GETTING STARTED
Thomas S. Roche

Have you ever tried to get a threesome started? It’s much more difficult than just negotiating the damn thing and getting to it. There are all these weird, unspoken cues that are hard to predict. Players don’t know what to do until they do it…and then, they’re not sure if it’s the right thing to have done. Until suddenly, you’re past all that, and everyone’s sure about everything. Then nothing has to get started; it just surges along, with a sense of ease. And then, it’s all fucking worth it. More than worth it. It’s worth all the stress and the worry about how to get things started, about whether such-and-such thing is the right thing to do. It’s worth everything, because threesomes are like having all of your candy and eating cake, too.

My girlfriend Becca and I had placed a personal ad for a woman to have a threesome with us. We’re not a bad-looking couple. More importantly, we’re up front, fairly queer savvy and not too obnoxious. I think that puts us miles ahead of many of the straight couples placing personal ads for girls to fuck them.

It was a pleasure screening the applicants. Other couples I’ve talked to have said such things can be an ordeal, but that wasn’t my experience at all. I found it hot. It felt intimate, by which I mean it intensified the connection between Becca and me. It was amazing.

There were far more responses than I thought there would be, and far more of them seemed both hot and interesting than I ever could have hoped or prayed for. There were many different women from twenty to forty, and we showed no particular preference for women toward the younger end of our spectrum. In fact, when we selected five interested parties to chat with on the phone, all were in their thirties…except for one: Summer. She was a twenty-year-old junior at State, less experienced than the other respondents. Becca was suspicious of her, even though she agreed she was the cutest (from her pictures) and the most up front (from her email).

But when Summer turned out to be the first choice for both of us, Becca had second thoughts. She observed that she seemed pretty young.

Becca said. “She’ll be clueless.”

Having had more experience with women than my girlfriend, I think I was more forgiving of a young woman’s cluelessness, as young women had repeatedly been fairly forgiving of mine. Becca was more suspicious of young women, not for competitive reasons but because she is easily bored by them (younger men bore her even more thoroughly).

I had to agree with her that selecting an age-appropriate third was important. But Summer was too good to pass up. That bright smile in her photos, the flash of fire in her eyes, the freshness in her email and her voice when we talked to her on the phone, all helped me convince Becca to make a date with Summer.

Unlike the other women who’d emailed us, Summer was relatively inexperienced. She said she was just starting to explore “the idea” of her bisexuality. Before long, that exploration took the form of sitting on our living-room couch looking very, very nervous.

That is not to say that Summer didn’t look incredibly fetching with that bright red flush to her face. It could almost be construed as a flush of arousal. Even if it wasn’t, sexual embarrassment has always struck me as kind of hot.

Summer wore a pair of torn blue-jeans and a tight white T-shirt. Her breasts were smallish but very nice, especially in that tight T-shirt, for she was not wearing a bra underneath, and her firm nipples were quite erect. Her hair was short, bleached blonde and spiky. Her face was pretty, her lips full. She had a nostril ring and, she had told us, one in her navel.

“Do you want to, maybe, watch a video?” I offered, as Summer and Becca looked back and forth from each other to me, not sure who should start the proceedings.

“I…I don’t think so,” said Summer uncomfortably. She began to say something else, but quickly stopped—my girlfriend’s tongue was suddenly in her mouth. Becca kissed Summer hungrily—and to my surprise, Summer responded in kind, sinking into my girlfriend’s arms and kissing her back, passionately. The two women embraced. After a moment’s kissing, Becca began to pull up Summer’s tight T-shirt, lifting it over the girl’s small breasts. Summer moaned softly as Becca began to suckle on her breasts. I came around the side of the couch and sat down next to Summer; she turned her head toward me and met my exploratory kiss eagerly, her tongue teasing mine as she nibbled at my lower lip. I put my arms around her from behind and began to kiss her neck as I fondled her firm breasts, feeling my girlfriend’s lips and tongue nipping at my fingertips between licks at Summer’s hard nipples.

Somewhat awkwardly, Becca and I undressed Summer. She allowed us to do all the work, but her soft moans of pleasure as we disrobed her told us that she was enjoying herself, perhaps more than she suspected. When we had her pants off, I began to stroke her pussy through the thin, white cotton panties she wore. “Shall we retire to the bedroom?” I asked, and Summer nodded.

My girlfriend and I took Summer to bed, removing her panties and then undressing ourselves. Nude, we pressed our bodies together on the bed, Summer in the middle, her eager kisses moving from one mouth to the other as our hands wandered over her slender, tight young body. I slipped one finger inside her and found her very wet. To my surprise, Summer reached out and took hold of my cock, which was rock hard by that point. She bent over and began to suck it, licking all over and taking it into her mouth.

In a moment, my girlfriend’s face was between Summer’s legs, and she was eating the girl’s pussy hungrily. Summer relaxed into the sensations, spreading her legs wide—but then, “Is it okay if he fucks me?” she asked.

“More than okay,” laughed my girlfriend. Becca nudged me on top of Summer, perhaps a little insistently. As Summer spread her legs, Becca reached down and guided my cock between Summer’s slick lips. As I slid into Summer, the girl let out a moan of pleasure, one which Becca matched as she ran her fingers over the place where I penetrated Summer. Becca slid up fully against Summer and began to kiss her as the girl’s body twitched and heaved with pleasure, her hips finally settling into a pumping rhythm which met each thrust of my cock into her body. She was gasping, groaning as I rhythmically penetrated her, thrusting and bringing her closer to orgasm with each stroke. Becca reached down between us and began to stroke Summer’s clitoris with her spit-moistened finger—that did it. I felt Summer’s pussy contracting as she let out a sobbing moan of ecstasy. My girlfriend kissed our lover deeply as the girl climaxed—and then, as I continued fucking her, thrusting in and out of her body, Becca began kissing me—her tongue slipping deep into my mouth as I gasped with pleasure and shuddered atop Summer, my cock pumping into her. My cries and gasps of pleasure made Summer clench her knees tight around my back and beg me to come deep inside her.

I did. She and I slumped, soft and sweet, together. Becca was up against us both, kissing and caressing. Her hand felt the place where Summer and I joined, still wet with my seed and her juices. Becca touched that place with a sense of excitement, like she’d found something sacred. And maybe we had.

Soon my hands wandered, too, all over Summer’s luscious young body. Summer’s hands, too. We all stroked each other. We kissed again—all three of us, trading off. Seeing Becca and Summer make out with the fervor of girl-on-girl virgins may have been the hottest sight I’ve ever seen. It was magnificent.

It didn’t take long before I was hard again, and they were atop me—mouths, hands and wet pussies seemingly everywhere.

The three of us rolled into a passionate tumble and—what do you know? The three of us started making love all over again. Before we knew it, we were going at it again, eagerly, all three of us tight in a clinch, kissing and grinding and ready to fuck, to do all sorts of naughty, nasty things to each other. There was no doubt about getting started, now. Every touch, every tease, every look, every breath, seemed to spawn another…to bring more heat, more arousal, more excitement. The intimacy built between us, till all three of us breathed in concert, flesh slick with sweat and tingling with pleasure. We were out of control, but we liked it that way. Our passion surged on through the night.

Sometimes when you get started, I guess, there’s no reason to stop. So we didn’t.