Two; or, the prequel to a threesome. [MF] [second person] I may be persuaded to include pictures.

I waited for you in the restaurant; sure, I was early, but you were also late. I wore a navy blue dress and thigh-high brown boots. Dinner was awkward. I was shy, you seemed nervous. We chatted, getting to know each other. The details weren’t very significant—we talked about work and school and the restaurant. I barely remember them now, which does make me somewhat sad.

We drove to the hotel and stood around somewhat awkwardly again. Finally, we agreed it was time for me to change. I disappeared into the bathroom and quickly slipped into a lacy black bra, pink lacy underwear, and my skintight, black dress (the one that’s too short and too low-cut for me to wear in public—if it were one or the other, I could get away with it). I looked in the mirror, fluffed my hair a little, adjusted my bra so my breasts were just starting to pop out of the v in the otherwise round neckline of my dress. I stepped into my nude heels, took a breath, and opened the bathroom door. I left my hand on the door frame and took a step out, leaning my torso ahead of my legs. I shyly stepped the rest of the way into the room. You turned and stared at me while I stood, one leg extended slightly behind me, toes against the floor, heel swaying in the air. My hand is still on the door, the other hanging by my side.

“Oh my god.” I blushed and giggled at how dumbfounded you were. Your hand covering your mouth was the best compliment. You stared for so long. Comments like “I’m so happy right now” made me blush and cover my own mouth with my hand, turning away for a moment while laughing in embarrassment. I’d never seen someone so floored by my body in a dress.

“I need to put my hands on you,” you told me. I smiled and stepped closer, letting you gently put your hands on my arms, my sides. You began to rub up and down my sides, so I put my arms over your shoulders, one hand holding my wrist behind your head. Your grip was too light, though, and you moved your hands up too high; it tickled and I jerked away, laughing. You promised to press more firmly. My eyes rolled back into my head just a little bit at the thought. I put my arms back around your neck. You forgot your promise quickly and brushed up the sides of my ribs. I stepped back again, laughing more. “I’m sorry, I just want to touch you so delicately at first.” I moved into you once more, this time keeping my arms by my sides and wrapping my arms around your back. You in turn enfolded me in your arms, your hands exploring my back, slowly making their way to my ass. You rubbed in circles for a while before starting to pull my dress up. You felt around for my panties, and were clearly happy with what I had picked out. The lace curved around the top of my ass and slipped in between my cheeks, peeking out just a little on the sides, holding the shape of my ass all the way down.

You cupped my ass, rubbed your fingers over it, tugged on my underwear. Grabbed ahold of the waistband and yanked it up, turning it into a thong of sorts. “I want you to turn around and stand against the wall.” I picked the wall of the bathroom, so as to not disturb anyone who may have been in a neighboring room. You just held me there lightly and touched me some more. I didn’t mind; I love to be touched more than anything else. I love the way a man holds on to me, the way he feels me. The way his fingers slide over my skin, sometimes digging in. Every man’s hands are different, you know? My body is new every time a new man touches it; there are new ways to discover it.

You pulled my underwear down to the middle of my thighs. I felt them digging into my skin. You spread my ass to look at my pussy. You said more nice things; I couldn’t focus on anything but your hands. I remember you kept telling me I was pretty and I said “if you tell me I’m pretty one more time, I’m leaving.” You laughed and swore up and down you’d stop (you didn’t, but I didn’t leave either).

“I want to hold your arms behind your back,” you told me. I immediately put them behind me, leaning into the wall balance now. You lightly held my wrists for a moment and then pulled off your belt and wrapped it around my hands. I was a little nervous at this point; we had just met and were in a hotel room, after all. I let it happen, though, tried to focus on the feelings rather than my hesitancy.

It’s hard for me to remember what exactly your hands were doing, but I know for a fact mine were on your dick, stroking as well as I could with bound hands until you told me to stop, to just hold it. “Feel me get hard in your hands.” So I did. It didn’t take very long. You felt so strong in my small hands. I started stroking you again, I couldn’t help it. You told me to stop again so I did, and instead thrust my ass out to rub against your cock.

Finally, finally, you rubbed your cock against my dripping labia. I asked you to put on a condom and you did, begrudgingly. You partially lost your erection, but were able to enter me anyway, and oh man, did it feel good. You fucked me somewhat slowly, steady, against the wall. I could feel you get hard again inside me. That was cool.

Eventually you told me to turn around and kneel on the edge of the bed. We fumbled around for a minute trying to get a good angle before you entered me again. This time you got harder inside of me again, and it was the strangest sensation my pussy has ever experienced. It felt as if you were too big for me but at the same time, I had never felt anything so good. I wanted to tell you to stop and I never wanted you to pull out. Finally I decided it was more good than bad and tried to pick up the pace, but you wouldn’t let me, so I gave up and stayed mostly still, your dick occasionally pushing a moan out of me.

The mattress kept moving, and your knees were hitting the bed frame, so you pulled out and I flipped over onto my back. You pushed my legs up and climbed on top of me. Once again, your cock swelled inside me. It felt better this time. I remember you said something like “yeah, this is good pussy.” I wanted to laugh—it’s such a strange compliment. I kissed you instead. Your lips were so soft, your kisses even softer. We were still moving the mattress too much, so we moved again. This time we pushed a chair up against the table and you put a pillow down on the chair for me to kneel on. I still had my heels on, I realized.

I climbed onto the chair, placed my elbows on the table in front of me, and leaned forward. I pushed my ass out, and then rolled my hips up, causing my ass cheeks to pull apart slightly and give you a better view of my pussy. You certainly liked that. You rubbed your dick against my clit a few times and then slid back inside me. After a few thrusts, though, you pulled out and got a pillow to put under my elbows. I let you fuck me for a few more minutes like that. Then I put my hand on your hip to make you stop moving and I began to fuck you, hard. You just stood there and let my pussy slide on and off your dick, all the way back and forth. I wanted you to cum for me. You knew, somehow, and you let loose. God, it was satisfying.

You left to smoke a cigarette, and when you walked back into the room you said “do you care if my friend comes over?” I was floored. A threesome is my biggest fantasy, but it was already late and I had a big day ahead of me. Then I realized you might not have meant to imply threesome, so I said I didn’t mind at all. We talked about it for a bit; you were concerned about me being awake too late but I insisted I was fine. Then he called you and I took the phone from you and answered it. I told him to come over. He agreed. You went outside for another cigarette and to wait for him. I put on my bra and underwear and waited in the bed, doing some homework.

It seemed like ages before you came back, but it was worth the wait. Your friend was cute. You told me you had often asked girls who they thought was cuter, and got varied responses—a rare few thought you both were cute. Luckily I don’t have a “type” and I was definitely attracted to both of you. You asked me to stand up so your friend could look at me, and I happily obliged. I stood up, turned around, giggled and blushed. One of you said “oh my god.” You said “isn’t she gorgeous?” I laughed again, turned slightly away out of embarrassment. I didn’t know what to do with two men staring at me, but I didn’t want it to end, ever.

You suggested we sit down, so I did, and pulled you down next to me. He sat on the other bed, across from me. We talked for more than an hour. You were a little awkward; I could tell you wanted to bring up the possibility of a threesome, and eventually began hinting at it, and then got a little bolder, but still shied away from just asking. I smiled and just watched for a while—you were so cute. Finally I felt bad at how uncomfortable you were, so I said I was not opposed to a threesome, but I didn’t think it was a good idea for that particular night. We were all disappointed, but I knew I needed to be rested and able to walk for the next day—and I was already a little sore from you.

We talked about it a little more, and I said again I was very interested, just not that night. Eventually you said you wanted to smoke again, and your friend agreed, but you didn’t want to leave me. So I stood up and got dressed—bending over at the waist to pick up my dress, which elicited the desired response from both of you. I slipped on my dress (I turned to face your friend while I pulled it on, making sure to lean over just a tad when it came down over my tits; your friend approved, and I think leaned forward a tad, too) and a jacket and we went outside. It was cold and raining. You kept trying to get me to go inside but I was being stubborn; “I like to be cold” I kept saying. It’s true, but I did finally lean into you to warm up just a little bit.

We went back into the room and I immediately stripped down to my underwear again. This time I laid down on the bed, on my back, my head tilted so I could look up at you as well as across to him, still on the other bed. You sat down next to me and we talked some more. I pulled you down on to me; you laid across my stomach and put your hand on my tits, rubbing just a little. You and your friend were talking about work. I just laid there and enjoyed the attention from your hands and his eyes. You still kept telling me to go to sleep and I continued to say no. You got up to find your phone. I rolled over onto my stomach and your friend looked at my ass and said “that’s my weakness.” I laughed and asked if he wanted me to turn around so he had a better view.

Sometime around midnight (maybe, I really have no idea) you both wanted another cigarette. You asked if I wanted to go, but I declined this time. “I’ll let you boys chat,” I smirked. You both agreed that was a good idea and left the room. I laid down this time and thought about going to sleep. You came back before I fell asleep though, and I was grateful. I was enjoying myself quite a bit. You told me you needed to go check in with another friend. I asked if you would come back and you said you would—that your friend or I should just text you whenever. I was curious about your conversation with him, but I let things play out. You seemed nervous, hesitant, but you left anyway after hugging me (and one more confirmation that you would come back).

I laid back down on the bed. Your friend sat down next to me and turned on the TV. We talked for a while; he was sweet. He eventually slid closer to me, put his hand lightly on my ass, started sliding it across my skin, then rubbing more firmly. We continued to talk. At some point I asked about his conversation with you. “We talked about you. He told me about his experience. Asked me what I thought.” I didn’t press further, though I did want to know the details. I’m sure my guesses are accurate enough.

After probably five minutes of him rubbing my ass, lower back, and upper thighs he turned and asked if it was okay that he was touching me. I laughed. “Of course. I love to be touched.” That just encouraged him, thankfully. He got somewhat more aggressive, which was nice. He told me his favorite part of the female body was the bottom part of the spine, just the lower part, leading into the ass. His hands paid particular attention to that part. I wasn’t complaining. He got between my legs and leaned over my shoulder. I turned my head and kissed him. His lips and kisses were just as soft and sweet as yours, if a little bit wetter.

He stood up and pulled off his jean, commenting on their tightness. I didn’t care what his excuse was, I just wanted to feel his dick pressed against my ass. He didn’t need me to ask, he was soon right there, pulling my underwear off, pushing himself into my warm skin.

I really hadn’t intended to fuck him. I was confused about what you wanted, but knew you wouldn’t have left us alone (with the parting words “behave yourselves. Or misbehave, I don’t know”) if you had a problem with it. I also assumed you two had discussed it over that last cigarette. I hoped you had.

But any reservations I had went away when he slid the head of his dick in between my labia, up and down the slit, hitting my aching clit, spreading my juices. I lifted my hips up to encourage him, but before he entered me I asked if he would wear a condom. He agreed, but as he put one on he said he never had any success with condoms, and he wasn’t kidding—he went soft as soon as the condom touched him and had trouble getting hard again. So he took the condom off and threw it on the bed.

I laid back down on my stomach and lifted my hips slightly. He slid in easily, though I was glad my face was away from him because I winced slightly—I was definitely already sore. He felt good, though. His dick was almost the same size, very close, but his had an upward curve in it. He fucked slow and steady like you, too.

He’s a little harder for me to remember because it was very late at this point, but I know we tried a few different positions. I’m sure I was on my knees with him behind me. I remember liking the way his hands felt on my skin.

We were laying on our sides, him behind me, thrusting into me at the perfect angle for his dick because of the curve in it. He was leaning back to have a better view of my ass, I assume. I turned to look at him and opened my mouth to ask a question, but hesitated. He prodded, so I asked, “do you want to fuck my ass?” He enthusiastically said “Yeah!” then asked how I knew. I laughed it off, saying it was obvious, because it was, but I didn’t want to reveal you had already told me he was very interested in anal.

I got my lube, handed it to him, and got on my hands and knees on the bed. He knelt behind me on the mattress and rubbed lube onto my asshole and his dick. I told him I had only tried it a couple times and asked him to start slowly. He did, but it hurt anyway and I breathed heavily through my nose a few times and he pulled out and applied more lube. That was much better, and he slid in without hurting me.

Still steady and kinda slow, he pumped in and out of my ass for several minutes. Then he stopped, suggested we take a break, and went into the bathroom. The sink ran for a minute or two and then he came back and got dressed and left to smoke another cigarette. I assumed we were done, so I once more tried to fall asleep. He came back and laid down next to me, clearly not done with me. So we picked it back up, this time just vaginal.

If I remember correctly, we were on our sides again, but I know for sure he was behind me again. We fucked for a few more minutes, just his dick in and out of my still soaking wet pussy. He asked if I liked it, if it felt good. I assured him it did, tried to make my moans louder to further reassure him. Soon he pulled out—I couldn’t tell if he came or not. But he stood up and put his underwear back on. I was disappointed because I thought I hadn’t satisfied him, but wasn’t sure how to ask if he had finished or not. We talked afterwards—he asked me what it took to get me to cum: “a certain pace or speed or something?” and I told him I had never finished with a guy; he told me he sometimes had trouble finishing but he had started to tonight. I didn’t quite know what that meant but assumed he didn’t let himself cum because we didn’t use a condom. Then he told me he didn’t want to know whose dick was bigger, so I assured him I wouldn’t offer up the information unprovoked, but I wouldn’t lie if either of you did ask. So he asked me and I told him the truth. He didn’t mind.

We laid there for a few more minutes. I texted you, asking you to come back. You told me no and it upset me more than I expected. Your friend went to take a shower and I fell asleep.

When I woke up, he was gone too, but I had a text explaining why he left and that he was looking forward to next time. I got up and checked out of the hotel and faced the day with three hours of sleep, a sore pussy, and an eager anticipation to see both of you again.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3r5z76/two_or_the_prequel_to_a_threesome_mf_second