My Throuple Life (the backstory)

I have been asked, repeatedly and by many, for the backstory. So here it is. If you are new to my work, or if you’ve stumbled upon recent or random pieces that I’ve shared, please go back to the beginnings. Sort and read in date order. Like and follow and rate, hopefully with five stars. I have over 100 poems here and most tell the story of my throuple life over the last almost two years. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy living it and feeling inspired to write it 💜
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There are moments
when you make a decision
that changes everything
from that point forward.

Like the moment
I decided to
kiss
the husband of
my best friend.

We met
at an event
for our kids
when they were six.
He thought I was a bitch.
I thought he was full of himself.
But he kept looking at my ass
And I couldn’t not notice
he was damn good looking.
We realized
his wife and I
were already friends
when he walked into
his house
later that afternoon
and I was
sitting with her
at their table.
We all still laugh
about that day.

Me and him
and his wife
and my then husband
became
Couple friends.
We did everything together.
Holidays.
Vacations.
Random Friday nights
at their house or mine.

He and I
flirted
for years.
Ten years?
Fifteen years?
All the years.

He had been
dirty talking,
smacking my ass,
pulling my hair,
palming my throat,
for all of those years.

It wasn’t a secret.
We were open about it.
We did it
in front of his wife
and my then husband.

And then I would go home
and let my then husband
fuck me
while I was thinking of him
and the way it felt
to have someone
look at me the way he did,
touch me the way he did.

Eventually
my then husband
was no longer
my husband.
He kept
coffee mugs and
furniture.
I kept our
couple friends.

And eventually,
her husband
became my
fake husband.
She lent him
to me,
sent him
to me,
often and
he and I began
to look at each other
differently.

Or perhaps the same way
we always did
but with the lines
that can’t be crossed
a little bit softer,
a lot more blurry.

He became
a man I could depend on.
I became
a woman he could turn to.
I became
the woman
she trusted him
to be with
when he wanted a woman
but she was busy
with other things.

He and I
developed a friendship
that was just ours.
Not an extension of
my friendship with her
or her marriage to him.
We became
just us.

We began
spending more time
alone together.
We went for walks.
We went to each others houses
in the middle of the day.
He helped me
fix stuff around the house.
At night he drove me home
after drinking with her
at their house.
We talked over coffee or tea.
We went out for lunch.
We went out for drinks.
We went shopping.

We were friends
who flirted
a lot.

And one day,
in his kitchen,
while cooking dinner
together
he leaned towards me
and
I kissed him.

It was natural,
and lovely
and although
it caught us both
by surprise,
because
we had a no kissing rule,
we weren’t shocked by it.

And we stared at each other
in the midst of a
what the fuck
did we just do
moment.

And we could have
decided
it was something
we shouldn’t do
again.

That was
not
the decision
we made.

We kiss
really well
together.

And
very gradually
we became
friends
with benefits.

And the benefits
encompassed
so much more than
kissing.
Because
everything we did
together
we did well.

Everything felt good.
The kind of good that was
addictive
and hot
and needed.

And eventually
we realized
we were having
an affair.

And
we realized
we were
both
ok with it.

We try to keep
feelings
out of it.
Even though we
both
have them.

We try to keep
her
out of it.
Even though
she sees how
we are
together.

We jokingly
call ourselves
a throuple,
and even though
we are often
all three together,
we all have very
separate
relationships
with each other,
from each other.

We have had
every holiday
all together
for the last few years.
We have dinners
all together
several times a week.
We call
and text each other
daily.
We turn to
each other
for the important stuff,
the not important stuff,
all the stuff.

He and I
have become
a couple.
Secondary to his
coupling
with her.
But still,
a couple.
We are a couple
within our throuple.

And I’m still not sure
whether she knows
and pretends she doesn’t
or whether she
trusts us
both
so much
that it would never
occur to her
that we
would be doing
what we’re doing,
have always been doing,
and will keep doing.

I am
the textbook,
stereotypical
other woman.
He is
the textbook,
stereotypical,
lying
cheating
husband.

I am the
how the fuck
can she do that
woman
who fucks
her best friend’s
husband.

He is the
how the fuck
can he do that
man
who fucks
his wife’s
best friend.

And I am having
the best relationship,
and the best sex,
I’ve ever had
in my entire life.

He brings out
something
fun and
sexy and
confident
in me.
I feel
safe and
protected and
cared for
when I am
with him.

And it doesn’t
change
the fact that
I love her
and would
do anything
for her.

Anything
other than
not be
in love with
her husband.