Names have obviously been changed to protect the guilty, but I assure you this is all 100% true.
When I was 18, I was part of a small but incredibly tight-knit group of friends; two boys and two girls. Me, Michael, Chloe, and Laura. This is two stories in one, and it’s a little long, but it deserves to be told in its entirety.
The four of us had quickly bonded in our Sixth Form common room over a love of rock music, and spent most weekends with each other in one the small, safe, dull towns in which we all lived. We weren’t big drinkers and we weren’t particularly enamored of drugs, but we were open to experimenting. And one weekend, these factors all combined to change the dynamic of our group forever.
When my parents went out of town and my brother filled the house with his pot-dealing friends it seemed rude not to invite everyone over. Chloe couldn’t make it, but soon Michael, Laura and I were giggling in the garden, stoned to the point that inhibitions were a distant memory and drunk in that way you only get drunk at 18; buzzing off three drinks and convinced you’re the most inebriated person that’s ever lived.
The temperature had dropped considerably so we moved inside; my brother and his friends had requisitioned the living room so the three of us moved upstairs to my bedroom to put on some music. I sent Michael and Laura ahead while I fixed some more drinks; I can’t even remember what we were drinking. Something sweet that didn’t taste alcoholic, no doubt. Probably Tia Maria.
When I opened my bedroom door, I noticed that Michael and Laura had set the dimmer switch to, at most, half-brightness. Mood lighting. They’d also found a pair of oversized dice, given to me as a joke birthday present and immediately discarded under my bed. One die had actions in place of numbers – kiss, lick, suck – and the other, body parts.
Classy.
Both had looks of pure mischief in their eyes.
“We should play!” Laura said, handing me the dice. “We’ll take it in turns. I’ll alternate.”
I couldn’t believe it. I mean, obviously I’d thought about Laura in that way but for her to take the initiative, and with Michael there too… my tiny little mind exploded.
My first roll, no word of a lie, was “kiss” and “lips”. So I leaned in and kissed Laura. She kissed me back, passionately and urgently, while Michael looked on. A huge smile was forming on his face and I knew immediately that this night was going to be memorable.
“OK, my turn.” Laura rolled “lick” and “cheek”. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the bacchanal experiment I’d assumed.
And then Michael rolled “suck” and “neck”, and the dice became irrelevant.
As Laura moaned with pleasure at Michael’s efforts, she reached over to me and began kissing me again. She lay down on the double bed and Michael and I positioned ourselves either side of her, one gently biting her neck as the other kissed her, and vice Versa. Michael and I had our hands all over Laura’s body, stopping only to slide off her top and slide down her jeans. I put my lips to her nipple, half-sucking and half-biting, and she groaned as the first orgasm washed over her.
We were, from that point on, dedicated to her pleasure. She lay between us, Michael and I fully dressed and her completely naked, as we executed a sexual pincer movement: my fingers stroking her clit, my mouth on her neck; Michael taking over as she bucked against his hand, trying to kiss us both as she cried out multiple, relentless orgasms. It might have lasted thirty minutes; it could have been four hours.
I’d work on her neck and nipples while Michael teased climax after climax out of her with his fingers; we’d exchange eye contact, silently, and then switch. Laura lay there, eyes closed, never sure who was making her come or where the next orgasm was coming from.
We made her come to the point of exhaustion. She sat up, an expression on her face like a cat who just figured out the access code to a dairy, and told us she couldn’t take any more. She slowly raised each of our hands to her lips, licked her own juices from our fingers, kissed us both once more – tasting of her own pussy – and passed out.
It was faintly innocent as far as threesomes go, but it was all any of us could think about for the next few days. The tension and sense of something being concealed did not escape Chloe’s notice, and she eventually confronted Laura to find out what had happened. I’ll never know what exactly was said, but I suspect Laura deliberately overplayed how far things went. Because now, it was a competition. And two weeks later, Chloe got her chance.
The drinks felt like a formality; the excuse. We might not even have finished them. This time there was no brother occupying the living room; no excuse to go upstairs. We just did, and the reason was clear. As we entered my room, Chloe noticed a pair of tasteful but tiny black and pink panties on the corner of my bed. Another joke birthday present – from Laura, Michael, and her. I’d put them out as a tacky decoration, but Chloe immediately saw her chance.
“I’ll put these on for you both,” she offered, “if you promise to do that neck thing.”
‘That neck thing’ was a stand-alone bit of foreplay that I’d used on Chloe during a previous, aborted sexual encounter. She loved having her neck gently bitten, and I was all too happy to oblige. Like gentlemen, Michael and I turned our backs while Laura slipped out of her jeans and panties, stripped down to her bra and put on the black lingerie. She looked incredible.
“A promise is a promise,” I said, and pulled back the bedsheets so she could slide in. Michael was already on the other side of the bed, the inevitability of the coming events causing us to assume the exact positions we had for Laura. Knowing what Chloe liked, I started. No kissing, straight for her neck, a precisely calibrated combination of hot breath, gentle teeth and rough tongue.
“GREAT technique…” she sighed, as Michael relieved her of her bra and went to work on her breasts and nipples, tracing his tongue over them before joining me in my sexual vampirism.
Chloe was clearly turned on and having a great time but, lacking Laura’s sheer sexual energy, didn’t know how to progress things.
But I did.
I reached for my new phone, which had an unnecessarily aggressive Vibrate function, and told Michael to reach for his and call me. I looked Chloe in the eye and asked “Do you wa-“ but I immediately saw what we would now term “enthusiastic consent”, so I slid under the covers, gently parted her thighs and held the device, through the panties, to her clit.
As Michael’s call came through, it seemed to send a bolt of electricity through Chloe’s body. She began panting, then gasping, as I held the makeshift vibrator against her. Michael “called me” three more times before Chloe sat up, pushed the phone away and slid off the panties. Even though they were black, they were visibly soaked. “I’ve … I’ve never been this wet,” she whispered, embarrassed but too turned on to care. She still hasn’t come yet though, so I gently put my hand against her pussy and easily slid one finger inside her, starting to tease her G-spot and sucking on her nipple while she made out with Michael.
“As you’re naked,” I whispered, “should we should join you?” Chloe nodded her agreement and reached for our belts, but we were way ahead of her. I won’t pretend it was smooth or like a scene from a porn; we were 18 and nervous. It was clumsy, and kinda funny, but eventually the three of us were lying horizontal on my bed, totally naked.
Michael and I turned ourselves towards her and continued to seamlessly move our hands and mouths across her body. As the first orgasm washed over her, her hands – hitherto exploring our bodies but tentatively, nervously, went down to the two hard cocks pressing into her hips. Already knowing I was cut (a rarity in the U.K.), she licked her hand before wrapping it around my shaft and gently beginning to stroke me.
Once again, time stood still. The three of us stroked and licked each other, Chloe’s rhythmic stroking of our cocks getting more frantic as she approached a second orgasm. I was close, too, and leaned into her ear
“If you keep this up, you’re going to make me cum.”
“Good.”
Michael was hard at work completing chloe’s orgasm, while she completed mine. As she finished trembling, still holding both of us, we lay there for what felt like hours. Chloe was covered in sweat, her own juices, and our cum. It was like she was coming out of a trance.
It never happened again, and sad to say neither Michael nor I ever got to experience the reverse scenario. But there’s a photo from Chloe’s wedding.
She looks radiant in a beautiful white dress, flanked by Michael and me looking dapper in our tailored suits. By pure chance, we are each on the same side of her that we were the night we all made each other come, and every time I see it chuckle to myself. We’ve all grown up, we’ve all moved on. But I’ll never forget those nights.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/u5a36g/four_more_than_friends_mmff