At times it seems I had wanted her forever. The time we had spent together as lovers had been fantastic, once I'd gotten over my shyness and realized she really truly wanted to "experiment". But I was stupid and fell in love with her and she fell in love with him. C'est la vie?
So they got married and I got to spend nights in frustration, just me and my favorite neon blue vibrating friend. Needless to say, I was pretty shocked when less then a year later, they came to me with their idea. A threesome, with what I considered to be two of the fucking sexiest people I'd ever met in my life? Who would say no? Who could possibly resist!?!
Well, evidently, me. Did I mention I was stupid? I hemmed and hawed and worried about the consequences, the implications and frankly, the idea that I was either going to ruin their marriage, or get my heart broken, again. I wasn't a casual sex kind of person, it just wasn't me. But they teased and taunted and flirted and I slowly went mad.
It really was inevitable, when you think about it. I mean, you can't have that kind of sexual chemistry with someone, much less two people, that much sexual tension, and not act on it. As every good TV series tells you, SOMEDAY, that couple WILL kiss. In this case, that threesome was simply destiny. It was all about getting past my own stupid inhibitions.
So they knocked them over with a wrecking ball...
If my brain hadn't been put on idle due to hormones, I might have noticed something was up that night. The baby was already in bed, and the lighting was scarce. Some action flick was on the DVD player, little plot, lots of eye candy. The drinks were flowing and I never bothered to notice I was doing most of the drinking. By now, I was almost "used" to the flirting and suggestive innuendos, although it was getting harder and harder to laugh them off. So I probably didn't notice how much more implicit they were this evening. I definitely didn't notice when I got sandwiched between the two of them on the couch. Ok, maybe I did, but maybe, between the booze and my own heightened desire, I really didn't care. So when his hand ended up on my thigh, his fingers idly stroking, and the back of her hand began to slowly brush against my breast, I just kept drinking, my eyes glued to the TV, my brain moving in circles at a 150 mph and going nowhere. When his hand moved farther up my thigh, his fingers brushed against my neck, I stifled a moan, although I couldn't help the shiver. When her lips brushed against my earlobe and cupped my breast, I drew in a deep, hard pant of air...