Our first threesome took place at my parents’ house where, a year before, we’d let a close male friend of ours watch us have sex with the unspoken opportunity to join in.  He didn’t take it.  Luckily for us, our close female friend did.

My parents’ house is never empty.  In addition to my Mom and Dad and whichever of my younger siblings are still living there at any given moment, I have a large immediate family, most of which is local.  During a typical hour-long visit, it’s not unusual for one or more of my siblings who don’t live there to stop by.  It was quite fortunate, then, that both years saw our big family vacation coinciding with Jack’s birthday.  Literally everyone was out of town but us.  And that is how we came to find ourselves having a threesome in the tiny upstairs guest room that had once been my bedroom.  Was it because of a feeling of impropriety about carrying on such shenanigans in the master bedroom?  No, we’ve had sex in my parents’ room before, when they’ve been out of town and we happened to be staying over.  No, I’m guessing it was because, although everyone was vacationing hours away, we still realized that should they return unexpectedly, it would be infinitely preferable to get caught having a threesome in a different bedroom.

Although the three of us had been talking about it for months, there was never any expectation on my part that it would actually happen, though I’m guessing that Jack had some expectations, or hopes at the very least.  As far as I knew, it was all idle fantasy talk.  But it became real the moment M stripped off her bathing suit and set it on the ground beside the hot tub.  Yes, I know that a lot of people lose their suits when they’re hot tubbing.  I know that this is no reason to make or expect some sort of sexual advance.  But at that moment I knew what was in store.  Or, at least, I thought I did.  In reality, I was unprepared for the wonderful things that awaited me that night.

I was nervous as we dried off and went back inside the house!  So nervous in fact that I didn’t do much that first time.  I was understandably self-conscious, given that I was revealing my body and my very sexuality to a new partner.  I was worried that my parents were going to come home, even though I knew this was unlikely.  I had some concern, admittedly unjustified, that having a threesome would test our marriage, and our friendship with M.  I was aware of my own Catholic upbringing, my somewhat traditional views on love and sex which dictated that this absolutely must not happen, especially not in my childhood bedroom.  And I was conscious of the baby, then just shy of five months old and sleeping soundly in a port-a-crib in the next room.  With all of these factors the thought of simply letting go and enjoying the threesome was unlikely.

That’s when M climbed up onto the bed beside me and whispered that that night was going to be all about me, and that she and Jack were going to do everything they could to make sure that I was satisfied.  She didn’t have to say that, I realized, and it really set my mind at ease.  I didn’t have to worry that I wouldn’t be able to touch her properly, wouldn’t know how to eat pussy, wouldn’t do a good job pleasing two people at the same time.  It was all about me!  It wasn’t even my birthday, but it was all about me!

Feeling two mouths on my body for the first time was a shock.  It wasn’t, for lack of a better word, “normal”.  Likewise feeling all four of their hands touching me together, caressing my breasts and exploring the folds and crevices of my very creamy pussy, was an erotic thrill unlike any I’d ever experienced.  I wasn’t passive that night by any means, but I have no doubt that being the more submissive participant, the one who received pleasure, was much easier and more enjoyable that first time than being the one who gave it might have been.  In mere moments, any nervousness I had felt previously was gone.  Any hesitation melted away as M leaned down to kiss me on the lips.  It was a moment of catharsis, and I kissed her so forcefully that I may have startled her.  We continued to kiss for a few moments, and as Jack went down on me she moved to my breasts, lavishing them with tenderness.

I lost count of my orgasms around the time that M joined Jack in licking and devouring me.  When I was satisfied we took a break, refilled our wine glasses and lay together, enjoying the late-night silence as we each silently processed what was happening.  Jack lay behind our friend, his hardness pressing into her hip as she ran her fingers lazily through my hair.  It occurred to me that I had never seen my husband interact with another woman.  I’d watched videos he had made years before we met, and I enjoyed them.  But that was much different.  He was no longer with any of those women.  I’d never seen him actually touch another woman as it happened.  Later that night, as I watched him kiss her, suck her nipples, and finger her pussy, all of my instincts screamed for me to stop them, that it was wrong, that our relationship couldn’t bear it.  Remember what I said about my traditional views on love and sex?  I’m glad I didn’t listen.

If you’d told me ten years ago that I would enjoy watching my husband interact sexually with another woman, I wouldn’t have believed it.  I don’t think I was as secure in my own self-worth then as I am now, and I’m sure that meeting and falling in love with Jack has had something to do with it.  I did enjoy it, so much so that, two nights later, I dreamt that Jack had sex with M.  I woke up soaking wet.

They’ve never had sex, as far as I know.  While I enjoyed watching them play, I wasn’t going to let them fuck, certainly not that first time.  They’ve known each other for twenty years or more, and they likely had ample opportunity, but never did.  Even now, Jack and M are attracted to each other.  And why shouldn’t they be?  They’re both tremendously sexy in their own unique ways, at least to me.  While there are some days when I think it would be hot to watch Jack have sex with another woman, there are other days when this thought doesn’t sit well with me.  It may not be a hard limit, per se, but it’s definitely out of my comfort zone right now.

The baby woke around 2:30, and when I got up to go check on her I became conscious of a tiny voice in the back of my head telling me not to leave my husband in bed with another woman, and a naked woman at that.  I ignored it.  If I couldn’t trust my husband we wouldn’t have done this.  After I got the baby back to sleep I returned to find them lying together, albeit with a two-foot gap between them.  They appeared to be discussing baby-related issues.  They weren’t even talking about sex, which seemed odd to me.  Sex was all I could think about.

– Jill