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The company of sexy strangers
September 22, 2005
For me (and I suspect for lots of people), there is a fine line between taking care of myself emotionally and becoming a paranoid hermit. This week I realized that the former was becoming an excuse for the latter. Not good. So, what in the world could be a reintroduction to the world of being social? That’s right – a threesome!
Ok, so that’s a little simplistic, I know, but I was feeling like getting back into the world of connecting with people. Plus I was horny and it’s been too damn long since I’ve had some group action, so it was time to turn to my dear and long lost friend, Craigslist. Not counting the houseboy incident, it’s been almost an entire year since I availed myself of casual encounters. Well then.
If I can’t have my own intimacy, I can masturbate to (ahem, I mean appreciate) other people’s. There’s something intensely cool about being let into a couple’s intimate spaces. By which I mean, orifices – but seriously folks, the space of their relationship (jeez, I’m not filthy-minded all the time). It’s really cool to see the way two people who are involved treat each other, play with each other, look at each other, all that stuff. Tony Comstock does a great job of capturing this sort of intimacy on film, and the performers seem to open up and invite the viewer in – but I like it better live.
I met Nick and Diane at a rather dark bar downtown, where we drank Jameson and did the getting to know you bit, including the requisite conversation with other CLers – how long have you been CL-ing it, what are your dirty CL stories, and then a little more philosophical stuff about the nature of meeting people primarily because of their words. After a while we did a bit of a check-in with each other, and decided to head to Brooklyn and Nick’s place. We flirted and giggled on the train, tumbled into the apartment, got ourselves some ice water and had a sit on the couch. My favorite part (you know, other than the actual fucking) of this kind of situation is that moment when things shift from chatting and sitting closely and light brushes of fingers over legs into full on makeout mode, groping, clasps coming undone, shedding of clothes.
Our mouths and hands wandered, getting used to the bodies in question. I wound my hands into Diane’s long soft hair and enjoyed the soft touch of her lips, sharply and pleasantly surprised when she sucked my lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it. Her teeth held onto my lip for that extra second required to cause that little bit of panicky adrenaline, willsheletgo. Oh. Yes. Back for more. We stripped off our clothes and threw them around the living room (fun at the moment, less fun at 2 am when trying to get dressed and not knowing where my glasses ended up), and headed for the bedroom.
You know what’s awesome about being the odd girl out in a threesome? I get to be the center of attention, hence not really “out” at all. Diane and Nick all but pounced on me, devouring tits, stomach, pussy, ass. I closed my eyes and didn’t even try to discern whose hands were doing what, I just gave myself into it. Diane began to explore my pussy with her fingers and tongue, and then Nick wanted a piece of me too: “There’s plenty of pussy for everyone,” I told him, and he sunk a few fingers into me. I could feel their fingers intertwining inside me, such a cute way to hold hands, and Nick told me they had three fingers each in me. I felt full, but the thought of them sharing my pussy like that made my innards pulse with horny glee, and I opened up to one more finger from each of them, for a total of eight. Guessing how many fingers I’ve got inside me is way better than the “how many fingers am I holding up?” visual game.
“What do you like to have done to those beautiful tits of yours?” Nick asked. Without even needing to think, I said, “I like them squeezed and slapped – the tits, not the nipples.” And – well – with four hands, both of my tits can be squeezed and slapped at the same time. Diane gripped my tits and squeezed them together so they were extra firm and extra sensitive, and Nick began to slap them, gently at first and then harder, so they were rosy red and stinging a bit. I was flushed, hot and bothered, skin a-tingle. I pulled Diane’s mouth into mine as Nick returned his hand to my pussy, roughly this time.
My cunt wetly opened to his touch, but then he stepped it up a notch and suddenly a million bad things were running through my head and I felt my body go a little tense. I asked him to ease up on me and he did, keeping a steady, deep but soft thrust until I asked for more. But the bad things clicked in again – frustrating. I was hyper away of my labia, of the friction and wetness and the hard movements of his hands. I wanted to let go, meet the thrusts of his hand with my own hip thrusts, but I couldn’t. As his thrusts got harder, I could only imagine seeing his hand pulling back covered in my blood. I couldn’t let go, I couldn’t come. I had to stop for the moment. I grabbed his wrist and twisted away from him. I knew he wanted to make me come, but I just… couldn’t at the moment.
But the great thing about a threesome is that we could shift the focus away from me quickly and easily. We rolled Diane onto her stomach, and Nick stationed himself at her head to feed her his cock. I knelt between her legs, complimented her rather finely shaped round little ass, and promptly buried my face in it. I let my fingers roam over her thighs and around her shapely pubic mound, grazing but not making full contact with her vulva. She squirmed beneath me and moaned into Nick’s cock. I spat on her already wet pussy for effect and sank four fingers into her. “You have to do her really hard,” Nick advised me. “And when she comes, there will be a lot of it.” This, I realized, was not a wiggle of the fingers and wrist affair, this was elbow-as-piston manual labor. I began to plunge most of my hand into her, and felt her vagina twitch in a lovely and unique way – her insides puffed out, almost making a hollow cavity, and then became pillowy as her muscles contracted around my hand. I thrust my hand harder, then faster and harder, swirling my fingers around her g-spot for effect. I felt the orgasm building up in her, nearing release. When she came, she exploded, spraying female ejaculate everywhere, splashing all over my legs and chest. It was a spectacular and immense gush, and I fucked her right through it, ushering more and more bursts of come out of her; a puddle built up on the bed. She made motions for me to stop, and I flopped down on the bed next to her, where our mouths found each other again.
Nick returned to the business of my girl business, curving his fingers just so to hit my g-spot, no doubt seeking the buttons to push to unleash the flood. But no flood came, even though he was doing it exactly right. I got wetter and my pussy got happier, but the flood just wasn’t there. I definitely had girlcome envy of Diane’s free-flowing situation, but my ability to ejaculate seems to have evaporated since my accident in June (its not just last night, believe me). I coaxed Nick to ease up on his thrusts and not be so desperate to impress my g-spot, and I began to let go a little bit more. One of his fingers swirled on the bud of my asshole and then slipped gently inside; this little bit of double penetration sent me into a cautious but warm orgasm, my pussy pulsing around his fingers, the heat rising in my face and chest.
As I recuperated, Nick mounted Diane from behind, and I pulled her hair for him. I pulled her hair steadily so that when he thrust fully into her and pushed her body forward, she’d be held back by the hair-pulling. Worked like a charm. After a few minutes of slow, hard thrusts, he pulled out and shot a nice load of come all over her back, almost doubling over with the pleasurable effort.
We rolled around a bit more until Nick was ready to go again, and I fetched my condoms and lube, rolled a condom onto him, got on my back and tucked my knees to my chest. I let myself fall into the rhythm of the fuck, and was finally able to let go more than I’d been able to do with fingers in my pussy. My cunt pulsing orgasm squeezed Nick into an orgasm of his own, my muscles went slack and I just rode it out. Nice. Much nicer than fearing the possibilities of rough but well-intentioned hands.
“I’m sorry I’m so inhibited, I got my pussy torn a few months ago and things aren’t quite the same” makes for horrible pillow talk that makes people recoil in sympathetic agony, so I kept my trap shut. I haven’t come up against mental walls in the actual experience of partnered sex since I started having sex again post-injury, maybe partly because I’ve been with Seth, who I know and trust, and we’ve been avoiding anything heavy-handed. Maybe part of it was disappointment and frustration at my body not working the way it used to, not coming the way I expect it to, not able to get me where I want to go as quickly or via the same routes.
At home, I took out my hand mirror and parted my labia to look at the small, white crescent of a scar on my right inner labia. I’m positive that no one else could even notice it, even perhaps if I pointed it out, but I know its there, symbol of the changed terrain of my sex life. I hate the damage, I hate that I am not as secure and free sexually as I was three months ago. But though I feel annoyed, I don’t really feel emotionally worn out from it, I feel like I want to fight this thing full force, with confidence and care, but also with a heightened level of boldness and bravery. I want to fight with fucking. Maybe my ability to squirt is gone, maybe my orgasms will just be really different going forward, but I’m at a point where I think it’s useful to push my limits and push through to the other side. And if it takes another bunch of threesomes to get there, so be it (tough therapy program, eh?)
Posted by Dacia at September 22, 2005 01:04 PM
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Comments
As I reached your final paragraph, I looked out my window and noticed animals pairing off … no doubt in anticipation of the flood.
Posted by: Jefferson at September 22, 2005 03:56 PM
Your descriptions of this experience are amazing. So evocative. Good fucking job! (Ha, I made a pun! I am sooo clever…)
Glad to hear you got you some good group action!
Posted by: Belle at September 22, 2005 04:52 PM
funny that you mention the flood, jefferson. i just got back from writing about six pages on genesis. woooo….. i think i’d be much more awake in my studying if it was dacia’s flood i was reading about, and not Noah’s.
Posted by: Lioness at September 22, 2005 05:57 PM
What you describe is a very typical reaction to sexual trauma, and very treatable with energy psychology (which works best with single-event traumas).
Posted by: ember at September 23, 2005 10:45 AM
great post!
Posted by: amy at September 24, 2005 04:12 AM
