Score: Needs Improvement

Getting Booted From Your First Threesome Is a Major Bummer

Be warned: this story is steamier than a Thomas Savary invention

The year was 2010, and I had just returned home from a year in Iraq. I was in decent shape — what turned out to be the best shape I’d ever be in.

My physique is relevant because of this: Before Iraq, I didn’t interest many people. After Iraq, I interested a few more than before. However, I was unaccustomed to being approached in a sexual context. I flirted with all the erotic subtly of a trash-happy racoon.

Thus, I didn’t have a wide range of sexual partners. That was fine while sex was never on the table. It became a deal more depressing when sex was offered and then, via my own efforts, that offer was rescinded.

On the night in question, I met two women at a party. One of them was the owner of the house — renter of the property? — where the party took place. I didn’t know them prior to that night, and have only spoken to one of them since. Everything started out fairly tame.

I’m one of those annoying people at parties who invariably endeavors to become the center of attention. It’s almost always off-putting. For some reason though, that night was a rare exception. One of the two women spoke with me while I had a cigarette outside. Over the course of the evening the other woman joined our conversations. They looked fairly similar.

It’s one of those things where I wasn’t trying to be “smooth” because I never expected to interest anyone. As such, I didn’t do whatever it was that made people disinterested. I might have even been considered “charming”. One of them suggested going to the bedroom, and pulled me along.

Being pulled into a bedroom, I assumed — accurately — that something would happen with someone. What would happen, and with whom, remained a mystery. One of them turned on the television, and pushed me onto the bed. I laid down, and each woman laid on either side of me.

I recall a couple sensations very clearly. The women had been holding my arms or shoulders or sitting on my lap all evening — thus, I’d had a boner for almost two hours. My dick hurt. I trembled, and my heart pounded.

The women started making out over my chest. I had no goddamn idea of what they expected from me. I just kind of laid there while they made out. Then their faces met my face and the three of us were all involved.

I don’t know if this is standard for a threesome, but trying to slosh tongues with two people simultaneously is rather difficult. My teeth kept bumping theirs. The first couple times were met with polite giggles. The forth or fifth time resulted in a, “Come on, man. Pay attention.”

I still had my pants on, but they removed theirs. I was good at the dual-fingering. My hands are often able to do two different things, such as holding a dish with one hand and washing it with the other. My dish washing skills were of little use here, though.

None of the position adjustments went smoothly. In retrospect, I’m guessing they did this fairly often and were used to men that knew what to do without direction. I heard a good number of exasperated grunts.

My penis was freed from its denim prison, and the two women started making out over it. That was neat. Another adjustment occurred, and I 69'd one while still fingering the other.

Alright. So far, so good.

There were a couple more adjustments, and one woman chowed down on the no-no parts of the other while I chowed down on her. Does that make sense?

Doesn’t matter.

I went to add my fingers to the mix, and aimed a bit lower than intended. The owner of that butthole was not pleased. No digit entered The Forbidden Kingdom, but the gate was caressed.

“Uh, no. Just — roll over.”

I could feel the goodwill seeping out of the room. I wanted it back.

So when I rolled over, and one of the women climbed on top, I tried to be proactive with the other. Being strong, it wouldn’t be an issue for me to lift the other woman onto my face. Thus, everyone would get to party.

There were several details I neglected to account for.

One woman was riding my penis. The other — the one whose hips I wanted to relocate — had her face buried in the breasts of the penis rider. We had also shifted fairly close to the edge of the bed.

So when I lifted the hips, the woman attached to them lost balance and fell off the bed. Some scrambling ensued, and I was finally met with the following.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Just get out of here. Fuck!”

I don’t remember what I said in response, I know it involved apologies. But that, too, was met with, “I said get out. Goddammit!”

I had no clothes on, but I didn’t want to dress in the room. I grabbed my stuff and went into the hallway. My friend — the one who brought me to the party —happened to be there. He had heard the “get out!”, and then saw my tomato-faced self, fully nude with a shrinking erection, and put the puzzle together.

He burst out laughing.

I dressed in the hallway, and asked him if we could go. To which, his response was something like, “Holy shit dude. What — oh my god that’s fucking great. Alright, let’s go.”

Conclusion? Clear communication regarding experience, and expectations, is always a good idea before having sex.