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It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 3)

It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 2)

My first and only threesome experience was not something that I could have ever imagined happening the way it did. It was totally unexpected. Even when I think about it I find it incredulous that it even happened at all. It all still feels a bit surreal. Even after all these years that have passed. But I guess that’s the thing about living out a fantasy. You daydream about it, but never really expect it to turn into a reality. And when the reality turns out to be so much better than the fantasy you find yourself retreating to nostalgia just to take one more hit, because the fantasy just doesn’t cut it anymore.

My threesome experience signaled the beginning of the end of one of the most hedonistic seasons in my life. It was also part of the genesis of what has been one of the most fulfilling and rewarding relationships I have ever been a part of. A relationship which brought me to my own attention and helped me grow in ways I am still appreciative of today. If I was to pick one relationship that did the most to shape me into the man that I am today it would be that post-ménage a trois relationship. It was the relationship in which I became emotionally mature and became more emotionally intelligent. In this series of posts I have spoken a lot about my ego. It was in that relationship that I first acknowledged my ego and in which I began the difficult journey of managing it. And for the better part of that relationship I succeeded, until I didn’t but that’s a story for another day.

Back to the story at hand.

Mine wasn’t just a random hook up with two random girls as I had once fantasised. It actually involved my “friend with benefits” and the girl who would go on to become a long term girlfriend after that experience. And that is why I am sharing that story today. It would be impossible tell the story about that part of my life without discussing that experience. And it would be a disservice to describe that threesome without putting it in that context as well.

I wish I could take credit for orchestrating the threesome but I can’t. That would be an unnecessary embellishment of a story that I am sure most will find hard to believe. Also for those who might be hoping to get some insight on how to pull off their very own threesome you are probably going to be disappointed because I don’t have a playbook you can follow. I genuinely believe the circumstances of my experience were as unique as it might sound improbable. I don’t think I will ever have a threesome again, but I am OK with that. That one time was more than enough for me. Besides I still wouldn’t know how to convince two women to have a threesome with me even after having been a participant in one before. The only insight I can probably provide is on how to handle one once you find yourself living out that fantasy.

So how did I find myself having a threesome with two women?

The short answer is I was ‘the chosen one’. Without any prompting on my part they had coordinated and agreed between themselves and I just got an invite to the debauchery that ensued. I later learned that the instigator in chief was my ‘friend with benefits’. For the purpose of this blog I will call her *Lala. For Lala the whole experience was some sort of power play that I am not quite sure I understand to this day, but one that backfired horribly for her. When I asked her after why she had pushed for it, her response was ‘I wanted to see what it was about her that you were so caught up on. I wanted to compare and prove to myself that I was better than her … and some part of me half expected her to chicken out.’

As for the girl I would go on to date, who for the purpose of this blog I will call *Hannah, she had suspected that I had been hooking up with Lala but hadn’t been sure. Whilst I had hooked up with Hannah before it had been randomly and we had never discussed the issue of exclusivity. We also happened to get along very well outside the sack but neither of us had made any effort to pursue anything more meaningful. Hannah for obvious reasons didn’t like discussing the threesome and the only insight I ever got on her reasons for taking part was that she perceived it as some kind of challenge and didn’t want to give Lala a win by default or something to that effect. Like I said I don’t fully understand why it happened. I can only share the story with you of how it happened. And that is exactly what I am going to do now.

How it happened …

As the three of us make our way out of the club I find myself a couple of paces behind Lala and Hannah who are walking in front of me with their arms intertwined. This is all too weird I start to think to myself but before I can finish that thought I find myself lusting after both Hannah’s beautiful long legs and Lala’s exquisite derrière, hardly believing my luck. My excitement is building with each step and it is taking all the willpower I can master not to break into a little jig. Keep it cool Taf, you only live 10 minutes away. 10 minutes stand between you and the ultimate fantasy. Don’t blow it. Just keep calm and just follow the girls lead. They are the ones in charge. The ones calling the shots. Just keep your cool. It can’t be that hard. Save all the energy you can anyway. You are going to need every ounce of it tonight.

Now a million thoughts are racing through my mind. Is this really happening? Or is this some cruel joke they are playing on me? Or maybe it’s some sort of test? Are they bluffing? But why would they? Just hold your nerve Taf, and please don’t say anything stupid. Not now. There is nothing to lose here and so much to gain … But surely one of them is going to chicken out. My money is on Hannah … but Hannah is the one I want more. If push comes to shove and I have to make a choice it will be Hannah. That’s a no brainer. She is the one I need to pay a little more attention to. Lala seems determined to go through with this no matter what so I am not too worried about her. Damn, the prospect of both of them at the same time is just … Oh shit, I need to figure out logistics before we get to my place. How is this going to work? I really didn’t think this through even in all the times I fantasised about having a threesome … Man, none of my boys are going to believe this. Shit, I can’t even believe this is happening. I am going to need all the tact and diplomacy I can master to see this through. I have to see this through otherwise I will never be able to live with myself. I can’t blow this.

I suddenly think back to the club where this whole night had started. I hadn’t known what to think when I had seen Lala approach Hannah in the club. They were not friends. They knew of each other but as far as I knew they had never spoken before. But that night they spoke for what felt like forever but in reality were only a few minutes. The next thing I knew they were dancing with each other. They couldn’t have been more contrasted both physically and in terms of their personality. Lala like me, was black African, and Hannah was a white Australian. Lala had a more natural rhythm about her dancing but Hannah was nevertheless holding her own and had more of an intangible aura about her. Lala was extroverted and Hannah more introverted. But there they were dancing away Iike the very best of friends having the time of their life.

I couldn’t make sense of it all, and before I had any time to decide on any course of action I saw them both calling me over to join them. To be honest at the time it felt like I was walking straight into an ambush but being the masochist that I am I joined them anyway. Surely this could not possibly end well.

TO BE CONTINUED …

 
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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 2)

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In my last post I started to write about a season in my life I described as the most reckless and hedonistic of my life. It was also the truest I had been to myself until that point. It was all about me, my ego and my dick. Nothing else mattered. In Part 1 I rambled on in attempt to give a proper prequel to the story I wanted to share. I was at pains to try and explain the process and purpose of writing and sharing that part of my life. That phase of my life is one in which I began to peel away the layers from idealised self and uncovered the unfiltered, raw and real self. In many ways I became the antithesis of the good conservative catholic boy I had been raised as. I don’t know if it was a conscious rebellion but I do know I revealed myself to myself. I played by my own rules. The real me stood up. I am rambling again…
If you missed the first part you can read it here

It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 1)

Now that you are all caught up, let’s continue …

There I was laying on my back her sobs drifting slowing off into the night. This wasn’t part of the script. This was a breach of protocol. I feel blindsided and am trying to gather my thoughts. Despite having an intimate knowledge of each other’s bodies we had until this moment managed to stay strangers emotionally. It was just sex. Great sex. Fulfilling sex. And for months now it had been the perfect arrangement. Anytime either of us got ‘thirsty”, depending on availability we happily indulged each other. We hardly ever texted and when we did their were either sexts or “Are you home” texts at 1am. But here we were. Even in conventional relationships in which emotions were shared , nurtured and encouraged I always felt out of my depth whenever tears were shed. I now had to deal with them now. This was going to be awkward.

“I can’t do this anymore Taf…” What do you mean” I replied pensively. “ This … we can’t keep doing this, it’s not right. It’s not healthy. I want more than this. I need more. I know what we agreed on going in but things have changed. I want more than just sex. This is not me. I can’t be living like this. It has been fun, exhilarating and convenient for the most part but things have changed for me. I want more. I need more than this. I know you can’t give me that and I don’t know why and I know I shouldn’t but that makes me sad. When we started out you were in this dark place. You were so emotionally detached from anything and everyone. You didn’t care about anyone, not even yourself. But yet I found myself intrigued by you. I liked who you were as a person and I knew I didn’t have to worry about either of us catching feelings because I was in the same place as you. The last thing I expected was that I would be the one catching feelings. Deep down I guess I also hoped that when you eventually got an emotionally healthier place or wanted something more I would be a consideration. You would at least consider me. It was naive of me. What happened last weekend dispelled that notion for me. I see the way you look at her. The way you are with her. You have never looked at me like that. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I can’t do this anymore. “

After the events of the last weekend I had been half expecting to have this conversation at some stage. I just hadn’t imagined it under these circumstances. We hadn’t been in touch since though and now here I was having this conversation post coitus in the backyard. I was still at a loss as how I got here and judging from the sudden turn of events I might never find out. There is an awkward silence for what feels like forever. The tears have stopped. I struggle to come up with anything meaningful to say and I mumble under my breath, “Ok if that’s what you want I will respect that.” And with that eyes displayed indifference. She got up, put her shorts back and left me laying there still coming to terms with what had just happened.

The Weekend Before …

A ménage trios. A threesome. One guy, two girls. Every man’s fantasy. Myself included.

A fantasy most of us never get to live out. As much it was a fantasy of mine I had never seriously thought about actually living it out. I didn’t know if I had the skills, charm or tact to convince two women to sleep with me at the same time. It was a hard enough challenge getting one woman into my bed on most days, let alone two. But I was looking at it all wrong. Approaching it as a primarily a male fantasy. I did not consider that it could also be a female fantasy, that two women could actually collude to have a threesome with a guy without being prompted. I never imagined that if that were to ever happen I would be that guy. That I would be a pawn in someone else’s fantasy and ego trip. In hindsight I guess that is the only way it could have possibly happened for me. That is what had happened over the previous weekend. I had unexpectedly found myself having a threesome with my f**k buddie and another girl who I had been interested in romantically. The very same girl who would could on to be a long term girlfriend. I couldn’t make this shit up even if I tried.

TO BE CONTINUED ….

 

 
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Posted by on April 15, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 1)

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A while ago I set out to write a series of blogs the purpose of which was to explore some of my past relationships. I wanted to look back on the influence those experiences have had in shaping me into the man that I am today … For better or for worse. It was supposed to be an exercise in introspection to see how much I have grown, changed or otherwise. It was an attempt to write my wrongs. In the process I hoped that someone out there might learn from some of my experiences.

A recurring theme in the few posts that I actually completed was the domineering role that my ego had on my decision making especially when it came to matters of the heart. This wasn’t too much of a surprise because I know I can have a big ego. Unfortunately I did not follow through and actually finish that series of blogs. After only three posts I quickly shifted to writing about less emotionally demanding topics. Why? Well, because I was at a crossroads as to whether or not to write about a particular experience or should I say season in my life. I found myself questioning what good it would do anyone to share that story. I was unwilling to confront my own demons. I wasn’t sure I could even tell that story in its unfiltered entirety. Anything else would not do it justice.

At the time I couldn’t summon the courage to confront myself within the blank pages margins. It was too daunting. So I chickened out. It was hypocritical of me for several reasons. For starters I pride myself on always following through on whatever personal goal set for myself. In that regard I failed. And that more than anything is why I am here again going around in circles working my way into actually finishing that series. Also the whole point of that series was to take stock of where I have come from, where I am, and where I want to go. It was never supposed to be easy. If I was true to the process it was going to be challenging, but only by overcoming those challenges and confronting my past would I be able to gleam anything meaningful from the whole process of writing and sharing those stories.

In the three posts that I wrote on my past relationships with women all the relationships I wrote about where your conventional and stereotypical boyfriend/girlfriend monogamous relationships. The revelations about how big my ego is and how it can often get in the way of any meaningful relationship were not really groundbreaking. I already knew this. I was just sharing and acknowledging it on this space. Writing my wrongs per se.

But this story that I avoided writing about until now was totally different. That season of my life was characterized by most reckless behavior both emotionally and physically. Although I probably played Russian roulette more with my penis than I did with my emotions. The emotional recklessness I displayed at the time had more to do with the feelings of the people I interacted with at the time. Nonchalant aptly describes my attitude then. Hedonistic, my way of life. It was also the most revealing, selfish and honest period of my life up to that point. It is a period in my early twenties that blasted almost two years from when I was 22- 24 years old. It is a period that I hardly ever talk about or reminisce over. In fact I avoid it like the plague.

A big part of the reason I didn’t write about before is that I have never known where exactly to start. I also worried about how it would be received and whether or not it would somehow awaken any sleeping dogs. Granted this all happened a long time ago now and all the parties involved have moved on but hey, you never know with these things. I was also embarrassed of some of my behavior and didn’t know whether I would be true enough to the story. But then I am aware of how much clarity and closure I have been able to get from writing about even more traumatic events in my life and that is what gives me the confidence to go ahead this time. I have been able to hold myself accountable to myself by simply writing my wrongs on the blank page. It might seem like a trivial way of dealing with issues but it works for me. So that is what I am going to do. As for where to start, in an ode to the anarchism that prevailed at the time I will start somewhere in the middle of that story. On the night of my 23rd birthday party.

The night of my 23rd birthday party is blur that is fragmented by random flashes of memory. If it wasn’t for the pictures I have of the day I’m not sure I would have be able to properly reconstruct some of what happened that night. Neither would I have been able to tell you who was there or what mischief they got up to. But there is one scene that I vividly remember without the aid of pictures or even friends. There is no need to reconstruct it because the images are indelibly etched in crystal clear high definition quality in my memory.

I am in my backyard. Everyone else is either in the house or elsewhere. Well, not quite everyone. There is one other person with me in the backyard. I am laying on my back, intoxicated out of my mind, with no idea at all how I even got here. I don’t realise it at the time but I am ruining my friend and housemates $300 white blazer I had borrowed for the night by laying in the grass like that. Anyway, like I said there someone else in the backyard.

I can make out the silhouette of a woman. The southern cross forms a beautiful backdrop above the silhouette that my drunk self appreciates for a second as I become more and more aware of my surroundings. Now I can feel her gluteus maximus gently cushioned on my person. My pants are pulled down to my knees. I feel the cool summer night’s breeze against my legs. I feel myself inside her. I have no idea where her pants are or when they came off. But she is the teetotaler so I am sure she will feel in the blanks for me later. We have been here before. One too many times in fact. Not in this exact spot in the backyard, but definitely in this situation having casual sex with each other in the most random of places. It has often thrilling So whilst I have no recollection how I got here I am relieved because this is a familiar body. I know all it nooks and crannies,it’s contours and all it’s intricacies. I have navigated my way around it’s curves countless times.

We are not dating. We are not even an ‘item’ per se but we are very familiar with each others bodies. We are ‘friends with benefits” or to put it more bluntly we are F**k buddies. We have managed to keep the boundaries clear and the arrangement has been mutually beneficial and fun. We see each other in spurts. No fancy dinners, no roses, no gifts, no bullshit. We satiate each others libidos with zero emotional distractions. Get in, get off, get out. And so far it has worked. Ours has been a clandestine affair grounded in sexual hedonism, a mutually beneficial and satisfying one at that. None of my friends or even hers knows of our little arrangement. Most of her friends would probably be shocked. That is the way we like it and want it.

But as I meet her gaze I am confronted by her tear filled eyes and for the first time I realise that she is sobbing softly. Now this is a first. I am more accustomed to her lustily pinning me down with her eyes, her luscious lips curved into a knowing smile. Not today, now it’s just her bottom lip that’s quivering uncontrollably. This is uncharted territory and the realisation sobers me up quickly. I try desperately to put together the jigsaw in her eyes but my head is throbbing incessantly and I am struggling to make any sense of what is actually going on. As she reads the puzzled look on my face, she mumbles to me between sobs “ I can’t do this anymore Taf … ”

To Be Continued

In the meantime you can have a read of the blogs I mentioned earlier in which I explored my past relationships here and shared some of the lessons I picked up from them

I Have Never Been IN Love

Where I Wanna Be

The Pretender

 

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs

 

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