I wrote about my first threesome here.
It was one of the highlights of my life, and ever since I’ve been drawn to threesomes. But they can cost you. I know several relationships that broke up shortly after the threesome.
When I told the story, I mentioned two clues I’d missed at the time, about what was going to happen next. The first was that Amanda had somehow developed impressive cunnilingus skills, and enthusiasm, though she was in a relationship with me, and we were supposed to be being faithful.
I’d held up my end of the deal. That doesn’t make me morally superior, by the way. It was just how it was. It’s maybe also a reason why I’ve since been less interested in sexual exclusivity. Though I’ll do that when it’s important to the girl I’m with and she’s important to me.
The other clue I should have spotted was when Amanda kissed Miranda. I kissed Miranda like I was fond of her, and pleased she was there. Amanda kissed her as though she desperately in love with her. Which she was.
So I organised the next night for the three of us. I’m not going to write about it, or not now, but it was every bit as hot as the first night. Hotter.
But the next time, after that second threesome, that I took Miranda to bed she was on her own, and she’d sneaked over to my place while Amanda was at a meeting.
She mentioned that she and Amanda had been fucking a lot, at Miranda’s place. She thought I knew. That hurt, not because they’d been fucking but because Amanda had been secretive.
Anyway, we struggled along for another couple of weeks, and then Amanda moved out, into an all-women, no boys allowed, house. And Miranda slept with her most nights.
Miranda, I think, would have preferred to be in the threesome, because she fancied both of us, and she wanted something warm and open-ended more than she wanted an obsessional love. But obsessional love has its power. I was her relief from Amanda’s intensity. Also, I had a cock, and no demands on exclusivity with her. She liked both of those things.
But Amanda didn’t like Miranda fucking anyone but her. At the end of the year, she went to a feminist event in London. And paid for Miranda to come. I never saw Miranda again. That wasn’t so sad, I liked Miranda a lot, and I loved having sex with her, but I wasn’t in love with her. What was sad was that I only saw Amanda one more time, two years later.
I’d been in love with her, my first love, and my heart was broken. I still loved her when I saw her two years later. I passed over the things she’d left behind when she’d moved out, and stored with me when she went to London.
And that was that. No-one was to blame. Amanda was in new love, and that made her ruthless. But that’s a human need.
Amanda had, I’m pretty sure, loved me until she switched to Miranda. I’d been the best boyfriend-of-a-feminist I knew how to be. And Miranda was just a sexy woman exploring and having fun.
So I was left alone, with just some memories. Well, “left alone” doesn’t last long, for a guy who’d been a virtuous boyfriend, mildly and locally famous, and unattainable for the four years I was with Amanda. I learnt a lot about female sexual enthusiasm afterwards. But I stayed in love with Amanda for years.
There’s no moral. Just, nothing is safe. Enter it with your eyes open.
All’s fair in Love and War. As they say.
Yeah, I tried out blaming Amanda. Just to see what it would feel like. Nah, she was a good person, and hit by something pretty strong. So I never did blame her.
I never bothered feeling anything bad about Miranda, either. I suppose technically I could have called her a heartless home-wrecking something-out-of-a-country’n’western song. But I had a sense of the ridiculous, which made that impossible. Also, I liked her.
So c’est la vie. As they say on Earth.
My bucket list is to have another male (so two in total) but my lover Earnest is very hesitant, I suggested somebody I knew and who he had knowledge off but he found that suggestion too difficult to contemplate. I have read your experience and feel the sadness due to the love you felt. However I do agree with you that blasting Miranda would not have helped. We as humans can’t help our feelings and eventually we tend to run with them. What I find harder is when you have fallen out of love with the person who thought you would love forever. Your post has made me very thoughtful x
Thank you!
I’ve had other threesomes since, that did no relationship damage, so it’s not inevitable. But it’s a risk: it’s there.
You’ll have to go slow with your lover, so he doesn’t start to get even more resistant. And before, during and after the event you’re going to have to give him a lot of love and reassurance. So he knows he’s your one and only (I take it that’s how you want to be) really. And so he knows the other bloke’s not going to be a permanent fixture: it’s just a one-off. It’s a time to show your gratitude to his generosity, if it happens, to and make sure the primary couple is first priority.
I mean, first priority afterwards; there will be moments during a threesome where nothing can be tidily arranged, and this is part of the joy.
And of course, you can’t force your lover. If they don’t want it, then there’s not much you can do. I wouldn’t push another woman on a submissive lover if it made her too uncomfortable. And as a straight guy, I know that I wouldn’t do a two-guys and a girl threesome. That ain’t fair, but in the end you can only do what you can do, sexually.
Still, despite that one sad story, I’ve had others that were perfect for all three people, not only during but in the aftermath too. I wish you luck, because it is wonderful.
But the sex that’s outnumbered in any threesome is, I think, the host. If you get lucky, be Miss Manners.