Our Threesome...omg It Happened

I've been so eager to share the rest of my first threesome story. Just typing the word makes me shiver. It almost doesn't seem real. For the entire intervening week, it's been difficult to think of anything else, and I find myself distracted and aroused no matter what I am doing.

Welcome to the rest of our evening on Alyssa's boat with Nick. It's probably best if you read part 1 first, as I am eager to jump right on in to the rest of the evening.

Night had fallen enough to create the perfect backdrop to our tryst, with very little activity on the water from the vantage point of our anchorage. But even with the crackling balls of fiery glitter and muffled explosions from the shore painting the sky at lazy intervals, the real show was happening on the deck of Alyssa's 39 foot Catalina cruiser. And Alyssa, the love of my life, was the main attraction.

After a few tangled positions involving all three of us, Nick had been concentrating on Alyssa for the past several minutes. Alyssa had lured him to her with perhaps the single most unexpectedly erotic thing I have ever witnessed in person. While still inside me, thrusting deeply, I could feel Nick's eyes swing to Alyssa, and so mine followed. There on the deck floor, resting with her back against a bench cushion, Alyssa was staring at us, heavy breasts cupped with both hands, and, every ten seconds or so, producing enough saliva in her throat and cheeks to spit profusely on her own increasingly soaked tits. Sometimes the spit would land on her fingers or nipples in a way that caused the saliva to sway and jiggle before it eventually adhered to her flesh. Sometimes the spit would fall in a gooey strand from her lips to her breasts and not break at all until her massaging hands caused it to separate from her mouth. Again, and again, and again. I would have never, ever expected my reaction to something so brazenly vulgar. So confident and free and aggressively sexual, Alyssa looked like a goddess.

Nick moved to Alyssa quickly with an obvious sense of need, and straddled her chest, mounting her slippery breasts and guiding her to press her wet mounds around his meaty thrusting cock. It wasn't gentle. It was primal. Culminating with Nick pumping so many powerful and voluminous fountains of sperm onto her breasts that the sheer depravity of it was shocking. I climaxed watching, mouth agape, my entire body spasming to the sight.

I've had time to consider my reaction since that night, and why it affected me so intensely. I've marveled at the sight, the presence, of Alyssa for so long, sexually and otherwise. Her posture, her gait when she strides to open the refrigerator for a Diet Dr. Pepper, the way her huge breasts sometimes rest on the tabletop when we have coffee. I've seen so many men--our friends, her crew, even members of my own family at my daughter's wedding last winter, make an effort to just be close enough to feel the sensuality radiating from her. Their eyes on hers at first, but inevitably dipping involuntarily to her heaving chest as the conversation meanders.

I thought of her ability to mesmerize any audience to the point of near hypnosis just by leaning a bit forward and deepening her impressive cleavage. And now here was Nick, our friend of many years, mounting those very tits--those giant spit covered tits--and fucking them so thoroughly that his resultant ejaculation looked almost as though he were attempting to put out a fire. It was so next-level sexually intense, and almost beyond what I would describe as "dirty," that my body convulsed and shivered well after the wave of my orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami. I thought of all the men I knew who maneuvered aggressively just to behold something as tame as Alyssa's nipples stiffening in a tank top--and now this. Oh my god, THIS.

Nick slid to the deck, spent like he had run a marathon. It was hot and humid, even in this late hour, and all three of us were trying hard to catch our respective breath after what just happened, sweaty, messy and almost in disbelief. Alyssa made eye contact with me, gazing into my eyes with something akin to telepathy, and I knew she was very aware of her own extreme behavior in front of me, her partner. She seemed to be begging me with her eyes to act with something akin to approval. Soaked in sweat, saliva, and Nick's enormous output, naked and resting back on both elbows, she needed to know everything was ok. It was such a subtle but acutely present sentiment. And I wasn't about to let her simply wonder. My heart felt like I would explode for her in that moment, and so I crawled the short distance from me to her.

I crawled to Alyssa and brushed the hair from her face as she closed her eyes, comforted, breathing still ragged. What a road we had taken together to this place. Difficult and winding, but so honest and freeing. Thoughts exploded and faded in my mind not unlike the fireworks that continued to dot the sky. An image here, a memory there, a sound, a flash. I began kissing Alyssa with as much love as I have ever had for anyone. I wanted to share every bit of the erotic intensity of the moment...I wanted to bathe in it. But I also wanted to feel this new depth of honesty and sharing. I wanted to give myself to her, to this. I kissed her mouth and felt her tongue so gently glide over mine.

Even in the very dim light, I could see the pink rash of orgasm on the flesh of Alyssa's chest. My hand moved from her tummy as our kiss bloomed, and as I glided my fingers upward to her heaving breasts, I could feel the warm pools of mingling saliva and cum under my touch almost as though it was a magical lotion. It made me almost dizzy. It made Alyssa sigh as I smoothed it into the bare flesh of her tits. I could feel the aftershocks of her orgasm still coursing through her body with a small, random shiver every few seconds. I leaned in to kiss her smeared breast flesh, and could taste Nick's cum on my tongue. It was intoxicating.

So many fragmented and lightning quick thoughts flickered through my mind. How could this even be real? For decades in a failed marriage, innocuous things like watching adult movies together, or god forbid sharing an R-rated Cinemaxish fantasy, felt reserved for birthdays and evenings when he had too much to drink. So pitifully vanilla and unfulfilling, devoid of passion, adventure and spontaneity...and now, here, this moment. How far I had come. How this utterly fearless woman had led me to something I could have never imagined in a million years. I felt special, and fortunate, and loved. Seen. Alyssa slipped her fingers through my hair and it made me tingle almost as much as being filled, stretched. It was her super power. It was electric. And I slipped her erect nipple under my tongue and suckled.

"Lick her," I heard from behind me. Nick--oh right, Nick. I obviously hadn't forgotten that he was there, but his low, masculine voice seemed somehow in tune with the embrace Alyssa and I were sharing. "Lick her, Kristi," he whispered again, and I looked up to Alyssa's eyes pleading with me as she nodded. A little more than two years ago, I had had zero intimate experience with another woman. I barely even knew this part of me was buried so deep in my soul, yearning. And now, in just a few seconds, I was going to taste and lick and orally massage the love of my life--a woman--in front of a man who would be stroking himself to another erection at the sight of us. On a beautiful sailboat. In the open air. With fireworks still lazily exploding in the sky. I couldn't, even in my wildest and sexiest imagination, have conjured a fantasy so beyond who I thought myself to be at the time. I was transported, and I needed it. I wanted to be this sexual animal Alyssa had turned me into. I wanted to devour her. I wanted to please her like no other lover ever had, or could. She whimpered and shivered as my tongue glided upward to her clitoris, lingering. Moving in slow motion circles.

As Alyssa's tender stroking of my hair slowly felt more intense, gripping, even pulling and controlling me, I felt a new singleminded fire that focused my mind. Scalding, as I licked and flicked my tongue, slipping two, then three fingers inside her. I could sense Nick's approval behind me, hearing the familiar wet friction of a man gliding his fist up and down his own slick cock. It spurred me on. I felt like the star of some explosively sexual feature--a famous singer, a Hollywood actress, a supermodel, an object of affection. A sex object. A pornographic actress. Is this how those women felt? Could they possibly feel the unimaginable pleasure I felt knowing Alyssa and Nick would do anything for my affections right now? I started to touch myself as I licked. I moaned against Alyssa's pussy, and her body responded. She was rising again, and we all felt it. I needed her to need me. And she did. Her tiny hand fisted my hair hard to the point of pain and she began grinding more urgently to me, using me. Fucking my mouth. I wanted it. Nick wanted it. And more than anything, Alyssa wanted it. I don't know how my mind processed this, exactly, but as she neared he climax, I needed to cum with her, to match her and experience it with her--and actually made a decision in the spur of the moment to fill myself with as much flesh as I could. Three fingers became four. And four fingers became my entire hand. It hurt. I loved it.

Alyssa was grunting again, primal and animalistic, and this time I was matching her, grunt for grunt. Little whimpers and light screams coursing along our rhythmic display, and I felt it. I felt my own orgasm practically ripping through the night air, and I heard Alyssa hungrily pant, "can I?" I knew exactly what she meant. She didn't need my permission, but her asking turned our contact maddeningly frantic. Like a dog fight, roaring as we both launched past the point of no return toward towering orgasms. Alyssa was asking my permission to squirt in my face. And I gave it.

I've made Alyssa squirt before. And she, me. But this was different. Knowing someone was watching, aroused by us--this was unprecedented. It was spectacular. Alyssa slapped her own pussy a few times as I backed away just a few inches, barely able to keep up with my own breathing. When her hot, saltysweet stream squirted in my face, I felt it detonate inside me, too. As Alyssa sprayed me again and again with her wet orgasm, I did the same with my hand pistoning inside me. We climaxed together in a berserk and depraved puddle of screaming and gushing.

I was in another universe.

There's this phenomena that seems to happen with me. A sort of out-of-body experiential component of my most intimate and intense sexual experiences. Not that I've had a lot of them, mind you. But it's a palpable, very in-the-moment looking glass feeling that comes over me, I suppose because I am always questioning myself and what I am supposed to be feeling as things transpire. Assessing and wondering and calculating immediate registration and ramifications. I tend to detach and feel a sense of hovering, inspecting, searching for and qualifying every sensory element that comprises the moment at hand as if I am not actually "in" it, but witnessing it. I began to feel it happening.

Who was I? How could I have done what I just did? Was this normal? Was it right? Did it even happen as intensely as I believed it to? What did Alyssa think of me? Or Nick? I was embarrassed and raw. I had never, ever allowed myself to be this vulnerable. So completely stripped of inhibition and fear and guilt. Part of me wanted to lay still until reality caught back up with me and reminded me that I wasn't this person. Another part of me wanted to cover myself with a blanket or get dressed or run below deck until I woke up to something normal and familiar. The smell of coffee or toast, my alarm clock playing the quiet song I had programmed into it. A phone call from my sister, or a random news update. Something. Something that would help me recognize myself. I wasn't exactly ashamed, of course. How could I be ashamed of something that didn't yet even register as real?

I curled up a bit. I reached for the nearest item of clothing I could find, which happened to be Nick's shirt, and draped it over me as I surveyed the scene. I was still in the middle of this dream, it seemed. I inhaled deeply. Alyssa had stood to catch her breath, bent forward at the waist, arms braced to the rails of the stern pulpit, and staring across the black, sparkling water toward the shore, her magnificent and athletically fat ass swaying almost imperceptibly. I watched Nick watching her, a look of hunger in his eyes. He moved toward her slowly, not with aggression, but with affection and closeness and care. And unmistakable, scalding need.

Nick whispered to Alyssa, caressing her back. Her knees were still wobbly, but she whispered back with a nod. They took a few moments to adjust to each others' proximity, embracing and kissing lightly. I tried to curl inside Nick's shirt, but had to be satisfied with the warm night air as I rested sideways on my elbow, still catching my breath.

There was no mistake--this was a threesome. A planned, real, passionate, and well defined threesome. Something Alyssa and I had pillow-talked about for years. We were in the middle of it, and it was still blowing my mind. But what happened next wasn't a part of that. What happened was between Alyssa and Nick. I firmly believe it would have happened if I was there or not. I had talked to Alyssa about the possibility of it happening well ahead of this night, and I could tell by the tone in their texts leading to our date, it was a distinct possibility. Alyssa and Nick, who had never been physically intimate before this evening, wanted each other. And that excited me. I was open to it, and it made me shiver to watch.

I know it sounds wrong, and it was not without a big pang of jealousy that I was processing what was happening just a few feet in front of my eyes. For nearly as long as I have been in love with Alyssa, I have fantasized about watching her with another partner. I had had previous experiences, even while we were together, with Nick, and, not that I was "keeping score," but I knew this was her time. I had butterflies. I have them now, remembering.

Minutes ago, Nick was inside each of us, in turn. It felt amazing, it felt so erotic and wild. But it felt playful. Teasing and wonderful, but...playful. When Nick stood behind Alyssa and pulled her back toward him, there was nothing playful about it. He was in charge. He was about to take what he needed. He needed a lot.

Nick guided his cock inside Alyssa, and they both sighed. But whereas they may have paused to adjust to one another just a few moments ago, this moment moved forward as though it were shot from a cannon. Nick braced both hands on Alyssa's hips and drove his cock deep. "Drove" is accurate. He pounded his cock deep, and hard, and fast into Alyssa, and her mind could barely keep up as she babbled fragments of reactions. Suddenly, I watched Nick slap Alyssa's ass, and not playfully. Not like he was sending a six year old to timeout. He slapped her ass--hard. And then again. She responded wildly, her body rippling with his trusts, his slaps, her massive tits swaying and slapping as she absorbed the animalistic fucking. They were stunning.

I was incredibly aroused, but I didn't even think of masturbating. I just stared, mouth agape, like I was witnessing something extra terrestrial. There was nobody around us for at least a hundred feet, probably more, but Alyssa's and Nick's screams and exclamations were so feral and audacious I kept poking my head up and swiveling it just to make sure.

Nick explained afterwards that once he ejaculates a first time, a slight loss of feeling prevents him from cumming quickly a second time. He fucked Alyssa for what seemed like forever. Hard and brutal. They didn't change positions, they didn't kiss, they just FUCKED. And fucked, and fucked. Like a machine. When I heard Nick growl, "tell Kristi whose slut you are, Alyssa," I froze. The roaring and aggressive tone of it shocked me. The words were similar to some of the unvarnished sexuality of their texts back and forth weeks ago, but completely devoid of any playfulness. It was like he was handing down a sentence. I waited for her response, and was as surprised as Nick was when it came, choked out in ragged fragments.

"I'm Kristi's slut. I belong to her. I love you, Kristi. Fuck, I love you, Kristi."

Even though I'm certain it wasn't the answer he expected, Nick gasped, "oh fuck, Alyssa, oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." I knew he was cumming inside Alyssa as she was cumming on his beautiful cock. They looked beautiful together, but I was barely looking at him. Alyssa looked more beautiful than anyone I have ever seen as her head turned just enough to make eye contact with me as she finished her reply. She couldn't keep the gaze as Nick manhandled her through his ejaculation, but we both felt it together. it was more than the moment. It was more than the experience. It was more than anything.

I am more in love with this woman than I have ever felt in my life, by a thousandfold.