If you missed Chapter 1, it’s here.

Both W and I were impressed by the intensity of the physical connection between us. As she rode me, we locked eyes and maintained each other’s gaze the entire time, even as my hands explored her bare flesh. The only time we weren’t looking deeply into each other’s eyes was when we kissed, and as soon as we stopped we found each other’s eyes again. It was much the same when she went down on me earlier; her eyes were piercing, penetrating, and I loved every second of it.

Before long, we walked over to the futon and joined Jill and her beau, a glorious pile of naked bodies writhing, thrusting, sucking, and fucking its way to ecstasy. I found myself as turned on by the sight of my wife interacting with H as I was by W, and that’s really saying something. To some extent, what I was witnessing were the pillow-talk fantasies Jill and I had long discussed finally made real. Seeing my wife – the woman I love most in this world – being pleasured, and for that matter giving pleasure, was the hottest thing ever. I was aware that H felt much as I did; such voyeurism has always been one of his biggest turn-ons. Our new friends may not have been poly, but they were no strangers to compersion.

As the day wore on, I became aware of jealousy. No, I wasn’t feeling jealous at all. But I suddenly found myself aware for the first time in awhile that jealousy was a thing. I considered the possibility that Jill may feel jealous, that after this fun episode there might be repercussions for our relationship. It didn’t seem likely, and in fact the opposite outcome is what actually occurred over the next few weeks: Jill grew more supportive and indeed compersive in the face of my budding relationship.

I also acknowledged the notion that I should somehow feel jealous myself. The social programming I’d grown up with – the relationships I saw as a child and a teenager, every movie and television show I’d ever watched, every advice column I’d ever read (other than Savage Love) – it all told me that monogamy was the way to go and if my wife ever touched another man I should be furious, that I should feel inadequate and lash out with violent rage to compensate. But as I said, I didn’t feel anything even slightly negative while it was happening, and I didn’t expect to afterwards. But what if I did? What if I wanted non-monogamy, specifically watching my wife having sex with another man, to remain a fantasy and I just didn’t know it yet? What if I couldn’t live with it once reality set in?

It was about four o’clock when we wrapped it up for the day. After we got dressed we sat around our friends’ living room making small talk, none of us wanting the day to end. We made tentative plans to meet again during the summer, which actually did happen, several times. Still, at that moment as we prepared to part company, we were just amazed to have made it happen once. In addition to taking the day off of work, our friends had arranged after-school care for their children, and would need to pick them up soon. Additionally, our drive home that day was just shy of 800 miles, and though we’d gotten on the road almost twelve hours earlier we still had almost 700 to go. While we certainly enjoyed the thought of staying much longer, perhaps having dinner or even just drinks with H and W – not that we would have dared to propose it the first time out, even if the kids were away overnight – we needed to resume our drive.

As it was, we’d left our daughter with my mom during our road trip; both expected us to be home in the afternoon. We weren’t about to tell her or anyone why we’d gotten sidetracked for several hours, so once we were on the road we called and explained we’d spent the day hanging out with friends. Technically this wasn’t a lie, though the innocuous details we offered up – going to lunch, visiting a museum, etc. – were complete bullshit. Luckily no one asked any questions, and why would they? Chances are, after sending ignored texts for several hours, my mother was just relieved we weren’t dead.

We got on the freeway at the height of rush hour; it was a Friday and as our day wore on I knew this was going to be the consequence we had to pay.  Still, there was no way in hell I would have made a show of looking at the clock and suggesting we wrap things up before any of the four of us were satisfied.  As we came to a dead stop less than two miles from the onramp, I felt my eyes grow weary. It was a familiar sensation, that razor-blades-in-the-eyeballs feeling that comes from wearing my contact lenses too long. Earlier that week, while out having drinks with my cousin, I’d experienced a major allergic fit and had to take one of my contacts out. Of course, I lacked both my lens case, and my glasses. That was inconvenient.

That morning, though, expecting more of the same, and a very long drive on top of it, I’d made sure both my case and my glasses were handy in the front seat of the car. Stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I managed to take out my contacts and replace them with my glasses. In retrospect, the heavy traffic was serendipitous; without it I would’ve had to exit the freeway in order to relieve my tired eyes. Still, as I gazed out into the sea of bright red break lights and the waning sunlight of dusk, I knew it was going to be a long day night.

That ultimately proved a good thing. We had lots of processing to do, and with hours of drive time ahead of us, we talked extensively about what we’d just experienced. The dozens of podcasts we’d planned to listen to all but forgotten, we discussed our thoughts and feelings, communicating with an openness and honesty we’d experienced rarely. Don’t misunderstand, we are both honest to a fault. But this! Maybe it was the shock of what had occurred that day, and more specifically that my wife and jumped in without looking back, without reservation, seemingly without any concern for how she might feel afterwards, but this was new.

We’d read multiple books on non-monogamy.  Spent years talking about the subject. Negotiating it. Discussing the logistics, the pros and cons of opening up versus staying closed.  But in the end all we had to do was jump in.