B was frustrated because I wouldn't play her game. "Come on. Just tell me," she implored. We were in bed and B had asked me who I would choose if I had a "free pass" to have sex with anyone. To me, the question sounded like a trap. In my imagination a number of women jockeyed for position—movie actresses, a few porn stars—but there was no way I was going to tell B.
"I'll tell you mine," she finally said, realizing that I wouldn't be giving up any names. "I'd use my free pass with D." Who? I thought she was asking about our celebrity crushes, but I didn't recognize this name.
B explained that D was a college classmate of hers, a guy she had always lusted after but never dated. Whenever one of them was single, it seemed the other was always in a relationship. B described him as tall, athletic, and an avid cyclist, with dark curly hair. A girl that D dated once had confided to B that he was also very nicely endowed. B said that in her dorm room at night she often fingered herself to climax imagining D's hard cock inside her.
I can't say I was crazy about the idea of B using a "free pass" with a guy she actually knew, as opposed to someone famous and unattainable. I allowed myself to feel the slightest twinge of jealousy.
"It would be great if D were here right now," B sighed into my ear as I felt her take my cock in her hand beneath the covers. However jealous I felt, it was obvious that B had gotten hot thinking of her college crush, and I was always a lucky beneficiary when B was turned on. "I would love to fuck the two of you," she growled, caressing my member.
"What would you do?" I asked, my mouth suddenly dry, as my cock started to grow. We enjoyed describing our fantasies to one another and B's stories frequently involved a threesome, sometimes with a woman, sometimes with a man. An imaginary tryst with another guy didn't bother me—B's stories always succeeded in making me very horny, actually—but this was the first time she talked about us sharing a real person, rather than some fictional hottie.
B described how she would have D and I remove our clothes and masturbate in front of her. She said she would strip off her own clothes and rub her pussy while watching us jerk our cocks. As her fantasy unfolded, I could tell B was stroking herself under the covers while caressing me with her other hand. I pictured myself masturbating with another guy, our hands sliding over our dicks. Jacking off with another man wasn't the kind of thing I would ever consider on my own, but my cock was now solid and throbbing at the idea of doing it while B watched.
"I'd kneel in front of you both so I could see your hot dicks up close. They look so good, I want to suck them. Do you want to see D's cock in my mouth?" I stammered that I did, and B told me how she would lick the length of D's rod before taking as much of it as she could down her throat.
"Mmmm, it tastes so good," B moaned. She had obviously fantasized about giving D a blow job many times before.
"I want to suck him while you fuck me," she said. As B said this, she stopped stroking and mounted me, sliding my rigid member inside of her. "I want you in my pussy while D fucks my mouth." B began riding my pulsing meat, her juices coating my shaft and testicles, and I imagined her college crush thrusting his hard-on between her hungry lips. I felt my climax approaching, B's frothing pussy and wild imagination driving me on.
B was growing more frenzied too, caught up in her tale of taking two cocks at once. "I—I...oh god," she stammered. B descended on my pulsing cock, and pushed her clit hard against my pelvis. "I want you both to come on me!" she whispered. We both imagined D and I erupting in tandem, covering B with thick spurts of cum. B's body tensed, her eyes closed, and her wet pussy pulsated around my shaft as I spurted wave after wave of hot cum inside her.
Needless to say, it was a little awkward a few months later when B told me that D had called out of the blue to ask if he could stay at her place. Apparently, D was driving through town on his way to some bike race and wanted to crash on B's couch. She told him that she would have to check with me first.
"Sure," I said, attempting to sound nonchalant. Notwithstanding B's "free pass" confession, I decided that I would try to be the good boyfriend and tamp down any jealousy. I definitely wasn't going to admit to any insecurity related to B's fantasy threesome.
D showed up a few weeks later, a fancy bike on the roof of his car. He no longer had curly hair—it was cut close—but in all other respects he matched B's description: handsome, with a lean cyclist's physique. Worst of all, he was a really nice guy. Over dinner, D told a number of funny stories and he even did the dishes when we were finished.
Switching from wine to cocktails, we moved into the living room, D and B taking the couch while I sat in the chair nearest B. It was a warm summer evening, the windows were open and we were all clad in t-shirts and shorts. (I had noticed that B happened to be wearing an especially revealing shirt and her shortest pair of cut-offs.) We discussed our long term plans and D and B gossiped about classmates, as we emptied and refilled our glasses a few more times.
"So," D declared, turning to me, "You must be a pretty special guy to keep this girl satisfied."
B responded before I could. "And what do you mean by that?"
"Well, B, you kind of had a reputation as a horny little devil in college." B's jaw dropped and I let out a little chuckle.
"As if you would know!" B said indignantly.
D took another drink. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you were pretty notorious as the serial masturbator in our dorm." Hearing this, I could feel a smile spreading across my face as B turned bright, bright red. "Everyone noticed that you were always excusing yourself to go to your room and locking the door behind you. You'd come back ten minutes later completely flushed. Your roommate said sometimes at night you were so loud 'petting your kitty', you'd wake her up."
