Three in a bed. Not the most comfortable of sleeping positions, neither physically nor emotionally. My thoughts turned what should have been a rather cosy experience (three drunken kinksters collapsed in a heap) into a long dark night of the sofa as my subconscious kept flickering back to my last experience of how three was a crowd. How hard and uncomfortable it was the last time I shared a man with another woman, even though we were never in the same space like this. In fact, it was a totally different set of people and circumstances, but I couldn't sleep and fretted over my own insecurities and uncertainties. The difficulty was, in part, over the lack of clarity in who was here with who and why. I felt little or no sense of place or understanding of what my relationship was with my bedmates, which reminded me in an odd way of how uncertain and thereby unhappy I had been in the poly relationship with The Photographer. Connections made by the brain in the middle of the night are rarely logical or designed to give you an easy time. Having put two and two together and made about twenty-three I was fairly all over the place and upset.
Captain collected me from the corridor in the early hours, having worked myself up into a state and contemplating getting the first tube home to get myself back to a secure place. He hugged me and I came back to bed. I lay there, still uncertain, still feeling a little lost, but comforted nonetheless by his body next to mine. The assurance of the flesh. I slept.
The morning proved my fears and worries wrong. By a country mile. His hand rested on my bottom as I came to, I naturally rose to meet it, widening my legs a little as his fingers parted my cunt. He moved to slide his cock inside me and I held my breath, wondering whether we would disturb Maple as she lay sleeping, whether our fucking would disturb or upset her. Feeling a strange guilt and also a little jitter of excitement, the exhibitionist in me thrilling to the close quarters. After a short while I realised she was awake, he was able to stretch out an arm and bring the two of us closer together. She was smiling, sleepy and beautiful. Relaxed. My concern ebbed away. She wasn't here to usurp me, but to be with me. I wasn't the one in the way or the one to be pushed aside and abandonned, but to be part of it.
Something in my brain clicked. I was going to enjoy this.
My tongue on her clit. Pierced. The taste of metal was pleasing against the soft, wetness of her cunt, as was feeling her move against my mouth, hearing her moan. Captain fucked me. I licked her. Smiling as I did so, something in the pit of my stomach urging her to orgasm with a need that easily outstripped my own desire for satisfaction. Because this was satisfaction, the ability to arouse someone like this with only the lightest flicker of my tongue.
She didn't want him to fuck her. She wanted me to do it with a strap on. And that made me feel about a mile tall. Heady with the pride of it. I was grinning as I slid the rubber cock into her, feeling my way blind, unsure at first but then surprisingly quickly getting into it as we moved positions about, all three of us. There was a moment, perfect and entire, as she used the hitachi to bring herself off whilst I was still inside her. I watched her face, rapt. And a bit smug.
I was enamoured with the entire situation. With the easy comfort and confidence of it. With the way all three of us interacted, the toppy rush as Captain and I fucked her. With the fact that she let me do this as a first. A first for all three of us, as it turned out. My first time fucking a woman like that, her first time also. His first time with two women.
I nestled in Captain's arms as she went to put the kettle on. As sure and satisfied with where we were as last night I had been unsure and restless. We drank tea and got dressed lazily, heading out together for breakfast. Each of us having popped a cherry from each other.
A Valentine's to remember.