When Heather and I initially discussed writing a week of firsts, it seemed natural that I would follow her account of losing her lady love cherry with the story of how I tossed my virginity out of the window of a sports car like a cigarette butt. Her piece seriously intimidated the shit out of me. How could I top that?
Then when I read Liri’s spectacular guest post on the art of cunnilingus, I was tempted to crawl back into bed naked, pull the covers over my head and say, “fuck it.” Who in the hell was going to be interested in reading how I gave it up for the first time in the back of an azure blue 300ZX in a Methodist Church parking lot to a twenty-two year old married man? It didn’t matter that I was only fourteen years old at the time and wearing black satin panties with little white stars on them (yes I still remember). Or that the back of the car damn near looked like a crime scene when he de-flowered me. That nefarious tale paled in comparison to the preceding blog posts, so after much deliberation, I decided to go down a different road of firsts. My first threesome.
Allow me to take a moment to preface this story with this statement: I never sought married men, but for whatever reason, there was a time in my life when they came after me.
My first threesome didn’t just happen on the tail end of too many cocktails after a long night at a neighborhood bar. Unbeknownst to me, it was a well-thought event, planned down to the smallest detail, and carefully orchestrated. It began with a late night phone call, a plane ticket, and a bundle of nerves. Anxieties aside, I did exactly as I was told. I always did when my married lover gave me instructions. Looking back at it now, we clearly had the dynamics of a D/s relationship.
When my red-eye flight landed, he met me at the gate and his intense eyes told me he’d missed me. I felt his familiar strength when he took me in his arms. During the drive to the hotel, he allowed me the silence I needed as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I was too exhausted to show any concern when I saw that we were not alone in the suite, but there was no need for concern. There never was. He always took such good care of me and was fiercely protective. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would let no harm come to me.
He bathed me gently, washed my hair and combed it through as I sat naked at his feet eating strawberries from a plate of fruit. When I was full and my hair was dried, he led me to the bed where I slept for what seemed like days. I woke to hands on my body. I knew the feel of two of them quite well, the other two I did not. My heart began to race and I looked to him for reassurance. I found it in his eyes and knew once again, he would take care of me. Letting go of any reservations I might have had, my desire to please him took over and I was at their mercy. For hours they savored every inch of my body making me feel like the most desired woman in the world, and when I had nothing left in me, he gathered my limp body into his arms.
“Good girl,” he whispered into my ear. They both stroked my hair as I drifted off to sleep.
Thanks to porn, people who have never actually had a MFM threesome think it’s nothing more than a pissing contest to see who can fuck the over-used female in the middle the hardest at the same time. I won’t lie. Some of them are, but my experience was about more than that. It was as much about me as it was each of them and every touch confirmed it. Don’t get me wrong. I was used, but at that moment, it pleased him to please me. It also takes an exorbitant amount of trust to be able to let yourself go and enjoy it because you’re in the middle of a situation that can go very wrong, very fast. Don’t go into it blind. Have a solid trusting relationship with one of the participants, and know that it’s perfectly ok to call it off if you’re not comfortable with any part of it.
I barely remember the trip home, but I like to think my emotional rollercoaster ride played out something like Diane Lane’s in Unfaithful as she rode the train home after mind-blowing sex with that hot French guy. Probably not what happened, but who’s going to argue with me? This is what I do know: It was an incredible experience, I was treated with respect and I made him proud.
