Daddy’s guide to a threesome
When I was asked if I wanted to be a part of a threesome, I was excited. Honored. And scared. I had just had a hookup with someone and was asked that question for the next time. This is an area I (and probably most dads) have had little or no experience. So I said, “Yeah, WTF, that’ll be fun,” without giving much more than a fantasizing thought. I couple of weeks later, I received a text asking if the weekend was convenient. My heart raced. Wow. It had gotten real very quickly! I replied, “Looking forward to it!” I put the phone down and sat thinking, WTF have I just agreed to?
There was one other person I had told about this invitation. Partly boasting and partly looking for advice. He said to me, “Are you going to be in the middle and get all the attention?” I really haven’t thought it through. “Well, make sure you use protection.” Yes! “How is it configured?” Ugh? “Is it FMF? MFM? You could be in an MMF situation.” What does that mean? “You with two women or are you the other guy? There are also same sex threesomes, MMM and FFF.” Oh, I get it. Sounds confusing. “There’s no difference when you’re all horizontal,” he said coolly. “What are your limits? Do you have any safe words? Are there chemicals involved?” Ugh, no to drugs. I don’t know about the other questions. “You must have discussed some roles and boundaries.” We really didn’t. “Are you staying the night?” Okay, you’re scaring me and I might not go now. Then he said, “You know what? Forget everything I said. You’re a smart man. You’ll be fine. Enjoy yourself.” I laid down looking at the ceiling for a long time.
There’s no difference when you’re all horizontal; all the labels disappeared. I walked in there thinking about the others, and walked out thinking about myself. That’s the way it should be.
I did show up. But I sat in my car for 30 minutes before getting out. When I finally got the courage to approach the door, I was warmly greeted. Some perfunctory hugs and kisses, some light conversation, and drinks to break the ice (although none of us had alcoholic ones.) It wasn’t long before someone made the move to slip off footwear and a garment to get comfortable. It was a sign and I too unbuttoned my shirt’s top button and went from there. I think the thermostat was deliberately turned up making it easier to get turned on!
The evening went on without a hitch. In fact, it wasn’t awkward at all. Out of the three of us, I was the most inexperienced, yet I wasn’t left out or made to feel performative. Nobody felt slutty, degraded or unnatural. There was a lot of touching, caressing, kissing, and to my surprise, there was a lot of laughter. It was just fun! All the labels disappeared when there was just an organic melding of flesh. If an errant hand went wayward, there was no flinching or apology. The touch either moved on or it lingered into a new sensation. And I learned that orgasm wasn’t the end goal and even when it did happen, it was not the end. In fact, it was hard to know when it was over because after a collective pause, it naturally resumed into new play.
I did not spend the night; I went back to my car and drove home. I grabbed a nice, long, hot, relaxing shower and then went to bed. A threesome is something I’d do again. But there’s no pressure to hook-up with the same partners. There was also no weirdness if we decided not to. And there was never a day-after conversation either. It was purely a consensual, non-committal, and candid experience. I rang up my friend who gave me the pointers and he asked how it went. I told him that I felt at ease—almost a low-key feeling of coolness and sexiness. There was nothing to brag about and nothing unsatisfying to raise. Then he said, “You walked in there thinking about the others, and walked out thinking about yourself. That’s the way it should be. And the reason you did it in the first place. Sounds like you had fun.” I did. Thanks for looking out for me.
