“So”, she asked as we lay there basking in afterglow, “do I get to be in your blog?”

Lazily I caressed her breasts as a breeze blew in through the screen door. The air chilled our sweaty bodies. “Do you want to be?”

I was aware of the pointlessness of my question almost before it left my mouth. Of course she did. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have asked. Even as she said so, it occurred to me that I had much to say about her. After all, I had just gotten through writing a five-part story about an old friend who probably never was a friend at all. I could definitely write a blog post about a new one who has already proven herself more than just a friend.

“What should I call you?” I asked as she leaned back against my wife.  Jill ran her hand along our guest’s bare hip and gently kissed her neck. She shrugged off the idea of my needing to protect her anonymity, but just in case I’ll refer to her here as Scarlet.

It was probably back in January when we first crossed paths on Twitter. That’s right, Twitter. Not some local kink event, not some play party in San Francisco, not OK Cupid or some other dating website. I’m not sure exactly how I found her, though she likely showed up in my Who to Follow panel. According to her username she was local, and there are definitely not enough local women amongst my Twitter followers. Visiting most of the friends we’ve made on Twitter would require a cross-country flight, if not an overseas one. It’s hard getting to know someone, finding out you have interests in common, realizing that you’d like to have sex with them, and then coming to grips with the likelihood that you’ll probably never meet.

I followed Scarlet immediately, feeling a twinge of nervousness as I did. Her profile picture was hot, and it occurred to me that this was the first time I’ve followed someone specifically because she was local, and for that matter fuckable. She followed me back and we tweeted each other a few times. She was young and seemed like a fun person.

It was February when she messaged me to say that she’d be open to fooling around, either with just me, or with both Jill and I if that was more to our liking. I found her forwardness a turn-on; she obviously found me attractive and had no problem coming right out and saying so. I also appreciated her cautious respect for our boundaries, and I told her that while I would definitely be down to play with her, Jill would likely need to be present, definitely the first time we got together and probably during subsequent meetings as well. Which is not to say that I’d ruled out the possibility of playing separately at some point in the future.

Of late I’ve slowed down when it comes to playing with others without Jill present. Although I never really did it all that often, I suspect that Jill allowed it begrudgingly; our non-monogamy was always intended to further our own sexual relationship, i.e. it was something we initially planned to do together. And while I always – and I mean always – made sure never to leave her feeling neglected physically or emotionally in the wake of such an encounter, I know that it still bothered her at times. I may have done everything I could to ensure that her needs were always taken care of, but that didn’t change the fact that playing separately really isn’t her thing.

Over time, Scarlet told me that she was a waitress at a trendy restaurant, one that I’d recently heard about and wanted to try, if only for their substantial list of beers on tap. On a random Saturday afternoon while Jill and our daughter were out with Jill’s sisters and our nieces, a friend and I decided to check the place out. From her Twitter feed I determined that she wasn’t working that day; while I wanted to meet her I didn’t necessarily want to do so under those circumstances.  My friend knows I have an eye for the ladies, but it probably wouldn’t do to meet someone I plan to fuck with him present. Anyway, I didn’t want to show up unannounced like a common stalker.

After leaving the restaurant I let her know that I’d been there and that I dug the place. I told her I’d definitely be back. That night, once she’d begun her shift, she messaged me to ask if I had come back, as someone called her name and she thought from the look of the person that it might have been me. I reminded her that I didn’t yet know her name, and that while I was in fact not there right at the moment, I’d certainly let her know the next time that I was.

From that point, our online flirting intensified; it wasn’t uncommon for us to trade flirty or downright dirty messages, and the occasional photo was shared as well. I wanted to meet her and, yes, fool around with her. Even better, Jill was on board too. Scarlet told me that she still lived with her parents, so we’d have to get together at our place, or at a hotel. Beyond that, there was the issue of our daughter. At five years old, she is now more aware and vocal than she’s ever been before. Gone are the days when we could have a threesome while she was asleep in her room. When she was two years old we could have risked it; if she happened to stumble into our bedroom half asleep and see three naked people tangled up on the bed it was no harm and no foul because she wouldn’t understand what she was seeing, nor would she be able to remember or rat us out. Now though? No chance.

Fortuitously, our daughter’s spring break coincided with the week before Easter, and we’d shipped her up to her grandparents’ house for a few days. We made plans to meet with Scarlet on Monday evening at a beer-and-wine bar near our home which Jill and I both like. It seemed appropriate as our new friend is something of a connoisseur of craft beer. It seemed to be a recurring theme of our budding friendship; her restaurant recently made a well-known website’s list of the best bars in the area, her tweets frequently reference beer, and it’s not unusual for me to message her while I’m drinking. Additionally, in the early days of our relationship, Jill and I bonded over our mutual love of Guinness.  We like beer.

Before we left the house, Jill had two drinks. She was nervous, as she always is when we play with another woman. She knows things will be fine. She knows she’s going to have a great time. She knows I’m not going to cross any boundaries or push her out of her comfort zone. But she needs the alcohol to help her relax because this isn’t something she’s thought about for most of her adult life the way it is for me.

It was around 6:30 when we arrived at the bar. The place gets crowded on Friday and Saturday nights, but on this particular Monday evening it was all but deserted. Scarlet arrived not long after; her drive was much farther than our own. Over the course of two rounds of beers, we made small talk and got to know each other. I noticed how at ease Jill seemed, and while it was easy to credit the alcohol in her system I could tell that the easy rapport she’d already formed with Scarlet had more to do with it. It was like they’d known each other a long time, or at the very least like she wasn’t a nervous kindergarten teacher who was at the bar for the express purpose of vetting a potential sex partner.

A few days earlier, I’d suggested to Jill that we devise a signal or a code that she and I could use privately to let the other know that we are or are not okay with bringing our new friend home with us. I always suggest this before threesomes, but we never end up coming up with something. I’m all about being straightforward and honest, and while I know Jill is also, I also know that this isn’t the most natural thing for some people, her included. Plus, rejection sucks. Telling someone that she’s just not our type can be taken offensively, so I always suggest inventing a simple signal or code phrase.

That is not to say that Scarlet wasn’t our type. Far from it. I’ve established that I found her physically attractive from her Twitter profile picture and the photos she’s shared. In person, however, we were both very taken by her. She was so much Jill’s type, in fact, that when my wife finished her second beer and decided she was done being at the bar, she simply asked Scarlet if she’d like to follow us back to our place.

We were barely through our bedroom doorway when the three of us came together, mouths trading hungry kisses, hands traversing bodies and removing clothing. As each article quickly dropped to the floor we moved ever closer to the bed. Jill set down our Liberator Throe, and I quickly got to work pleasuring our guest, first with my fingers, and then with my mouth, and then with both. I enjoyed the feel of her body, the soft smoothness, the responsiveness. I loved how wet she got. The sounds she made as her arousal built, and her moans as she came, were all so exciting.

That’s what I enjoy about non-monogamy: The variety. Every woman is different in countless ways, from shape and size to physical and facial features, to the sounds they make. And let’s not forget smell and taste. And Scarlet tasted great.

She identified as submissive and very eager to please, something she proved while taking turns going down on me with Jill. The way our eyes locked as she looked up at me and I looked down at her was a huge turn-on for this primarily dominant guy. She has these beautiful, expressive hazel eyes that I loved gazing into as she worked on me. Her lips swallowed me whole, her expression seeming to tacitly seek approval she already knew she had. Still, I was restrained. Though she later told me that she liked it rough and wouldn’t mind if I was a bit more forceful the next time we meet – “hair pulling, spanking, slapping, being dominated, titty slapping, biting, etc.” – she understood why I hadn’t trotted out any of these moves the first time out.

After almost an hour of playing, kissing, and touching both of them, Jill finally said that I needed to fuck her so that I could fuck Scarlet next. Remember what I said about forwardness being a turn-on? Needless to say I accommodated her, bringing her to another orgasm with cock and fingers working in concert. Afterwards I fucked Scarlet in missionary position and doggy style while Jill watched and played with her pussy. She’s come a long way from being unsure whether she’d be okay with me having penetrative sex with another woman in the missionary position because the intimacy of face-to-face positions might have been a threat to her. Actually, she’s come a long way from being unsure whether she’d be okay with me having penetrative sex with another woman, period. She may sometimes have problems with me doing things without her present, but when she is present she’s probably more compersive than anyone I know.

At one point as I felt my orgasm nearing I asked Scarlet where she’d like my cum. One of Jill’s few rules for threesomes and solo play is that I can’t cum inside the other woman even when I’ve got a condom on. This is because a condom can break, and the last thing we need is to explain to our daughter why she suddenly has a half-sibling, and why she can’t have a lavish birthday party this year because Daddy has to pay child support.

Her three-word reply nearly set me off right then and there: “Down my throat.” She said it with a very matter-of-fact enthusiasm, her big, inviting eyes almost pleading for my cum. That I didn’t erupt at that very moment was evidence of my tendency to hold back my orgasm in group situations more than anything else. It took me awhile, but eventually I fulfilled her request. She swallowed voraciously, heartily, the submissive smile on her lips telling me that she derived more pleasure from the act than I did, if that was even possible.

The three of us lay there awhile, talking just as we’d done back at the bar. However, our conversation had become much more sexual.  We talked about the parts of the evening we each enjoyed the most, things we might try on a subsequent meeting, and yes, Scarlet’s request that our threesome be immortalized here, in our blog.

I toyed with the idea of inviting my two bedmates into a warm shower and soaping up. I love taking a shower after sex with a new partner; it’s such a gesture of intimacy to clean somebody off after you’ve experienced them in this way, and the close quarters is very conducive to kissing and caressing, if not more. Also, I’d spent the better part of the afternoon scrubbing down the fixtures, the tile, and the grout so it would have been nice if our guest got to see what an impeccable job I’d done. In the end, however, the allure of remaining in bed proved too strong, and we all stayed there until it was time for her to leave.

We walked Scarlet to her car, albeit reluctantly. We stood in the dark, quiet street, the only illumination coming from a street lamp down the block, and each kissed her good night before she drove off. Back inside the house, Jill and I took a shower.

“You did a nice job on the fixtures,” she said as I soaped her up.