I’ve had three threesomes.
The first was in high school. I had spent the night at my best friend Elle’s house. We had just come in from the rain and were in her room stripping off our wet clothes.
“Your body is like a Botticelli painting,” she said.
“You mean round?” I asked, looking at myself naked in her full length mirror.
“No, you have a beautiful body.”
“I wish I had yours.”
“Elle?”
“Ya?”
“I think I love you.”
“Think?” I laughed. “Of course you do, best friends forever. I love you too.”
“No, I mean love, love you.”
“I love, love you too.”
She was looking at me strange. Strange in a way that she had never looked at me before. Lustful. Like how my first boyfriend looked at me when my dress came off that first night we were together.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked.
Elle was beautiful. Strawberry blonde ringlets, bow lips, freckles on her nose that made me think of buttercups and daisies.
I was flattered. I told her so and I told her that if I liked women in that way she’d definitely be my type which wasn’t true. I was pale and blonde like Elle with small breasts. Penelope Cruz would be more my type. A dark haired, brown eyed, golden skinned beauty. Elle was hurt but we still had sleepovers and took bike rides in the rain.
Elle had a boyfriend at the time, Bobby Scott. He was a skateboarder with shiny black hair that fell in his eyes. He could do so many tricks on that skateboard. I imagined that one day he’d be on the cover of Thrasher. Only the best skateboarders made it on the cover.
“Then adios Santa Cruz Cookie Company,” he’d say.
That’s where he worked. The best cookie company in all of Santa Cruz County.
Bobby and I had been in the same guitar class and on the day of the final exam he asked if I wanted to drop acid with him. I wanted to impress him so I did. I had a bad trip and failed the exam, but it still ended up being a good day because that night he picked me up in his rusted Chevy truck and we went to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. We ate blue cotton candy and sat on the Ferris Wheel making out as it went round and round. After we walked down to the beach. Laying on the sand we made out some more and he gave me hickies all over my boobs. I thought it was romantic.
Every morning for a week I stared at myself in the mirror topless, imagining his bites, his caresses, our blue cotton candy tongues entwined. I couldn’t wait for a second date. But as the bruises faded so did my hope that he would take me out on a second date. I cried about it to Elle. She hugged me and hugged me some more. A year later they were boyfriend and girlfriend. I still had a crush on him and was envious she got to be with him but I didn’t hold it against her. She was still my best friend.
“I’m sucking on her nipples, Bobby’s going down on her and Dylan is now singing, ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’”
One night, the three of us were in my room eating coffee Häagen-Dazs out of the carton, listening to Bob Dylan and getting high. We were lying on the floor singing “It’s Alright, Ma” with the lights out, staring up at the glow in the dark stars scattered on the ceiling. Elle leaned in and kissed me. This time I let her. Next all of our clothes came off. I’m sucking on her nipples, Bobby’s going down on her and Dylan is now singing, “Mr. Tambourine Man”. Elle goes down on him and motions for me to join her. We trade off. I take all of him in my mouth, deep, imagining him taking me from behind. Holding onto my hips, thrusting. I want it, I want it all. Don’t stop. Oh yes, slap my ass. Slap it harder. Fuck me.
I’m still sucking him. His beautiful hard dick. Elle starts crying…
