A week or two later, Bee mentioned that her and Karen were planning on going to a hot springs together. Great! Could I come? I might remember some annoyance in Bee’s voice, or maybe that’s how I’m coloring in my memory now. Either way, she agreed, and made sure it was alright with Karen. They had been planning to venture to a faraway spring but we decided on one closer. There was a deal we found that sounded perfect: a room, unlimited time in the mixed, clothed hot springs, and a choice of either the gender-separated nude communal springs or a gender-mixed private room together. It seemed to cover every possibility: we could spend a family-friendly evening in the mixed springs; Bee could see Karen nude in the female springs and I could hang out with a bunch of naked dudes (not ideal for me); or we could hang out in the private bath and see what happened.
I knew next to nothing about Karen. I knew that her parents were Chinese, and she was born in America and didn’t speak the language. Bee and I both spoke Chinese. Hers was better than mine. Lastly, Bee had told me that her breasts were big for a Chinese girl.
This all sounded good to me.
We booked the room. The plan was for the two of them to drive up together and me to meet them there when I got off work. A blizzard ensued. I got a call from Bee to say that they’d forgotten their IDs, and couldn’t check into the room. Bee is the kind of person who gets stressed when things don’t go according to plan. I clocked out at 5pm sharp and drove up into the mountains with a hard-on in my pants.
I had seen Karen’s Facebook, and she was gorgeous. In the bikini picture, she looked like a swimsuit model to me. Bee had mentioned that there was a guy she had been hooking up with, but I didn’t know how official it was.
When I saw her in person, in the chilly lobby of the hot springs, my first impression was that she was much smaller than I had imagined. She wore a colorful ski jacket. Bee had brown curly hair and dressed like an Anthropologie girl. She was just adorable, and strong, and she tended to stress. She seemed to be at about a 5 or 6 at the moment: not completely at ease, but not freaking out, either.
It was late, and I realized I had locked my keys in the car somehow. Time went on while I tried to figure out that situation. Eventually, we went down to the mixed hot springs, changed in separate changing rooms, and met in the atrium that housed the pool.
This room was hotter than a greenhouse and filled with tropical plants. Hot water pumped from the spring into the swimming pool. People from all over, of all ages, swam around, relaxing in the gentle steam. I flirted with Bee, taking her to steamy secluded corners and touching her; pushing the limits of what I could do with others around. The other younger couples in the pool seemed to be playing the same game. Eventually I worked up the courage to swim over to Karen.
“Hey,” I said. “Bee thinks that you’re cute.”
(I probably didn’t lead with this, but it was pretty much the first thing out of my mouth.)
“Really? I don’t think so.”
I remembered that I didn’t want to break Bee’s trust. She would likely be furious if she knew I had told her friend this. In spite of her submissive devotion to me, she had confided that part of her wanted her first experience with a girl to be away from my eyes. I struggled with this. I wanted her to promise to tell me, but even that seemed like it would intrude upon the perfect privacy part of her wanted. I left Karen and swam back over to Bee.
It was getting late, and we were getting hungry. I said that I would go to grab food, and bring it back to the pool. This wasn’t 100% altruistic. I pictured them gossiping about me while I was gone. In my imagination, Bee told her the size of my cock, and that I was a good dom. The other reason this was nice for me was that in quite a not politically correct way, I felt like a provider: going out to bring back food for these two beautiful women I desired. I am a naturally shy person, but Bee responded so well when I was assertive that I tried it out in my attitude with Karen. She seemed to respond well as well. Something about these two women waiting for me to bring back food was satisfying in such a primal way.
To get the food, I went to this Mexican restaurant. I always love finding restaurants that don’t seem like they belong at first. How did a Mexican family end up here? Not only miles away from the border, but tucked into a snowy mountain valley?
I talked to the waiter in Spanish. There was a very drunk Texan man in the back of the restaurant, talking loudly over his embarrassed family. When I mentioned my threesome scheme to the waiter, his eyes widened: “be careful!” he said, urgently. I had tried to tune out any doubts, because if I hadn’t the impossibility of what I wanted would have been too much. But this guy–miles away from the place where I was born, like me–put the fear of God into me. I left behind the Texans helping their compatriot back to the car, carrying styrofoam boxes filled with burritos, and drove back to the springs.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/7nywqq/my_girlfriend_and_her_friend_part_2_mff