My girlfriend Daisy and I have always had an excellent sex life. Of course one reason for this is that Daisy meets my ideal for female beauty almost perfectly. She is about 5' 6", 125lbs with pale skin and blue eyes offset by dark hair. Her lips, like those of a star burlesque dancer, are both lovely and talented. She has the greatest tits I have ever seen, 34-Cs with large, sensitive nipples that I love to suck. Her smooth skin is sprinkled delightfully with freckles, they stand out primarily on her stomach, where they trace a meandering path to her sweet pussy. She keeps her pubic hair trimmed to a tight strip, and I love the stark contrast created by the dark hair, white skin, and her pink pussy.
Daisy and I have been together for about 10 years. We are very comfortable sharing our fantasies with one another. One of the scenarios we discuss most often is the idea of having a threesome with another woman. But while we both enjoy the fantasy, we have always agreed that this is one of those things best left to the imagination.
We agreed that there are simply too many complications that could arise from acting our fantasy out. More precisely, I have always said that a fantasy threesome was superior to reality, and if this statement was motivated more by political correctness than desire, well, we all make sacrifices. Daisy had always agreed with me, or so I assumed. Looking back, I can't remember her ever actually voicing that agreement, but I certainly believed that I knew her position.
I am a few years older than Daisy, and as my 33rd birthday approached, I was feeling a bit sullen about my encroachment of middle age. I was also vaguely disturbed about the number itself: 33. I have always been a student of folklore and epic poetry, and the number three is quite mystical. In college, I had written my senior thesis on the Danish folklorist Axel Olrik's Law of threes. As the date approached, I started seeing threes in everything from the morning traffic to the evening news. I am somewhat prone to ranting, so Daisy was quite aware of my growing obsession.
Three days before my birthday, I was in a surreal state somewhere between dread and amusement as the threes continued to pile up. I was trying to put these feelings aside and get some work done when my office phone rang. I answered and was pleased to here Daisy's voice, but a bit irritated by what she had to say.
"I decided to have the house fumigated," she announced, "We have to stay at a hotel tonight."
"Did this really need to be done now?" I sighed. "It couldn't wait until we were going out of town or something?"
"We are having people over for your birthday, and I saw 2 fleas yesterday. The dogs are being groomed and boarded, so it's no big deal. I already booked a room for us, anyway."
"Where are we staying?" I asked.
"I can't remember the name of the place. Something Manor It is one of those cool, old hotels downtown."
I was beginning to warm to the idea, as a night with Daisy at a Hotel sounded rather appealing. She gave me the address, and I told her I would meet her there after I got off work.
I found the hotel without a problem, and had to admit it was quite a place. The owners had purchased a mansion originally built in the 1880s, and converted it into an upscale boutique hotel. They had divided the mansion into 6 suites, each with multiple rooms. My mood was definitely on the rise, and I laughed out loud when I was the name painted on the sign at the entrance, "The Third Manor".
I went to the desk, and was totally unsurprised to hear that my girlfriend had reserved room 3. The clerk gave me my key and wished me a pleasant stay, tactfully ignoring the fact that
I was fighting back laughter at what must have appeared to be nothing. I made my way to the room, and used my key to enter. The door opened into what would probably be described as a sitting room, which was empty. I looked around for a moment; then called out to Daisy.
"Back here, "she answered. I followed the sound of her voice through a doorway and into a large bedroom.
I am not sure that I have ever been more shocked than by the site that greeted me. Daisy was sitting on an enormous bed, her back against the headboard. She was wearing a black fishnet top that clung tightly to her body. The netting in the fabric was quite large, and her body was as visible as if she were wearing nothing. The top was connected by garters to a matching pair of fishnet stockings which I could see had no crotch. Still, I could not clearly see her pussy, as my view was obstructed by the hand of the girl sitting next to her.
