and his silent encouragement are nudging me in this general direction too though; I'm not twenty-five anymore, but I'm not so old as to not have physical needs. In fact, in my mind I'm as needy as ever, and not getting my husband's more traditional lovin I've turned to burning some of that excess sexual energy on fitness; cardio more than weights though, because I don't want to become muscular.

I think I look good enough, men at the gym look, the buff twenty-five year old's even; when they're not too busy admiring their own reflections. It's also respectfully done though, nothing pervy or anything like that to make a woman feel uncomfortable, as the place I go is nice like that. I generally wear black yoga pants, a sports bra, and a loose overshirt of some kind as my standard workout uniform; so I'm not exactly flauntingly displayed or anything like that, certainly no more so than any of the other ladies anyway.

Physical confirmation of my desirability is what Ken uniquely provides here though, and I love him for what he's done for me, the ego boost is almost like a prescription drug, without the prescription. I have what he presently needs, he has what I need too, it's almost the perfect symbiotic relationship. The third adult in this adventure complicates that ever so slightly, but there's an evolving ad hoc plan for him, the specific details also concurrently evolving. How he deals with this little overnight "test run" will help with those details going forward, but I'm getting ahead of myself here, out over my proverbial skis.

Anyway, on the subject of my giving husband, I have a bit of sudden-thoughts clarity myself, as I'm waking up with Ken up against me in spoon-fashion, his arm on my naked hip possessively. Things are deliciously sore and messy for me, (like no sex for the next few days maybe) but also in a way that reminds me that I've had a bit of naughty adult fun once again too.

"My husband could possibly fix this little problem of his, if he really wanted to; why didn't I ever really see this before?" I ask myself with that sudden clarity. To punctuate this I feel Ken's half-hard self pushing on my naked ass, (something I've never let him have one single time) half-awake himself and somehow he's more ready to go that my own fully conscious husband has been in quite some time. Good genetics maybe, or is he just that turned-on to be grinding on my married naked butt in quasi-taboo fashion; most especially with the other things he has going on in life himself.

"Want me to make you some breakfast, Stud?" I ask softly and sweetly, using his "stud" moniker like an honorific. He's earned the title with me though, and my tone says as much. Intimacy brings two people closer to each other, sometimes even makes their hearts align, beat as one heart, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't miss that part specifically with a man; even though I have a loving husband elsewhere that does what he can.

"I'm tired from all that driving yesterday babe" he tells me sleepily, and he asks for a few more minutes. He's that relaxed in my company, even on this particular bed, but we also have a long history with each other.

"Driving that noisy truck and trailer, or driving me into the mattress half the night?" I wonder with a silent laugh. I catch myself feeling grateful for both him, and his efforts on our behalf, like grateful enough to kiss him from head to toe as he's half-sleeping next to me. Over the years my husband has made me feel like this a great many times too, but this time it's Ken's turn to earn my womanly gratitude, and not just for getting that trailer out of our yard. My life is a bit more fun with Ken back in it, (I selfishly feel more young and alive) and I want some more of that; but not necessarily today.

"Should every woman have two men in their lives?" I wonder playfully. "The fun playmate, and the soulmate that you can come home to after the fun one and you have had your fun?"

Anyway, I slip out of "our" bed with this naughty thought in mind and get my stinky self into the shower, washing all the good parts twice, sore and all. I smell like both sex and Ken, and I'd like to smell like a proper married woman again. My girl parts have been left hanging a bit from Ken's extended aggressions too, but you won't hear me complain. It's been some time since any man has left me looking like this; "properly used" I'd call it, and I'll wear that like a badge of honor. "No panties for now though," I silently decide; it'll just rub me more raw down there...

In the mirror, (before I slip on a casual button down shirtdress) I see the adulterous and sated woman there smiling back at me, and also the love-bite Ken gave me right on my neck. It's a marking of "his" territory, a very playful teenage-like jerk thing to do, especially where my husband can't help but to see it. As a teen he sometimes did this so that my boyfriend and future husband could find them someplace private (and obviously know how I got them) for a day or two afterwards. Others will potentially see this particular one though, at work on Monday even, if it doesn't fade by then. I could obviously cover it with makeup or a turtleneck, but it might also be a personal dare to myself to leave it out in the open.

"Would other's notice and ask where I got that with a playful smirk on their faces?" I wonder to myself, this almost sounding like the conditions for a personal bet of some kind. They'd not know it was somebody other than my husband that did this to me, so an extra bit of fun maybe, especially if I'm still in this "life is wonderful" sated mood by then.

Anyway, wearing only my shirtdress I check on Ken, and he's snoring delightfully, it's super charming and innocent. I close the door and make myself something to eat, then I make Ken something as well, in his case an omelet as I know how he likes those. I bring that and coffee just the way he likes it into the bedroom on a tray; "breakfast in bed for the stud just the way he likes it" I think to myself with another laugh. "A very small price to pay for making me feel like a woman again" I add to those other taboo thoughts. I'm all smiles, it's starting out to be a wonderful day, but I also realize that I'm setting a precedent here too.

He's up and texting somebody now, and by his "cat that ate the canary" smile I can kind of assume who it is. I didn't know if the phones worked properly upstate with how remote Ken's land was, but looking at my own phone left behind on my bedside table I see a "good morning" text from my marooned husband; unread though. I feel a bit guilty now, the other man that made this all possible for me accidentally ignored for a few more minutes.

I always carry my phone around with me, usually in the back pocket of my blue jean shorts; except for today as I'm wearing a dress out of both practicality, and comfort for my Ken-abused girl parts. Both phones, Ken's and my own, just a few feet apart on opposite nightstands, and I also remember that all three of us have location sharing enabled on them; so while my husband might not yet know that Ken and I slept together in the master bed, he can see from his own zoomed in map function that both phones were at least in the master bedroom portion of our house, and therefore that Ken didn't go home after dropping me off.

I'll tell him obviously, but just seeing this little fact while he's helplessly trapped so far away has to twist him up a bit, in a kinky fun way, most especially with our long history together. He mentally gets off on such thoughts, (I know, obviously not for everybody) and sometimes I think his imagination over what happens is more intense for him than the reality. "But can he actually 'get off' like this in his present condition; self-entertain to an actual real and normal orgasm while imagining the details?" I wonder. It obviously matters, because if he can, or already did, it will likely ruin his cooperative mood going forward; he's pretty much always been like this, even as a teen. Our chastity play reminded me of this fact; a horny man is a compliant one, and a sated one sometimes lazy and hard to motivate too.

Back in the here and now Ken makes deep eye-contact and says thank you for the tray, and he really seems touched that I did this for him; so the thank you is more likely for everything. He was starved for both manly attention and appreciation while still married, but that's over now for him. Along those lines my husband isn't here to get his own good morning kiss from me, so Ken gets his instead, and I also make a logical assumption and ask Ken to say hello to my husband for me.

"Your wife says hello." Ken texts back, and he shows me what he sent on his screen. It's a gentle taunt, nuanced for three people who know each other so well; players who properly understand the parts all must play going forward for this strange thing to work still again.

"Did you guys sleep well?" my husband texts back, while purposely ignoring the implications of Ken's taunt, obviously trying to extend the exchange. He's no doubt a little lonely and starved for attention himself from spending the night all alone and sequestered, and now maybe he even thinks I just blew him off when he texted me first and got no response. That makes Ken the proverbial gatekeeper for my time and attention for a tiny bit here, another nuanced mind-fuck for a husband that likes such things; but this one we just kind of drifted into by happenstance. Not something to be accepted from just anybody though, but as I've said, Ken is quite special to both of us.

"Nope! I was up half the night" Ken adds, his jerk persona getting large and bold again; just like the old Ken that we both know and love. It's a bit chancy, because one can't always deduce "tone" from a text, even from one so well known. Ken is perhaps feeling a bit full of himself though for the fantastic lovemaking he's given me; but who could blame him? He's very quick and witty when in this mood too, something his ex-wives may not have always appreciated to be honest.

"Gotta go buddy, maybe we'll see you sometime later today..." Ken ending the exchange with this final snark, so he can focus on breakfast, or perhaps even me. "Does my marooned husband think this means Ken and I are about to start a lusty round two with each other?" I'm left to wonder.

Then as an apparent afterthought while looking back up at my body in my thin dress, Ken asks me to move back towards the window and open the shade, letting the late morning sun flow in.

"You look especially good in that" Ken tells me with a warm loving smile, pumping my ego with his honest praise. I work at keeping this body of mine, and it's nice to see somebody appreciate that. He then tells me that he can see right through it (meaning my thin dress backlit by the sun) and to play with him a bit I raise my arms and mock stretch for the celling, hiking the already short hem even higher. To his credit he asks first before taking the picture with his phone's very nice camera, Ken a bit of a picture perfectionist sometimes though.

Anyway, he shows me the picture, and his feet and part of his legs under the light covers can be seen in it, (as well as the window and me obviously) confirming the perspective of the photographer for anybody who's ever been in our bedroom. It's a very flattering and sexy picture, I'm literally glowing, love-bite, naughty sated smile, and all. Timestamping this picture as well is the missing camper trailer that was parked right outside our window only yesterday.

"Would it be over the top if I shared this with somebody?" Ken asks me.

"Yes it would. Do it anyway though!" I command. I've surprised Ken here a bit, but we have a history of egging each other on with things like this; and not to make excuses or anything, but my mood is very up and positive, it was a very good night for me, long, long overdue. Ken is also like my naughty partner in crime sometimes, and the two of us get up to some mischief when in a certain mood; my husband often the recipient of that mischief.

I know it all sounds so cruel, but this is the game, and every game has rules... and my husband even has a safe-word now, if we should go too far this time.

...To be honest, sometimes I get these ideas, and sometimes they're truthfully over the top, it's almost like the rational part of my brain switches off for a bit, and the focus becomes not what "should" I do, but what "can" I do. Anyway, Ken sends the picture before I voice any second thoughts; what's done is done...

Ken eats and then slips into the shower himself, and I actually toy with the idea of not washing the bedding, leaving it for hubby to do when we get back home with him. Nothing subtle there at all, but we need to wash Ken's clothes anyway if he's to have clean things to wear later today, and the bedding can easily go in the big washing machine with his clothes. Ken should actually have some clothes here going forward, but this thing has moved a bit fast for us, and we're missing some details in our haste to get to the fun parts with each other.

This is supposed to be fun for my giving husband too, not straight up humiliation, but the devil in me thinks it might be ironically fitting for hubby to "have" to clean up a man-mess on the marital bed that he himself can't seem to produce these days. This of course assumes that he can actually fix the little problem he presently has, but choses not to for a reason that I don't yet know.

If I'm mistaken and he can't actually fix it; well in that case I suppose that kind of makes me a bit of a monster here. I'll assume at this point (until convinced otherwise) that it's more selfless self-deportation on his part, but the timeline on all that doesn't exactly mesh; Ken was still theoretically "happily" married when the problem started. The actual start date isn't exact either though, it kind of happened over the course of months and months; so the exact cause and effect thing is hard to establish.

So it's the early afternoon by the time we're finally ready to leave, but Ken's in no hurry, his "dragging-feet" attitude is impossible to miss; well sated men and their motivations I suppose. Ken knows the location, but I don't though, so this is perhaps Ken exerting his dominance over me as well, in a friendly way. In an emergency I could sort it out with my husband's location function on his phone, but up there the exact location likely isn't exact, (it's some technical function of how the system works that I don't care to learn). Anyway, we need to drive up and collect my Ken-abandoned husband before work on Monday, and he's asked me to wear my little shirtdress as he seriously likes me in it; like he's rubbing on me every time we're near each other. I'm going out in public though, so a bra and panties are a given, (much to his disappointment) but my girl parts are feeling better now, so this isn't the big deal it was in the morning.

Ken asks me to drive, (too much driving for him the day before) and we'll continue our flirty conversations on the long drive up. He's looking my way while talking to me, (and even when he's not) it's almost unnerving, but he tells me he likes the way I look wearing a dress; which to be fair isn't very often for me. The message is also clear to me; "wear a dress when we're together please." I lift and hike my hem almost all the way to my matching panties within the privacy of my car, further egging him on, so I play a part here too, but his manly attention and the promise of what that brings is like a drug for me...

It turns out there isn't even a real address for the GPS up here, just a road name and a gate to eventually look out for; again, very remote. Before we actually get there though, Ken suggests getting gas in the little town we're about to drive through, and small as it is they even have a McDonalds, so we each get coffees, one large one to go for hubby too, and use the facilities. "Caution, this hot coffee is hot" it says on the lid, and I make a joke of it to Ken; as in what dumbass needs a sign like that anyway?

"You know it was a woman who burned her lady parts and sued; that's why that's there" Ken tells me.

"Pathetic!" is my one word answer to that.

Eventually we're on the right logging road, or farmer's road maybe for all I know. Anyway, Ken tells me to pull over a moment, and following his command I do. But I'm also anxious to see hubby, see how he made out all by himself overnight; and truthfully by this time a good part of this day as well. Ken knows me well enough to know this for what it is, it's not quite a dual-loyalty, but there are elements of that between both men; it's why one of them must self-deport for this to work.

"So, we're in agreeance here, if he's good with this, you and I are going on vacation together, fun in the sun and all of that. But, if he's in any way not, you two are going and you're not going to look back, have any second thoughts at all," Ken tells me. He's not asking here, (not really telling me either though) he's just making sure we're both on the same proverbial page, a united front to present to hubby, one way or the other.

This is the loving friend, the man that actually appreciates the gift he's been given, or I suppose more accurately, loaned. Lately it's an unused, or to be fair "underutilized" gift, not to in any way diminish the love that made it possible though. Ken needs this vacation from his present life, and truthfully so do I, but there is a definite price he's not willing to pay to achieve it, so something else we agree on.

Then, to get more back into character for this "game" of ours, the Ken jerk persona comes out, but again, it's part of this odd game we have going on. Ken pops his seatbelt and reaches over, kissing me deeply, all while reaching in with his right hand possessively and rubbing me on my panties and twisting me up. I should tell him no, but it feels so fricken good (like little electric shocks) that I can't, and instead spread my legs a bit, inviting more rubbing. Ken's a good looking man who knows my body well, and I've been going without lately too...

His large fingers are actually invading, pushing my panties inside of me, but he stops just short of a nice little "o" for me with a naughty "I know what I just did" smile, sitting back in his seat and rebuckling like nothing just happened, all as I'm half-tempted to finish the job that he just started myself. I'm a squishy mess now thanks to Ken, and with the windows closed I smell that too. My nips are rock hard, even through my lacy matching bra, and I feel the flush of exertion on my heated face.

"Jerk!" I tell him with a smile, using his other well-earned title.