My [F]irst Threesome [MFM]

*Hey all. This is my first post here, so I did want to say that (a) it’s kinda long, (b) it contains some drug use, and (c) I hope you enjoy it.*

My first threesome took place almost by accident. I was a couple of months into my freshman year at Cal State when a couple of sophomore boys stopped me on campus one morning and gave me an invite to a Halloween house party. Since it was walking distance from where I was living, I knew it wasn’t a frat thing, and I had a pretty badass costume I’d been working on, I hit up a couple of my housemates and we decided to go together.

We weren’t naive to the reasons sophomore boys randomly invite freshmen girls to house parties, but it was being talked about enough that we knew a lot of other people would be there, and we agreed beforehand that we’d have each other’s backs and not get separated. We were curious and available, sure, but we also thought we were smart enough to keep things under control and not do anything we’d regret later.

In theory, anyway.

I remember getting ready for the party, sipping vodka in my room with Rachel while I put the finishing touches to my Tank Girl costume. It wasn’t cosplay quality, but it was pretty damned good. It was also pretty damned revealing for a crisp fall night; even under an old army-style jacket I’d thrifted, a bikini and a tiny pair of denim shorts wasn’t exactly seasonal wear. To make me stand out even more, Rachel and Ellen, my partners in crime for the evening, had decided to be the twins from The Shining.

By the time we left the house, I was tipsy enough that I wasn’t worried about the temperature or my costume, and any other doubts about the legitimacy of the party disappeared when we realized we could hear it from several blocks away.

It was, in retrospect, one of the wilder parties I’ve been to. I’ve seen harder drugs and more fucked up things, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crowd of people so absolutely committed to getting wasted.

We’d bought along what was left of the vodka and a case of beer, both of which were taken off our hands as soon as we walked in the door by a guy who might have been dressed as a stripper or something or may have been just mostly naked.

“Everything’s going in the kitchen!” he yelled at us, over the music. “Just take!” He grinned. “There’s so fucking much!”

We looked at each other and followed him. We did indeed discover a kitchen and an absurd amount of booze, as well as managing to lose Rachel. Ellen went to find her on the basis that she could non-verbally enquire about her missing twin no matter how loud the music was, and I grabbed a plastic cup, dodged an offer from a jug full of who-knows-what, and found a bottle of Jack Daniel’s that hadn’t been opened yet.

It got blurry after that. I remember seeing the blood-spattered twins reunited, dancing in a sea of costumed students, and I remember passing a joint down the line of girls waiting to use the bathroom.

Faces, noise, music, whiskey. I was dancing. I had the bottle of JD in my hand. There were several guys dancing around me, lots of eyes on my body. I felt good, a little high and quite a lot more drunk, but still, as we’d promised, in control.

An guy dressed as Ryu from Street Fighter stepped closer, and – when I didn’t object – put his hands on my bare waist. He was at least part Asian, and older than most of the boys around us, maybe early twenties. He was in good shape, and had tattoos sleeving both arms and spreading to his chest from one shoulder. I took my plastic helmet off and set it on his head, and he laughed and leaned in. Just like that, we were kissing. He tasted like weed and smelled like Irish Spring, and his hands were warm on my skin.

When I pulled away, the other guys had turned their attention elsewhere, acquiring other targets.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Tank Girl.”

He laughed. “Do you want to sit down, Tank Girl?”

I put my arms around his neck. “I wanna dance,” I said.

We danced and kissed and I pushed up against him and felt his hardness pressing against my belly. He ran his hands down over my ass and up my flank, just barely touching the side of my breast through my bikini.

I don’t know how long we were there, but when he finally took my hand and led me away, it seemed like the party had shifted gears. People were making out on couches and passed out on the floor. My Grady twins were nowhere to be seen.

“Where are we going?” I asked, as we slipped out of what must have been the back door.

“Somewhere private, but I want to check in with a buddy of mine first.”

“Is it Ken?”

He looked back at me and I took a hit from my bottle, smiling through the sour taste. He shook his head, laughing.

There was a group sitting in a cute little enclosure at the bottom of the garden, stone benches around a barbecue pit and one of those heat lamps you see at bars with outdoor seating sometimes.

“Hey, Connor.” Ryu let me go so that he could do a complicated and slightly douchey handshake with a guy who I guess was dressed as Hugh Hefner, though the costume wasn’t much more than a smoking jacket. “This is Tank Girl. Any chance we could check out the clubhouse?”

Connor waved at me and I waved back.

“I’ll let you in. But nobody else, okay? My dad’ll explode if anything in there gets fucked up.”

“He doesn’t care about the house?” I said.

Connor shrugged. “It’s not that he doesn’t care, he knows I’m throwing a party and he knows it’ll have been cleaned up when he gets back. The clubhouse is his space, though. Sacred. It’s my ass if anybody parties in there.”

“We’ll be good.”

Connor raised his eyebrows and smiled. He was cute in a boyish sort of way, and if the girls sitting around the pit were any indication, being the host had its advantages.

“Sure you will,” he said. “Come on.”

We followed him back towards the house and then away to one side, where a much smaller building lay in darkness. Connor fumbled above the door for a few seconds and then produced a key.

“You could have just told me,” Ryu said.

“You’re high and she’s drunk. Besides, I wanted to come up here anyway.”

We went inside. Connor closed and locked the door behind us, then hit the lights.

“Nice,” I said.

I meant it. The clubhouse was open plan. It had a full bar, a seating area around a fireplace complete with an expensive-looking rug, and various bar-style activities, from pool to darts to a card table. Everything looked brand new, spotless and polished.

“Sacred,” Connor repeated, in a theatrical whisper, then: “You wanna do some blow, Ken?”

“Wait, what?” I started giggling.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” the newly-Christened Ken said, but he was smiling. “She didn’t know my name, and she made a Street Fighter joke earlier.”

Connor was chopping out lines on the bar. “You guys were gonna fuck in character? Like a crossover? That’s some kinky shit, Ken. I can tell Tank Girl over there’s into it, but I expected better from you.”

“Whatever, dude. Share the wealth.”

I flopped into a chair, still grinning at the absurdity of it all, and took another big hit from the bottle of Jack I was still somehow carrying around. The boys were murmuring something between themselves, and I closed my eyes, my head spinning, and listened to them doing the coke.

“Hey.”

I opened my eyes and Connor was crouched by the chair.

“You passing out?”

I shook my head. “Just chilling.”

“You want some blow? It’ll take the edge off.”

“I can’t. I get nosebleeds.”

He smiled. “Come over here.”

He helped me up and we went over to the bar, where Ken was examining liquor bottles.

“We can’t touch any of this?”

“He’ll freak.”

“Good thing Tank Girl came prepared.” Ken plucked the Jack Daniel’s from my hand and drank deeply from it.

“Here.”

Connor licked two fingers and dipped them in the baggie of coke. He raised them to my lips. I glanced over at Ken, who was watching with nothing but interest. Connor slid his fingers into my mouth. The powder tasted bitter on my tongue as he rubbed it into my gums, but that was quickly overwhelmed by a numbness. I sucked his fingers and he smiled at me.

Everything happened quickly after that. Ken moved behind me, kissing my neck and untying my bikini, and Connor’s mouth was on mine, his hands on my waist and my hips and then unbuttoning my shorts. Between the dancing and the whiskey, I’d already been pretty horny, but suddenly finding myself sandwiched between and undressed by two attractive men sent me from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.

“Here,” I pulled the money clip out of the pocket of my shorts and passed it back to Ken. “There’s a rubber in there.”

“Ready for anything, huh?” He took the opportunity to kiss me while my head was turned towards him, and I felt him pulling my shorts down, taking my panties and fishnets with them.

My bikini, untied, was resting on my breasts. Connor brushed it off and claimed my nipples, one with his mouth, the other between his fingers. I reached back and pulled down the front of Ken’s pants, found my hand full of his hot, hard cock. Connor’s mouth moved lower, down over my stomach, as he got down on his knees and lifted each of my feet in turn so that he could remove my boots and then pull all the clothing that was gathered around my thighs down to my ankles. I kicked it away, and just like that, I was naked.

Ken turned me around to face him. He’d already taken off his top, and as I went down on my knees, I pulled his pants the rest of the way down. He tossed my money clip to Connor and pushed my hair back so he could watch as I took him into my mouth. I smelled Irish Spring again, and fresh sweat, but if he had a taste, the coke was killing it for me. It was also bringing the world back into sharper focus, cutting through my whiskey drunk like sunlight through blinds. I pulled my lips to his skin, moved my head back and forth, let my tongue roll over and around his head, stroking his shaft at the same time.

I felt Connor’s fingers on my pussy, exploring, sliding briefly between my labia. Then his cock pressing against me, opening, stretching, filling. I moaned with my mouth full, then his hands were on my hips and he was fucking me, slowly at first, but harder and faster with each thrust, until he was jolting my body forward so much that all I could do was brace my hands against Ken’s stomach to keep my face from being pushed all the way into his crotch and his cock into my throat.

I could feel Connor getting close, his grip on my hips tightening, breath coming in ragged gasps. Ken seemed like he was enjoying the show more than anything else, watching me work his cock with my mouth while his buddy pounded me from behind. I liked that picture of me, too, naked at a strange party, being fucked by two guys I barely knew. I felt dirty, slutty, and that really turned me on.

“You wanna switch?” Ken said, like he was reading my mind, knowing how I wanted to feel.

Connor pulled out of me and Ken helped me to my feet. My legs were shaking. My pussy felt hot and swollen. Ken picked me up and carried me across the room, where he sat me down on the card table and then pushed me down onto my back. It was so small that my head hung off the edge, and I didn’t realize that was the point until Connor gently tilted my head back and slid his cock between my lips. He started to fuck my mouth, slowly, never going deeper than just beyond the tip. When I sucked my lips a little tighter, he groaned and swore.

Ken rubbed the head of his cock between my labia, his hand resting lightly on my crotch, thumb stroking my clit. Connor pinched my nipples, rolled them between his fingers. I felt a heat and tightness in my belly, and I wanted to tell Ken to fill me with his cock and fuck me hard. I was starting to get a little dizzy from the blood rushing to my head.

Ken was in no hurry. He pressed his cock against my opening and slid slowly into me, still gently rubbing my clit. It was maddening. The muscles in my spread thighs twitched and jumped, and I wriggled on the table, my body trying to push down onto him.

That was when Connor groaned and erupted in my mouth. I was so focused on what Ken was doing that I’d had no idea he was about to come, and there was so much that it spilled out of my mouth and dripped down my face. This right as Ken finally slid all the way in and started to fuck me.

I had to push Connor away because for a second I thought I might actually choke on his come. He figured it out and lifted my head, stepping close to me so that his body acted as a support. I have no idea what kind of mess I looked, red-faced, streaked with come, and swallowing what was left in my mouth, but it must have been pretty fucking pornographic.

“Oh, shit,” Ken said.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Shut up and finish me off,” I said. “Like that but harder.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Connor’s hands found my breasts again as Ken went harder and deeper. I kept eye contact with him, urging him on, my moans increasing in volume the closer I got.

“Fuck me like that,” I heard myself saying. “Yes. Yes! You’re gonna make me come. I’m gonna fucking come.”

The feel of his thickness moving inside me, the insistent pressure on my clit, Connor’s fingers twisting my nipples. I arched my back and grabbed at the smooth surface of the table, my whole body tensed and trembling, clenched tight. And then it released, racing through my body, hot and loose, releasing every last bit of that tension so that I fell uselessly back down, gasping for breath.

Ken pulled out, pulled off the rubber, and I watched him stroke himself until he came over my belly and my crotch.

“What’s the point of rubbers if you guys are going to make this much mess?” I said, when I had most of my breath back.

“That train had already left the station when I got on,” Ken said. He bent down and lightly kissed the inside of my thigh, then went to grab his clothes.

“Here.” Connor handed me the T-shirt he’d had on under his smoking jacket.

“Is it in my hair?”

“I don’t think so. There’s a bathroom. Just a toilet and a sink, but there’s a mirror.”

It was fifteen minutes of work to look even remotely like I hadn’t just walked out of a gangbang, but by the time I emerged from the bathroom, my face tight from using handsoap and a T-shirt to scrub off both come and my make-up, I was as close to the Tank Girl who had arrived at the party as I was going to get.

Ken and Connor were sitting at the bar, the now-empty bottle of Jack between them. I felt very, very sober.

“I should go find my friends,” I said. “That was fun.”

They exchanged a glance. “Told you,” Ken said. “She just wants to be Tank Girl.”

“Take it easy, guys.”

I tossed them a salute and went looking for the Grady twins.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8g318a/my_first_threesome_mfm