In His Hands - Letting My Husband Choose My Next Partner

I still get butterflies every time he whispers, “I’ve got something planned.”

That’s all he says. No date, no place, no hints. Just the promise. And the look in his eyes...dark with mischief and devotion, tells me everything I need to know. I trust him, and more than that, I crave what he creates for me.

It started as a fantasy, something we’d tease each other with during long car rides or lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets. The idea of giving up control...not just in the moment, but completely. Entrusting my body and pleasure to him, and to whoever he deems worthy.

Now, it’s our ritual.

I tell him what I’m feeling. What I want.

Last week, I told him I wanted to feel completely used...in the most delicious way. I said, “Surprise me. BBC. Maybe two. Maybe a woman. Just… let me not know. Let me feel everything but see nothing.”

He smiled, kissed my forehead, and said nothing more.

Tonight, he led me into the room gently, like he always does. My heart was already pounding before he placed the soft black blindfold over my eyes. The noise-canceling headphones slid on next, and the world fell away.

I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could only feel his hands, guiding me to the bed. The familiar scent of him in the air. Then, the sensation of other hands. Larger, unfamiliar. Rougher. Maybe more than one. Definitely more than one.

He watched. I know he did.

He loves seeing me surrender to him, and through him, to others. He knows every look I give, every breath I hold, every tremble in my thigh. He knows what I need before I do.

And I love being chosen. I love that he’s the one who curates these experiences, who picks the people and sets the tone. It’s his trust in me, and my trust in him, wrapped into something thrilling, primal, and honest.

Afterwards, when the headphones come off and the blindfold slips away, I always find his eyes first. He’s smiling. Proud.

“I told you I had something planned,” he whispers again, brushing sweat-damp hair from my forehead.

And I already can’t wait to see what he plans next.

 

(The Husband's POV - "She's Mine to Share")

I love watching her submit.
Not just in the bedroom...but in the moment she tells me what she wants.
What she craves.

She never says it timidly. She looks me in the eye, lips parted, voice low, and tells me her fantasies like confessions whispered in church.

Last week, she told me she wanted to be used.
Her exact words: “Let me be your gift to someone. BBC. Maybe two. Maybe a woman. Blindfold me. Headphones on. I don’t want to see or hear...just feel.”

Fuck. That look she gave me when she said it?
That’s when the planning began.

I spent the week choosing carefully. Men I’ve vetted. Men I know will treat her right...rough enough to overwhelm her, but respectful of the boundaries I set. She’s my wife. My everything. But tonight, she was also their fantasy.

She let me dress her. Lacy black lingerie, no bra, sheer stockings. The blindfold was soft velvet, the headphones a sleek matte black. Once they were on, she was gone. Fully immersed in the world I created.

And then they came in.

The first man had a voice like gravel, deep and smooth when he whispered in her ear. The second...younger, maybe, bolder. He ran his tongue along her collarbone like he was claiming her. She moaned, arms above her head, wrists already tied to the headboard. She didn’t even know how many hands were on her.

They wrecked her.

Stretched her open.
Made her cry out in a voice she saves only for these nights.
And I watched.

Every gasp, every arch of her back, every drop of slick running down her thigh...all of it, mine to witness. I controlled the pace. I gave the nod when it was time for the second man to slide in beside the first. I gave permission when someone wanted to taste her.

She was completely consumed. A woman on fire, writhing, begging for more with her body.

And the whole time, she didn’t know who was inside her. But she knew I chose them.

That’s what makes it beautiful. She trusts me with her body in a way most people only dream about. I get to turn her out, break her down, build her back up...all while knowing I’m the only one she sees when the blindfold comes off.

After the room emptied and I took off her headphones, she blinked at me, dazed, glowing, ruined and radiant. I kissed her gently, brushed the hair from her flushed face.

“You liked that?” I whispered.
She nodded, breathless.
“Good,” I said. “Because I’ve already got plans for next weekend.”