My First Threesome: Part 1

Before I had a threesome I never thought I would be capable of participating in one. My social anxiety is bad enough when I’m in a three-way conversation at a dinner party, so how could I possibly deal with NUDE three-way social anxiety? Group sex just seemed off limits to me. I was worried this brand of sensual experience wouldn’t be intimate enough for my sensitive liking. I mean, intimacy is designed for two human bodies, not third wheel genitals, right? RIGHT?!? “This is going to be less romantic than a chest bump,” I thought, not having participated in a single chest bump in my entire existence. I predicted the whole dangerous act would be complicated and confusing and confounding. “I’m terrible at multitasking!” I thought. “I don’t even include it on my resume I’m so terrible at it!”

Plus, there was the issue of space. As the saying goes, “three[some]’s a crowd” and I knew it was going to be a struggle keeping all of our boobs afloat on that mattress. I can barely make the intercourse on a double bed with only a couple of pairs of legs never mind SIX limbs waving about. Someone will lose an eye, or worse… an orgasm. Which is where the final concern lived: there was no WAY we would all manage to climax and definitely not simultaneously. “If that happened it would probably open some kind of wormhole to a parallel universe, which would result in the world ending and humanity self-combusting and it would be all my clit’s fault,” I thought. “Best to resist orgasming at all. For the sake of mankind.”

But beyond my hesitancy at the concept of a fornication trinity, there was also the problem of not being presented with an opportunity. This vanished after a friend of mine texted me with an invitation to “hang out” with him and his girlfriend ’cause they both thought I was “a babe.” And for a hot second, I genuinely believed this invite to be completely platonic. “Sure, I’d love to hang out with – ohhhhhhh WAIT A MINUTE. THIS ISN’T ANY KIND OF A HANG OUT. THIS IS A COITUS HANG OUT!” After realizing this I immediately screamed in shock, fainted thrice, and then threw my phone on my bed, terrified of the subtext sitting in my inbox.

This reaction might seem a bit extreme but I am a person who is filled with fear 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 12 months a year. Laundry frightens me. Grocery stores are haunted houses. Job interviews are electric chairs. They all elicit major sweating and trembling and nail biting and new humping initiatives are no different. They’re worse.

So, I didn’t reply to said invitation for a full day, which prompted my friend, twelve hours later, to write, “Hey. Was this weird to ask?”

“No! Oh my god. NO! I’m so flattered. I’m just … thinking… about it.”

“Take all the time you need. We would also be into a board game night and light flirting if you were interested in that.”

I swooned. “Yes. I’m in.”

I mean, how could you turn down a board game night AND light flirting AND sex? That’s a perfect evening in my books. We found a night we were all free and decided to swap out board games for dinner. Yes, they wanted to take me out for dinner and drinks, which of course I agreed to. This wasn’t just a “wham, bam, thank you ma’am from both of us” scenario – they were going to wine and dine me and then ménage à trois me.

I went on a DATE with a COUPLE and it was NORMAL and ENJOYABLE and DELICIOUS. Never would I have imagined as a teenager that this would be my future reality. We met a restaurant I hadn’t been to before and it turned out to be a fantastic little joint. What was even more fantastic was the conversation between the three of us. I thought I would be so nervous that I would end up rambling/mumbling/silently moving my mouth nonsensically during the entire meal. But I was surprisingly calm and chatty and, dare I say, CHARMING. After the bill was paid (which they insisted they take care of *SWOON AGAIN*), they asked if I’d like to come back to their place for a WINK WINK “drink.”

I later found out that by WINK WINK “drink” they meant actual drink. As soon as we arrived at their one-bedroom apartment they poured me a tall glass of red wine and introduced me to their dog. We proceeded to talk about their dog and play with their dog and make eyes at their dog for approximately two hours. I know this all sounds like a metaphor for something but it’s not. There was a real dog. I swear. And based off of our total focus on said dog it seemed like I wasn’t the only one who was feeling a tad nervous. We hadn’t even hinted at what the true purpose of us getting together was and instead opted to shift our purpose to staring at an adorable pooch…for a long time.

The threesome was morphing into the “act-which-must-not-be-named” until “we-are-tipsy-enough-to-name-it” and “then-hopefully-we-will-finally-get-naked.” Eventually, when the three of us were fresh out of canine-related convo, we decided it was time to get down to risky business.

My male friend began the process by inquiring what my experience level was with this…sort of…you know…“thing” (still not saying what it was at this point). I quickly responded, “Zero. My experience level is zero.” My female friend then inquired if I’d ever been with a woman, to which I again quickly responded, “Nope on that account too.” There was a brief silence where I was thinking “OH NO. They don’t want me anymore because I don’t know what I’m doing and they’re trying to figure out how to politely let me down without hurting my vagina’s feelings and this has all fallen apart. Ahhhh! My clitoris is too sensitive for this kind of rejection!” but then they both smiled and she said, “That’s what I thought. We’re happy to be your first.”

Knowing that they knew I was likely going to be terrible at this made me relax into a fine puddle of my own discharge (too far?). She then divulged what she was okay with in regards to the bacchanalia (I found that word on thesaurus.com. I feel so smart) and I did the same. Basically, we were cool with it all.

She then finished the technical questionnaire by asking, “Should we all go into the bedroom now?” He and I nodded aggressively like toddlers being offered an ice cream cone. The three of us then simultaneously stood up and walked to the bedroom in a line as if we were all headed into a rock concert or a Broadway play or BACCHANALIA. I only wish we had been holding hands. That would have made it way more adorable/hilarious/very weird. But, alas, we just marched towards the boudoir as separate entities, but soon enough our bodies would be singing the Spice Girls classic “3 Become 1.”

However, before that happened, I remembered an important detail I needed to share.

To be continued next week…

1 Comment

  1. BeccaLemire
    October 27, 2015

    YASSSS GURLLLLL

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