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7 Threesomes in 7 Days

When I was 21 I had 7 hot threesomes in one week. There’s often a young man asking about my sexual experiences, fascinated with all the things I’ve done in his imagination in the couple decades I have on him that he has also only yet done in his imagination. He never understands when I explain that to him that no matter what sexual experiences I have had – they were mine – and me talking about them doesn’t really impact him.

After all, I write about them for everyone to behold, so it’s not like he will get to be the special holder of the secret naughty information (sorry prospective cutie).

Anyway, my meager experience is barely enough to tease the young men and the more mature thankfully don’t give a fuck. 

But I do have one in my back pocket that titillates men of all ages

…That one time, when I was 21, my best friend from high school and I had seven hot threesomes with seven men in one week.

The shining moment, us slightly drunk, getting back to my monster of a mansion of a teenage home in our hometown (where we did not have to work incredibly hard to achieve this feat), bragging to each other about our hot threesomes.

“So if they want a blonde, there’s me, and if they want a redhead, there’s you.” I say.

“Yeah, we’re both hot and together we’re…” at this point we both stumble on a low step in the dark. When we see one another in the future, we laugh forevermore about our clumsiness taking down our hot hubris during our week of hot threesomes.

As I go about telling this story some 25 years after it happened, the obvious way is to list all seven hot threesomes and talk about them one at a time. There’s one tiny issue with that one… Not sure I remember all seven threesomes. I definitely remember the first one… I think the subtitle for this post should be “Diminishing Returns”, or anyway it definitely seems I recall them more and more faintly as they went on.

And so, dear readers, I’ll make an attempt. I’ll do three. I know, false advertising: I suck.

Hot Threesomes

The First Threesome – The Marine

Combing my memory, I can’t think of any other US Military man that I have been intimate with. I think I am fine with Scott the Marine occupying that checkbox. 

I remember that he had a boot camp body, and one of the cutest asses I have ever seen. He had a tattoo of a devil on his butt, and my tattoo and its devil-like elements made him widen his eyes.

“You know I would want to hook up with just you, if you want.” he hints, more than once. I wouldn’t do that to my friend, and I tell him so. 

We’ve all been drinking and have been out at a shitty bar in an industrial Western New York city a little more than an hour away from my hometown

We met through my friend’s family at the grand opening of Krazy Klams – an establishment that like many others has me glad I do not eat seafood, here in this landlocked place in the middle of nowhere bumfuck USAmerica in which someone has decided to open a seafood restaurant, complete with Grand Opening night with its buy-one-get-one wine cooler deal.

My friend and I sip vodka and cranberry and BOGO wine coolers, and look longingly at the marine while he talks about baseball and being stationed in Los Angeles and many things that we have little interest in.

There is a photo of this moment, which sadly to protect identities I cannot post. It is the beginning of our week of hot threesomes, before we know it’ll commence.

We are seated in a booth at Krazy Klams, with seedy faux wood paneling and puffy, green upholstered benches. I’m wearing a cheap pleather jacket over a pair of JNCO jeans and my friend is in some other raver pants. She in thick black eyeliner and plastered makeup. Both of us in belly-baring shirts we don’t feel comfortable in, so our arms hide the shame and we lean over a bit to shorten the distance they cover so that our arm shields will provide more protection from eyes that might criticize our bodyfat percentage.

We’re both sipping out of straws coming out of a bottle of a single strawberry wine cooler, but our eyes are locked on Scott, across the table, leaning forward, shirt tight around his muscles, obviously telling us about some shit we don’t gaf about.

Soon we escape to a bar and put up with a zillion guys telling him that he is so lucky as we dance, making out with him and each other. None of the guys pay us any mind, they solely talk to and interact with him. As if to respect some bro code – if there’s a two gal threesome, don’t you dare interfere with the loose ladies even if you might get some. Leave the marine to his catch.

I pay for the hotel, begrudgingly, as to me it seems that it should be him covering the tab. I remember clearly that it is a Days Inn, and that my friend gets bored quickly and passes out and he and I continue all night to the sound of her snoring in bed next to us.

Before that though I learn just how much work it is for men to pleasure two women at the same time. He’s a fit man, and his solution to this challenge is to jump around the bed. It’s not really a turnon, as he doesn’t seem to really be enjoying the workout, rather he is duty-bound. Like a good soldier. I remember him going down on us, and each time he makes one of us come he’ll switch to the other. He isn’t good, but he is eager.

He is stationed in Los Angeles, and I live in Los Angeles at the time, though we never see each other again after this night. I hear he gets old, fat, married, kids, and unhappy. Alas. Scott did complain a lot, I can see that that negativity would blossom in the wrong environment.

He complains about Los Angeles. His biggest complaint is that people leave the baseball stadium before the game ends to try to beat traffic. This, and most of his complaints, are just more beautiful details about a city I will always love. I came up in Los Angeles. I survived Los Angeles.

But I digress, because I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m in a Days Inn in Central New York blowing a marine.

“That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever had.” Though I don’t quite trust it, it’s still a fun line I don’t get tired of hearing.

There’s a similar dynamic throughout our threesome binge, of one party being more or less into it than the other two. Mismatched attraction is so much easier to make meaning of when there are three people involved. It’s the reason I haven’t had my double male threesome yet. Never was able to find two men that were cool with it and were both attractive to me and attracted to me.

A few days later during our third threesome when we hook up with a high school friend it’s me that isn’t into it. He has to constantly prompt me to be involved. I lose all interest as he lies back expecting one or the both of us to service him. But I am getting at least one threesome ahead of myself.

The Second Threesome – The Schizoaffected

There’s an absolutely gorgeous man that we both know, but, well, like so many other young people in my hometown, he has serious mental health issues and is medicated for them. Doesn’t stop us.

At this point we’ve been looking through all of our photos and phone numbers TRYING to have another threesome. (I don’t think this one was actually the second one.) We’re not at the bottom of the barrel yet, but there is a funny moment when my friend asks about my cousin.

“HE’S MY COUSIN.” I say, shutting her down.

“Well, yeah, but, is he a blood cousin?” she asks, showing her commitment to the mission. 

Years later I told my cousin about this. He loved it. He’s cool. We don’t fuck though.

And then we hear that our impossibly handsome schizoaffective disordered friend is around. He and my friend are closer than he and I are. I’ve just met him in passing once or twice before.. She calls and point blank asks him if he wants to have a threesome with us. He does.

I remember his long, slightly curly, thick, golden hair that was brown near his head but blonde on top, naturally bleached from too much sun gazing. It’s winter, but his skin is still tan and he drinks carrot juice regularly and he just glows gold everywhere. Angelic.

The yellows and oranges in his skin and hair stand out against the purple carpet of my teenage room, now the room where my father keeps his one of a kind audiophile stereo system. We listen to classical music, at our lover’s request.

He has a soft voice and touch. I remember his kisses, long, deep, and sweet. 

He tastes of cigarettes and oranges.

I remember kissing my friend around his dick. Both of us with pierced tongues at the time, sliding them around and into each other’s mouths.  I remember him moaning and smiling, relaxing into it as we suck his dick switching mouths with each stroke, a rhythm that keeps him on the edge for hours, yet his is still relaxed. Smiling. Enjoying. Receiving.

He is generous and graceful with pleasure, but there’s been sexual tension between him and my friend longer and so he gravitates towards her. It evens out our score. 

For being on the schizo spectrum, he was the sanest one we hooked up with.

The Third Threesome – The Actor

One of our friends made it out of a trailer park into being an actor in commercials. He later achieves other success in the entertainment industry. But right now, he’s an actor in commercials, and he’s home on a break, as are we.

His fifteen minutes have gone to his head, and he thinks he’s better than everyone in his hometown now. I too have left for Hollywood and done just fine, and so his attitude irks me. We’re both back here visiting. No need to be asses about it.

By this time, the rumor mill has let everyone in town know what we are up to. So when I randomly get a call from him letting me know he’s in town and asking if my friend and I want to hang out – I already know what he’s looking for. 

I remember holding the phone to my shoulder and looking at my friend. Mouthing the guy’s name with a shrug and a question mark. She shrugs back. The slightest affirmative.

We are in the bedroom again of the crazy modern mansion my parents have built. We are all making out a bit and having a little fun. Then we smoke some weed, and it’s not something I often do at this point. Immediately I’m brought by the wisdom of cannabis to the reality of how I feel about the whole situation and this crazy week of hot threesomes. We’re in the home stretch. I’m just done. It no longer interests me. 

And so I remember he wanted us to do all the work. He wasn’t looking for a threesome, he was looking for two women to give him pleasure at the same time. I’m completely turned off. I roll over to let them do their thing – but of course he’s not actually into my friend nor she really into him, and without the extra zing of threesome, they also quickly lose interest.

The Moral of the story of 7 Hot Threesomes

Not very sexy, is it? In my world, hot threesomes are best spontaneous and everyone involved needs to be full of desire for everyone else. Even then – there’s probably going to be a lot of unforeseeable interpersonal dynamics. They’re kind of a form over function thing. So difficult to get the right mix. 

However, I am sure, not impossible. Just because I didn’t really find any fun ones in my week of seven doesn’t mean that you, dear reader, cannot. 


I probably just bursted some young gentleman’s bubble though. Sorry not sorry.


Enjoy more stories from my distant past:

When I was 19

Also when I was 19

My 20’s are in this book


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