The Second Threesome Act III: The closing (or, this would not be a good time for a fire drill)

It was time for all good things to end and Hyde to return to his other life (even at this early stage it’s obvious he gets the guilts after orgasm and looks for a polite moment to shower and leave). Jekyll offered to drive him home and return to the hotel to ravage me some more.

We agreed a fitting last act of the night was to spread-eagle and tie me to the bed, though I can’t remember why.

I adjusted the pillow and settled my limbs into an X formation as my soft Japanese ropes were run under the bed and through the D-links on my cuffs. Jekyll worked quickly and quietly, only pausing when Hyde asked him for knot recommendations on his side of the bed. Master and apprentice discussed the merits of popular knots as if I were a yacht that needed mooring against an oncoming storm. Jekyll demonstrated a nifty slip knot with the rope ends at the wrists within reach if I needed to undo them.

I joked and said to Jekyll, “Is that because you’re going to leave me here like this when you take Hyde home?”

Eyebrows rose in devious arches and within two minutes the room was dark, the clock on the bedside table was turned away and I was by myself with nothing but my thoughts, a dildo in my vagina and an anal vibrator buzzing away at my clit, its wire and controller resting on my torso and over my bicep.

I listened to the buzzing and squeezed my pelvic floor muscles to adjust the vibrator’s position. I wriggled the digits attached to each arm and leg in turn, and arched my back every few minutes to keep my muscles pliant. I pondered how many minutes had passed and imagined where Jekyll and Hyde might be. I heard my stomach growl and send extra-sensory messages to Jekyll that he might want to return with supper. Notes and lyrics from the music I was listening to earlier reverberated through my mind. Self-congratulatory claps of “Ooh, aren’t I daring for allowing myself to be tied up and left alone?” occasionally rumbled between my ears. Enforced relaxation can be an agreeable way to pass the time.

An unknown number of minutes later, fissures started appearing in my flow of pleasant thoughts. Shouldn’t Jekyll be back by now? What’s that grinding sound outside the door – surely not the elevator cable breaking? I wonder if Jekyll’s car has broken down; I wouldn’t know if he’s called because our phones are set to silent and are over yonder somewhere. I could really go to the toilet about now, or sooner. Crap, he must’ve had an accident. What if I release myself but he comes in the door 10 seconds later?

Internal muscle contractions caused the dildo to fall out which made the buzzy toy drop from my clit. Wriggle, wriggle of my arm to prise the thing to its former place. If I untie myself I could re-position the toys … hmmm, but how would I re-tie the knots?

Is that a fire siren outside the window? Would I have time to remove the leather bits in the event of an emergency evacuation? My god, what if a by-stander captures photos of me in a collar, tangled in ropes, the red marks on my bare backside accentuated by the spotlights of television crews? Goodness me, the situations I allow myself to be in. What will my parents think when they see their eldest and most sensible on the late news?

The door clicked.

“Oh, hi,” I said.

“How are you?” he replied.

“I’m fine, thanks. It’s nice having some quiet time to relax.”

The Second Threesome Act II: The thumb goes on the inside

Sometimes things just happen, like having my hand up to the knuckles inside Hyde’s anus. Before withdrawing, I gave my fingers a disbelieving wiggle and, yes, they were missing up his arse. The most intelligent sentiment I could express was, “Wow,” and days later that’s still the closest I can describe the experience.

He was lying on the bed with me on all fours between his knees, trying to suck his roller-coaster erection to firmness. His anus accepted my index finger like an old friend and I squirted more lube and added my middle finger. He swallowed them without effort and soon took my tee-pee of index, middle and ring fingers.

Jekyll was performing miracles on my bottom with his tongue and thankfully stopped the distraction when he became aware of the sudden quietness. We three are shamelessly visual and I almost heard Jekyll’s jaw hit the mattress when he saw how much of my hand belonged to Hyde.

Hyde grabbed my wrist and, without speaking, pulled it into his body. My supporting left hand squirted more lube down his cleft as my mind tried to catch up and thought fuck, I wasn’t expecting this. I nestled my little finger with the other three and held the now-larger cylinder of my hand against his anus. I didn’t have to wait for him to push into it because he pulled again with his hand, as if having it disappear up his arse was the urgent priority for the night. We were both heading into new territory and I was petrified on the inside but fascinated by how far we might go.

He pulled with enough force over time that my forearm muscles started shaking. I felt like I was in an action film sequence and my rapidly-fatiguing arm was the only thing stopping him from careening over the side of a cliff. Jekyll noticed my instability and I nodded in his direction that I was still in control – just. Hyde kept pulling and I wedged my elbow into my inner thigh to provide greater leverage and stability. And remembered to tuck my thumb into the protective cone of my fingers. And hoped like hell that his arse didn’t suddenly swallow my knuckles because I imagined my hand would shoot at a hundred miles an hour out of his stomach.

I enquired into Hyde’s comfort level. He said he felt fine but full and hadn’t a clue how many fingers were inside him. Jekyll replied chirpily that it was all of them and it looked amazing. A mental barrier went up inside Hyde’s head and he said he was starting to feel discomfort. I allowed his body to slide my hand out slowly as Jekyll and I watched the reverse motion in abstract wonder.

When my hand became mine again, I showed Hyde how much he had absorbed. I managed to form a lucid thought beyond ‘wow’ and said that – because of my lack of a penis – I’ve never had that much of my body inside someone else’s. We agreed the awe wasn’t sexual but surprise and newness and anticipation of more to discover next time. I have already scoured the web for a heavier-duty lubricant.

The Second Threesome Act I: Those who maketh a mess cleaneth the mess

I walked out of the bathroom and saw Jekyll and Hyde lying in bed like an old married couple waiting for a butler to serve cups of tea. With Hyde off-kilter from a head cold, he had cuddled into Jekyll for body heat as I fussed about preparing for my surprise.

I looked at them with a mix of lustful leering and motherly urges to snuggle Hyde to good health. Simultaneously I felt two pairs of eyes scan my naked form and leather bondage accoutrements from top to bottom, and return to the feathered black halo perched atop my head. They giggled wolfishly at the sight of the already-defiled angel before them.

Their “don’t you look cute” comments soon turned to malice-laced plans about how to corrupt me next.

“I want to come on her,” Hyde said.

Jekyll smiled. I mock-frowned.

“I think that’s a bit porny,” I said, not that anyone was listening.

“We’ll both come on her,” Jekyll countered.

I did a boys are gross eye roll as they cheered their creative brilliance.

“No,” I said, to no one in particular. “That’s so trashy.”

“Let’s do it and take photos with come all over her,” shouted Jekyll.

“Yes!” I said, “Now we’re talking proper trash.”

Quicker than the speed of sound my upper body was bolstered on pillows and the formerly-lounging men were on their knees, busily wanking over my stomach.

I looked at the masturbating bookends and thought this is great ogling and even though I don’t get the lure of the money shot to men, they’re having fun so lay back and enjoy the view.

Hyde came almost politely on my chest, not spilling a drop. Seconds later, Jekyll’s first spurt careened up one of my nostrils and in a glob over my eye. I made the mistake of gasping with astonishment and gagged on the inhaled semen. Thankfully, amongst the blindness and choking, survival instincts kicked in and I blew my nose, snorting the white splodges from where they entered. My unexpected Battle of the Sperm caused Hyde to topple laughing while tears rolled down Jekyll’s face as he tried to complete his ejaculation with more style. His aim didn’t improve and I felt more warm goo spatter my cheeks and seal my eyes further shut.

I couldn’t move (or see the photo) until they had re-gained blood flow to their legs, stopped laughing, taken happy snaps and wiped my face with a damp flannel.

Hurry up and bleed

Drafting the last post prompted me to think why I didn’t ask for or desire sexual attention from The Drummer.

I tend towards the visual rather than physical in the days before my period and don’t mind if sexual activity involves penetration or not. At ovulation my body screams fuck me fuck me fuck me while the pre-menstrual voices yell fuck with me and I’ll kill you with a detached smile.

My fantasy mind is active in a clinical sense and pondering scenarios for the next meeting with Jekyll and Hyde. I remember an e-mail from Hyde saying he wanted to punish and fuck an angel, and Jekyll jokes that I lost my halo a long time ago and it clatters on the ground when I walk. Yesterday I found a black feathered halo at a costume shop and will team it with leather collar and cuffs, cream and black lace underwear, black stay-up stockings and stiletto-heeled pumps for a fallen angel look. Emerging from the bathroom with a riding crop between my teeth might be overkill but I’ll consider it on the night depending on the mood in the room.

If my period decides to start soon instead of bloating my belly like a human watermelon, I think I’ll be ovulating during our next threesome. The cerebral will be pushed out of the way by the physical and I’ll be demanding Hyde rip the damn clothes off and do depraved things. Now.

Three is a magic number

I am often the fatalist when facing something new that prods at my insecurities, such as wondering if I was up to meeting two men at the same time and leaving with smiles of satisfaction all round.

Planning, good fortune and equal levels of desire played their parts to make a delicious haze of warmth, sharing and delightful flashbacks that continue to invade my waking mind at the most inappropriate times. Jekyll also took a photo of Hyde working his fingers in my crop-marked backside as a memento. Thank goodness .jpg files don’t fade with age and wear thin at the corners from regular handling.

The only awkward moment of the day was slipping the hotel key at reception on the way out and not knowing the etiquette of saying I wouldn’t be staying the night, or hoping the obvious could be left unsaid. I went with the latter.

The only embarrassing part of the day was sitting and re-gaining mental clarity after some mind-bending pleasure, and seeing the mess of clothing, leather bits, toys and ropes scattered around the room. They were all mine. I don’t know how the half-dozen piles fitted earlier into one bag but the only non-sexual items I had packed were clean underwear, lipgloss and a toothbrush. J&H called me a hussy in its most flattering context; I replied I was just obsessed with being organised, and added in a slightly perverted way.

The funniest part of the day was surprising J and H with how much I laugh when I’m being pinched, bitten, hit and whipped. Neither is experienced in the BDSM sphere but a crop in one’s hand and a strop in the other’s — combined with two doses of wicked imagination — had me lying on the bed having both bottom cheeks and thighs whacked in an inspired percussion routine. Their experimentation with beat, rhythm and sheer ouch factor made us giggle at our childishness. Hyde even laid a smack on Jekyll’s arse with the strop and left a fire engine red L-shaped mark that we cheered.

The most lasting memory of the day was how naturally everything flowed between us. We came together with an uneven history: J and H have been involved casually including one time together with a third person, J and I have been seeing each other the last few weeks, and H and I have met briefly once. I knew everything would be all right when we entered the room and H kissed me, telling me he was looking forward to the day, and J looked on and smiled at us. They moved so smoothly and beautifully together.

The most joyous unplanned moment of the day was when I had two penises in my mouth, sucking both at the same time. None of us had thought of it in our ‘shopping lists’ but H was on his back and I bent over perpendicular to him, paying homage to his dick with my lips. I beckoned J to finger H’s arse and he slid a lubed finger in while I kissed him and enjoyed the view. After a couple of minutes J snapped into a ‘me too’ moment and kneeled in front of me, his erection poking at my cheek as I sucked on H. I opened, I manoeuvred, I sucked, I got us into a rhythm, I still don’t know how. It was like a trashy porn scene but affectionate and funny so I did it a second time just to make sure it really happened.

The most fulfilling moment of the day was J’s earlier promise that two sets of hands and mouths meant twice the enjoyment. He was correct. I spent indeterminable periods of time not knowing whose body parts were where and how they were being used as my nerve endings melded in a glorious overload of endorphins.

I don’t know how I could have been treated to so much yet crave more.