If you've followed my adventures over the past few years, you may have noticed a fairly deflating and anticlimactic common theme. For all the fantasizing, pillow talk and even explicit planning, an actual threesome has seemed forever not in the cards for me. It felt extra frustrating, since I am finally in a relationship with someone who is not just open to the experience, but excited to make it happen. And yet, for the two years of our relationship, and for the 46 years of my life, for various reasons it stubbornly hadn't.
Since it's actually been a while since I've written about anything in my life, I suppose a bit of context would be helpful.
For the last two years (and after a previous failed marriage of 18 years), I have been spending my recent life with an incredible woman named Alyssa, who I am very much in love with. Alyssa is beautiful, smart, exciting, passionate, daring and sexy. I could go on for hours about the ways she has drastically improved my life and made me feel loved for the first time in a long time, but I suppose this story is about a very specific facet of how she expresses that love.
I realize now in retrospect that I had been a mostly "vanilla" sexual person for far too long. Of course I loved sex and arousal and everything associated with it, but for the nearly two decades I was married, I just didn't have a partner with whom I felt comfortable expressing that part of my most intimate self. He was a bad communicator, except for when he was communicating his disappointment. So after a few years, I just stopped trying. We would have dutiful sex a few times a week, and almost never waded into anything I would consider experimental or daring. I laugh now thinking about the numbing anxiety I felt, surrendering my sexual identity to someone so cold and lacking in passion. Laughing—because for the past two years, Alyssa's spell over me has awakened the fire inside me that apparently never went away. For maybe the first time in my adult life, I feel that I am actually the sexual person I was supposed to be. Alyssa changed everything, and I love her so dearly for it.
I'm certain you can tell by her name, Alyssa is a "she." I am in a loving, same-sex relationship with her. My first and only. Since the first moment she seduced me on her sailboat (My First Real Bisexual Experience), I fell in love so hard it has almost felt like a physical sensation, like the first plunge of a mile-high roller coaster. She's spontaneous, funny, loud, infectiously outgoing, and in her own strange way, she takes care of me.
About a year ago, maybe a year into our relationship, Alyssa began to ask me some very deep and personal questions. I think maybe because she has "forever and ever" in her mind (at least I hope she does), she began to prod me about any lingering regrets I may be experiencing. After all, my new life was almost unrecognizable from my previous relationship. My heart and eyes had been opened to so many new experiences with Alyssa that it was difficult to dial into an actual "regret." But she has a gift for knowing people perhaps even more than they know themselves, and so with a bit of gentle scratching, she did help me reveal something I hadn't fully realized.
I missed men. Or, a man, anyway. Not anyone specific, mind you. Just—a man. For all that was wrong with my marriage, I had always loved being the female half of a couple. A traditional couple. He wore ties, I wore dresses. I knew how his male mind worked. I knew how to arouse him, mechanical though it might have been. I started to think about my sexual life before I was married. The butterflies and shivers I would feel unzipping a partner's pants and slipping his hard cock into my hand. Into my mouth. God...into my mouth.
As a clueless young person, I remember innocently thinking, "oh my god, I actually get to DO this?" I could actually be with a boy, and feel the rush of pleasing him. It was real, which I know sounds stupid, but it was all so new and extraordinary. I could express my lusts, wants, and needs, and how much of that filtered into pleasing a man. "Addicted" to performing oral sex might be too strong a word (even now, I can count my sexual partners in the single digits), but oh god how I loved tasting male flesh. Feeling the throb of a cock on my tongue as it passed my lips. How I was able to read the most subtle body reactions, and know instinctively whether to go slower, or faster. To use my hand or not. To make eye contact, or not. And mostly, knowing when he was passing the point of no return, moments from ejaculating in my mouth, and how my entire body would feel like the temperature in the room rose by a hundred degrees.
I loved it. And I missed it. And Alyssa, unafraid, coaxed that realization out of me. She made me realize I missed it. She even made me say the words, "I miss cock." God, she is such an incredibly amazing partner.
It was about that time we began planning a threesome. It's not like we had some huge black book of names. I am currently a high school teacher, and Alyssa formerly was, so we were also very aware and sensitive to the notion that we would want and expect total privacy from anyone we chose to invite into our relationship. We decided on a mutual friend named Nick, who I had had a single sexual experience with not long after my divorce, which coincided with his, give or take a few months. (Two Friends, Single Again).
