Two into One

As a high school teen, I experienced several threesome experiences with two women and never found them to be particularly satisfying even though I had fantasized about "being ravished" by multiple females from puberty on.

My life changed when, in my thirties, I came home from work early and caught my wife in bed with another guy. I was shocked and angered. I went and got my shotgun from a closet and burst into the bedroom where they were rather actively engaged. I had two problems however.

Intellectually, I knew I did not want to spend my life in jail; nor did I want to lose my wife. Emotionally, while I felt betrayed, I was also terribly aroused.

I put the gun down and told my wife I needed to talk. I explained my very complex, confused emotions, and told her it was the betrayal that hurt, not the sex. I then completely surprised her when I asked her what she thought about two men at once. While hesitant, she agreed. Her lover too was hesitant and a bit wilted having focused like a laser on my shotgun. I don't know if he was aroused by the idea or scared of what might happen if he said no. Ultimately, he agreed. The experience was awkward, fun, arousing, silly, and many other things. Great sex it was not -- but it definitely held promise. We agreed it was interesting and fun but were not certain we wanted to continue. The other guy was not particularly enthused by the whole scene and soon made himself scarce.

We went about our lives, struggling through a marriage in which we had married too young, for all the wrong reasons, and into which we brought children far too soon. But as much strife as we had, we truly loved each other.

It was several years before we had our second experience. Now in our mid thirties, we had moved due to financial necessity. Our neighbor was a single father of two boys, about ten years our senior, and as we became closer and closer, I began to see changes in my wife's behavior -- things I had noticed once before -- just before I had caught her in bed. I won't bore you with details, but I became convinced she either wanted or was having an affair with our neighbor. I began to plot and scheme about how I was going to catch them. I would not be a cuckold.

I'm not sure who was more surprised when it finally happened, me or her. After secretly monitoring her activities, I was convinced she had planned a tryst one particular day. I worked at the time nearly 90 miles away and she knew that once gone to work, I was not likely to appear any time soon. What she did not plan for was that I would leave as though going to work, and hide out nearby, only to return well before expected. I found a place for breakfast and after an appropriate 90 minute wait, called the house, ostensibly to ask some inane question, while in reality setting the stage for my unexpectedly early return. I told her I was at work; I bitched about the terrible traffic; and complained about idiot drivers I had contended with. I figured she would now be at ease. I waited a bit over 30 minutes and figured the time had come.

I parked around the corner and snuck through a neighbor's yard toward my house. When I got to the side of the house, I could hear muffled talking, laughing, and giggling coming from the downstairs spare bedroom. Yet, I was confused when I looked into the driveways of my and my next-door neighbors homes and did not see my neighbor's car as I was sure I would. I tried to glance through the window but the curtain was pulled tightly. When I tried to enter the back/basement door, which I had left unlocked, I found it locked and chained.

Unable to contain myself, I marched to the front door. Fearing I would find that too chained, I was shocked to find it both unlocked and unchained. My thoughts reeled -- anger, confusion, uncertainty and curiosity warred for supremacy. Finally, I could contain myself no more and barged into the house and stalked down the half flight of stairs into the basement.

I was surprised all right -- as were my fully clothed and thoroughly stoned wife and my neighbor's 19 year old son Ron. My wife looked at me with partially glazed eyes, confused for a moment at my presence then proceeded to launch into uncontrollable giggles and Larry handed me his pipe and said, "Want to get stoned?"

The adrenaline rush I was feeling had my pulse pounding and my blood flowing, my body tensed for almost anything but what I had found. Combined with a sense of relief, I felt a sense of euphoria as though I were sky high on speed or coke. I flopped onto the side of the bed, took the pipe and inhaled the powerful and sweet herbaceous smoke, held it, exhaled, and inhaled again. My wife sat beside me to my left and took the pipe, inhaled, then passed it to Ron who had sat upon the side of the bed to her left.

I had always found marijuana to be particularly sexually stimulating. Having already been thinking of sex, it was not long before I felt aroused beyond belief or control. To this day, I am unsure whether I had simply forgotten in my drugged condition that Larry was there, I did not care, or intended something to happen. If it was the latter, I was not disappointed.

I placed my arm around my wife's waste and nuzzled her ear and the nape of her neck with my tongue. She placed her warm hand on my thigh and began to teasingly stroke my thigh, moving higher with each stroke. I turned my body to her and began to caress her body with my free right hand. I could feel her breathing quicken and when I reached her breast, her nipple was hard and erect. My wife's hand was grasping my manhood through my clothing.

When I reached my hand between her legs I became aware again of Ron as I realized our two hands were seeking the same treasure between her thighs. I looked over and my wife's other hand was needing his crotch as she simultaneously kneaded mine.

I whispered into her ear "Are you sure you want this to happen?" She answered me by speaking to us both, saying "Help me take these clothes off and then both of you take off yours. As if reading each others thoughts, Ron and I slowly and teasingly removed her clothing very slowly, stroking, caressing, and lightly tickling her body with our fingers and tongues. With all of her clothing removed, we moved about her sucking, licking, and probing her with our fingers and tongues, moving as if we had been choreographed, moving in almost perfect rhythm. Before long she was tearing at our clothes, so slowly, while one of us continued to work her into a fevered pitch, the other quickly undressed and moved to continue and escalate her arousal.

I cannot tell you who did what or in what order. Ron and I became the perfect machine, working with a single mindless goal of bringing my loving wife to ecstasy and keeping her there for as long as she could stand. Our bodies, our hands, fingers, and tongues never stopped moving, our erections slowly caressing her, penetrating her, pounding her hard and fast, or slow and sweet. Once she reached her orgasm, we kept her there like boiling water on a stove, sometimes simmering, sometimes exploding in ecstasy.

I could not tell you how many times any of us came, nor can I give you the move by move details of a sportscaster or pornographic writer. I can only tell you it was Perfect Lust consumed in a fire of perfect sex.

The three of us joined together often over the next several years, in and about our home, on a nearby deserted beach, and in an idyllic forest glade alongside a gurgling stream. Neither Ron nor I ever felt cheated or slighted in any way, but our center and our focus was always on my beautiful and loving wife. I leave those stories for another time.