Wednesday, March 25, 2009

I am a greedy whore.

No, really.

I hadn't been able to sleep on the second leg of my flight. I was too jittery and excited and just couldn't stop smiling. I must have looked like an idiot, a shit-eating grin on my face as we touched down at the airport just after midnight. But I knew Friend was waiting for me at the airport and that the Pilot would be there momentarily to pick us up. I nearly sprinted off the plane and to the train to baggage claim. (Wow, that was a lot of unintentional rhyming.) I found Friend sitting on a bench, a giant backpacking pack at his feet. As calmly as I could (as if he didn't know how excited I was to be there and seeing him), I walked up to him and said something stupid like "hey, don't I know you?" There were hugs, and we called the Pilot, who rolled up shortly thereafter. We decided midnight meals were in order, and after an unsuccessful effort to find an open Village Inn, settled for Denny's. (Which, by the way, were springing up like weeds... I think the final count was 8 or 9 in the same stretch of state?) The snarky, witty, nerdy conversation ensued basically immediately. I've known both boys for years, and while they've kept better touch with one another consistently than I have, I feel like I fit seamlessly into their friendship. It's a nice feeling. Of course, we tend to be very silly when we all get together, and most conversations eventually end up reduced to naked and/or sex jokes. Which is also awesome.

We had to drive for about an hour to get back to the Pilot's apartment, meaning it was somewhere around 2am. For some ridiculous reason, we decided to nerd out and watch Firefly. And drink rum. The Pilot is part pirate, and as such, LOVES rum. He was starting to devise some kind of drinking game involving taking a drink every time a character swore without really doing so, but he was basically the only one playing. Friend and I each had maybe a glass of rum by the time the Pilot had three and was relatively sauced. From some kind of semi-fateful misunderstanding, I'd told the Pilot ahead of time that we could all just share his bed. And, seeing as how both Friend and the Pilot are straight (or at most hetero-flexible, to borrow Friend's phrasing), and because, yknow, I'm a cuddle whore, I climbed into the middle of the bed. And then things got interesting.

I should mention that, in general, Friend and I are very silly with one another. Especially when it comes to sex. It's one of my favorite things about him, not only does he make me laugh, but he does so at exceedingly appropriate times and is excellent at diffusing a tense situation and helping me put things in perspective. As such, the sex we have is lighthearted and fun - which doesn't make it any less hot or memorable, but does set it apart from most other partners I've had.

In classic fashion, as I was lying between the two boys, Friend made some comment about how it was silly that I was wearing a shirt, since I had perfectly good breasts that shouldn't be hidden. Or something to that effect. I just giggled, and without much convincing, shed my shirt. At which point, I had a hand on each breast - one belonging to each boy. Friend made another joke, and started kissing my neck, biting my earlobe... pointing out to the Pilot that he should do the same and see what kind of reaction it elicited. They made the requisite snarky, cocky comments when my breathing became audibly louder. Hands started running up and down my body. Friend and the Pilot have very different touches, and it was electrifying feeling the two sensations simultaneously. As I've come to expect, Friend's touch is softer, more sensual. The Pilot, running his hands up and down the right side of my body, had a stronger touch - it seemed more urgent, hungrier. Even before anyone had moved his hands below my waist, my body was buzzing. Friend turned my face to his, both his hands on my jaw, and kissed me. So began my first boy-girl-boy threesome. And the fulfillment of a fantasy I've had for years.

(On a side note, I've started noticing that perhaps having one's lovers read one's blog is a good plan. It's a good way for them to take note of what you do and don't like, without having to burden oneself with actually telling them... *snicker*)

The Pilot knew Friend and I have been together, and I'm not sure he was originally sure how he would fit into the scenario. So I turned to him, and kissed him, too. And I have to say that in that moment, I started to feel a little like a sex goddess. That's probably an entirely unearned title, but it's how I felt. Understandably, I think, given that I had two men basically worshipping me. It's hard not to feel pretty fucking hot.

Friend, for his part, kept the tone characteristically light, which I think sometimes bugged the Pilot, who takes sex much more seriously. (Again, something that was evident even in the way they touched me.) My style is probably something of a combination of the two - I can certainly roll with either, and it was a fascinating experience having the two combined. I'd love to say I played some crucial role in mediating between the two, but the truth is I was so flabergasted by what was happening that I probably wasn't much help at all. I just kept floating higher and higher, existing on some other plane where things like this actually happen.

Throughout the entire encounter, Friend emerged as the kind of leader, or perhaps the director. He and I don't do much with a dom/sub dichotomy (although he's usually in charge, and has no problem pinning my hands down or pulling my hair to put me where he wants me), but he stepped into this quiet dominance part in this situation. I think some of it was, as we hadn't discussed anything about this with all three of us, we were kind of improvising and needed someone willing to direct things in some sense. And I think some of it was, for all that I suspect the Pilot has quite a bit of a dom personality buried in him, he was still a little unsure about what was and wasn't allowed. And I will admit that it was lovely to just sit back and enjoy, totally absorbed in the sensations, knowing that Friend was looking out for me and knows me so well that I can trust him completely. So things progressed.

Both guys went down on me - which is a big deal for me, as it's something I'm not exceptionally comfortable with. Of course, like most of the things that night, I was a little too blissed out to be self-conscious. Which, again, was a nice change of pace. And again, getting the undivided attention of two men at the same time doesn't hurt a girl's ego, either. At one point, Friend got up and came back with ice cubes, which melted on my overheated skin accompanied by my whimpers and squirming. Friend would periodically look at me and just shake his head, saying, "You are SO spoiled." I'd smile and giggle out, "Oh, I know. It's awesome."

Somewhere about three hours in (yes, THREE HOURS), the actual sex began. I don't recall exactly how the arrangement came to be (then again, most of the evening wasn't planned), but I ended up facing Friend while the Pilot fucked me from behind, spoon-style. Wow. What a mind-fuck. And talk about a very strange way to be submissive. Making eye contact with your partner while you're being fucked by someone else... I'm not even sure I can verbalize the sensation. I felt empowered, sexy, desired, while at the same time feeling very vulnerable and submissive and even a little objectified (in a good, consensual kind of way). Looking at Friend, it was like I was asking his permission, even though he'd obviously already granted it. Again, he would take my face in his hands, kiss me deeply, pull me back into the moment when I was floating away. He does that sometimes. Usually right when I need him to.

And there was the separate sensation of pleasure coming from the Pilot, fucking me. He knew what he was doing. It felt fantastic. I love being fucked from behind, and it had been a long time since I'd had spooning sex, although it's one of my favorites when it works right. And oh, was it working right. His hands were gripping at my hips, pulling me into him, and I know my breathing (more likely panting at this point) was synching up with his thrusts. He came quietly, and we both let out a deep breath. He rolled onto his back, and we all spaced out a little on the bed to start the collective come-down.

The details from there are a little fuzzy. It was definitely a different kind of come-down, and I'm pretty sure I started giggling insanely. (Something that became standard fare for the week we spent together... the boys took to calling it my midnight cat crazies... cat owners will get it.) Eventually, we fell asleep, me still in between both the boys, each of my arms twisted with one of theirs. And I slept well... Sweet dreams weren't even needed. I had just lived one.

If the things I fantasize about keep living up to my expectations, I might have to reevaluate my chronic pessimism.

And as for the title here? It became a running joke for the rest of the week, that I was a greedy whore, just letting the boys pamper me like that. And really, they were right. I just can't promise I'll be changing anytime soon if these are the experiences that trait gets me.

3 comments:

Champagne and Benzedrine said...

WOW. That's about all I can say at the moment. WOW.

Jake (of Facts and Friction) said...

Wow, what a hot post! You're a lucky girl, I'd love to try that sort of thing...

Amalthea said...

Oh my word. I think you must have had an incredible trip based on this! YAY for you and two friends understanding you and for non-monogamy!

I think the best sex is the sex I can't remember hardly - because I do the same thing. Float or something outside of myself almost - and it's amazing.

Thanks for sharing!