u/Beautiful_Data111

When I was in college, I spent a semester in Costa Rica. I lived in a homestay with another girl named Sam. We seemed to be the only people with boyfriends back home, so we gravitated toward each other. Unfortunately for me, Ian was staying directly across the street. He was a cute guy with medium length, curly hair and a quiet, thoughtful vibe.

Each weekend we took the bus to the coast. I’d stick by Sam, but somewhere on every trip, I’d end up alone with Ian. Just talking. I developed a massive crush on him, but kept telling myself I had a boyfriend. 

Two-thirds of the way through the semester, Sam, Ian, and I planned a weekend to Nicaragua. I was surprised Sam agreed to go on a trip with just me and Ian. They got along, but she had already warned me that I was too careless around him. She watched him with a silent, protective skepticism whenever he went off with me. 

A little over a week before the trip, Sam's boyfriend broke up with her. Sam was devastated. I assumed we would cancel. If she backed out, I couldn’t go. The sheer panic and desire of being alone with Ian without a buffer for an entire weekend overwhelmed me. 

But at the last minute, Sam rallied, desperate for a distraction. 

By the second night in Nicaragua, we were exhausted. The night before, we’d packed into a small, windowless club, the heat pressing in as Sam danced aggressively between Ian and me, and we’d spent all of today exploring the city and the coast. Now we just lingered in the hotel room. 

Ian sat shirtless on the edge of his bed. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on the ceiling fan, but my eyes kept drifting down his chest. He wasn’t a gym rat or meat head, but he had this dense tension of a climber. I’d caught myself on beach trips resisting the urge to reach out and touch his shoulders, instead imagining the feeling of his muscles underneath. 

Sam and I sprawled across the other mattress in damp t-shirts and shorts. Conversation had fragmented, and we’d lapsed into the contented silence of people who were totally comfortable with each other. To avoid looking at Ian, I flipped over and lay flat on my stomach. 

 “Are you guys sore?” I mumbled into the pillow. “My back is a giant knot.” 

I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. It was a throw away complaint. 

“Ian,” Sam said into the quiet.  “You should massage Kat’s back.”  

I lifted my head, surprised that Sam was telling Ian to touch me. She wasn’t looking at me; her eyes were locked on Ian, waiting for his reaction. 

“Seriously, do you need a back massage, Kat?” he asked in such an earnest way I melted a little. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Kat,” Sam interrupted, her tone flat and directive. “Let him do it. It’ll help.” 

I shot her a sharp, questioning glare, but she just offered an innocent smile. 

“I will,” Ian said. “If you want me to.”

I did. I wanted the friction of those hands rubbing my back. But I was the only one in this room tethered to a boyfriend back home. The thought of him touching me felt too dangerous. 

“Okay,” I breathed into the pillow. “If you don’t mind.” 

The mattress dipped as Ian climbed on. We shifted—Sam moving to my left, Ian settling on my right. His hands landed softly on my lower back. He worked his thumbs up my spine, tracing the muscles until his fingers hit the clasp of my bra, then retreated downward until stopping right above the waistband of my shorts.

“Where do you want me to focus?” he asked. 

I tapped my upper shoulders, and he shifted his weight to apply pressure there. 

Sam sat up. “You can’t give a massage over a shirt. It's terrible.” 

Before I could argue, she grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and yanked upward. I found myself shifting, raising my chest so the shirt slid up above my bra. She didn’t pull the t-shirt over my head, just bunched the cotton toward my neck. Then her fingers brushed my spine, and with a quick flick, she unhooked my bra. The sudden release of tension, and knowing my bare back was exposed to Ian, forced me to take a deep inhale to compose myself. My chest was pressed into the bed; I rationalized that Ian couldn’t see anything but my back. 

Ian’s hands returned to my now bare back. He wasn’t aggressive enough to actually work out the knots, but the careful fiction of his palms against my skin left me completely engrossed.

After a minute, Sam’s fingers joined his. She slid her fingers up the base of my neck, into my hair, her nails scraping gently in slow, deliberate circles across my scalp. 

I’d been holding it together, telling myself this was just a massage, that the pooling heat in me was innocent, but the dual sensation of Ian’s palms feeling each one of my ribs while Sam’s nails wove into my hair risked overwhelming any restraint I had. Deprived of any physical intimacy for three months, the sudden onslaught of touch shot down to my groin, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. 

I forced my breathing into long, controlled inhales and exhales, trying to just absorb the feelings without tipping over the edge. 

Just when my control seemed to be returning, Sam spoke. “I’d like a turn, when you’re done.” 

I’d been dangerously close to an edge I couldn’t cross. It felt like a good time to get out of the situation. My bra was still unhooked, the straps tangled under my arms. Keeping my chest against the mattress, I slid the straps down, pulling the lace free, and tossed it toward my suitcase. I yanked my shirt down below my tits before pushing myself upright. 

“Feel better?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“My turn,” she said.  

Sam crossed her arms, and without hesitating, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She sat there in a plain black bra and paused for a beat while Ian took her in. Sam and I had changed in front of each other countless times, but she had always maintained a rigid boundary around Ian. 

She rolled onto her stomach and reached back, unclipping her bra, then threw it casually off the edge of the bed. Her entire torso lay bare, the edges of her breasts visible where they pressed into the bedding.

Ian looked down at her bare back, then shot a glance at me, as though I’d caught him in a trap. 

I let out a sudden laugh at his uncertainty. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. 

“Nothing,” I managed. “Ian is just being a dork.” 

“Is he being weird?” 

“No, he’s just being cute.” 

Sam groaned at me as a deep, embarrassed flush crept up Ian’s neck. 

I gave him a small nod, trying to reassure him it was okay to touch her. He slowly lowered his hands to her back, his thumbs pressing into her shoulders, circling her shoulder blades for a minute as I watched. 

“Anything specific you want?” 

Instead of just pointing, Sam lifted herself on one arm, entirely exposing the profile of her bare breast as she twisted to indicate a spot on her lower back. 

I would have rolled my eyes at her lack of subtext, but was too busy watching Ian take in that glimpse of her tits. 

As she settled back, Ian moved his hands to her lower back. Every so often, his eyes would dart up to meet mine, silently checking my reaction to the display. Each time, I’d break away from his stare after only a fraction of a second before my eyes drifted back down, unable to stop watching his fingers dig into the skin just inches above her ass. 

I snuck a glance back up. He’d been watching my face, but now his eyes were fixed on my chest. Since I’d tossed off my bra, my nipples pressed hard against my thin cotton shirt. Sam’s teasing and the massage hadn’t calmed me down at all, and now my nipples were hard nubs. Ian had snuck glances at my chest before, but he had never lingered like this. 

I slid closer to Sam and ran my fingers up her back. I didn’t try to massage her; I just traced my fingers over her skin, sliding them down her side and then back up her spine. Each time, I got a little bolder, pushing the boundary to see where she’d stop me. On my fourth pass, my fingers traced so far down her side that they brushed the curve of her breast. Rather than stopping me, she shifted slightly so she was barely leaning toward me, giving my fingers better access. 

“Ian, will you massage my legs? Right here.” Sam pointed down at her hamstrings right below the cut of her shorts. 

Ian shifted lower, his fingers working through her hamstrings, each time stopping just after slipping into her shorts. Sam shifted, widening her legs. 

Her intentions were suddenly glaringly obvious. If I reached down and took her breast in my hand, I doubted there would be any resistance. If I pulled her head up by the hair and kissed her, she would lean into it. If Ian slid his fingers up and slowly worked them into her pussy, Sam would not just allow, but encourage him to keep going. 

I sat there tracing my fingers across her body, paralyzed. There was no way I could have a threesome with Sam and Ian. But it was clear Sam wanted Ian tonight. She knew I wanted him, but I had a boyfriend so I told myself he was fair game. I rubbed her along her ribs trying to consider if it was better or worse that she was doing it right in front of me.

I forced my breathing to level. I told myself I would just watch and see how far they went, then leave before anything happened. I’d wander the streets of an unknown third-world city until they finished. 

And as if on cue, Sam twisted around once again, this time shifting onto her side so her tits were fully exposed. She half pretended to cover herself with her hands, but managed to cover neither breast. 

“My glutes are really tight. Ian, can you massage them?” She pointed right at her ass. 

My fingers were on their downswing when she sat up. I brought them down lower and ran them down the side of her chest, then down her stomach. Before she settled back down, she looked up at me and gave me a small, shy smile, like she was somehow embarrassed about what she was doing. 

A part of me wanted to yell at her, to demand why she needed to fuck Ian when she could have any guy. But I repeated my mantra. Ian was single. It wasn’t fair for him to sit there flirting with me all semester, denying himself any enjoyment. 

Sam’s hand came up from her side, and she slid it into my lap. The hot fingers traced up my inner thigh and then stopped just below my shorts. I looked down at her, but she’d buried her face in the pillow as she moved her fingers in slow circles up my thigh. I fought the urge to press my groin deeper into her fingers. 

I needed to leave. Before it was too late.

Ian’s hands went to her ass. He worked them in, and this time was less shy about what and where he touched. He took her right asscheek between his hands and rubbed it over the fabric of her shorts. Watching his hands, watching him work her ass, a heavy throb settled between my thighs; I wasn’t sure, but if his hands grabbed my asscheek like that, I might cum in front of them both. 

When I looked up from his hands, his eyes were on me. He was no longer hiding his glances; he’d flick between watching my face and staring down at my chest. The urge to be bold nearly overwhelmed my senses. I could just lift my shirt off and let him see everything, let him truly see my small tits without needing to steal looks or study the outline, but crossing that line meant a fucking threesome and destroying my life. 

Ian took that moment to reach into his shorts. He could have adjusted himself with a subtle shift, but his hand sank deep past his waistband. The rigid outline of his erection pressed upward against the fabric as he gave me an embarrassed smile, a silent apology for being turned on while I was considering whether I’d cum if he touched me. 

He went back to work on Sam’s ass while my fingers explored more of her. Sam shifted slightly so her shoulder closest to me was lifted off the bed. It wasn’t the most natural position for her, an angle I assumed designed specifically to give me access to her chest. To test, I slid my fingers down her shoulder until I felt the soft outline of her breast. Rather than continuing the movement down her side, my fingers cupped the weight of her tit for a moment. Sam let out a small gasp and her nails dug into my thigh, pressing upwards toward my panty line. 

I only paused for a moment, then kept my fingers moving, continuing their circular path. 

“Ian, it's kind of uncomfortable when you rub over my shorts. Is it weird if you just slip your hands under?”

Ian hesitated, his hands freezing while squeezing her asscheek.

At this latest boldness, a jealous anger threatened to consume me, warring with the heat I knew Sam was inches from pressing her fingers into. I was furious that she was doing this right in front of me, angry that she was able to so blatantly get away with this and I wasn’t. Even if Ian was free, did she have to make me a witness to it?

I wanted to slap her ass or hurt her in some way. Instead, the desire won out; I decided to steer directly into this disaster. 

“No, Sam,” I said. “It's not weird to have Ian massage your glutes under your shorts. Go ahead, Ian.” 

He looked at me in disbelief, searching my face to see if I was being serious. 

“Go ahead,” I said, looking directly at him. 

His fingers slipped into the bottom of Sam’s shorts, and she immediately shifted so her legs were fully spread, opening her pussy to him.

His fingers went back to her glutes, though, ignoring the invitation as he worked his thumbs deeply into the muscle.  

I watched, my breath shallow as he kneaded the flesh of her ass. 

Sam raised her hips slightly, chasing his touch, and I saw the exact moment his hand slipped low enough that he found her pussy. Sam tensed and pressed her chest down into the bed for a moment. Her fingers dug into my thigh enough that it would have been painful if I wasn’t so aroused. She lay there while Ian’s fingers moved up and down her slit. 

After a minute, Sam leaned up, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me down so her lips were pressed into my ear. 

“I want to fuck Ian,” she said in barely a whisper. I didn’t think Ian could hear, but I also didn’t see how he could expect anything else. 

I didn’t whisper back.

“I think you’ve made that pretty obvious.”

She whispered back, “Are you okay with that?”

“You can if you want,” I said. “I don’t think there is any stopping you at this point.” 

She held herself there, with her mouth against my ear for a moment, weighing the risk, sensing the acid in my tone. Her breath was hot against my ear. I could see Ian watching us, his fingers obviously penetrating Sam’s pussy under her shorts right in front of me. 

Then her tongue darted out and licked deep into my ear. I’d told Sam about that specific weakness of mine back when we were first getting to know each other. I groaned, then broke away from her mouth. 

I reached down and slapped her ass hard. I’d meant it to hurt. I wanted to feel a little resistance. She let out a moan though like she enjoyed that far too much, then rolled over onto her back. She wrapped her legs around Ian’s torso. 

“You can take off my shorts. For better access.” 

“I should leave,” I said. I made it as a statement, allowing no room for them to draw me further into this mess. 

The statement lingered as Ian watched me. I rose to my knees, preparing to move off the bed. I wasn’t sure where I would go. If we were in our homestay, I would have gone to my room. If we were in some Costa Rican beach town, I would have wandered the streets. But I didn’t want to go out into this unknown city at night alone. 

I decided I would walk out the door. I would sit on the step right outside and wait for them to finish. Perhaps I would even be able to hear it. I might be able to torture myself a little more listening to Ian grunting as he fucked Sam rather than me. 

I shifted slightly, but didn’t immediately move, taking in one last look at him staring at me. 

Right as I started to move, Sam reached up and grabbed my hair, pulling me back down to her. 

“You should stay,” Sam said. “I don’t want you wandering the streets alone.”

I didn’t believe her. I might have objected, questioning if she truly cared about me wandering the streets when I suspected my exit would simply deprive her of her audience at her moment of triumph, but before I could say anything, she pulled me into a deep kiss. Her tongue pressing into my mouth. 

The idea of kissing Sam wasn’t entirely new. I'd even spoken with my boyfriend about it. He’d always told me to go for it—the classic guy turned on by the concept of his girlfriend potentially being bi. I doubted this was what he had in mind though. 

I kissed her back until she let out a heavy moan against my lips. I broke away, my eyes catching Ian’s fingers as they slipped inside her. He brought his free hand up to work her clit. 

“Fuck, Kat. Fuck,” she moaned. 

I reached down and pinched her nipple, gripping it tightly, hoping to hurt her just a little. 

“Kat,” she whimpered, bringing her hand up to my fingers. Rather than pulling them away, she clamped her hand over mine, forcing me to pinch her harder than I had been willing to. 

I broke away, and Sam looked at me in sudden confusion, her eyes searching to see if this was finally the line she had crossed. 

Instead, I grabbed the pillows from the bed and piled them against the headboard. I slid backward, pressing my spine against the pillows, and pulled Sam up so her back pressed flush into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, my fingers returning to her breasts. Ian followed us up the mattress and immediately slipped his fingers back into Sam’s pussy. 

Sam turned her head, and I pressed my lips against hers. Sam considered herself mostly straight. She’d had a threesome with her ex and another woman once; she’d described making out and eating her out as fun, but the real draw had been how much it turned her boyfriend on. 

Was all of this a show for Ian and nothing more? A performance only for him with no pleasure from my lips against hers, no heat radiating through her specifically from my fingers squeezing her nipple?

I brought my tongue down and licked her neck in a long arc before returning to the kiss, hoping just a small bit of this was about me. 

We kept kissing as Ian finger fucked Sam until she finally broke away from my mouth. 

“Ian,” Sam said. “Show us your cock. It better be good for how much Kat has wanted it all semester.” 

“Sam!” I hissed, genuinely upset that she would say that in front of him.

“You’ll get to see it in a moment,” she teased. “Even if you’ll just have to imagine what it's like buried in your pussy. I won’t, though; I won’t have to imagine a thing. Right, Ian?” 

She looked at Ian. He raised himself up, but didn’t make a move to pull his shorts down. It was like the moment finally caught up with him. His eyes darted to me, waiting for permission.  

I gave him the smallest of nods, my eyes dropping to the outline in his shorts. 

He pushed the fabric down, and his hard cock sprang free. He took it in his hand and gave the shaft a few slow strokes. 

It was good. It was so fucking good. I never considered myself particular about a penis. But Ian’s? At that moment I discovered I had an idealized penis I hadn’t even known I wanted. It was larger than my boyfriend’s, but manageable, not some pornstar monster. It looked exactly the size of my favorite dildo at home. 

“Ian, there are condoms in my toiletry bag,” Sam instructed. “Grab one and put it on.”

Ian stepped off the bed and walked into the bathroom.

“Did you plan this?” I asked Sam, knowing she didn’t have condoms with her by accident.  Rather than answering, she reached up and pulled me into another kiss. She grabbed my hand from her tit and dragged it down until my fingers hit that slick heat between her legs.

The anger spiked in my chest once again, the urge to ask if this entire trip was just a setup for her to fuck Ian. But when my fingers landed on her clit, I didn’t hesitate. I started rubbing small circles. 

Ian came back into the room, the latex stretched over his tight erection, and stood at the end of the bed. 

“Give me one of those pillows,” Sam said. 

She grabbed a pillow from behind me and shoved it under her lower back, tilting her pelvis up toward him.

This time, Ian didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait for a nod from me. He crawled onto the bed and brought his cock directly to Sam’s entrance, rubbing the head up and down her wet slit. On the upstroke, his cock brushed my fingers still pressed into Sam’s clit. I pressed my mouth against Sam’s ear and groaned my frustration into her hair. 

Ian’s eyes locked onto me at the sound. He pressed his cock into Sam, but kept his gaze anchored on me as he penetrated her. He slid in an inch, then back out, working himself slowly in while I kept steady circles on her clit. 

“Oh god, you guys,” Sam mumbled. “It’s been too long.” 

Ian drove himself all the way to the base until his pelvis crashed against my fingers, forcing them harder against Sam’s clit. 

The desperate ache in my pussy demanded more. I wanted Sam to reach down and slide her fingers into my shorts. To finger me while she got fucked. But maybe Sam was also drawing a line. It was okay for me to be here, touching her, but if they touched me, it would cross into a threesome. Right now, it wasn’t a threesome; my best friend was getting fucked by my crush, while I just happened to be in the room. Nothing more. 

I slid my fingers down from Sam’s clit to her slick folds, where I could feel Ian’s cock sliding in and out of her. I held my hand steady, careful not to grip his shaft, letting the friction of each thrust rub against my skin.

Sam reached up, her fingers tangling into my hair to pull me back down into a bruising kiss. We made out in front of Ian, our tongues slipping together as his cock drove relentlessly past my fingers. 

After a few minutes, Sam’s breathing grew ragged, and I shifted my index finger back to her clit, applying slightly more pressure. She gripped the back of my head as she kissed me, her mouth muffling her cries against mine. I felt her muscles clamp down tight, her orgasm breaking across my fingers and shuddering down her spine to where her pelvic bone ground hard against my own desperate pussy. 

She came hard, breaking the kiss as she gasped for air, but held me close, breathing into my mouth. Ian slowed his thrusts, holding himself deep inside her as the spasms subsided. 

When her breathing leveled out, Sam turned to look over her shoulder at me, her eyes lingering for a long beat.  Then she looked up at Ian. “Are you close?”

“I can be.” He looked directly at me. “If you want me to finish.” 

“Take off the condom,” she ordered. “I want you to cum on my tits.” 

Ian pulled out and stripped off the condom. He stroked his slick shaft, his eyes burning into the two of us. Sam’s hand reached up, her fingers cupping his balls. 

He didn’t say anything or announce it, but his jaw tightened as he came. Thick ropes of cum exploded over Sam, splashing across her chest and hitting the base of her neck. A bit of cum, small enough that I wasn’t sure if either of them noticed, landed on my fingers and hand where I still gripped her tit. 

Sam let out a breathless laugh, pulled Ian down, and gave him a deep messy kiss before rolling off me and hurrying to the bathroom. Ian stayed in the bed, his chest heaving as he looked at me for a moment. The sudden absence of Sam’s body between us left me feeling completely exposed. 

“You should wash up,” I managed to say. 

He backed away slowly and followed Sam into the bathroom. When I was sure neither of them could see me, I lifted my fingers to my lips and tasted his cum. Just once. 

When I was in college, I spent a semester in Costa Rica. I lived in a homestay with another girl named Sam. We seemed to be the only people with boyfriends back home, so we gravitated toward each other. Unfortunately for me, Ian was staying directly across the street. He was a cute guy with medium length, curly hair and a quiet, thoughtful vibe.

Each weekend we took the bus to the coast. I’d stick by Sam, but somewhere on every trip, I end up alone with Ian. Just talking. I developed a massive crush on him, but kept telling myself I had a boyfriend. 

Two-thirds of the way through the semester, Sam, Ian, and I planned a weekend to Nicaragua. I was surprised Sam agreed to go on a trip with just me and Ian. They got along, but she had already warned me that I was too careless around him. She watched him with a silent, protective skepticism whenever he went off with me. 

A little over a week before the trip, Sam's boyfriend broke up with her. Sam was devastated. I assumed we would cancel. If she backed out, I couldn’t go. The sheer panic and desire of being alone with Ian without a buffer for an entire weekend overwhelmed me. 

But at the last minute, Sam rallied, desperate for a distraction. 

By the second night, we were exhausted. We’d spent the previous night in a small, windowless club, the heat pressing in as Sam danced aggressively between Ian and me. After exploring the city and coast all day, we lingered in the hotel room. 

Ian sat shirtless on the edge of his bed. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on the ceiling fan, but my eyes kept drifting down his chest. He wasn’t a gym rat or meat head, but he had this dense tension of a climber. I’d caught myself on beach trips resisting the urge to reach out and touch his shoulders, instead imagining the feeling of his muscles underneath. 

Sam and I sprawled across the other mattress in damp t-shirts and shorts. Conversation had fragmented, and we’d lapsed into the contented silence of people who were totally comfortable with each other. To avoid looking at Ian, I flipped over and lay flat on my stomach. 

 “Are you guys sore?” I mumbled into the pillow. “My back is a giant knot.” 

I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. It was a throw away complaint. 

“Ian,” Sam said into the quiet.  “You should massage Kat’s back.”  

I lifted my head, surprised that Sam was telling Ian to touch me. She wasn’t looking at me; her eyes were locked on Ian, waiting for his reaction. 

“Seriously, do you need a back massage, Kat?” he asked in such an earnest way I melted a little. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Kat,” Sam interrupted, her tone flat and directive. “Let him do it. It’ll help.” 

I shot her a sharp, questioning glare, but she just offered an innocent smile. 

“I will,” Ian said. “if you want me to.”

I did. I wanted the friction of those hands rubbing my back. But I was the only one in this room tethered to a boyfriend back home. The thought of him touching me felt too dangerous. 

“Okay,” I breathed into the pillow. “If you don’t mind.” 

The mattress dipped as Ian climbed on. We shifted—Sam moving to my left, Ian settling on my right. His hands landed softly on my lower back. He worked his thumbs up my spine, tracing the muscles until his fingers hit the clasp of my bra, then retreated downward until stopping right above the waistband of my shorts.

“Where do you want me to focus?” he asked. 

I tapped my upper shoulders, and he shifted his weight to apply pressure there. 

Sam sat up. “You can’t give a massage over a shirt. It's terrible.” 

Before I could argue, she grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and yanked upward. I found myself shifting, raising my chest so the shirt slid up above my bra. Then her fingers brushed my spine, and with a quick flick, she unhooked my bra. She didn’t pull the t-shirt over my head, just bunched the cotton toward my neck. She reached down and with a flick of her fingers unsnapped my bra. The sudden release of tension, and knowing my bare back was exposed to Ian, forced me to take a deep inhale to compose myself. My chest was pressed into the bed; I rationalized that Ian couldn’t see anything but my back. 

Ian’s hands returned to my now bare back. He wasn’t aggressive enough to actually work out the knots, but the careful fiction of his palms against my skin left me completely engrossed.

After a minute, Sam’s fingers joined his. She slid her fingers up the base of my neck, into my hair, her nails scraping gently in slow, deliberate circles across my scalp. 

I’d been holding it together, telling myself this was just a massage, that the pooling heat in me was innocent, but the dual sensation of Ian’s palms feeling each one of my ribs while Sam’s nails wove into my hair risked overwhelming any restraint I had. Deprived of any physical intimacy for three months, the sudden onslaught of touch shot down to my groin, causing me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. 

I forced my breathing into long, controlled inhales and exhales, trying to just absorb the feelings without tipping over the edge. 

Just when my control seemed to be returning, Sam spoke. “I’d like a turn, when you’re done.” 

I’d been dangerously close to an edge I couldn’t cross. It felt like a good time to get out of the situation. My bra was still unhooked, the straps tangled under my arms. Keeping my chest against the mattress, I slid the straps down, pulling the lace free, and tossed it toward my suitcase. I yanked my shirt down below my tits before pushing myself upright. 

“Feel better?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“My turn,” she said.  

Sam crossed her arms, and without hesitating, grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She sat there in a plain black bra and paused for a beat while Ian took her in. Sam and I had changed in front of each other countless times, but she had always maintained a rigid boundary around Ian. 

She rolled onto her stomach and reached back, unclipping her bra, then threw it casually off the edge of the bed. Her entire torso lay bare, the edges of her breasts visible where they pressed into the bedding.

Ian looked down at her bare back, then shot a glance at me, as though I’d caught him in a trap. 

I let out a sudden laugh at his uncertainty. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. 

“Nothing,” I managed. “Ian is just being a dork.” 

“Is he being weird?” 

“No, he’s just being cute.” 

Sam groaned at me as a deep, embarrassed flush crept up Ian’s neck. 

I gave him a small nod, trying to reassure him it was okay to touch her. He slowly lowered his hands to her back, his thumbs pressing into her shoulders, circling her shoulder blades for a minute as I watched. 

“Anything specific you want?” 

Instead of just pointing, Sam lifted herself on one arm, entirely exposing the profile of her bare breast as she twisted to indicate a spot on her lower back. 

I would have rolled my eyes at her lack of subtext, but was too busy watching Ian take in that glimpse of her tits. 

As she settled back, Ian moved his hands to her lower back. Every so often, his eyes would dart up to meet mine, silently checking my reaction to the display. Each time, I’d break away from his stare after only a fraction of a second before my eyes drifted back down, unable to stop watching his fingers dig into the skin just inches above her ass. 

I snuck a glance back up. He’d been watching my face, but now his eyes were fixed on my chest. Since I’d tossed off my bra, my nipples pressed hard against my thin cotton shirt. Sam’s teasing and the massage hadn’t calmed me down at all, and now my nipples were hard nubs. Ian had snuck glances at my chest before, but he had never lingered like this. 

I slid closer to Sam and ran my fingers up her back. I didn’t try to massage her; I just traced my fingers over her skin, sliding them down her side and then back up her spine. Each time, I got a little bolder, pushing the boundary to see where she’d stop me. On my fourth pass, my fingers traced so far down her side that they brushed the curve of her breast. Rather than stopping me, she shifted slightly so she was barely leaning toward me, giving my fingers better access. 

“Ian, will you massage my legs? Right here.” Sam pointed down at her hamstrings right below the cut of her shorts. 

Ian shifted lower, his fingers working through her hamstrings, each time stopping just after slipping into her shorts. Sam shifted, widening her legs. 

Her intentions were suddenly glaringly obvious. If I reached down and took her breast in my hand, I doubted there would be any resistance. If I pulled her head up by the hair and kissed her, she would lean into it. If Ian slid his fingers up and slowly worked them into her pussy, Sam would not just allow, but encourage him to keep going. 

I sat there tracing my fingers across her body, paralyzed. There was no way I could have a threesome with Sam and Ian. But it was clear Sam wanted Ian tonight. She knew I wanted him, but I had a boyfriend so I told myself he was fair game. I rubbed her along her ribs trying to consider if it was better or worse that she was doing it right in front of me.

I forced my breathing to level. I told myself I would just watch and see how far they went, then leave before anything happened. I’d wander the streets of an unknown third-world city until they finished. 

And as if on cue, Sam twisted around once again, this time shifting onto her side so her tits were fully exposed. She half pretended to cover herself with her hands, but managed to cover neither breast. 

“My glutes are really tight. Ian, can you massage them?” She pointed right at her ass. 

My fingers were on their downswing when she sat up. I brought them down lower and ran them down the side of her chest, then down her stomach. Before she settled back down, she looked up at me and gave me a small, shy smile, like she was somehow embarrassed about what she was doing. 

A part of me wanted to yell at her, to demand why she needed to fuck Ian when she could have any guy. But I repeated my mantra. Ian was single. It wasn’t fair for him to sit there flirting with me all semester, denying himself any enjoyment. 

Sam’s hand came up from her side, and she slid it into my lap. The hot fingers traced up my inner thigh and then stopped just below my shorts. I looked down at her, but she’d buried her face in the pillow as she moved her fingers in slow circles up my thigh. I fought the urge to press my groin into her fingers. 

I should leave, I thought. Before it was too late. 

Ian’s hands went to her ass. He worked them in, and this time was less shy about what and where he touched. He took her right asscheek between his hands and rubbed it over the fabric of her shorts. Watching his hands, watching him work her ass, a heavy throb settled between my thighs; I wasn’t sure, but if his hands grabbed my asscheek like that, I might cum in front of them both. 

When I looked up from his hands, his eyes were on me. He was no longer hiding his glances; he’d flick between watching my face and staring down at my chest. The urge to be bold nearly overwhelmed my senses. I could just lift my shirt off and let him see everything, let him truly see my small tits without needing to steal looks or study the outline, but crossing that line meant a fucking threesome and destroying my life. 

Ian took that moment to reach into his shorts. He could have adjusted himself with a subtle shift, but his hand sank deep past his waistband. The rigid outline of his erection pressed upward against the fabric as he gave me an embarrassed smile, a silent apology for being turned on while I was considering whether I’d cum if he touched me. 

He went back to work on Sam’s ass while my fingers explored more of her. Sam shifted slightly so her shoulder closest to me was lifted off the bed. It wasn’t the most natural position for her, an angle I assumed designed specifically to give me access to her chest. To test, I slid my fingers down her shoulder until I felt the soft outline of her breast. Rather than continuing the movement down her side, my fingers cupped the weight of her tit for a moment. Sam let out a small gasp and her nails dug into my thigh, pressing upwards toward my panty line. 

I only paused for a moment, then kept my fingers moving, continuing their circular path. 

“Ian, it's kind of uncomfortable when you rub over my shorts. Is it weird if you just slip your hands under?”

Ian hesitated, his hands freezing while squeezing her asscheek.

At this latest boldness, a jealous anger threatened to consume me, warring with the heat I knew Sam was inches from pressing her fingers into. I was furious that she was doing this right in front of me, angry that she was able to so blatantly get away with this and I wasn’t. Even if Ian was free, did she have to make me a witness to it?

I wanted to slap her ass or hurt her in some way. Instead, the desire won out; I decided to steer directly into this disaster. 

“No, Sam,” I said. “It's not weird to have Ian massage your glutes under your shorts. Go ahead, Ian.” 

He looked at me in disbelief, searching my face to see if I was being serious. 

“Go ahead,” I said, looking directly at him. 

His fingers slipped into the bottom of Sam’s shorts, and she immediately shifted so her legs were fully spread, opening her pussy to him.

His fingers went back to her glutes, though, ignoring the invitation as he worked his thumbs deeply into the muscle.  

I watched, my breath shallow as he kneaded the flesh of her ass. 

Sam raised her hips slightly, chasing his touch, and I saw the exact moment his hand slipped low enough that he found her pussy. Sam tensed and pressed her chest down into the bed for a moment. Her fingers dug into my thigh enough that it would have been painful if I wasn’t so aroused. She lay there while Ian’s fingers moved up and down her folds. 

After a minute, Sam leaned up, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me down so her lips were pressed into my ear. 

“I want to fuck Ian,” she said in barely a whisper. I didn’t think Ian could hear, but I also didn’t see how he could expect anything else. 

I didn’t whisper back.

“I think you’ve made that pretty obvious.”

She whispered back, “Are you okay with that?”

“You can if you want.” I said. “I don’t think there is any stopping you at this point.” 

She held herself there, with her mouth against my ear for a moment, weighing the risk, sensing the acid in my tone. Her breath was hot against my ear. I could see Ian watching us, his fingers obviously penetrating Sam’s pussy under her shorts right in front of me. 

Then her tongue darted out and licked deep into my ear. I’d told Sam about that specific weakness of mine back when we were first getting to know each other. I groaned, then broke away from her mouth. 

I reached down and slapped her ass hard. I’d meant it to hurt. I wanted to feel a little resistance. She let out a moan though like she enjoyed that far too much, then rolled over onto her back. She wrapped her legs around Ian’s torso. 

“You can take off my shorts. For better access.” 

“I should leave,” I said. I made it as a statement, ensuring I didn’t ask a question, allowing no room for them to draw me further into this mess. 

The statement lingered as Ian watched me. I rose to my knees, preparing to move off the bed. I wasn’t sure where I would go. If we were in our homestay, I would have gone to my room. If we were in some Costa Rican beach town, I would have wandered the streets. But I didn’t want to go out into this unknown city at night alone. 

I decided I would walk out the door. I would sit on the step right outside and wait for them to finish. Perhaps I would even be able to hear it. I might be able to torture myself a little more listening to Ian grunting as he fucked Sam rather than me. 

I shifted slightly, but didn’t immediately move, taking in one last look at him staring at me. 

Right as I started to move, Sam reached up and grabbed my hair, pulling me back down to her. 

“You should stay,” Sam said. “I don’t want you wandering the streets alone.”

I didn’t believe her. I might have objected, questioning if she truly cared about me wandering the streets when I suspected my exit would simply deprive her of her audience at her moment of triumph, but before I could say anything, she pulled me into a deep kiss. Her tongue pressing into my mouth. 

The idea of kissing Sam wasn’t entirely new. I'd even spoken with my boyfriend about it. He’d always told me to go for it—the classic guy turned on by the concept of his girlfriend potentially being bi. I doubted this was what he had in mind though. 

I kissed her back until she let out a heavy moan against my lips. I broke away, my eyes catching Ian’s fingers as they slipped inside her. He brought his free hand up to work her clit. 

“Fuck, Kat. Fuck,” she moaned. 

I reached down and pinched her nipple, gripping it tightly, hoping to hurt her just a little. 

“Kat,” she whimpered, bringing her hand up to my fingers. Rather than pulling them away, she clamped her hand over mine, forcing me to pinch her harder than I had been willing to. 

I broke away, and Sam looked at me in sudden confusion, her eyes searching to see if this was finally the line she had crossed. 

Instead, I grabbed the pillows from the bed and piled them against the headboard. I slid backward, pressing my spine against the pillows, and pulled Sam up so her back pressed flush into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, my fingers returning to her breasts. Ian followed us up the mattress and immediately slipped his fingers back into Sam’s pussy. 

Sam turned her head, and I pressed my lips against hers. Sam considered herself mostly straight. She’d had a threesome with her ex and another woman once; she’d described making out and eating her out as fun, but the real draw had been how much it turned her boyfriend on. Was all of this a show for Ian and nothing more? A performance only for him with no pleasure from my lips against hers, no heat radiating through her specifically from my fingers squeezing her nipple?

I brought my tongue down and licked her neck in a long arc before returning to the kiss, hoping just a small bit of this was about me. 

We kept kissing as Ian finger fucked Sam until she finally broke away from my mouth. 

“Ian,” Sam said. “Show us your cock. It better be good for how much Kat has wanted it all semester.” 

“Sam!” I hissed, genuinely upset that she would say that in front of him.

“You’ll get to see it in a moment,” she teased. “Even if you’ll just have to imagine what it's like buried in your pussy. I won’t, though; I won’t have to imagine a thing. Right, Ian?” 

She looked at Ian. He raised himself up, but didn’t make a move to pull his shorts down. It was like the moment finally caught up with him. His eyes darted to me, waiting for permission.  

I gave him the smallest of nods, my eyes dropping to the outline in his shorts. 

He pushed the fabric down, and his hard cock sprang free. He took it in his hand and gave the shaft a few slow strokes. 

It was good. It was so fucking good. I never considered myself particular about a penis. But Ian’s? At that moment I discovered I had an idealized penis I hadn’t even known I wanted. It was larger than my boyfriend’s, but manageable, not some pornstar monster. It looked exactly the size of my favorite dildo at home. 

“Ian, there are condoms in my toiletry bag,” Sam instructed. “Grab one and put it on.”

Ian stepped off the bed and walked into the bathroom.

“Did you plan this?” I asked Sam, knowing she didn’t have condoms with her by accident.  Rather than answering, she reached up and pulled me into another kiss. She grabbed my hand from her tit and dragged it down until my fingers hit that slick heat between her legs.

The anger spiked in my chest once again, the urge to ask if this entire trip was just a setup for her to fuck Ian. But when my fingers landed on her clit, I didn’t hesitate. I started rubbing small circles. 

Ian came back into the room, the latex stretched over his tight erection, and stood at the end of the bed. 

“Give me one of those pillows,” Sam said. 

She grabbed a pillow from behind me and shoved it under her lower back, tilting her pelvis up toward him.

This time, Ian didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait for a nod from me. He crawled onto the bed and brought his cock directly to Sam’s entrance, rubbing the head up and down her wet slit. On the upstroke, his cock brushed my fingers still pressed into Sam’s clit. I pressed my mouth against Sam’s ear and groaned my frustration into her hair. 

Ian’s eyes locked onto me at the sound. He pressed his cock into Sam, but kept his gaze anchored on me as he penetrated her. He slid in an inch, then back out, working himself slowly in while I kept steady circles on her clit. 

“Oh god, you guys,” Sam mumbled. “It’s been too long.” 

Ian drove himself all the way to the base until his pelvis crashed against my fingers, forcing them harder against Sam’s clit. 

The desperate ache in my pussy demanded more. I wanted Sam to reach down and slide her fingers into my shorts. To finger me while she got fucked. But maybe Sam was also drawing a line. It was okay for me to be here, touching her, but if they touched me, it would cross into a threesome. Right now, it wasn’t a threesome; my best friend was getting fucked by my crush, while I just happened to be in the room. Nothing more. 

I slid my fingers down from Sam’s clit to her slick folds, where I could feel Ian’s cock sliding in and out of her. I held my hand steady, careful not to grip his shaft, letting the friction of each thrust rub against my skin.

Sam reached up, her fingers tangling into my hair to pull me back down into a bruising kiss. We made out in front of Ian, our tongues slipping together as his cock drove relentlessly past my fingers. 

After a few minutes, Sam’s breathing grew ragged, and I shifted my index finger back to her clit, applying slightly more pressure. She gripped the back of my head as she kissed me, her mouth muffling her cries against mine. I felt her muscles clamp down tight, her orgasm breaking across my fingers and shuddering down her spine to where her pelvic bone ground hard against my own desperate pussy. 

She came hard, breaking the kiss as she gasped for air, but held me close, breathing into my mouth. Ian slowed his thrusts, holding himself deep inside her as the spasms subsided. 

When her breathing leveled out, Sam turned to look over her shoulder at me, her eyes lingering for a long beat.  Then she looked up at Ian. “Are you close?”

“I can be.” He looked directly at me. “If you want me to finish.” 

“Take off the condom,” she ordered. “I want you to cum on my tits.” 

Ian pulled out and stripped off the condom. He stroked his slick shaft, his eyes burning into the two of us. Sam’s hand reached up, her fingers cupping his balls. 

He didn’t say anything or announce it, but his jaw tightened as he came. Thick ropes of cum exploded over Sam, splashing across her chest and hitting the base of her neck. A bit of cum, small enough that I wasn’t sure if either of them noticed, landed on my fingers and hand where I still gripped her tit. 

Sam let out a breathless laugh, pulled Ian down, and gave him a deep messy kiss before rolling off me and hurrying to the bathroom. Ian stayed in the bed, his chest heaving as he looked at me for a moment. The sudden absence of Sam’s body between us left me feeling completely exposed. 

“You should wash up,” I managed to say. 

He backed away slowly and followed Sam into the bathroom. When I was sure neither of them could see me, I lifted my fingers to my lips and tasted his cum. Just once. 

The first time I got fucked in the ass, I was nineteen, with the guy who took my virginity. He had begged and pleaded to let him fuck me there, and I continually told him no. When I finally relented, the first time wasn’t pleasant. He went too fast, and I gritted my teeth through it. But he convinced me to try again, promising he’d be better. The second time he slowed down, he opened me up with his fingers before slowly working his cock in. He held himself inside until I grew comfortable, then took long, glacially paced thrusts in and out. By the end, I was begging him to fuck me, slamming my hips back against him as I orgasmed. 

We broke up a few weeks later. That was the last time I got fucked in the ass for twenty years. 

I grew up in a mainline Protestant denomination. My family went to church every week, and when I was twenty, I met my future husband there. He was twenty-five and seemed so much more mature than the boys I’d experienced in my teenage years. I mistook that bit of maturity for wisdom and a deep soul. 

After we were married, I discovered just how profoundly religious he was. Whereas I’d struggle to explain how my religious beliefs impacted my day-to-day life beyond driving guilt and anxiety, he saw religion as the answer to all questions. 

That included his beliefs about sex. To sum it up, sex had to be vanilla. Missionary was his default, but I could ride him if I was feeling spicy. 

Early in our marriage, I’d broached the topic of him fucking my ass; it was a hard no. He explained that anal sex was a sin; it said so in the Bible or something. I dropped the topic, and for the rest of our relationship, it was a fantasy I kept to myself. 

To make matters worse, my husband also didn’t approve of masturbation. So I never bought a toy. I’d work myself with my fingers, getting off only when I was alone, but I never experienced anything penetrating me there, even as my fantasies became more and more obsessed with being ass fucked.  

I can blame a priest for ending my marriage. We aren’t Catholic, so the priests are allowed to marry. His wife was my closest friend. He was super cute and, unlike my husband, a profoundly thoughtful person. I had a huge crush on him. I think his wife knew. 

I’d fantasize about him seducing me. Nearly every imagined scene ended with him fucking my ass. I’d imagine it in every variation: we’d be alone in my bed, we’d be in the church, or at his house with his wife watching. I didn’t consider myself bi, but to absolve my guilt of fucking her husband and spice up the fantasy, I’d have her eat me out while he came in my ass. 

There was one particular version of the fantasy that I came back to over and over again. 

It always started with my priest, then I’d sub in some other random guy I happened to think was cute. Regardless of the setting, we would progress until I’d be sucking their dicks in the sloppiest way I never had with my husband. Each time, the threesome would end the same. My priest would fuck my ass, then I’d offer the other guy my pussy. He would hesitate, unsure if I truly wanted it, until I begged him, telling him how I needed him to fill me. They would fuck me, not holding back as they filled my pussy and ass with their cocks. I’d silently orgasm as I imagined them cumming in each hole. 

If I’d ever told anyone about the fantasy, I would have denied that I actually wanted it. I’d have admitted being fucked in the ass seemed hot, but taking two guys was purely a fantasy. That is what I told myself. 

But if it wasn’t for my priest and that fantasy, I probably would have stayed in that loveless marriage. As time went on and the fantasy grew, my desire for it and fear of it exposed all the elements of my marriage that I despised. 

With forty approaching, I realized there was no way I could keep living my life in this marriage. So I finally left. I moved into a small apartment with a roommate and started out on my new life. 

It was honestly pretty rough. I was immensely lonely and very insecure. I no longer viewed myself as desirable. I knew I wanted to explore my sexuality and peel back the layers of repression I’d built up over the years of my marriage, but had no idea how to do it. 

Luckily, I met Nolan. I’d casually known him during my marriage through a friend of a friend, but we had barely interacted. One night at a gathering my friend was throwing, Nolan started chatting me up. I’d been practicing flirting with basically any guy that expressed the slightest interest in me, just to experience being desired. 

Nolan flirted back. We exchanged numbers and kept up a playful exchange throughout that week. We talked about my marriage, my sexual repression, and wanting to explore more. I didn’t tell him any of my fantasies, though. 

We met the next weekend. I fucked him at his house. It was the first cock besides my ex-husband I’d experienced since I was nineteen. Somehow, I hadn’t been overly nervous for our first meet-up. Adrenaline powered me through it. I wouldn’t describe it as a world-changing fuck, but I’d managed to go to a guy’s house, strip naked, and let him put his cock in me, all without having a panic attack. 

We planned a second time together for the next week. 

Nolan lived close-ish to me. Close enough that I could justify walking, even if it was long. On the walk over, everything seemed so normal; people were out, and a couple in front of me walked hand in hand as they pushed a stroller. 

Two blocks from his house, my breathing quickened, and I got a lightheaded feeling from a lack of oxygen. I veered down a side street and walked in short, hundred-foot circles, reminding myself to breathe. It would be okay. I’d already fucked him once. 

When my body finally calmed down, I made my way to his place and walked up the front steps. He answered the door in shorts and a simple gray t-shirt, smiling so casually it made my panic feel foolish.

We ended up on the couch, chatting about work and nothing in particular. 

There was a brief pause, and that tiny fraction of silence seemed unbearable. I asked the first thing that came to my mind. 

“How’s your girlfriend?” 

“Emma? She’s good.” 

Nolan was in an open relationship—a fact he’d been upfront about as soon as we started texting. I’d even confirmed with my mutual friend that his relationship was open and Emma was cool with Nolan seeing other people.

“Did you tell her about us?” 

“Yeah.” He looked down, not meeting my eyes. “Are you okay with that?” 

“Oh yeah, I was just curious.” 

He looked relieved that he hadn’t violated some hidden boundary. 

“Honestly, we talked about you for a while.” 

“Really? What do you talk about?” I was suddenly embarrassed, imagining them critiquing our sex, deciding I was kind of boring, or saying that my tits weren’t as good as hers.

“Mostly just you. Your history I mean. Emma found you interesting. I think you two would get along. She’s also divorced and grew up pretty religious.”

“Does Emma also see other people?” 

“Yeah, she has a girlfriend and a couple regulars.” 

“Do you not get jealous?” 

He paused for a moment to consider, looking up at the ceiling fan before his eyes returned to me. 

“I think we all get jealous to a certain extent. But it's not debilitating. Plus, usually Emma and I just feel compersion for each other.”

I stared at him blankly for a moment, unclear what that meant. My first instinct was to pretend I understood, but finally I asked, “What does that mean?”

“Hmm, I’m sure Emma could describe it better. I guess it's just the feeling of happiness when she or another partner finds someone that makes them happy. Like I love how much her girlfriend satisfies her. It honestly makes me all melty inside when she describes her love for her. ” 

“Oh, that’s really sweet.” 

“Do you have a lot of regular partners?” I continued.

“I wouldn’t say a lot. I have Emma.  And two other people I’m really close to, but I swear they are both itinerant wanderers, so I only get to see them a couple of times a year.” 

I stared at him, trying to imagine how he could be so calm and casual about all of this. I’d spent my entire life hearing how sex was inherently heavy and significant—that my soul literally rested on suppressing my desires.

Nolan watched me as I pondered all of that. “Are you okay with that?” 

I wasn’t sure if I was. I wasn’t sure if I could ever be as casual as him and Emma. Not wanting to deal with the fear and uncertainty, I leaned forward, put the drink he’d made me on the coffee table, and swung my legs over his lap so I was straddling him. Hiking up my plain dress just enough, I pressed my groin directly into his, looking him in the eyes. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling at my response. 

“Hello there,” I replied. 

He stared up at me for a long time before asking, “Anything specific you’d like?” 

I paused, considering whether I could tell him my fantasy. But I still couldn’t shake my ex’s voice from my head, telling me anal was wrong, and I was wrong for wanting it. Rather than lie, I leaned in and kissed him. 

He had this scratchy beard that felt so different from the clean-shaven face I was used to. He kissed me back, letting me set the pace. 

I slipped my tongue into his mouth and his met mine immediately. His cock hardened against me, and he adjusted himself so it was pointing upwards, but didn’t make any move to remove his clothes. He kept kissing me, and I pressed my groin onto the shaft, sliding my panty-clad pussy up and down the ridge. 

Nervous that he would get bored with just making out and dry humping, I reached up and lifted my dress over my head. His eyes immediately went to my tits, then he leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth. 

I don’t have large breasts. I like them, they are small and still perky even at forty, but they were something I was nervous about. My husband had never been into them. He didn’t say demeaning things; he just never paid them any attention. So when Nolan immediately leaned in and took one in his mouth, I was momentarily overwhelmed—not just by the sensation of his tongue teasing my quickly hardening nipple and his cock pressing against me, but by the sheer desire radiating from him. The heat of his mouth and pressure of his cock proved he wanted me, desired me, craved me even as he let me set the pace. 

I pulled my breast away from his mouth and slipped off his lap, quickly discarding my panties before dropping to my knees. I hadn’t sucked Nolan’s cock the first time we’d hooked up. He’d gotten hard and pushed inside me without me touching his dick, but now I wanted to experience it. It was another thing my husband hadn’t been into. 

When I pulled off his shorts and Nolan’s cock sprang free, I immediately gripped it right at the base. I held it there, pointing up at the ceiling, just taking it in. In my imagination, cocks were always porn-sized. It wasn’t because I craved a huge dick; it was just how my brain defaulted when imagining a generic cock. Nolan’s was not a porn dick. He wasn’t small;  I’d guess he was average size. I found that deeply comforting. I didn’t want to choke on a porn star’s cock. Nolan’s was very accessible. 

I leaned down and took his tip in my mouth, licking up the slit and taking in his taste. I held there for a moment, just exploring the head with my tongue before popping off and licking down from the tip to right above where my fingers still gripped him at the base. 

Then coming back to the tip, I slipped him into my mouth again and pushed forward. I quickly hit my gag reflex and came up coughing. 

“Fuck, Kat,” he groaned. “Don’t go harder than you want.” 

As soon as I stopped coughing, I smiled up at him and took his cock back into my mouth, this time stopping just short of my gag reflex. 

A part of me was tempted to get him off with just my mouth and hand. I hadn’t ever done that. Before I lost my virginity, I used to get a high school boyfriend off using just my hand, but I’d never tried to get a guy to explode in my mouth. Now I was tempted. I thought I could do it, if I begged and told him I wanted him to lose control, to cum in my mouth, to let me taste him for the first time. 

But I wanted more. I stood and grabbed a condom from the drawer where he’d pulled one during our first time. I handed it to him, not bothering with the performative act of trying to sexily roll it onto him.

Our first time had been good; he’d fucked me mostly in missionary before I climbed on him and rode him until he came. I didn’t want missionary again. I slid onto the couch, feeling self conscious as I got on all fours, presenting my ass to him. He immediately understood and got behind me. He reached down to tease my pussy with his fingers, but I was already plenty wet and didn’t want to explain how to touch me, didn’t want to deal with the chance of inept fingers groping in some vain hope of pleasure.  

“Please just fuck me,” I pleaded. I dipped my chest into the couch as I said it, so I was tilted up, pointed right at him. 

He pressed his cock against me, sliding it up and down my slit until his cock was lubricated enough that, without much friction, he slipped in. He was gentle at first, taking his time, setting a slow pace as I adjusted to him. 

I held still for the first minute, letting him slide in and out based only on his own rhythm. But finally, as he pushed forward, I slid back, pressing my hips so they pushed against him, and held myself there for a moment, before sliding forward and repeating the pattern. 

My fingers went to my clit, working myself as I got into the rhythm. My husband had not liked it when I touched myself during sex, so I initially hesitated, unsure how Nolan would react. 

“Kat…” he groaned. “You are so fucking hot.” 

His hands came up to my ass, gripping it as I worked myself. Each hand gripped one of my ass cheeks, spreading them. I glanced over my shoulder and flushed hot and fiery across my entire body as I saw him looking down, staring directly at my asshole. 

My body screamed for him to touch it, for him to take his dick out of my pussy and press it against that tight hole. But he just kept massaging my ass, staring at the exposed flesh. 

Finally, I worked up the courage to say something. I wanted it to sound casual, not like something I desperately needed. 

“You can stick a finger in if you want.”

“What?”

“You can stick your thumb in my ass,” I said in a meek voice I thought hid my desire well. “If you want.” 

“Do you want that?” he asked. 

“If you want to,” I practically whispered. It took all my self-control not to beg for it. Instead, I moaned as I pressed back into him, hoping the moan would say what I could not. 

He brought his right hand down my ass, his thumb sliding down the crack until it brushed my asshole. I nearly orgasmed right there. I stopped circling my clit for a moment, holding my breath to ensure I didn’t cum and he wouldn’t stop. 

Then suddenly he slipped out of me and off the couch. I looked back and saw him grabbing some lube. He carried it over, slid the coffee table closer, and poured some on his fingers before setting the bottle on the table within arm’s reach. 

I hadn’t even considered lube. I would have been content with him just shoving his finger in my ass, or using the wetness all around my pussy. His thoughtfulness made me even more turned on, making the act that was about to happen even more real for me. 

He slipped his cock back into my pussy as his thumb found my asshole once again. I fully leaned down so my chest and face were pressed further into the couch cushions, then I reached my hands up, pulling my ass apart for him. 

His thumb pressed in. He didn’t ram the entire digit in with one motion. Instead, he pressed in just a small amount and held it there. I pushed my hips back against him, and he slipped in a little further. 

“You can stick it all in.” I said it barely audibly, unsure if he could even hear me, but he pushed his thumb forward until I felt his hand press firmly against my ass. 

When it was just the tip, the anticipation outweighed the physical sensation. But with his entire thumb buried in my ass and his cock sliding in and out, an intense burning flared. For a panicked moment, I thought I had made a mistake—that I’d have to beg him to pull out.

It had been twenty years since anything had penetrated my ass. In my fantasies, the burning was always a pleasant precursor, leading to a euphoric high. Reality was sharper. I reached back and grabbed his hips, holding him motionless against me, breathing slowly as I tried to adjust to the intrusion without panicking. I wanted it too bad to ruin it now. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Want me to stop?”

“No, just give me a minute.”

We held perfectly still as my asshole burned around his thumb. Finally, the painful sting subsided into a dull ache. 

“Can you move your thumb in and out a bit?” I asked. “Go slow.”

He slipped his finger out until only the first knuckle was inside me, then pushed forward slowly until he bottomed out once again. He repeated the pattern, while holding his still hard cock motionless, even as it was buried in my pussy. 

We kept up the rhythm for a minute or two until the painful sensation was mostly forgotten in the pleasure. Now, with each thrust inward by him, I was pressing back. His cock had started thrusting into me, and his breathing was growing more and more raspy.

“Fuck, Kat, fuck.” 

I reached down and started playing with my clit again, wanting to cum with his thumb deep in my ass, before he finished, knowing he was close.  

My own orgasm built quickly. It hit my ass before anyplace else. I clenched aggressively around his thumb, and then my entire body followed. It vibrated through my chest and into my pussy, and I shook, trying to maintain control. 

It felt so different from all those sessions alone. Nolan’s thumb in my asshole intensified the sensation as each spasm clenched around him in a way my imagination could never replicate. 

As I came down, he kept his thumb shoved all the way into my ass while working his cock in and out of me faster and faster until finally he pressed in deeply and let out a small breath. His cock jerked, and my mind instantly filled in the rest—picturing the hot rush of him filling me, cumming without a condom. I imagined he wasn’t cumming in my pussy, but buried deep in my asshole. 

After we both came down, he pulled his finger and cock out of me. I slid to the side, curling up on the couch, and he walked into the bathroom. I watched him as he took the condom off, tied it, then washed his hands and cock in the sink. He came back and wrapped himself into me. We lay like that for a few minutes until I needed to pee. 

That night when I got home, he texted me telling me what a wonderful time he’d had. I told him I’d had a great time as well. 

I lay in bed replaying it over and over in my head; the night was nearly perfect.

I thought about my fantasy with my priest. If only I could have Nolan and my priest together. 

I texted Nolan.

Have you ever had a threesome?

Then I thought of Emma and quickly clarified before he could misread the question. 

Like with a girl and another guy?