Open to Possibilities

Despite putting up with my taunting him occasionally about his unusual first name, Rolf has been my best friend since we were young. He's a great guy and I've always admired – almost hero-worshipped him. {Okay, what does it matter that his name sounds like a dog's bark?)

He's an accomplished fencer in both epee and foil and usually scores even better at high school academic tests than I do. Also, he got to second base I think Americans call it (stroking boobs), and third base (fingering cunt) a long time before I did. In fact, by the time I was getting to second base with Sophie he had hit home runs (vaginal intercourse) with more than one girl. {If I got that wrong I'm sure someone will correct me.)

Rolf, Sophie, and me are all high school seniors in the same class. I've been going steady with Sophie for two years, ever since we were sixteen. Rolf seems more inclined towards casual relationships, but I don't envy his popularity with girls.

Made in the mould of Paris Hilton, Sophie is a rather petite gamin blonde with fine features, short hair, and slender limbs. I don't need to describe how I feel about her; you can imagine that for yourself. We went all the way after six months of going steady, and still make love whenever we get the opportunity – that being somewhat limited because parents tend to be protective of their dependent daughters.

Like Paris, Sophie doesn't come from a poor family – not that they're millionaires in the same league as the Hiltons. Her parents are just partners in a small law firm, but more comfortably off than my parents. My father is in advertising and my mother is a senior nurse at the main hospital.

When I'm at Sophie's place I sometimes get the impression her parents think she could do better in the boyfriend stakes. I guess the saving grace is that they not only accept her choice for the time being but like me as a person. Not, I suspect, that they would lose any sleep if Sophie switched her affections to someone from a family that was among their circle of friends.

Rolf, on the other hand, lives in a solo-parent situation with his "divorced" mother. Only she isn't actually divorced, he's confided in me. Rolf is illegitimate – a politer word than some would use if they knew. He has no idea who his father is, and his mother is certainly from the wrong side of the tracks in relation to Sophie's family.

Fortunately, my parents are liberal enough to accept my ongoing friendship with Rolf, and have helped his mother financially over the years. Sophie gets on well with him, like he's my twin brother, and we sometimes double date, though not with her parents' knowledge.

Sophie's an angel about him, really, and isn't jealous of our long-standing friendship. We always have fun when we're together, even when Rolf doesn't have a date.

Like me, Rolf thinks Sophie looks like Paris Hilton, and she kind of accepts she does but doesn't like anyone making too much of it. I guess she feels she's her own woman.

It was Rolf who suggested I should make a personal porn video with Sophie – an idea he put to me in private, prompted by my parents buying me a DVD camera for my eighteenth birthday. I can't say his idea didn't appeal to me – not that I thought Sophie would be a party to anything like the infamous video that Paris Hilton starred in. (I only know about that by reputation, of course). If Sophie was also familiar with it, I didn't ascertain, but she specifically declined to have any sex acts included.

What she did do – and quite eagerly to my surprise – was perform a cheeky striptease on camera and cavort about our house in the nude after school one day, letting me fill up a whole tape of delightfully captured memories, some of very lurid poses.

Naturally, Rolf kept asking if I had put the proposition to Sophie yet, and I made excuses for a week after the filming had taken place.

"You're too yellow to ask her," he finally said in exasperation.

"I respect her too much," I tried another excuse.

"It's not like you're gonna put it out on the Web or anything. If she loves you she'd be happy to give a private show. She wouldn't be the first girl to let her boyfriend film her nude."

"That doesn't mean all girls are the same. Sophie's modest," I smugly procrastinated over telling him the truth.

"Sophie's never struck me as being that much of a prude."

"What would you know?"

"I know you're a lucky prick having her."

"I wouldn't if I asked her to do something like that."

Actually, I hadn't thought about the risk of losing Sophie until after I'd asked her, willing to take a refusal but never doubting our relationship would survive either way.

"Then you can't really believe she loves you," Rolf accused.

That stung.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"What if I said I'd already filmed her?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

"Yeah?" I challenged.

"Yeah."

"Well, I have."

"Prove it."

"You're kidding me."

"Show me the video," he was as relentless as usual when he wanted his own way.

"I'm not going to show you something that private!"

"I thought we were best friends."

"If we were you wouldn't ask me."

"Then I don't believe you."

That crack, in its context, was the severest challenge our friendship had faced since we became teenagers. I was struck dumb.

"So are you going to prove it or not?"

I said, "I'll only let you watch the first couple of minutes."

"That sounds fair enough."

Trusting him, I went upstairs and retrieved the edited and lurid amateur movie from its hiding place, and brought it back to the living room.

"So there really is one," he said.

I turned on the television and inserted the disc in the player. Taking the remote, I sat on the sofa beside him again. Sophie appeared on screen, dressed of course, looking gorgeous, fooling around, and play-acting sexy. Then I pressed the stop button on the remote. "Believe me now?"

"Nope," he said. "Every guy has a video like that of his girlfriend. It doesn't prove anything."

"I'm not showing her to you with her clothes off."

"That's because you couldn't get her to do it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Angrily, I re-started the DVD and let it run until Sophie had taken off her shirt and, on the big screen, had just unhooked her bra at the back. Then I stopped it.

"Hey! That was just getting interesting."

"You've seen enough to prove my point," I countered.

He could have denied it but he was too clever for another test of wills. "Okay," he said, "you're a lucky bastard having someone that loves you like Sophie does. I just wish I'd been able to get close enough to a girl to have her do something like that for me."

He was my best pal and I felt sorry for him, but not in proportion to how pleased I felt with myself. "Your turn will come."

He grinned. "Until it does, what say you show me the rest of it?"

"Sophie would kill me."

"Who says she has to know?"

I knew he could be trusted, but there was still a natural jealousy over the idea of showing another guy (best friend or not) what Sophie looked like nude, let alone in some of the provocative positions she'd assumed for my visual stimulation during the shoot.

"It's personal," I said. "It's bad enough I let you see her in her bra."

"Hey, I've seen her in a bikini, so it's hardly more revealing."

"The rest of the DVD is."

"No kidding."

We stopped talking, waiting each other out, and stared at the blue screen with the word "Resume" at the top corner.

"Be a pal," he wheedled.

"If she was your girlfriend I wouldn't ask."

"If she was my girlfriend you wouldn't need to."

He had a point there. Rolf had always been prepared to share his more meagre possessions with me, and his experiences. Though, to me, this request was more like asking to share a girlfriend. Even so, I didn't want to appear the mean-spirited one. "Okay," I said, "but you don't mention it to anyone."

Pressing the play button reluctantly I let the recording resume its run.

We both watched the moving images with avid interest, Rolf adding comments like, "Wow! She's got tits to rival Hilton's too ... She's quite the stripper ... Man! Look how her nipples have grown." Then, in an awed voice, "Wouldn't she look even more great if she shaved her pussy? ...Shit that looks tight. How do you get it in her?" Not that he really wanted answers. "Now I see ..." On the screen Sophie was holding herself open for a frontal close-up. "Fuck! She's even gone wet ... must enjoy showing it off as much as she looks like she is ... Can you beat that cheeky smile! ...Can't see her clit yet ... Oops, there it is." Sophie's fingers had teased it out of its sheath. "Gawd, how did you hold back from jumping her on the spot ..." Then, "Wow! She's quite the dancer. I haven't seen anything better at one of the local strip joints. The girl has career prospects..."

I resented that last comment but kept it to myself, just like I had noticing the erection in his pants. I could hardly object since I had a boner of my own, a natural reaction to seeing Sophie without a stitch on.

When the DVD finished, Rolf's final comment was, "Man you'll have to get her to shave and make another video!"

"I could hardly ask her do that!"

"Has she seen it yet?"

"Only on the camera screen."

"I guess you've jerked off to it a few times," he chuckled.

I didn't confirm or deny.

"Why don't you ring Sophie and invite her round to watch it on the big screen while I'm here?"

I was derisive. "You're kidding. Anyhow, I thought we were going to spend the rest of the afternoon by ourselves?"

"I wouldn't mind if Sophie joined us."

Actually, I was aching to see her, but I wasn't going to admit it or agree to Rolf's crazy idea. "I'll get her round," I said, "but not to embarrass her like that."

Rolf grinned, " She might get a kick out of it."

I didn't take him seriously so dialled her number on my cell phone. She accepted the invitation even after I'd told her Rolf was with me.

When the front door chimed I went to answer it.

If I hadn't trusted him so implicitly I guess I could have anticipated what Rolf would do. Sophie's intimate DVD was re-playing when we entered the living room together. The remote control was in Rolf's hand.

"Hi," he said cheerfully to Sophie, as if everything was normal, turning his head away from the screen for a moment.

Sophie stopped dead. My face turned red and I hurried past her towards the TV.

"Don't," I heard her call, guessing my intention.

I turned round, dumfounded. She stood still for a moment, watching her image on the screen then, keeping her eyes on it, moved over to the sofa and sat next to Rolf in front of the TV set.

My mind was trying to figure out what was going on. Was it as simple as it looked, Sophie just being vain and wanting to see herself on the big screen?

But how could she be comfortable with Rolf seeing it? Why didn't she throw a tantrum about my letting him know about the DVD? Had she expected I would show someone else? Did that stoke her vanity?

Feeling like a fool just standing there, I moved back wordlessly and sat on the other side of Sophie. The three of us were close together, hips touching. I soon got caught up, as much as they were, in the erotic scenes.

Enthralled by a particularly revealing backward arch Sophie was performing on screen, I did not notice Rolf undoing his flies and taking out his cock. It was already exposed and standing to attention when I saw it from the corner of my eye.

Sophie was staring at it with a mixture of shocked surprise and reproachful lust. Trouble was, I couldn't tell if she was reproaching him for taking it out or herself for taking such a fascinated interest in it.

Rolf, meantime, had gripped the middle of his shaft with one hand, still watching the screen and, as if he was alone, started jerking off.

I'd well and truly lost my tongue even before Sophie's right hand slid over his and took its place on his swollen member.

Believe it or not, my first thought was that she felt sorry for Rolf. Then a darker part of me started whispering in my ear. Did she have the hots for him all along? Or was she just turned on by seeing another guy get a stiffie from watching her video?

For two years we'd been exclusive, or I had. No reason she gave, my heart told me, could excuse what she was doing right in front of me.

I started to wonder if Sophie led a secret life with other guys. My heart didn't want to believe it, and I doubted such infidelities, if they'd happened, would have been kept from me since I knew there had to be other guys who fancied having Sophie all to themselves.

Yet, even if she was innocent until now, it certainly didn't stop her casually jerking off another guy right beside me as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a girlfriend to do. I couldn't figure her out. Then again, I never had over so many things, like her agreeing to make the DVD for instance. Maybe her sexuality was just more advanced than mine. Not that I really believed it justified her acting in the flesh like a willing porn star.

I half blamed Rolf, but he hadn't put her hand on his cock or forced her to keep the DVD playing, but he was enjoying both, and I didn't know which one watch to be less embarrassed by her behaviour.

Out in the open, Sophie was looking down intently at what she was doing, and there was no way her gaze was going to meet mine. I could have said something, but for the life of me I didn't know what. Rolf, despite the scurrilous thing he was letting Sophie do to him, was still my best friend, and I wasn't going to jump him, and throttle him, not while Sophie was the one taking the initiative. If anyone's relationship was at risk it was hers with me.

I got back to thinking charitably that she was just kindly helping him out of pity because he was such a close friend. Then my darker side set me wondering if it was her way of punishing me for letting Rolf see the DVD.

By that stage Rolf was groaning rapturously and I knew from experience how he felt in the intimate clasp of Sophie's hand.

She increased her pace enthusiastically and, quickly thereafter, produced a gusher that ended up subsiding over her fingers.

Sophie looked around for something to wipe her hand on, and I produced a handkerchief. She used it then let it drop to the carpet beside the sofa, guessing rightly that I didn't want to take it back.

There should have been an aftermath of guilt for Rolf and Sophie, but she diverted it by asking me if I wanted "relief" too. At my age, that's not an offer you can pass up lightly, whatever the circumstances.

Sophie sweetened her offer by pulling off her T-shirt and unhooking her bra. She shed it before she knelt between my feet in just her Jeans.

I wasn't happy about Rolf seeing her cute tits in the flesh but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity myself just to prevent it, rationalizing that he had already seen them on screen, and more.

After all, I was crazy in love with her!

Sophie, with a bit of help from me, undid my belt and zipper and pulled my pants, under with outer, down to my knees.

In our early teens Rolf and I weren't shy about showing off our erections to each other, or even masturbating and, after seeing Sophie openly give him "relief", I certainly wasn't going to feel embarrassed about her doing the same for me while he watched – and he definitely seemed intent on sticking around.

I didn't anticipate why. When he knelt behind her and took hold of her tits with both hands Sophie's small fingers already had me in the thrills of sexual delight.

I didn't want her to let go of my cock, but I did expect her to shake off and rebuff Rolf's amorous attentions, even if being nice about it. Despite that, all I witnessed happening was an increase in the rate of her breathing as she pretended nonchalance about what was going on between her and Rolf.

If she hadn't kept concentrating, just as hard as ever, on manual stimulation of my cock I might have had the sense to call a halt.

As it was, I was the only one with a frontal view of the TV and, what with the images playing on it, the sight of Rolf fondling Sophie's perky tits, and her hand stroking the shaft and head of my cock, sense wasn't what I had a lot of. On the other hand, I had plenty of raw sensitivity of the physical kind, and mental stimulation to go with it.

In the end, when Sophie had my cum at the boil, Rolf instinctively let go of her breasts so she could squirt my ejaculate on them. It erupted like water from an electric kettle when its automatic off-switch fails, as mine certainly had, surging out of the spout.

Sophie found the handkerchief again and brazenly cleaned off her breasts right in front of us. No one was looking at the TV screen anymore.

Sophie glanced at her watch. "What time do your parents get home?"

I checked the time anxiously, having lost track. "Not for another couple of hours," I told her, relieved.

"That gives us plenty of time then," she said matter-of-factly, rising to her feet.

With the TV images flickering behind her, and partly obscured, she undid the waistband of her Jeans. Kicking off her sandals she lowered the last substantial garment she had on and lifted one leg after the other out of it, not as a striptease but with purpose. She confirmed it by asking, "How long will it take you two to recover?"

Rolf was quick off the mark, saying, "With the right sort of foreplay it shouldn't take me long."

If I hadn't already been dumbfounded by her asking the question I would have been by the realization she wanted to make love to both of us.

"You don't mind sharing me with your best friend, do you?" she asked coyly.

Hell! What can I guy say without seeming selfish? But what had happened to monogamous love?

Is polygamy what girls did these days? I'd been going out for so long only with Sophie that maybe I didn't know the score. Other girls, I recalled, openly changed partners as regularly as the boys.

Was this a compromise Sophie had reached instead of splitting up? Was it preferable to losing her? That was quite a dilemma, especially with Sophie standing there in just a white thong.

I vocalised a thought that seemed relevant to share, "You mean just this once?"

Sophie and Rolf exchanged a look. She turned her head back to me and I saw the familiar fondness for me in her expression. "I don't know about Rolf, but I'd like it to be ongoing."

I looked at Rolf. He said, "Then it's really up to you, mate."

"But what does that mean for us?" I asked Sophie, feeling hurt and puzzled.

"It means I'd love you both, and sometimes you'll love me together, like now, and sometimes by yourself, and Rolf likewise. I'll make sure neither of you misses out."

"That sounds like a good arrangement to me, mate," Rolf jumped in.

My thoughts whined at Sophie: What about fidelity? What about all your promises to love only me? I felt betrayed.

"And we both stay faithful to you?" I heard my own voice ask.

"That would be essential for a harmonious relationship," Sophie said. "I don't want to catch any STD."

"That arrangement's okay with me," Rolf said, but why Sophie looked like she trusted him to change his spots I didn't know.

"You two haven't already done it have you?" I looked at them suspiciously.

Sophie said immediately, "I wouldn't do something like that behind your back, darling." Rolf shook his head with his own confirmation.

"When did you decide you wanted to?" I hadn't seen it coming.

"I've always liked Rolf as a friend," Sophie said, "and this afternoon I realised it went deeper than that."

Somehow it didn't seem so bad that it had just happened.

"So will you share me with Rolf?" Sophie was looking at me with big blue eyes.

Considering I was willing to die for her it didn't seem too big an ask. I folded, qualifying, "Provided no one else finds out. You can't go out in public with him on a date unless I'm with you."