The First (kind of) Threesome

The First (kind of) Threesome

Marc and I had been lovers for about four months when we took our first trip to Paris.  I had spent some time in Paris doing research and was already in deep love with the city. I guess you could say I’m poly-chez (I have more than one place I call home—Paris and New Orleans.  I’m all about the French knot).   

On that trip, we didn’t see much daylight.  We spent our nights exploring the dance clubs and waking at 9am for the complementary croissants, jam, and coffee delivered to our room and then falling back asleep until mid to late afternoon.  A vampire’s life in Paris, including the hunt for warm bodies.

One night, we found ourselves at Le Queen.  For those of you who don’t speak French, the name of the bar is a lovely gender f@$k. “Le” signifies masculine gender and “Queen”…well, you get the drift.  It’s not our favorite queer bar in Paris, but as explorers at the time, we were down with the mixture of tourists from all over the world interested in taking a walk on the wild side of a “mixed bar”(In Paris, that means hetero, homo, in between, and beyond are welcome).  It’s a great club if you’re interested in pretty tourists paying a hefty cover charge and outrageous prices for drinks to get their freak on—like us. 

So we were getting into our groove and checking out the Lindas (see previous blog) and Brads (that’s our code word for hot women, but it never did stick in the M&M lexicon because there isn’t the risk of homophobic violence when a woman checks out another woman and so, a code word was superfluous).  In the mix of undulating bodies, I paired off with an Algerian man and Marc was working his moves on a Swedish woman.  Though we were temporarily occupied with another, we maintained our connection to each other through eye contact.

I was interested in getting the four of us into a group grind on the dance floor, so I beckoned my dance partner and slowly made my way toward Marc.  When close enough, I rubbed my body on Marc and then turned again toward the handsome young stranger.

He looked at Marc and then leaned in to my ear.  “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.  Isn’t he sexy?”

The Algerian pulled me close so I could feel that he was “enjoying” the dancing, laid a sweet kiss on my cheek, and moved away only to disappear in the sea of hungry bodies. 

I squelched a small bit of disappointment—he was definitely Linda--and kept dancing while I gradually moved away from Marc and his dance partner so I could watch.  We were new lovers, so there was no way Marc could know how to handle the situation.  Should he abandon the Swede and come dance with me?  Should he invite me in to their fun?  With more than a bit of concern, he looked at me as if to ask, “What should I do now?”

To encourage him to maintain the current arrangement, I gave him a coy smile and a nod toward his dance partner to let him know that, for now, I was happy with the role of voyeur.  Taking my cue, he refocused on the Swedish woman while he watched me watch.

When I signaled to him that it was time to leave, he was at my side.  I wasn’t ready for the night to end, so as we were heading out, I said, “Invite your friend to come with us.”

With a huge grin, he pulled my hips into his.  “Are you sure?”

I smiled and said, “Yes.”

The negotiation of her coming with us is something that only Marc can tell, but before I knew it, I was being introduced to Inga, the woman Marc was dancing with, and her friend Annika (not their real names—as will be the case in all our posts), and we were hailing a taxi on the Champs Elyse.  Apparently, Annika refused to let Inga leave alone with us so insisted on joining us as a chaperone of sorts.  I immediately liked Annika.

Once in our hotel room, Marc, always the gracious host, offered everyone a drink.

While he poured each of us a nip of whiskey, Annika, Inga, and I settled on to the bed.  If you’ve never stayed in a relatively affordable hotel in Paris you might be thinking “Three women on a bed…bowng chicka bowng”; it wasn’t that way.  The rooms are so small in Paris that, if you don’t sit on the bed, you’re in the hallway. 

So there we were--Marc and I and two relative strangers--sitting on the bed in our hotel room. The mood was…well, uncomfortable.  Something had to be done, so I reached into my proverbial bag of fairy dust and asked, “Have either of you heard of the American game Truth or Dare?”  

There is probably a version of this game in every culture, but the Swedes were down with playing the American version.  When they agreed, Marc looked at me.  I immediately understood the look of gratitude—a look I saw in the club when I told him to invite her and that I would come to cherish in the years to come.

Truth or Dare was now the name of the game.  We did the truth thing for a while, giggling and revealing not-so-intimate information to each other in our American and Swedish accents.  All of us had sex we regretted. All of us had been in love.  We all shed our virginities in our teens.  And…none of us had ever had a threesome or group sex.  This was going to be interesting.

Things were moving along pretty well as far as the game of “Truth” was going when Marc decided to take on a Dare.  Eyes wide, Inga, Annika, and I looked at each other with devilish grins.  As we discussed what the dare would be, I kept my eyes on Marc trying to read his level of comfort.  He seemed to be enjoying the negotiation.  Inga suggested Marc do a dance.  Riffing on her suggestion, I suggested a striptease which pleased Inga and Annika, but I saw a flash of fear wash over Marc’s face before he laughed and said,  “I don’t know.  Really? A striptease?”

Annika and Inga were practically jumping up and down clapping, while I tried to read Marc’s reluctance.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No.  I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”  I was impressed with his willingness to play.  “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with the tease part of it.  I might be willing to strip, but not in front of all of you.” 

Being a queer, fairy-dust-spreading sort of gal, I said, “Okay. If you go in the bathroom and take off your clothes, we’ll take off our shirts and you can kiss each of our breasts.”  I looked at Inga and Annika resting comfortably on the pillows.  Much to my surprise, they smiled and said, “Okay.”

If Marc had an expression of gratitude when I suggested playing Truth or Dare, the look he gave me then was absolute adoration. It said, “You have me.  I will spend my life giving and doing absolutely anything and everything your heart desires.”  I really like that look. 

Marc disappeared into the bathroom and, giggling, I pulled off my shirt and bra, and they followed.  So there we were, three women propped up against the headboard, our breasts saying “Hello” to each other, when I called Marc back into the room. 

Marc walked out, and he was completely naked.  We all giggled more as he methodically smooched all six of our breasts.  When he got to Inga, she lifted his face to kiss him.  As they got lost in each other’s mouths, Annika stood up, and gathering her bra and blouse, whispered, “I think I’m going to be in the bathroom for awhile.” 

Marc stopped kissing Inga and said, “You don’t have to do that.  If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop.” He stood up, went to the bathroom and came out in his boxers. 

Annika said, “It’s okay.  I’ll just wait in the bathroom,” and scooted by Marc and closed the door. 

Marc and Inga resumed their lip lock on the bed while I slowly moved in closer. When I touched Inga, she looked at me and shook her head.  “I’m not into girls.”

I was tossed out of the loop and once again relegated to the status of voyeur.  This is actually a fairly common occurrence in a threesome situation. In a 2 gals one guy scenario, however, it’s usually the guy who plays voyeur most of the time.  This time, it was clear I was going to do the watching.

I sat on the periphery and watched Marc and Inga roll around on the bed.  The whole time, Marc was obviously enjoying himself with Inga, but his eyes were always on me as if to say, “This is about you and me, baby.”  It was a huge turn-on, and I loved it.  Every once I awhile I’d glance at the bathroom door and wonder what Annika was doing, but I was pretty in to what was going on between Marc and Inga and between me and Marc, so I stayed where I was rather than check on her.  

I didn’t know at the time, but Inga had conveyed to Marc that she wasn’t going to have intercourse with him, but was very much enjoying the making out part.  It seemed like a lot of time passed and they were still just kissing.  If I was going to play voyeur for the rest of the evening, I wanted something to watch, so I decided to let Marc know that I was okay with the two of them getting more “intimate”.

Holding eye contact with Marc, I mouthed, “Lick her.” Marc didn’t seem to understand that I was trying to convey an interest in watching him go down on her, so this time I whispered instead of just mouthed, “Lick her.” 

Inga must have heard me and abruptly sat up and said in an angry Swedish accent, “What did you say?”

I paused, my mind reeling.  She was staring at me while Marc cringed.  I had to say something.  “I said, ‘Liquor’.  We’re all out of liquor.”  

Miraculously, it worked.  As Inga settled back down for some more kissing, Marc stared at me with his mouth hanging open.  He might have mouthed, “I love you.”

Some time later, Annika emerged from the bathroom and said something in Swedish.  Inga pushed Marc away and said, “We have to go now.” 

We all joked about how the sun was coming up as Inga and Annika thanked us, gave us a kiss kiss on our cheeks, and, as if nothing happened, cheerfully left. 

It wasn’t exactly a “threesome”, but it definitely laid the groundwork for what was to come in terms of inviting others in.

Mimi: 

Marc and I didn’t know each other that well when we embarked on this particular adventure.  In fact, I don’t think we even discussed having a threesome.  So the relative ease with which it all went down (between me and Marc, anyway) and the comfort I felt at every turn had everything to do with Marc and I being on the same wavelength and knowing it. 

The key for me was the eye contact and connection that Marc and I had throughout the whole experience.  As a couple (awkwardly) inviting someone else in, it was important to let each other know that it was about us having a playful and exciting experience together. If either one of us turned our complete attention on another person, it wouldn’t have worked, especially the first time.  But neither one of did that.  Marc was brilliant at keeping it about us though he was getting all of the action.  He demonstrated to me something we call, erotic intelligence, and it made me trust him, relax, and take pleasure in his pleasure. 

I didn’t feel one pang of sexual jealousy the whole time, and this is generally the case when others are involved in our play.  That is not to say that each of us, at some times, hasn’t been overwhelmed with jealousy in a situation like this. 

For example, many years later, Marc and I ran into one of his lovers at a bar in New Orleans.  We all ended up in bed together, and things were fun and playful until I thought I saw them make the sort of eye contact I’m talking about.  That sort of “we-know-what’s-going-on-here,” and “this-is-about-us” eye contact.  I freaked.  Seriously, totally freaked out.  I jumped up and said something like, “Obviously this is about you two.  I’m out of here,” and left the room.   I will never really know if that’s what was going on between them, but at the moment, it was my reality and it was both terrifying and painful.  Marc and I had to do a whole lot of work to repair the damage done with that one look. 

That first time in Paris, however, even though it was awkward and perhaps irresponsible (after all, we left Annika in the bathroom), we were so together and it was so wonderfully playful.  The key to a good threesome, at least for me, is that it’s playful.  Things can get pretty ugly if everybody gets real serious.  That night, I learned that Marc and I play well together and that he gets it.  He could see where I was going and I could see him, and together we held on to each other while opening ourselves to someone new.  And I thought to myself, “Yeah, I’d like to do that again, only next time, I’m not playing the voyeur.” 

Marc:  

That was certainly a fun night.  Paris was intoxicating.  It was my first time in this great city, and I wanted to do and see it all.  Le Queen was a loud, pulsating, huge club with drinks that cost about twice as much as what I was used to back in Chicago. 

I remember Inga watching me from the periphery of the dance floor and smiling.  We danced together for quite a while and I do remember glancing periodically at Mimi to make sure she was ok with everything.  We kissed a bit on the dance floor, and then it seemed like it was a good time to head out.  We were all the way to the door when Mimi suggested I go find my Swedish friend and see if she wanted to accompany us home.  It was so late the Metro was no longer running, so the four of us hopped in a cab. 

I really had no idea what to expect and had not yet been fully exposed to the sex-fairy that Mimi can sometimes turn into.  She kept the conversation stimulating, full of innuendo and promise.  Mimi described the situation that followed very well above.  Since it was my first time with multiple partners, I really didn’t know how to move things forward.  I’m generally very cautious when it comes to initiating anything physical or more-than-flirtatious, because I’m always afraid I’ll come off sounding like Joey from the TV show “Friends”:  “How YOU doin’?”  So I play the opposite tack.  I become somewhat passive and figure that if someone wants something to happen, they’ll let me, and in this case US, know.  Mimi definitely played the host with the most and got the ball rolling. 

As I discovered over the years in my relationship with Mimi, threesomes can be tricky.  There are times when all 3 people are fully involved, and times when it’s more of a twosome with a fly buzzing around, trying to figure out what tasty morsel to land on.  When it’s a threesome with 2 women, there are times when it’s the typical guy’s fantasy come true, and times when it’s “well…they obviously don’t need me here…maybe I should go and refill the drinks”.  It was obviously a thrill to be able to act on my desire for Inga, and to experience her desire for me, while also knowing that Mimi was involved and taking pleasure in the scene, but because this was brand new for us as a couple, there was also a sense of worry for me.  I had concerns about what the repercussions of my interactions with Inga would be when we woke up the next day.  I had concerns about whether or not I would do or say something in the throes of passion with Inga that would set Mimi off and cause jealousy or disdain.  As I remember, the next day we discussed it and there was a little bit of friction (the origin of which I can’t remember at the moment) but for the most part, we discussed it and moved forward.  When this occurred, it was the end of month four of our now eleven-year relationship.  I was in for quite a ride!