Meet A and P. Once upon a time, they were a happy, sexually adventurous couple with many, many years of orgasmic bliss ahead of them. Or so I’ve heard. See, I did not meet them until their (fractured) fairytale romance was nearing the end of the road. I didn’t realize it when I met them one night at a smoky little dive bar, but I was about to become the straw to jump-start the breaking of the camel’s back. I swear that none of what happened later was part of my intentions. I was just looking for a good time that night. And as it turned out, so where they.
I had just put the finishing touches on a new story and decided I deserved a treat – of the naked, sweaty variety. Seeing as how I was not tied down (or up) to anyone, I did what I had been doing for as long as my libido could remember: made new friends. So off I went to the dive bar and moved along the small crowd, surveying my options.
Then I noticed A watching me from across the bar. Of course, I smiled back, but made no effort to move towards the table on the far left side. And why would I have? Let whoever wants a closer look come to me. I’m not conceded. Just honest, really.
Now, I’m not the one who makes the first move in this type of situation; I’d much rather just draw attention to myself. While there is an exception to every rule (including this one), this particular night was not one of them. So, I leaned into the bar, ordered a drink, and allowed my fellow drinkers to notice me. I smiled, laughed, conversated. I enjoyed myself.
After a few minutes of back and forth smiling, I wandered outside onto the patio. Damn Connecticut laws not allowing smoking inside. What the fuck? Anyway, as per the unfair law, I was outside, leaning against the railing, smoking my yummy menthol cigarette. As I was stubbing out the burning filter, out came A and P with matching devious grins. I knew what they wanted immediately.
The flesh on flesh on flesh wet dream of many a living breathing human. Even that stiff upper-lipped prude sitting in the cubicle across from you. And yes, they can fulfill that fantasy in wonderfully naughty ways. But so many damn complications can arise before the first shirt comes off. The act itself is a fun time, but it also has it’s own ups and downs. And once everyone gets their cookies… that’s where the real issues can arise.
But I’ll come to that in due time. I know, I can be such a tease…
Back to the foreplay.
There was A& P, potential new friends, smiling and laughing and flirting with me while I of course returned the favor in kind. Nothing to really read into there; I flirt like a breath: unconsciously. And on this went until last call. At which point, the taboo topic was finally broached.
Can we take you home?
For what? Yea, I know. I’m a bastard.
Well… we’d like to have you join us.
For ice cream?
Uh, no. Um…
I let this go on for a bit. Why? Cause it was fun. Don’t judge me. And of course, once I got my jollies being that bastard, I gave a crooked smile, arched brow and let slip a small laugh. Okay, let’s do this. I’m wantin’ some fun tonight. And why not double my pleasure. Within a half an hour, we were back at P’s place and cloths began flying immediately.
Take your hands off your naughty bits. No naughty details for you. At least, not this time. Again, I know I’m a tease. Live with it.
Sometime before sunrise, or during… or maybe just after (who can tell with all that afterglow going around) we finally got around to cleaning ourselves up. And as we sat, smiling in that post-orgasmic buzz, I saw it: the beginning of the end.
Almost immediately, the biting remarks started. A’s eyes lingered a second too long on little ol’ me and P got pissy. P sat a little to close and A hissed. Without even trying, I had come between them after a night of coming between them. Oops.
I could see that this was only going to get worse and very possibly lead to a nasty fight so I got comfortable in their leather chair, lit up a smoke and awaited the fireworks. And let me tell you, when they did come, it was more entertaining than the sex that had led up to it.
They went at it like gladiators. Minus the blood of course. Too bad. Would of so added to the entertainment value. There were cruel words spewed all over the place. Tears were shed. Curses laid. So close to a break up… But at the last moment, they called a cease-fire and hugged it out. Actually, it was more like tongue-fucked it out. Not as fun to watch as the last man standing battle.
But it was not over. See, out of one single night of passionate fucking between new friends, jealousy had been born. A and P realized, a bit too late, that they could not share each other with anyone, even if that anyone was with them both. A wonderful ego boost for the anyone, but a major kink in their relationship.
I didn’t see this as my problem, so I did what any good-time guest star would (and should) do: I got my shit and went home.
In the days that followed, I received numerous calls and text messages from both of them; neither blamed me (smartly), they blamed each other. Again, I enjoyed the aftermath of out little Ménage à Trois. It’s not like I created the problem; I just happily added to it just by being there.
Eventually, the calls and such stopped. A and P officially called it quits. Too bad, really. They did make such a nice couple. Until they attempted to be a trio for one night.