Discovering DP – Definitive Pleasure or Debatable Pursuit? (29f) [MFM]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; as far as I’m concerned threesomes are *the* definitive version of sex. Adding an extra body into the mix doesn’t merely double your options, but exponentially increases the variety and combination of possibilities open to exciting copulation. There’s just *always* something fun to be doing. To badly paraphrase myself; A threesome is all the joy of regular sex, but without the boring repetitive bits of only one ‘thing’ going in and out of another thing at any given time.

I’ve been lucky enough in my life thus far to have enjoyed what is probably an unfair number of threesomes. Certainly more than would be considered my ‘fair share’, which is pleasingly ironic given the topic. Whether it was by sheer luck or magnificent four-dimensional cosmic planning, I attended university at a time when the humble threeway was all the rage and seemingly spawned an entire generation of stalwart appreciation for the beloved ménage à *trois.*

Which is to say that while threesomes outside of University life are notably harder to come by (pun somewhat intended), the tantalising possibility is still out there for those willing to search.

And for those – like me – who still manage to somehow blindly stumble into them.

When I was twenty five – halcyon days for an individual now hurtling toward their thirties at a pace that seemingly defies natural entropy – I found myself in just such a position. It was the age old fairytale:

* Meet a handsome guy on a night out.
* Head back to his to his place to become more intimately acquainted.
* His even more attractive flatmate catches us in flagrante.
* *Someone* suggests he ought to perhaps join in. (We’ll gloss over who suggests it as, even to this day, the debate as to its origin continues)
* Many orgasms ensue, and a wonderful time is had by all.

If this tale sounds familiar, it’s because I’ve chronicled it in far more detail elsewhere. But, fear not, you need no prior knowledge than the above for context.

Because the thing with having a ‘top five best sex ever’ type encounter with equally eager and willing participants is that you soon want to repeat the exercise.

And then you’re faced with the difficult second album syndrome. Can it ever really be as good the second time around?

We began planning our encore quite literally before the cum was dry on the first outing with a chorus of enthusiastic (and exhausted) ‘we really must do that again!’ Over the next few days countless texts were sent to reiterate and reaffirm everyone’s eagerness and, come the following weekend, tentative plans were made to get together to see if the magic could be recaptured without the rush of sheer spontaneity and reassurance of excessive alcohol.

The three of us arranged to meet for a drink first; neutral ground to allow for any of us to pull out if the prospect suddenly seemed too daunting sober. Reminiscing about sexual excitement is one thing, but refacing it anew can sometimes be a shock to the system in the cold light of day.

I needn’t have worried. Martin and Connor were, if anything, even more infuriatingly good looking when viewed in natural light. Martin was tall, broad and rugged, Connor was also tall but a little leaner and with cheekbones so chiselled they could pierce the skin. What also helped was that they were both utterly delightful company. So much so that what had intended to be a quick meet and greet turned into several hours of drink, food and merriment. Conversational flowed freely and, were it not for the fact that they both remained phenomenally handsome throughout the pleasantries and civility, I could quite have forgotten that we were all present purely to decide whether another threesome was on the cards.

It almost came as a shock when, after many hours, Connor declared in his deliciously Irish twang;

“So. We all still good to fuck then?”

Yes we were. And we did.

I’ll save on the details of the initial fornication in a desperate attempt to steer this post towards its ultimate point. Suffice to say with two cocks to suck and two tongues to take turns on me, I was having a lovely time and very much living my best life. It’s impossible to realise until you participate in a threesome that kissing someone whilst also having a tongue caressing your clitoris is perhaps the single most sensual feeling it’s possible to experience.

The session was incredibly vocal for all concerned, with everyone eager to both experiment and try out things we hadn’t done last time around *and* ensure that things that were enjoyed on the previous occasion were repeated and re-imagined to their fullest.

And since we were all having fun and feeling adventurous, it was perhaps inevitable that someone would address the elephant in the room.

Because throughout all of the glorious spitroasting, swapping ends, riding and sucking, it had all been strictly ‘one at each end’ affair. And while I’d on several occasions felt the not unfamiliar feeling of a finger tentatively exploring my arsehole, the ominous spectre of *anal* had yet to rear its head.

To my eternal surprise, it was Martin who first broached the subject. I was legs akimbo Connor and bouncing upon him like a particularly energetic pogoing session at the time, simultaneously blowing Martin who was awkwardly stood beside me on the bed. Perhaps tiring of the position, he asked almost innocently;

“Ever had both holes filled at once?”

Christ, I thought. We’re skipping anal and going straight to stuffing, are we?

Under almost any other circumstances I’d have politely suggested that perhaps *he* enjoy a girthy object inserted in his rectum whilst I simultaneously slam a book down on his balls. However, as noted, I was having an exceptionally wonderful time, and Connor was very much hitting the spot.

I released his cock from my mouth and gave my answer.

“No. But there’s a first time for everything…”

Pausing only to confirm that Connor was always game – and in a surprise to precisely no one, he very much was – Martin disengaged from our entanglement and hopped down from the bed to begin the laborious application of lube to his cock in preparation. Once suitably pliant, he began his approach.

And – spoiler alert – this is where things started to go downhill. Because, even before other issues, DP requires so much damn *admin*.

He stood beside the bed and asked how we should go about trying this. Connor and I were too far up from the end of the bed for him to be able to simply stand while I leant forward, so a certain amount of repositioning was going to be required from us all.

With great reluctance, I dismounted Connor, and he shuffled down the bed so his legs were overhanging the end. I promptly climbed atop him once more, and leaned as far forward as I could to ‘open things up’ from behind.

I’d say I was gritting my teeth, but that wouldn’t be true. I had Connor back inside me. All was well with the world.

However, after several moments, no new sensations occurred. I glanced back and saw Martin was still trying to negotiate the many legs that were all very much in his way. Connor’s were overhanging and mine were protruding. There was just nowhere for him to stand to gain reasonable access.

“I’ve got the keys to the gate to paradise, and there’s too many legs in the way!” he declared, paraphrasing a favourite sitcom moment.

I sighed, and dismounted again for a second attempt. This time we shuffled back up the bed intending Martin to mount from a kneeling position. But, as noted, Martin takes the idea of being and, frankly, takes it too far. Nothing was quite at the right level for anything to work. So it was back to the drawing board.

By this point the guys were finding the situation funny. I however was becoming ever more infuriated that I was having to pause my own pleasure in pursuit of what I suspected would be little more than a brief tick box exercise. But, not wanting to disappoint, I persevered.

After some discussion – and I’d not be exaggerating to suggest that the conversation lasted in excess of five full minutes, during which time very little actual action ensued – we came to the conclusion that it was *my* positioning that was wrong. I was facing the wrong way. The person *beneath* me should be in my arse, while the standing individual gets to approach from the front.

So it was all change. Martin lay down flat on the bed, legs overhanging the end. I then positioned myself over him, legs also overhanging. Now facing the same way though we were able to sit with legs akimbo, allowing Connor ample room to stand between.

I lowered myself down onto Martin’s cock at the speed of social progress -which is to say that in comparison some glaciers might be considered pacey.

Once things were comfortable – and comfort is a relative term in this context, in much the same way that you might endeavour to make someone ‘comfortable’ after a lengthy surgical procedure – I beckoned Connor approach, and held my breath for the supposedly enjoyable aspect of the endeavour to kick in.

To each of their credits, Martin held magnificently still during the docking procedure to mitigate any additional discomfort, and Connor played with my clit the entire time as he entered from the front.

Meanwhile, I mostly grunted.

To describe the sensation is tricky. It certainly wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. But neither would I call it an experience of exquisite sexual euphoria.

It felt like being full.

A weak analogy at first glance perhaps, but let me explain.

When you eat a meal you enjoy, it’s wonderful. And if there’s a plentiful supply, you might eat until you’re full. But if you’re *really* loving it, you might continuing eating even after you’re full until you reach the stage where you’re utterly stuffed and immediately regretting cramming quite so much in because it’s now uncomfortable and has potentially ruined the meal.

All of the constituent parts are excellent and enjoyable. But indulge too much and it loses something.

DP is identical. All of the sensations had the potential to be enormously enjoyable. But all together, I felt nothing other than being *full*.

It also didn’t help that, with Martin beneath me and Connor stood against the end of the bed, there wasn’t much in the way of movement for anyone involved. We all tried our damndest, but the best that could be managed was a general ‘jiggling’ which, ultimately, achieved very little.

I had them both inside me for little over a minute and a half before we decided that it simply wasn’t worth the effort.

The regular threesome that ensued however, very much *was*.

The DP was not repeated.

Definitely Possible.

Dubiously pleasurable.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/o6km4i/discovering_dp_definitive_pleasure_or_debatable