We were pals, best buddies, inseparable friends, and my first date with her was to a basketball game and the three of us went in his car. If you saw two of us there would surely be the third close by. People didn't know at that point, I am sure, who she was with. Was it her and me, with him, or was it the two of them and me in the back seat? I wasn't all that sure myself sometimes, until he joined the navy and Claire and I went on our first date without him to a movie and dinner.
When we had sex for the first time, I half expected her to write to him and confess that she and I had it without him, then catch a flight to San Diego to make it right, to give him his due. The first dance I ever went to, again, we went in his car and we either danced as three or traded off. If I wanted to be with her, I would also, until he shipped out, be with him. It was just a fact of life.
I knew she wrote him everyday, and she got a letter from San Diego many times a week. I wanted to read them, but I never asked. I suspected they would be hot letters full of sex and promises and intimacies. When she accepted my marriage proposal, I expected a caveat: a "what about Jim?" It also became clear that her fixing up our guest room was for only one person.
When he came home on leave, it was assumed he would stay with us. It was also assumed that part of the time she would sleep in the guest room. Until a night after a movie, she never did. I expected it, but she managed to restrain herself.
What kind of man would put up with an arrangement like this? One who was truly in love. Jim and I had known one another since third grade. His baseball mitt was my baseball mitt. In junior high we played at his house or mine, we shared jackets, favorite shirts, I put up my basketball backboard at his house, and his car in high school was as good as mine. We shared everything. His mom was like my second mother, and she got after me just like she did with him, and mine was the same towards Jim. It was only natural that we shared the same girl.
When we went on our first triple date, I think my mother was happy Jim was there to see that things stayed under control. I think both mothers felt it was safer to have three on a date rather than just two uninhibited hormone-driven young people alone with their urges and each other.
Their reasoning was good, albeit naive. Two testosterone charged males and one curious female is probably not the safest gathering of youthful sexual energy. We did explore our sexuality as a threesome, although timidly, and I understood it could be dangerous, but the risk seemed worth it as the reward was awesome. We flirted, skinny dipped, even petted a bit.
The first time we had sex as a threesome happened on his leave from the navy and we had gone to a movie together. The film was a sexy one about a woman with two lovers and we talked about it in the car afterwards. I knew things could get sexual as we talked about the story where a woman is shared by two men who love her. It couldn't have been better for us.
"Do you think a woman would do that?" she asked shyly as she sat between us.
"Of course," I said. "You and Jim are about as close as two people can be. I am surprised you haven't had sex before now," I said, being as honest as I could possibly be. She looked at me, surprised by my answer.
"And you wouldn't mind?" she asked, amazed by my candor.
"I know you want to," I said. "Am I right?"
She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. I then helped her slip out of her panties and she smiled at me then turned to Jim. "Would you like to?" she asked, eagerness in her voice.