This week’s Guy’s Story is by Cliff Golden. Some of you might be familiar with Cliff’s writing. He’s a member of and regular contributor to Love in the Dumps. Today is Sunday and that means it’s time for another Guy’s Story. Every Sunday I have posts from male guest authors.
“Who is the undisputed category leader in male-male-female 3somes? Me, that’s who!
Keeping track of one’s sexual statistics is becoming a popular hobby, which is not a surprise – one learns a lot about one self when he begins logging patterns of the flesh. For example, I’ve discovered that I’m the nation’s leader in male-male-female 3somes.
I’m not exactly proud of this fact. I (a man) would much rather be a leader in the female-female-male 3some category, but it just hasn’t worked out that way.
This pattern, as it were, began in college. My friends and I were imbibing in an upstate New York establishment called “The Bloody Bucket” – a classy, swanky lounge (not).. Why is it called The Bloody Bucket? I’m not sure. My guess is it’s a Shakespeare reference. But the name is somehow an omen.
The bartendress took a liking to me and, to a lesser degree, my friend. We’ll call him Frank, because that’s his name. Now to be clear, said bartendress was not what you would describe as “attractive”. In fact, you might describe her with this unfortunate adjective: unattractive. It pains me to write this, because everyone is pretty in his or her own way. Except her.
The details of how I persuaded her to come back with us are foggy, but I do not remember it being difficult. The drive back was uneventful for everyone except me, who was doing the ‘ol stroking the inside of her (large) thigh, in preparation of things to come. Flanking her in the back seat was Frank, who could see my secret seduction from the corner of his eye.
The driver dropped us off at the house, which he shared but was not staying that night because he had a lady friend awaiting him elsewhere. Which meant his room was empty. See where I’m going? Up to his room with the Bloody Buckstress, while Frank slinked back to his room. Unlucky fellow, I thought, as we frolicked upstairs!
The condom moment soon came, and I was without, so back down to Frank’s room to procure one. As I dipped into his stash from his bed he cried out questions such as: “What’s it like? How big are her tits?” I didn’t answer – no time for such trifles – and dashed back upstairs. From behind me I heard his distant calls: “Clifffff! Cliiiiiiifff!!!! Get back here!!!”
Back in the room, condom on, ready for the plunge. Just before entry, the door flew open – I looked up and saw the harrowing silhouette of Frank; I think there was fog (or steam) behind him. “What the – what are you guys doing,” she giggled. My guess is that she pretty much knew as he climbed on top and took my place.
Thus began my dark cycle of MMF 3somes, most of which are slight variations of the above story. I’ve tried altering the pattern, but female-female-male 3somes are near impossible to stumble upon these days, at least in the circles I run in (mostly bankers and lawyers).
Perhaps the bohemians in Williamsburg, New York, will shift my path – I’m moving into a glitzy high rise there next week. See you at Union Pool ladies! (guys please stay away.)”No tags for this post.