I've just been part of an incredible classic FFM three-way. In college we called it being 'the meat in a fuck sandwich'. Unbelievable. And the best part is, this was not a one-time-only encounter but, to paraphrase Bogart at the end of Casablanca, the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
My name is Craig. Teri and I were married three months ago, so we still classify as newlyweds. We had planned our lives out to include home-ownership in about two years, the start of a family in another three, and a few decades of quiet happy middle-class life to follow.
Then, everything changed about a month ago with a single phone call.
Emma was Teri's college dorm roommate for three years and they became very close. She was one of Teri's bridesmaids. Because a few hundred miles separated them now they saw each other infrequently (the last time was right after we'd returned from our honeymoon) but constantly emailed and instant-messaged each other and talked on the phone at least once a week. That Emma called wasn't of itself significant, but that she called at two in the morning and was crying hard enough I could hear her from across the bed was.
Teri and I had gone the traditional route and married, all nice and legal. Emma was far too much the bohemian for any such conventionalities (her high school had voted her 'most likely to wind up in a commune') and had started living with a guy named Jim about two months before our wedding. I didn't particularly like Jim but he was her choice to make, not mine. Apparently my gut feelings about him proved correct.
At first I'd thought he'd beaten her, but that wasn't the case. Words can hurt more than weapons, however, because while physical cuts will heal, the wounds from spiteful speech fester permanently in places where bandages can't reach and ointments can't soothe. His abuse of her had grown and gotten to the point where she couldn't take any more, and she found herself on the street in the middle of the night with nowhere else to turn.
She turned to Teri.
We dressed and drove the few hundred miles to her, and brought her home with us. Teri called in a personal day (we are both teachers) and I went off to work to do as best I could, and to give the two of them a chance to calm down and get reacquainted.
In my absence they decided that Emma would stay with us until she figured out what her next move was. Her job obviously was gone (her BA degree in Liberal Arts sat collecting dust while she worked in an art gallery just to be surrounded by all those wonderfully creative people, one of whom had just broken her heart and her spirit) but she promised to find something locally and contribute to the rent and groceries. Our small town didn't have much in the way of art galleries, but I was certain her combination of academic degree and life experience could propel her comfortably into a position behind the counter at McDonalds.
The last thing I wanted was a house guest, but I couldn't be cruel and send her packing, and besides the decision had been made already, and so Emma came to live with us in our rented townhouse condo.
The first two years of a marriage are the magical time when you really get to know each other. It's just the two of you, building a life together, doing whatever pleases you, getting the most out of being young and in love before responsibilities begin to build up on your shoulders and life turns slowly into a routine. Now we had an intruder and it felt as if someone had slammed on the matrimonial brakes.
The first thing that suffered was the sex. Teri and I up till then enjoyed sex a lot, and would often just go at it in whatever part of the house we were in whenever the urge struck us. Now, we were restricted to bed, at night, and even then we held back so we didn't make too much noise and bother Emma. Plus, on many nights we'd hear Emma crying in the room downstairs (which was supposed to have been the office where I would write the Great American Novel, but instead, with a quick trip to Ikea, was converted into a guest room) and on those weepy nights Teri would go down to comfort her and I'd wind up sleeping alone and horny.
After two weeks the strain was obviously showing, because one morning while Teri was still upstairs getting ready for work and Emma and I were alone downstairs in the kitchen having coffee and toast Emma told me how much she appreciated our taking her in as we had, and assured me she was searching for a way to show her appreciation. I wanted to tell her she could show her appreciation by getting the hell out but instead I told her everything was fine and that she could take her time.
"No sense rushing into another disaster," I said, and regretted having said it for a number of reasons. Besides implying she could stay as long as she wanted with my blessing, I was also passing judgment on her relationship with Jim, sort of an 'I told you so' that I really had no right to say even though I would have been perfectly justified in doing so.
She came to me and kissed me on the cheek, very gently, and then kissed my lips very briefly and sweetly.
Teri came down the stairs. Emma went back to her coffee and I to mine. I just hoped Teri didn't notice the bulge pushing out the front of my pants.
Now, what the hell was that all about?
Emma was cute, but not my type. She was shorter than Teri and heavier although nowhere near overweight, just built differently, zaftig to Teri's petite. She had dark brown hair and deep eyes and thick fingers and while all that may be attractive to some men she'd never done a thing for me, not with Teri there anyway. Teri was my ideal. She was tall, slender, and naturally pretty, with reddish auburn hair that framed her oblong face very nicely. Her body made me crazy. She had small breasts with proportionately small deep red nipples that stood out so starkly against her creamy skin, and where her legs came together she had the briefest of red downy patches just above the most beautiful pussy I'd ever seen.
Some men may say women are all alike down there, but they have no idea what they're talking about. I have seen some ugly pussy in my day. Teri was perfect.
So why had Emma's short-lived kiss caused such a reaction in me?
Looking back now I see it as an omen. At the time, it scared the crap out of me, and I was only able to function that day by telling myself the abrupt decrease in sexual contact had rendered me susceptible to almost any stimulation. Otherwise, was I falling out of love with Teri so easily?
My return home that afternoon was delayed by an impromptu faculty meeting at the high school where I tried to shove history into some of the most unyielding little minds I'd ever encountered. A supposed glitch in the testing schedule had become the local school board's newest jihad and if not resolved immediately would result in world-wide catastrophe, a massive death-toll, and rampant inflation crushing the fragile world economy.
Teri, whose elementary school ran like relative clockwork, had gotten home at a reasonable hour and when I trudged in the door supper was already bubbling away aromatically on the stove and the two girls looked as happy as I'd ever seen them. Both gave me welcoming hugs and kisses, and after Emma's I shot a glance at Teri to see if she'd seen and objected but she was busy stirring something and wasn't paying attention. I went upstairs to change and relax a few minutes, and they seemed just as happy to have the kitchen to themselves again.
