Over the past few years I have learned through various lifestyle-related media about navigating through jealousy and other negative emotions you would normally expect to arise when you see your spouse with someone else, especially for the very first time. 

One thing I don’t remember seeing discussed much is the fear of disappointing the new people that you begin to genuinely care about. 

Once you spend time building trust, learning about each other and just forming a true connection, eventually there comes a time when you’re ready to take things further. With that, there’s this unexpected pressure that forms in your head, at least there was for me. 

“What if I screw up this really good thing we have going on just because I’m inexperienced with other people?“

Which brings me to this past weekend. 

Elise and I had a dinner play-date with our friends in the most classic sense. Oddly enough, I ended up taking the role of the instigator for the whole thing. Elise was buried in work all week and basically gave me free rein to handle the details.

I started by texting them to see if Friday night worked with everyone’s schedule, and they agreed. I suggested making dinner for everyone just to keep it simple, and they offered to bring dessert. While out grocery shopping, I double-checked that everyone was good with the menu (steak, potatoes, garlic bread). A couple thumbs-up popped into the group chat, so I was all set.

When Friday night finally arrived, they showed up at our door with a cherry cobbler, drinks were poured, and we sat around eating and talking. The steak turned out fantastic. Tender, flavorful, honestly better than most restaurants and way cheaper too. If the night ended here, at least they would leave happy and full of delicious food. 

We poured another round of drinks, this time maybe leaning a little harder into the alcohol, and eventually migrated into the living room.

We didn’t sit there awkwardly waiting for clothes to come off. We just talked. Not as “two couples in the lifestyle,” but as actual friends genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

As the night went on, time started sneaking up on us and the alcohol began doing its magic. After a long work week, everyone loosened up a bit. Then we hit an important crossroads:

Do we eat dessert now… or after a different type of dessert? 😉

Normally I’m very much a “dessert after sex” person, but I wasn’t about to demand a recount on the vote. So back to the kitchen we went for cherry cobbler and of course, tequila shots. Salt on the hand. Lime wedge. The whole production.

Had I done tequila shots before? Absolutely.

Had it been over a decade? Also absolutely.

Looking back, I don’t really remember the tequila giving me a sudden buzz. Maybe I simply didn’t need the liquid courage.

What I do remember is Elise briefly disappearing upstairs and then coming back downstairs no longer wearing the dress she had on when she went up. Instead, she was wearing this absolutely stunning bright blue rhinestone bra-and-panty set that sparkled under the multi-colored living room lights after I told the app to switch the room from plain white lighting to “party mode.” 

The rest of us were still fully clothed, and there she was, making the first real move without saying a word.

At that very moment, I remember thinking how incredibly brave she was.

That’s a pretty powerful nonverbal statement. We all gathered around her to “admire” all the sparkles. 

I’m not going to give a detailed play-by-play of what happened next, but I do want to talk about my thoughts and emotions throughout the experience.

Like I mentioned at the start, I’ve tried to mentally prepare myself for the reality of our first experience. I know that such an evening can sometimes bring out unexpected feelings: anxiety, jealousy, doubt, insecurity. So I was very aware of my own mental state throughout the night.

And again, those emotions aren’t always just about your spouse. This wasn’t some random woman. This was Samantha. She’s my friend. Her husband Andre is my friend too. I genuinely care about them, and part of me was terrified of somehow screwing things up.

After all, experience-wise? I’m honestly not exactly a seasoned veteran here.

Sure, I’ve been naked around lots of women before, but most of those situations were social nudity or pool-party type environments. Fun? Absolutely. Spicy? Occasionally. But not exactly sexual experiences.

Okay… sometimes there may have been an orgy happening nearby.

And okay, okay… I was not involved.

Actual sexual experience outside of Elise? Very limited. Some kissing. Some touching. Mostly above-the-belt stuff. That’s honestly about it.

Did you need to know that? Probably not. But I’ve met enough people in the lifestyle scene with similar situations to finally know we’re definitely not alone, and I wanted to be open about that.

So yes, my enthusiasm probably outweighed my experience.

Emotionally, though? I was definitely running a tiny bit hotter than normal. I’m already a highly sensitive person, and everything that night felt slightly amplified. Thankfully, it never came anywhere close to what I would describe as anxiety territory, but I was hyper-aware of not wanting to give off the impression that I expected anything from anyone.

If anything, I probably once again leaned into being too submissive or cautious because I’d much rather someone tell me what they want, than ever have them feel pressured into something. I naturally put other people first, so that part wasn’t exactly new for me. 

But overall? Mentally, I was in a good place.

Calm.

Steady.

Excited.

Present.

Happy.

And Samantha is an amazing kisser.

This may sound cheesy, but I genuinely loved kissing her neck, hugging her, and just being close to her. I can be very domineering when I want to be, but tonight was not one of those nights. 

Samantha and I were on the loveseat while Elise and Andre were together on the couch behind us. And this is where the emotional second-guessing started creeping in.

Every so often Samantha and I would stop and glance over at our spouses together. In my head, I started worrying: “Does Samantha think I’m more interested in watching Elise than being present with her?”

That wasn’t it at all. I just genuinely love watching Elise when she’s enjoying herself. Seeing her fully in the moment, hearing her reactions, watching her lose herself in pleasure especially from this new perspective… it filled me with desire, not jealousy.

The energy in the room felt electric, and I wanted to slow down time and absorb every second of it.

But I also didn’t want to become just a spectator. I didn’t want to come across as passive or disconnected because, truthfully, giving pleasure is what I enjoy most.

Then came the moment that is permanently burned into my memory.

I watched Elise lift her legs into the air so Andre could slide her panties off. Then I saw her toes curl and point with pleasure, and something primal lit up inside me.

Not out of obligation, but because I genuinely wanted to, I turned my attention fully to Samantha. Before trailing kisses downward, I leaned in and quietly whispered, “Please feel free to give me direction.”

And then, after maybe ten minutes or so, the self-doubt arrived.

At first, the voice in my head sounded reasonable:

“Hey buddy, this is literally your first time with someone other than your wife of 30+ years. Every person is different. What Elise loves may not translate the same way. Relax. Learn. Have fun.”

Then the internal monologue took a much darker turn.

“Dude, you’re failing her.”

“Change something up.”

“Move your hands.”

“You’re being too still.”

“No, now you’re overthinking.”

“Ask what she likes.”

“Why didn’t you ask what she likes?!” 

That part still sticks with me.

I never directly asked her what felt good, and I genuinely wish I had, especially since I still do that with Elise. Instead, I was stuck battling the noise in my own head while trying to pay attention to the signals her body was giving me.

Samantha told me afterwards that yes, she did orgasm, and 90% of me fully believes her.

That always skeptical remaining 10%, though? Wow, does it have a loud voice for being such a small number.

But I also know that everyone responds differently, and I need to stop comparing Samantha to Elise as if there’s some universal instruction manual for women’s bodies. I mean, not everyone is as vocal as Elise is and looking back now, I’m glad all the windows were closed because she was, ahem, fully verbally expressing how much fun she was having with Andre. 

Still, a tiny voice in my head keeps whispering:

“What if you’re actually terrible at oral and Elise has just adapted over the last 30 years?”

Thankfully, I’m very willing and eager to learn. 😉

Eventually Andre found his way back into Samantha’s arms while I laid next to Elise, and we all began the awkward post-sexy-time “where did I leave my clothes?” shuffle around the living room.

At one point someone actually asked, “Wait… where’s my underwear?”

I thought that was one of those things that only happened in bad movies or sitcoms. Yet there it was, said completely unironically in my living room at nearly three in the morning.

I shut off the stereo, changed the lights from “party mode” back to a warm dim white, and that’s when everyone collectively realized how late it had gotten.

“2:30 a.m.? Holy shit.”

Meanwhile, I was over there quietly smiling because, honestly, this is still well within my normal weekend operating hours.

I offered to make everyone food before they headed home. They declined, though I did insist they at least leave with giant waters because just under the surface lives an overbearing Midwestern mom who wants to take care of everyone. 

They texted us once they made it home safely, and by then Elise was already completely passed out in bed.

Me? I needed time to mentally unspool.

For better or worse, I replayed the evening over and over again in my head. Some moments more than others, if I’m once again being honest. A few scenes were basically stuck on repeat. 

The morning after, Elise and I finally had a chance to talk alone about the night since our kid was still away at their sleepover. Those initial reactions feel important, especially because even though we had been together in the same room only a few feet apart, we had each experienced the evening in our own very personal way.

Thankfully, we both landed in the same place.

We had a really great time.

One of the very last questions Elise asked me, literally right as our kid walked through the front door, was:

“So… would you do it again?”

The answer from both of us came almost instantly.

“Yes.”

So… how are things now?

Good. Really good.

The four of us are still talking the same as we were before, and I don’t sense any awkwardness lingering in the air. If anything, I honestly think the experience brought us a little closer together.

Since we’re still new to all of this, and because any sexual experience can bring up the emotions and thoughts I talked about earlier, I sent them a quick message afterward just letting them know Elise and I were doing well and that we had nothing but positive feelings about both the experience and about them.

And maybe that’s been my favorite unexpected part of all this.

Our messaging afterward feels a little more open now. More honest. A bit more vulnerable. A bit more raw.

I’m honestly kind of loving that part the most.

Though Elise still reminds me that I don’t need to share every single thought and feeling rattling around inside my brain because, according to her, I “don’t need to scare them off, especially if you want there to be a second time”

She may have a point.