This is a story from the year after I left university. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a threesome.
I’d been invited to a house party in a big shared house in Putney, where lots of my friends lived. I was single at the time but there was a guy at the party I’d slept with a couple of times, in a friends-with-benefits kind of way. Let’s call him Paul (for the sake of argument).
Paul and I hadn’t had sex for a few weeks and I wasn’t sure it would happen again – though I was hoping it might. The party went on with lots of laughing and dancing and we chatted a bit, always with others nearby so there were no clues whether he had sex on his mind or not.
I’d been half hoping we might end up going home together, to my place or to his, but it got late and it was clear that lots of us were going to end up staying over, as we often did after parties in those almost-student days.