So the other day Annie casually tells me she has a guest coming over. Just drops it into conversation like she’s reminding me to take out the trash.

My job? Let him in. Show him back to the bedroom. And then leave.

Not just step out. Not just go to the other room. Leave.

She had already coordinated the rest of the evening for me. I was headed over to her friend V’s place. And yes, you all remember V. The dynamic there has always had a certain edge to it. This time Annie made it very clear that I wasn’t just going over to be polite company. I was to service V properly. And, in a twist that definitely got my attention, Annie gave her explicit permission to use me however she saw fit.

So yeah. That’s how my night started.

I prepared accordingly. A couple of my usual helpers, grabbed some rings from the drawer, and got myself in the right headspace. If I’m going to be sent out on assignment, I want to represent properly.

Drake arrived right on time. Confident guy. I opened the door, shook his hand, and walked him back to the bedroom where Annie was waiting. She looked incredible, of course. Calm, composed, in control. I didn’t linger. I wasn’t supposed to. I gave her a quick glance, enough to know she was pleased with how things were unfolding, and then I left.

Driving over to V’s, I had that strange mix of adrenaline and humility buzzing in my chest. Knowing another man was with my wife while I was on my way to kneel for her friend does something to your head. It forces you to accept exactly where you stand.

V greeted me with that familiar smirk. She already knew she had permission. Annie had made sure of that.

What followed was focused, deliberate, and very much on her terms. V does not waste time. She expects attention, effort, and obedience. I gave her exactly that. And when she chose to take things further, she did so without hesitation.

There is something uniquely humbling about being explicitly loaned out. Knowing your wife not only approves but orchestrated the entire exchange adds a layer that is hard to describe. It isn’t just sex. It’s structure. It’s hierarchy. It’s service.

By the time I headed home later that night, I felt used, satisfied, and slightly stunned at how smoothly Annie had arranged it all. She had her evening. I had mine. And somehow we both ended up exactly where we were meant to be.

This life keeps getting stranger.

And I keep saying yes.