9 Threesome

Just before Christmas 1986, Keith was feeling frazzled and upset when he drove his son Jason to Yakima to pay a social call on old friends Billy and Ginny Smith. In eleven years of marriage, Keith had often fantasized about Ginny. “She was slim and had a very good-looking body and long brown hair, but I never made a move because she was married to my best friend. A short time after little Jason and I arrived at Billy’s house, he told me he would take the kid to the store while I kept Ginny company. I thought this was a little strange because us men usually went to the store together.

“Jason and Bill were barely out of sight when Ginny gave me a tongue kiss. Here was my favorite fantasy coming true and I couldn’t do anything about it. Billy would shoot me dead on the spot. He was that kind of guy.

“Ginny went into the bedroom, and I just sat there and tried to act like it was a joke. When she came back out and grabbed my crotch, I said, ‘I can’t do this! I’ve never been unfaithful to Rose. Billy will catch us and I’ll lose my best friend.’”

“When they got back from the store, I took Bill aside and told him that Ginny made a pass. He didn’t even flinch. He said it was all planned. They were swingers and Ginny told him she wanted me for Christmas. He said, ‘Hey, man, get in there and give her a good fuck.’

“When I realized he was serious, I kind of staggered into the bedroom. At first I didn’t know how to start, but then I thought I might as well pretend to be her lover. She took off her clothes and unzipped my fly. She was very playful, gave head and loved receiving it all ways. What a difference between her and Rose!

“Just as I finished my first orgasm, Billy came into the bedroom and got into the act as well. I asked him what my son was doing and he said he was watching TV in the living room. A good hour passed before I got dressed and took him home.

“The next night I couldn’t get back there fast enough. Billy and I took turns on Ginny. After that, I didn’t want to share her. Maybe Bill read my mind, because he warned me not to go near the place when she was home alone. That made me want her more. I would ride my bicycle and meet her while the kids were at school. She said she liked my thick size because it filled her up. We’d have sex in the shower, then in bed and on the floor.

“We did all the things that would have made Rose call 911. Then I’d go back home and wait for Billy to call up for a threesome. For the first time in my life I was getting all the sex I needed. Then he got a job in another town, and they moved away.”

 

During 1987, his thirty-second year, Keith reverted to fantasy sex again, often involving force, plus an occasional uninspiring session with Rose. His truck-stop flirting accelerated, and he seldom passed a stranded female motorist without pulling over. “It opened up my conscious mind to think about having sex with them. My fantasies ran wild.”

 

Late in the year he met two teenagers from the Yakima Valley. “They got into my truck to check it out, and all of a sudden I had a couple of horny young girls on my hands. I did my best to satisfy them. I saw them often, and we had an understanding that I was married and if they wanted to party, we’d party—no love or long-term relationship. Mary was gorgeous in height and weight, and her body fit my body nicely. We enjoyed each other on several trips south as I smuggled her along for our steamy experiences.

“Sometimes one of them was busy and I screwed the other. But then they began to fight over me, and it freaked me out since they only lived four miles from my house. To avoid another Fatal Attraction, I tried to find a girlfriend further away. I realized that the head between my legs was controlling my actions, but I couldn’t stop.

“It was unnerving at times. Rose got suspicious calls, and I had to make up excuses. Trucking allowed me too much freedom, I guess. I began to find girls everywhere. I even bedded our baby-sitter after driving her home. I had the sex drive of a stallion, and I could perform all night and half the next day.

“I would park in rest areas and watch the lot lizards making their moves. It was tempting, but I stuck to my rule of not paying for it. I avoided my fellow drivers, refused to play follow-the-leader in our mini-convoys—three to six trucks headed in the same direction and stopping together. I didn’t want any strings on where I went or what I did.

“One night I was in the restaurant at the Texaco truck stop at Exit 161 off I-5 in Oregon when I noticed a woman in her late thirties or early forties. We talked, I bought her dinner, and she got into my truck. Her name was Nancy Flowers, divorced, living alone between Gold Hill and Rogue River. We kissed and my hands found her breasts, and we were just about down to the bare skin when she said no at the last minute. With Nancy no meant no. I still wasn’t into taking women against their will, although I did it every night in my fantasies. We just steamed up the windows for a while. I got her number and told her I’d call.

“On my way back from California, I phoned her from Gold Hill and she picked me up and took me to her place. She had an octagon-style house in the woods. After we had sex she woke me at 7:00 A.M. so that I could make my delivery in Seattle on time. From then on I slept with her whenever I was in the neighborhood. She was forty-four, and I was thirty-three. I never told her I was married, but I think she kind of knew.”