Reader, I was not surprised. Sure enough – ‘The two of us andanother woman, of course,’ he answered, quick as you like. Almost as if he’d given this some consideration. I got the feeling he thought I was worried that I wouldn’t be one of the number. ‘Of course you’d be there, babe,’ he told me reassuringly. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you.’ Sweet.
I asked him to tell me about his fantasy threesome and he described it in detail – how I might be sucking his cock while this other girl sat on his face; how he would fuck me while she fingered his arse; how I and this player-to-be-named-later would team up to give him a blowjob, touching each other and putting on a show for him. It was a very erotic fantasy, and he got hard talking about it. He touched me as he spoke, and we both got very turned on.
It was such an exciting fantasy for him that I wanted him to have it. I told him I would do it – but only if he could reciprocate.
‘What do you mean, “reciprocate”?’ he asked. He already wanted to say yes to whatever I wanted, I could tell – he was so eager to make this happen. I wondered if he already had another girl picked out – if the player-to-be-named-later had in fact been named already.
So I told him I would do his fantasy threesome with him if he would do mine. I started describing it to him in detail, like he had – how he might hold me from behind, fondling my breasts while he watched the other guy go down on me?—
I didn’t get any further. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘You think about having a threesome with two guys?’
‘Yeah – of course,’ I told him. ‘Same as you. I fantasise about being double-teamed by two members of the opposite sex.’
While his mouth was flapping open, I continued to tell him my fantasy – how he would whisper things in my ear as he held me, dirty things that would make me wet. The guy with his mouth on me would tell Strange how turned on I was. When my body started to thrash and convulse with orgasm, Strange would restrain me, pushing me back to the bed and holding me down, so I couldn’t escape the biting pleasure, and I would cry out at the intensity of it. He would hushme, whispering soothing things in my ear while I came and came. And then I would have their cocks in me – first one and then the other, in my cunt, in my mouth.
I told him the whole fantasy with many variations. It made me very wet telling it, and I could tell he was excited too, by the thought of me with two guys – watching me get fucked, seeing me suck someone else off. He kissed me and touched me as I spoke, and we ended up fucking for a very long time. When I came and my body bowed off the bed, he pushed me back down and held me there, as if remembering something I had said.
‘That was very hot, listening to your fantasy,’ he said later.
‘So, do you still want to do a threesome?’ I asked.
‘Us and another woman? Hell, yeah.’
‘But not us and another man? You just said it was hot. It obviously turned you on.’
‘Yeah, listening to you talking about it. But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t be with a guy.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not gay!’ he finally shouted, as if it was obvious.
‘But neither am I, Strange.’
Neither am I.
He tried to tell me that it was different for girls. He said women’s bodies are softer, more beautiful, more desirable. They just are, according to him – it’s not subjective. He started talking about girls’ boarding schools, pillow fights…
‘That’s a male fantasy,’ I told him. ‘I’ve never been to boarding school.’
I tried to convince him that I didn’t want to be with a woman any more than he wanted to be with a man, but he didn’t get it. I blame porn. I blame Madonna and Britney. And Katie Perry. No wonder men think straight women should be up for a little girl-on-girl action. All it takes is daring, or a bit of persuasion, and next thing you know, there you are, kissing a girl and liking it.
So I don’t think Strange and I will be having a threesome anytime soon. Because we both want the same thing: to be double-teamed by two members of the opposite sex.
(So, what did you see? You and two members of the opposite sex, right? Well, a girl can dream.)
On Thursday evening, Bookends was packed for the launch of Rosy Sinnott’s debut novel. Tom and Claire were kept busy manning the till and bagging books, while Yvonne poured wine and sparkling water.
‘Have you read it?’ Tom asked Claire, nodding to the stacks of Rosy’s book that were piled up beside the till.
‘Yes – I thought it was brilliant. You?’
‘Same.’ Rosy’s novel was already being called the literary debut of the year, receiving rave reviews in the press.
‘Ooh, I need one of those,’ Rosy said, approaching the counter and pointing to the tray of drinks.
‘Help yourself,’ Yvonne said, and Rosy took a glass of white wine.
‘Well done, Rosy,’ Tom said to her. ‘You’ve got a great turnout. I loved the book.’
