The Three

by Cher Ladd-Vuolo
(07/25/01)

It wasn’t his idea. Really.

Over several glasses of white zinfandel, the conversation arose swiftly and suddenly.

"So, you’ve really never had a threesome," I giggled playfully.

"No," he said, feigning offense. "Why? Have I missed some ritualistic rite of passage or something?"

We both found this oddly amusing, and proceeded to laugh until we had no recollection of what we were laughing about. He lowered his glass, moved closer to where I lay stretched out on the carpet and pressed his hips against me. His wine-drenched lips tasted mine, kissing me so softly that electrical impulses rocketed down to my toes. When he pulled back slightly, I opened my eyes and looked at him.

"Do you want one?"

These four simple little words, spoken in a voice husky from the wine and the mood, seemed suspended in mid air. In the frozen silence that followed, the room began to spin and my head grew lighter. My free hand sought the stabilizing comfort of his inner thigh and I wondered if I should say more. He looked down at the rug, intently, as if studying the weave of beige berber. Then suddenly, he looked directly at me with smoldering brown eyes.

"Yes," he said quietly.

From that moment on, this idea was constantly on my mind.

It became an obsession, my own personal crusade. I’d had bisexual experiences before, but my preference was always for whatever man I happened to be with at the time. I had never combined those two worlds. But now, it was all I wanted.

I prepared a personal ad, documenting this desire we shared. We wanted a third. There were guidelines. I was to be the focus of attention. The woman would have to be bisexual. My boyfriend would be there only as a voyeur, until I felt comfortable enough to allow him to join. Only I could kiss my boyfriend. Only I could fuck my boyfriend. The initial draft seemed like a laundry list, too full of rules and regulations. I worried that I sounded hung up and insecure.

Finally, I came up with:

"Woman wanted as third in the bedroom. Must be bisexual and love to be watched by my man. If you and I are comfortable together, perhaps my man can play with us. A one time deal only."

Feeling a bit reckless, I added a picture of the two of us, wrapped up in each other’s arms, smiling happily. The epitome of the perfect couple.

I hit the "post" button and shut off the computer, wondering at the possibility that anyone might answer something so bizarre.

Her name was Maria.

In her response, she claimed that she had never done anything like this before. But, like me, she’d had relations with other women. We wrote several times before I finally felt brave enough to take it to the phone. She had a soft, kittenish voice that immediately made me squirm in my chair. She sent a photo via email. My boyfriend looked at it, clearly appreciative of her full, pouty mouth and deep green eyes. For a moment, I felt the insecurity rise.

"What do you think of her?" I stammered, not sure I wanted to hear his answer.

"Well, she’s not you… but she’s pretty."

I met her the next day for lunch.

She picked me up at my job, wearing a tiny purple T-shirt with the word "Princess" emblazoned across pert little tits and a pair of khaki shorts that showcased long, slender legs. And she was beautiful, more beautiful than I had expected, with auburn hair cascading over one shoulder and skin so perfect and pale that it seemed translucent. We made small talk for about 10 minutes or so during the drive to the restaurant, and her infectious laugh made me feel immediately at ease. Before long, we were giggling like schoolgirls over our liquid lunch at a local bar and grill, chatting excitedly about anything and everything.  And then we got around to the topic at hand, the real reason for our meeting.

"Your boyfriend wants someone else?" she asked innocently.

"No. It was really my idea. I think I did. I wanted him to be open to it, I guess."

She placed her hand on my thigh and leaned over to kiss my cheek softly.

"Let’s go," she said. She left a twenty on the table and reached for my hand, pulling me along behind her.

Her body was even more exquisite without clothes.

As I ran my tongue along the slope of Maria’s breast, kissing and caressing, I realized how much I had missed being with a woman. Her soft moans were melodic, urging me on. I was enchanted by her long nails that raked the sheets of my bed, by her strawberry nipples hardening quickly under my tongue. I ran my hand downward along the curve of her hip, moving my mouth back to hers, kissing her gently. Her lips were like silk, not the abrasive, manly mouth of my boyfriend. I stroked her mound, adorned with the slightest strip of downy hair, and she arched her back as I slowly explored her. I found myself leaning up from time to time, so I could watch as my fingers moved over and inside her pussy, her body writhing under my hand.

She pushed me back onto the bed and nimbly covered my body with hers, turning as she slithered across my heated skin. Her pussy, wet and welcoming, loomed a mere inch above my mouth as her hands coaxed my thighs open. I felt her tongue slip from between her lips and part mine. She lapped at me with longing, determined to make me come.

I did, and she willingly reciprocated.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon locked in this heated moment, never once realizing that my lunch break had ended over two hours ago.

"I’ve been thinking about it," he said, later that night.

"What, baby?"

"The threesome thing. I’ve been thinking about it."

"And?" I asked, ready to tell him about my afternoon with Maria.

"I don’t think I want to do it, love. I mean… don’t get me wrong. Seeing you with another woman, well -- it’s definitely a fantasy of mine. You know, to watch you go down on some girl and all that. But, I really don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you, and I just don’t think I could do it."

I sighed, feeling heavy with the need to confess. Surely, he couldn’t get angry with me. It’s not as though we hadn’t discussed it before. When I opened my mouth to speak, he hushed me to silence with a fingertip against my lips, then replaced his fingertip with that manly mouth that I suddenly adored.

"So, thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"Fulfilling my fantasy," he smiled.

Baffled, I looked at him, and once again started to speak before he cut me off.

"I called you at work. They said you went out for lunch and never came back. I was concerned, so I came home to see if you were here. Needless to say," he chuckled, a wide grin spreading across his face, "… I found you. Both of you."

"You watched?!" I asked, incredulously.

"I watched," he replied, and kissed me softly. "And might I say, a stellar performance on both your parts. I’m pretty damn surprised you didn’t hear me come. It was a little tawdry, jerking off in the doorway of the bedroom. But," he paused, a smirk on his face, "I admit I kind of liked it…"

I laughed softly, partially from relief, partially from embarrassment.

"So, I guess I can delete that ad now…"

"Yes, Babygirl," he replied, hungrily kissing me while leading the way to our bed. "I guess you can. Oh, and honey?"

"Hmm?" I began to kiss my way down to his engorged cock.

"Don’t bother setting the alarm clock. You were fired," he said, amused.

I looked up at him with a coy smile, just before swallowing every inch of my beautiful, incredible man, finalizing our fantasy of the three.