He, She, and I Ch. 01

Part 1: Our First Threesome

(MMF, true)

My girlfriend back in the seventies was a real pistol, a slim, attractive, young lady willing to experiment with sex and have fun with it. We had been together for about two years at this time. She was only in her early twenties and still lived with relatives a few miles away from my apartment.

My best friend from college and I were both in graduate school in nearby cities. He would often come up on weekends, for an afternoon of football or drinking, dinner, and maybe sleep on the couch. When he was between girlfriends, he would be there every other weekend. He, she, and I were very close. The three of us spent a lot of time together.

She mentioned to me one day that she was interested in possibly going to bed with him, if I wouldn't be upset. She thought he was pretty sexy, and we were all very familiar, and she wanted to try another man. Far from being upset, I approved wholeheartedly. She enjoys sex a great deal and expresses it loudly. I looked forward eagerly to seeing a new person turn her on, to watching another man explore her body and her desires, to watching her discover new excitement and pleasure with a new person. I assumed that she would act on her desire at the next opportunity.

A week later we were all back in the apartment after going to a football game at the local college. We had taken a thermos of screwdrivers to the game and continued them back in the apartment by the blender-ful.

She wore a straight wool skirt, back when skirts were short, well above her knees when standing, even shorter when sitting, and therefore more interesting and enticing. And she wore a black sweater tight enough to be interesting, too. She had a terrific figure, medium height, thin, tight, tight hips and tight ass, slinky even under the fall dress of heavy knit sweater and skirt.

The student-type apartment had only two easy chairs, with an ottoman in the middle between them. She sat on the ottoman between us, and the conversation was animated as usual, slightly tipsy and good humored. We would all touch occasionally to stress points in the discussion. Being in the middle, she would often put her hand on my knee or his during the conversation.

At some point, her hand stayed on his knee and his thigh, and started stroking massaging his leg. "Has the seduction begun?" I asked myself. I wondered how far she would go, if she would go through with it. I wondered how he would react, and how far she would have to go to make her desire known. Would she actually go to bed with him right here in front of me? When I got up to make more drinks, they were staring intently at each other, talking softly, her hand still on his thigh.

When I had the drinks, I came back into the room softly, not making any noise. They were kissing, lightly at first then more deeply, mouths open, tongues moving. Serious kissing. I waited in the doorway. I was hidden in the shadows of the dark kitchen, but I could see them through the open bookcase separating the two rooms. He moved his hand up from her waist to cup her breast, lightly, through her sweater. She inhaled sharply when she felt this overtly sexual touch, but she didn't stop him or remove his hand. She continued kissing him. Her hand was far up his thigh, resting on his bulge. After half a minute they stopped, and I came back into the room.

Talk continued, with more hands on knees and thighs. When she turned back to me, I ran my hand up her leg under her skirt, all the way to her crotch, and felt her heat. He couldn't see me do it, but he may have noticed her reaction, clamping her thighs on my hand.

Some minutes later, I got up again to make more drinks. While blender was running, I peered out of the kitchen doorway to see what was happening. They were kissing again. This time, he moved his hand under her skirt, feeling her stockings between her thighs, moving up between her legs. She moved her legs apart, pushing the skirt far up, almost to her hips. His hand went up under her skirt. I couldn't see his hand reach the vee at the top of her legs, but her reaction was obvious. She told me later, "When he put his hand on my thigh, I opened my legs to let him know he was welcome there. He felt my leg, way up under my skirt. Then he cupped my crotch and I pushed my mound onto his hand. He could feel the heat and the wetness through my panties and pantyhose. I wanted him, and he knew I wanted him."

I finished getting the drinks, came back in and sat down. At one point while we were talking again, she kissed him openly. Conversation stopped. While they were kissing passionately, he reached up to her breast with one hand and her hip with the other, her skirt sliding up over the nylon of the stockings. She didn't remove his hand from her breast. She didn't pull her skirt down. She moved slowly against his hands, pushing her breast into his palm. Her meaning was clear to me: she wanted him to feel her body as a lover would feel her body, and she would let him do it right in front of me. She wanted him to be her lover tonight. There was no turning back.

When they finished the kiss, she turned to me, kissed me, and, whispering, asked me if this was really okay with me. I felt her heat right through her sweater and skirt. She was very turned on. I didn't want to stop it. I wanted to continue it and to see her make love to another man and be made love to by another man. Yes, I told her, yes, she should enjoy herself and I wanted to watch and participate.

I was as turned on as she was, maybe more, anticipating what would happen in the next few hours. I knew that I wanted to see her turn on sexually to another man's touch. I wanted to see her accept his kiss and his hands on her breasts and in her sex. I wanted to see her kissed and fondled and caressed, gently at first, then more insistently. I wanted to see his hands knead her breasts and her ass, lift her skirt, feel her thighs, and dive into her crotch. I wanted to see him force his hands under her clothing to feel and reveal the secret places of her body. I wanted to see her pussy drilled with his fingers and to see her loving it. I wanted to feel her thrill to four hands and two mouths and two cocks and twenty fingers on her body. I wanted to feel the heat of her desire for two men to caress her body at once, touching her and kissing her and probing her any way she wanted.

I wanted her flooded with sensation, consumed with desire. I wanted her to be panting and wild and naked, craving something to fill her, on her back with her legs open, reaching for cock and guiding it into her. I wanted her to lose control from sheer lust and fuck anything that moves. I wanted her to be mad with sex, lusting for anything to fill her pussy, taking it into her body, pulling it in to the hilt and pumping it. I wanted her to feel the squirting of a man's sex deep inside her body. I wanted her to come with another man inside her. I wanted her to come screaming.

She turned back to him, kissed him again. We all stood up and moved to the floor on the other side of the room. The carpet wasn't all that soft and warm, I thought, so I got some cushions for her to lie on. She asked us to take off her skirt so she could avoid wrinkling it. We were only too happy to accommodate her. He unzipped it, pulled it down her legs, and put it aside neatly. Then she lay down in the black half slip that had been underneath the skirt. It was shorter than the skirt, of course, barely covering the opaque top of her pantyhose.

He lay down on her left side, head to head, kissing her avidly. I was lying on her other side, facing the other way, feeling her legs and hips. I was also looking right up under her slip into the goodies, and I could see her fancy, black, bikini panties. And I could watch all that they were doing.

He kissed her and felt her left breast again, then moved under her sweater to knead her breast. She arched her back, pushing her breast into his hand. He reached behind her to unhook her bra, then continued feeling and kneading her breasts, still under the sweater but now uncovered.

After a few minutes, while still kissing her, he pulled his hand out of the sweater and moved down to her hip and legs. He felt the silky slip on her thigh, then slid his hand under the slip to her leg encased in the shiny and slippery pantyhose. Clearly the pantyhose had to go. All three of us pulled down the waistband of the pantyhose, and I removed them down her legs and over her feet.

He moved his hand back to her slip, and back to her thigh under the slip, moving up to her crotch. He felt outside the black panties, tracing the seams of the leg bands and the folds of her most intimate skin, lightly caressing the tops of her thighs and then her mound through the nylon. His middle finger traced up and down the lips of her pussy, pushing the cloth in between the lips, just separating them a little and leaving a wet line where the fabric was slightly indented. Then he reached back down to the hem of the slip and pulled up her slip to expose her panties.

She opened her legs a little at the exposure. They were still kissing again and again. His hand lay flat on her belly above the panties, holding up the slip. Slowly he moved his hand down underneath the waistband of the panties, and I could see the bulge of his hand as his fingers moved over her mound and pubic fur that I knew so well. His fingers moved down between her thighs over the lips of her sex, moving lightly up and down, then between the lips of her sex and into the opening. She inhaled sharply, she swooned, she actually swooned and gasped. She pushed her crotch up to meet his hand, wanted his fingers to go down between her lips, inside her pussy, in the hot wet, deep inside. She opened her legs more, whimpered, pushed her crotch up hard into his hand. He slid his fingers in, one finger moving in and out of her, clearly visible under the panties, stroking into her body and back out. She pumped up and down to meet it, moaning, pumping, more urgently, in and out.

After maybe a minute, his probing and her pumping became less urgent. His finger came out of her pussy and rubbed up and down between the lips over her clit. She had a mini-orgasm, I guessed. We all got up and walked into the bedroom. He lifted her sweater over her head and slipped off her bra. I pulled down her slip and panties. She lay down, stretching her legs down and her arms above her, showing us her breasts, reveling in the physical tension and the sexual tension together.

I got up to turn out lights and get some candles for more appropriate lighting. When I returned, he was undressed, lying half on top of her, one leg between hers, kissing. He moved his hand to her pussy again. This time she opened it wide to receive him. He slid a finger in, she moaned as they kissed in time with his finger sliding in and out, drilling her insides.

Her hand went from his back down his side to his belly and cock and balls. His cock was long, erect, upright, tight against his stomach at a narrow angle, at least an inch longer than mine. He knelt between her legs. She lifted her legs around his waist, opened her pussy lips with one hand, pulled his cock inside her with the other. They fucked in a straight missionary position, maybe ordinary but still fun. He screwed her hard for a couple minutes and came.

I undressed while I was watching, and was sitting on the floor, my cock hard and straight out. When he was done, I got on top of her and slid into that very hot, very wet pussy full of come. I was so excited that I came quickly, too.

While he got up to shower, I played with her clit until she came loudly. The only thing he missed that night was watching her wail and writhe in orgasm. Tough. He'd had plenty already that night.

When he came back out of the shower, he was hard again and she was still interested. With very little preliminary play, they went at it again. This time, she sat on him, lowering her hole slowly onto that long, thin phallus. She lay down, her breasts on his chest, and screwed slowly until he came again. She told me later that this position was not really comfortable for her because of the unusual angle of his cock, almost straight up along his stomach rather than perpendicular to his body. She couldn't sit straight up at all because of that angle, and she couldn't get friction on her clit so she didn't come. But it was okay, she said, because some cock was better than no cock.

We got together as a threesome several more times over the next couple months. More about that later. The intimacy of the three-way sexual experience didn't hurt any of our relationships. We're all still very close.