Accidental threesome, Part 1 of 2

I’m not even sure what I was looking for when I placed the ad. Some physical contact, a new experience. An awkward encounter with a similarly clueless man, eager to put his hands on another. Presumably someone older than me, jaded by an inability to find the sex of his dreams (or his porn habits) instead turning to the easy option — a doppelgänger who would play with his penis for fun. The ad read ‘wanted — shower wank’ and was non-specific beyond that. Hot water + soap + nudity = mutual pleasure. As far as bait goes, there was barely anything on the hook. But somehow, it turned into my first threesome, and the best sex of my life.

The first threesome I ever had fell into place in a way that felt almost surreal. The setup was like a porn film with a plot that stretched believability. Once placing the ad, a stream of responses trickled in. A couple were overly aggressive ‘let me fuck you in the ass’, ‘drain my cock’ and not worthy of reply. But then, one response stood out. A man reached out, interested — but with a twist. He very casually dropped in that he wanted to involve his girlfriend. And, as an afterthought, he asked if I’d be okay with him wearing women’s underwear. I found the request oddly endearing, although my overwhelming assumption was that he wasn’t genuine, that this was a bot or a scam, or just someone wasting time. Nowhere in his response did he even mention the scenario I was proposing, which included two men soaping each other up in the shower.

He admitted it would be his first time with a man, that he was nervous. I reassured him it was fine, and that I was in a similar boat. I could talk a big game via messages but was similarly inexperienced, unsure exactly what I liked or disliked, apart from taking my clothes off and letting curiosity spark inside me. The idea of being with an inexperienced man while his girlfriend watched — or even joined in — was intoxicating in a way I hadn’t expected, mostly because of the impossibility of it all. I guess this is how people fall for scams and catfishing, I told myself.

As I drove toward the hotel, my excitement continually tempered with skepticism. Was this real? Would I show up and find no one there, or worse, some kind of elaborate joke? But I was a single man, with no prospects other than those in my head. I was ripe to be played and taken advantage of, but felt I ultimately had nothing to lose.

I got lost twice, circling unfamiliar streets, my mind buzzing with doubts. I fulfilled the one request of me on the way — I picked up some lube from the supermarket. An odd request, given I had specified my lack of interest in anal sex of any kind. But I figured it could have a myriad of purposes, or perhaps be an obscure test of how genuine I was. Finally, I arrived.

The door opened almost immediately, and there she was — his girlfriend. And she was stunning. The kind of woman who, at a glance, I’d assume wouldn’t give me the time of day. Long legs, toned body, soft curves, full lips that curled into a knowing smirk as she looked me up and down. Her hair was bleached blonde with a full five centimetres of darker regrowth, a look I had always loved. It read like a stylish choice, not a lack of care. She was confident and polite and effortlessly sexy. I kept looking for the catch, the ‘gotcha’ moment.

“You found the place,” she said, and added “you’re cute”, while stepping aside to let me in.

Her confidence was magnetic, effortlessly drawing me in. I stepped inside, an expansive and comfortable hotel room with a balcony overlooking the beach. The perfect place for a couple to escape reality to live out some fantasies. I wondered if perhaps they were from interstate, or what might possibly allow them such freedom to mutually arrange this visit.

The space was simple but inviting — soft lighting, a long stone island bench top, some beers and a bottle of Coca Cola, with a bottle of wine open on the table. The boyfriend lurked on the other side of the bench, barely acknowledging me. He was hunched over and wearing a thin black hoodie, cradling what looked like a bourbon and coke. My assumption was a case of overwhelming nerves, and I didn’t really blame him.

I went into autopilot, forgetting how otherworldly this was and slipping into my part. I accepted an offer of a drink, and we talked logistics. Condoms? Yes. Anal sex? No thanks. Play it by ear? Sure. I was still waiting for him to find his voice, for her to take a back seat. To my surprise, she took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom, without speaking a word.

She closed the door behind her, maintaining her light grip on my hand. “He’s still getting himself together,” she said, turning to face me. “A little nervous. But he’ll join us when he’s ready.”

I swallowed, the reality of the situation settling in. Was this really happening? It felt entirely too good to be true. Before I could process it fully, she stepped in closer, her body brushing against mine, her scent — something warm and sweet — filling my senses. She placed her mouth on mine and kissed me, slowly and confidently. I kissed her back as best as I could from my frozen, semi-confused state. Before I could make any move, or even rest my hands on her body, she stepped back and gripped the hem of her sundress, lifting it up and over her head in one fluid motion. No hesitation, no shyness. Just pure, unfiltered confidence.

Underneath, she was wearing nothing but a black lace thong and bra. My breath caught as I took her in, my eyes tracing the curves of her body, the smoothness of her skin. She smirked at my reaction, then reached for the front of my shirt, pulling it up over my head before working on my belt, my jeans. My hands found her waist, then slid down to grasp her ass, firm and perfect under my palms. Things were moving so fast I became determined to show some agency, some confidence of my own.

She sank to her knees, her fingers curling around the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, agonisingly, she peeled them down, freeing me. I stepped out of my underwear and she brushed my penis and balls with an assessing gesture, feeling the handful and clearly liking what she saw.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, a glint of mischief in them before she leaned in, taking me into her mouth with a tenderness that sent a shudder through my spine. Her lips were soft, her tongue deliberate. I exhaled, threading my fingers into her hair, still half in disbelief that this was really happening. She worked her mouth back and forth on my cock with subtle moans and breaths, placing a hand on my lower back and tracing down to my bum. I was enjoying the view of her pert and athletic bum in the lace thong, and feeling like the luckiest man on earth to have her attention.

After a while, she stood, her lips glistening, and pressed her mouth to mine. The kiss was deep, consuming. Our hands roamed, grasping, exploring. I let my palms slide up her back, then down again, fingers digging into her curves and squeezing her behind. I lifted to unfasten her bra, and she hastily helped me by standing back and sliding it off her shoulders and straight to the floor.

Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples pebbled under my touch as I leaned down to kiss them, savoring the way she arched into me. I was sliding my hands up and down, soaking in the sensation of her smooth, sweet skin as much as I possibly could.

She guided me backward toward the bed, pulling me down with her. I hovered over her, pressing my lips to her neck, her collarbone, trailing my way down her stomach. She writhed beneath me, her breath hitching as I moved lower, my mouth leaving heat in its wake. When I reached the waistband of her thong, I hesitated just long enough to tease before hooking my fingers in the fabric and dragging it down.

She was already visibly wet, her body responding before I even touched her properly. She was very smooth apart from a small polite landing strip perched above her vulva. I kissed the inside of her thighs, inhaling her scent, feeling her muscles tense in anticipation. Then, finally, I pressed my mouth to her, tasting her, savouring the way she gasped and arched against me.

I didn’t rush. I wanted to make her fall apart. My tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, circling, teasing, pressing. She responded effortlessly, running fingers through my hair and pressing me into her, returning her hands to clutch her own breasts and grasp at her nipples. I followed suit and reached a hand up and clenched hard on a nipple, eliciting a moan that was partly a shout of excitement. It cast my mind to the other party missing from the room — what was her boyfriend doing? Was he watching from somewhere? Had he grown upset that we were having too much fun, and left? These things flickered in my mind and were quickly absorbed by the writhing sounds and scents of this beautiful woman. I was going to make the most of it regardless.

I slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right, matching the rhythm of my mouth. Her fingers tangled in my hair, gripping, tugging, her moans growing louder, needier. I could feel her body tightening, her thighs trembling as pleasure built inside her. I could tell she wanted me to press harder and faster. I lifted back and caught her eye, and her gaze was mesmerising. I was in charge in a way I was not used to, and I embodied the character completely. I returned her gaze, dark with lust and longing. I could feel the walls of her vagina tense and flex around my fingers, and I pressed deeper.

**CONTINUED IN PART 2**