I flashed him a sheepish look. He nodded and said loudly “I’m
off. I should be back around midnight” so that they could hear
him in the bedroom, then left.

I went back to twitching in the living room. I am still not
comfortable looking him in the eyes. I know that I was the one to
insist that she tell him, but I never expected him to accept it.
Especially not as openly as this.

It’s my birthday. Two married women are “getting ready” in the
bedroom. Both husbands know, and neither one wants to kill me.
Yet. I still think of myself as sexually deprived. At 32 (no! 33
now) these are the third and fourth women I’ve ever been to bed
with. If you’re involved with two women, then a threesome is the
obvious step. Isn’t it? It seemed so when she suggested it.

I guess this means that the big fight I had with “B” a month ago
is behind us now. I haven’t been with her since then. Until she
proposed this birthday gift for me. My other lover was fascinated
by the idea, and by the timing. I just twitch.

“OK, you can go in now.” I look at them. They’re wearing exactly
what they were wearing twenty minutes ago when they went in there.
The room is identical to what it looked like twenty minutes ago.
Who knows what “getting ready” requires in a woman. Or in two
women. When I get anxious, I often hide in getting analytical. It
drives some of my friends nuts.

“Go ahead, take your clothes off and lie down. We’ll be with you
in a second.” From “B”. It sounds like the kind of thing “L”
usually says. She knows that I’m a very direct person, more into
action than symbology. Pure Taurus. B knows that too, but never
used to express it quite like that. I knew that they’d compare
notes when I introduced them to each other.

OK, OK, I know. I’m twitching again. This seemed like a good
idea on the phone. But… Deep breath. OK. Shirt off. Socks.
I leave the jeans. You’ll see why inna sec.

“Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday Greg Studly
Happy Birthday to you!”

A muffin with a sparkler for a candle. I moisten my fingers and
squeeze out the flame. Nope. Would’a been a nice macho move if
it had worked. sigh. The muffins go on a side table. “for
later”. (?) This is my thirtythird birthday. So how come I feel
like a fifteen year old.

“How come you’re still dressed?” (B)
“Both of you are still dressed…”
“You have to undress us” (B)
“Ditto. I know how L likes these…”

The traditional annoyance crosses her face. L has hated my
buttonfly jeans ever since we’ve been going out. 4 months now. I
got them because a discussion on a computer net said women loved
them. Maybe not, but they’re still a great tease. Well, they’re
gone now.

I embrace B, start kissing her deeply and reach up the back of her
shirt for the bra hooks. I am proud that I can unhook them
one-handed, even with my little experience. Nope. She’s wearing
the front-hook ones today. Sigh. So much for suave and
sophisticated. I break the clinch, and reach up the front. She
lifts the shirt out of the way. I unhook one of the five or six
that are there and stop. A hand on my inner thigh. I look down.
L is already naked and caressing my legs. She’s staying away from
my action zone, I guess until she knows I’m paying attention.I
look back at B. Didn’t I… Right. I undo the rest of the bra
and reach for a breast. L’s hands appear out of nowhere and “deal
with” the bra somehow. I look down. The rest of B’s clothing is
gone somehow. L, I guess.

“OK, everyone onto the bed” (L)
“Do I have to?” (grinning)

“If you don’t, we’ll start without you.” A believable threat.
They’re both happily bi, though B didn’t realize it until I
introduced her to L. One of the REASONS I introduced her to L.
Oops. Getting analytical again. Instead of… They’re
waiting… They’re lying there naked with exactly the right
amount of space between them.

I crawl in between them, lie on my back and put an arm under each.
Kiss L. Kiss B. Now what do I do with my hands? All I can reach
are backs and asses. I can’t even reach either head without
breaking an arm off. So I play with backs. And with assflesh.
And play tongue sushi. For too long. Now what. Do I make a
move, or does one of them. Finally, L heads “down”. She kisses
it, and moves on to kissing B where it counts. She keeps one hand
moving slowly on me and uses the other with B. I’ve finally got a
hand free, and reach for B’s breast. Her nipples come up like
magic. I alternate between sucking a nipple and more tongue
sushi. I’ve finally got my right hand freed and am playing with
an ear.

I look down. I see L’s hand on my cock, moving slowly, and a some
of the rest of her. The breast that I can see has an intensely
erected nipple. I WANNA SEE WHAT SHE’S DOING. I can’t. I return
to B’s breasts.

“Is she ready down there?”
“(mumble murph) She ready.”

I roll back onto my back. B rolls onto me. L makes some
adjustments then fits us together. B starts moving. I make the
appropriate counter-moves. Where is L? Must be watching. I
don’t see her at all. Yes. She’s sitting on my ankles. I, um.
Right. I rapidly hit my traditional barely-sub-orgasmic plateau
and stayed there. And stayed there. Drives the women mad. Or so
they tell me. I’m not too aware of the next ten minutes. L is
watching us from “below”, occasionally touching here, and there.
I ride on the very edge of ‘gasm while B comes up to the edge, to
it and over. I suppress my response to her ‘gasm. I’m back into
awareness and need my reserves for the next part.

B disengages, moves up a few inches, and lies on me. I’m enough
taller that she can kiss me and leave my action zone free for L.
Who has it. I’m into her mouth, and back to my sub-O’bital
plateau again in an instant. B has my mouth in full action, and
is playing with my chest. Time passes, but I don’t notice. I’m
HERE, wherever here is. And I come. Loudly, and copiously.

“Awright!” (B). B rolls off of me to watch L’s conclusion. L
swallows a couple of times, polishes me off and moves up to kiss
me. “I guess I got something for your birthday, too!” I’m
sensitive about oral sex and they’ve been trying to get me to come
that way for 4 months now. L is fascinated by cum and never gets
enough.

L has kept a hand on me while we kiss. She won’t let me go soft.
It’s her turn next. Suddenly I’m in her and she’s sitting on me.
Little chunks of time seem to vanish here and there. She’s
kissing B and moving on me. I move B onto my face. More time
lost. I experience it, but I’m not doing too well at filing it
into memories.

I have two hands up. One on a B cup breast, and the other on a
firmer C . Somewhere above that there’s kissing and facework.
But I can’t see it. I’m a visual person. Cunnilingus is fun, but
I can’t see a damn thing. And it’s MY party, isn’t it? I mumble
something moistly and try to clear my head from under B. It
doesn’t work. We get a moment of mass confusion where everything
stops while they try to figure out what I want. Oops!

We settle again. L is still riding me enthusiastically, and I
have a couple of my right fingers inside B. My left hand mingles
with L’s on B’s breasts. B’s hands are on L’s breasts and
somewhere above that, tongue sushi continues.

After only about a minute of this, I reach my plateau, and this
time, move beyond it into explosion almost immediately. L comes
with me and the group collapses into a pile of sweating, panting
bodies.

Rest break. I look at the clock. 11:20. An hour and 15 minutes
of action. . More or less. I smile. Three or four minutes
pass, until everyone is breathing normally.

L reaches over to the night table and hands out the cupcakes. The
one that had my candle on it and two others. She and B start
feeding each other little nibbles, and fingersmears of icing.
Like in the movies. One’s on each side of me as I lie there,
looking up at them sharing a mouthful of cupcake.

As they finish, I reach up to offer more cupcake, mine, just as B
moves to reach for something. I smear icing over the back of her
elbow. I sit up to lick it off.

SPARKS! Huh? Who would put an erogenous zone on the back of the
arm up from the elbow? I try again. Yup. It’s there. I say
something in my normal pseudo-sarcasm. L tries the other elbow.
B collapses across me, with smiles.

L pulls my hand to her breast, and moves in for more deep kissing.
L is a kiss person. B’s hand is on me again. I’m UP! Already /
again?

I break with L and crawl onto B. Into. Hmmmm… Sure I’m up,
but I don’t have the energy anymore to DO anything with it. I
start to fade. L grabs machinery from B’s toy drawer and moves
in. I pull out and lie beside B, sucking one nipple and playing
with the other breast. L is working her up from below. I reach
down and feel the dildo moving in, twist, and out. L flashes me a
grin. Time passes. I leave L to manage B’s needs and veg in a
fog of pleasant feelings. Eventually B is done. I move over
between them again and veg out again.

Time passes. 12:15. I ask “When did [he] say he’d be back?” I
thought that he was returning about midnight. L says “two”. B
just lays there smiling.

The door. Keys. Well, I guess he didn’t say “Two o’clock”. Deep
down somewhere inside, I try to worry. Guys have been shot for
less. Don’t have the energy to worry. B grabs a bathrobe and
goes to meet him. She shuts the bedroom door on her way out. “No
hurry. Relax.”

Relax? Me? I sit up. Nope. I sit up. I’m still lying there.
OK, I concentrate. I sit up. Successfully. I ask L whether my
clothes were on her side of the bed, or out in the living room.
Nope. What comes out is “My, um, y’know? Did …”. She is
laughing almost hysterically. I try again. “It’s … not … Um,
ah,… FUNNY!”. I’m a speech oriented person. It’s embarrasing
whenever this happens. They both always find it funny. I have no
problems arranging the sentences in my head. They just don’t work
when I speak them.

I summon “the engineer”. One of my alternate personae. “he”
doesn’t really participate in sex, other than to critique
technique or to post-analyze things. And “he” can speak
afterwards.

I gather my clothes and dress. Eventually. L continues to watch
my efforts hysterically.

I come out to the living room, trailing L. B’s hubby is there.
He tells me that he fixed the door on my car, more or less. He
tells me that my brakes need adjusting. He tells me that I need a
new gas-line filter.

I mumble something at him, bow deeply at B, and leave, taking L
with me. It’s over. I’m now officially thirty-three. Or a
teenager. Take your pick. I feel like the latter.

All of the pledges were brought into the dining room; we
noticed that all of the tables and chairs had been moved to
one side and stacked out of the way. The active brother of
the fraternity who was in charge of the pledges walked into
the room followed by 12 of the best looking women in the Tri-
Delt sorority, all dressed in sweat suites. He then told us
that the girls were going to pick out a pledge and that
pledge and the Tri-Delt would wrestle. The rules were simple:
submission or knock out only would stop the match, and if it
were submission, both had to agree to the submission.