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How old was I at the time? I remember I was still in my senior year in high school. I turned eighteen in October, and things started around that winter. They were my neighbors down the street from where I lived. I used to walk their dog for some pocket money.
They loved bringing a third into their bedroom, and they did it all the time. I know for a fact they often had two or three women on rotation so they could indulge whenever they wanted. Isn't it the best when your spouse shares your same kinks? Mmm, I know. Their absolutely favorite scenario, they told me, was to find a bicurious female with little to no experience with other women. They didn't even mind if she was shy or nervous, the Husband said. In fact they preferred it. I asked them why, and he said something like, "Because their reticence means they think they're doing something dirty or taboo. I love to coax them to explore their hidden desires, and the moment all doubts leave and her face is showing ecstasy from what we're doing to her body is better than any drug." Well, they used to find partners most of the time in bars or at parties, things like that. Back then, dating sites and personal ads still had the stigma of being only for losers or predators. No, they weren't predators! I don't know, they were probably late 20's or early 30's. Ugh, stop. Listen, even with the hindsight of all those years since, I can tell you they weren't predators. Respect and comfort was their utmost concern with me.
Anyway, my situation with them was unique in that I was much younger than what they gravitated to -- yes, I believe them! -- and that they're weren't picking me up with my awareness about what was going to go down. They decided to seduce me, slowly and carefully. And if at any time I expressed denial or discomfort, they'd back off and abandon the idea.
Lucky for them, they picked the right girl. I told you before I knew early on how sexual I was. I wanted to experiment with so many things, but I lacked experience. I mainly had fantasies to sustain me. At that point in my life, I had only slept with my boyfriend. We had broken up a few months previously when he went off to college. We were both virgins, and it was awkward at best, but it made me aware how much I wanted to explore and learn about my sexuality.
I guess I can pinpoint the first time they made any kind of move. I brought their dog back, and the Husband told me to hang out while he went upstairs to get his wallet. The Wife was watching television or listening to the stereo or something and was enjoying a glass of wine. She poured one for me and pressed it into my hands with a smile. At that age, I accepted alcohol any time I could get it, so I sipped the wine, and she gave my shoulder a feather-light touch that lingered for several seconds. It was the first time she had actually touched me, to my knowledge, but before I could question it, she whirled away, laughing merrily. The Husband came back with my money and gently touched my elbow as he handed me the bills. I moved to leave, but they urged me to hang out for a little while so I could finish my glass, and I did. They frequently gave me these brief, breezy touches while we watched a movie. They were always organically done, but each touch was to gauge, gauge, measure, see what my reaction was. I honestly didn't notice. I think I was more focused on the free booze than what they were doing. Regardless, I didn't pull away.
It became a regular thing for me to drink wine with them and watch television or old movies after I walked their dog. They were the ones who introduced me to so many classic films I didn't know about at the time and ended up loving. Those evenings came complete with the light touches and subtle bumping into my side on the couch. This was the basis of their seduction, an ascending climb with spacious plateaus on each step. They'd push forward a bit and then patiently spend time there, letting me get accustomed to the new stage, checking to make sure I was completely comfortable. So I can say this went on for a few weeks before they escalated to the first time I became aware of what might be happening.
I remember noticing a difference in our sitting arrangement one evening. I was usually sandwiched on the couch between them, but this time, the Wife was to my left and the Husband to the left of her. I did no more than make an observation before I focused on the T.V., the heavy warmth from the wine spreading through my body.
At one point, her hand rested on my knee, and I glanced over. To my shock, they were kissing right next to me. After my initial surprise, I realized it wasn't gratuitous or all that inappropriate. It was really as though a married couple was doing something that came naturally to them and, other than the hand on my knee, forgot they had an audience. I tried to afford them what privacy I could and turned my focus back to the show we were watching. After several moments, I felt the Wife shift her weight. With a sigh, she leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. "I think I drank too much wine this time," she giggled softly. Her other arm was wrapped around mine, her breasts pressing against me.
Outwardly, I made no move toward or away from her. Inside, I was frozen with the thoughts any eighteen-year-old would have. "Is she into me? Are they BOTH into me? Do they want sex? What would sex with them be like? No, stop it, you're dumb. She's just tipsy. Knock. It. Off." As an adult with experience now, I realize I didn't have the wherewithal to realize these were the wrong questions to ask myself. What I should have asked was, "Am I attracted to these people? How do I feel about them? How will things change if anything happens?" Alas, wisdom is rarely granted in youth.
As this tickertape of thoughts scrolled through my mind, she pushed back to the Husband, and I saw through the corner of my eye that they were softly kissing again. She alternated like this several times before my muscles slowly relaxed, and I eventually tilted my head toward hers the next time she rested against me. She made a small sound of contentment and said, "You're really beautiful, Cameron. I feel like you don't get told that enough." Before my stunned brain could process her words, the show ended, which was always my cue to head back home. I upended the rest of my wine into my mouth in a daze and said I'd see them next time. They both gave me a friendly goodbye, the Husband's arm around her as they turned back to the T.V.
I guess you're wondering why there was such an elaborate scheme to get me where they wanted when I was curious and eager to explore. The fact is, even though I thought I was ready for something like that, I wasn't in actuality and would likely have run off if they had proposed their idea to me directly. I'm sure a lot of people who want to jump out a plane have approached those open doors, looked out upon the endless expanse so far below and chickened out. So even though my hamster wheel of a brain was going over each moment from the evening and excited and turned on by the prospect of doing something, I didn't really, really believe it was real. I figured I was imagining things and resolved to let it go. And if I masturbated that night while fantasizing about being with a faceless couple, well, I'm sure it was just coincidence.
So, I had more evenings like that. Drinking wine, sometimes smoking weed, giggling and talking with my neighbors while we watched reruns or movies. The Wife had graduated to snuggling against me regularly during these hangouts. I grew comfortable with it and would reciprocate. She was petite with dark shoulder-length hair, and even though I was taller, I remember the feeling of warmth and comfort when we were watching "Psycho", and I would bury my face in her shoulder during the scary scenes, the relaxing, deep chuckle of the Husband spreading through me. Sometimes he would sit on the other side of me, his arm flung across the back of the sofa and just barely brushing against my shoulders. It was all so innocent that I totally believed they were just friendly people without agenda, even if I still touched myself at night to imaginings of three people joined together in all different ways.
I don't remember how long things went on like this, building a friendship with these two in a bubble of lingering touches and soft hugs. But I know exactly when it turned, when it crossed a line, and I could no longer deny what was occurring.
This had to have happened at the beginning of the year or thereabouts. There was an ugly gray slush coating the ground and piling up in the gutters. I was freezing under my puffy parka as I walked neighbors' dog that day. He gave a baleful glance back at me several times.
"D-do I l-l-look like I'm en-enjoying this either?" I demanded grumpily. "J-j-just do your business so we can g-get out of here." He turned away with a disdainful sniff and lifted his leg at a nearby sapling. Relieved that was all he needed to do, I led him back to his owners as briskly as I could without slipping on the sidewalk. The dog trotted next to me, pressed up against my legs for warmth. All I could think about was getting back to the neighbors, wrapping myself in one of their super-soft throws and feeling the heat of their wine unspooling through my frozen body.
We made it back to their house, and I entered the unlocked door. I made sure to wipe both my feet and the dog's with the towel left hanging on a hook near the door for us. I hung up my coat, unclipped his leash and scratched behind his ears. "Go, buddy! Have fun!" I watched him scamper off, the click of his claws on the kitchen tile alerting me that he was ready for the lunch that was waiting for him. I went into the living room, kicked off my shoes, lined them up neatly by the couch and wrapped myself like a burrito in that throw I had been thinking about so longingly. My neighbors weren't already there, which was unusual, but I shrugged and reached for the remote. We were so informal at that point that I knew they'd join me shortly. My hormone-addled brain briefly wondered if they were upstairs having sex and what they would look like, but I shrugged it off and started channel surfing.
