Good in Bed
Our plan for the evening is ringing in my ears as I get ready to meet Lynne and her wife, Zoe. It’s only a first date, I attempt to remind myself, as I swipe gold gloss on top of my lipstick. A part of me understands that this first encounter has as much potential to be innocent as it does wild. It can’t quite break through my enticed side, that starts to burn as I’m getting ready.
I pack a bowl to smoke with my head out my window. After the first hit, I wipe sticky gloss off of the bong I share with my roommate. As I do, I ponder Lynne’s profile-- what made me swipe right? My beloved angel cat comes running towards me. I know what she wants, and on the floor, I sprinkle some of the catnip I keep by my ashtray. She rolls around in bliss. I reopen the app: Lynne’s profile is sparse, but the information she does give invites. Accompanied by only four photos, one of a garden, it reads:
Lynne, 45.
Sweet and sour. Poly, very happily partnered. Gamer, professor. Intentional and flighty.
Tell me about your favorite book.
While my favorite book is, without dispute, Persuasion; upon the match, I elected not to mention Austen. I sent Lynne a note about my current reading-- the texts informing my paper on matriarchal societies, for my Cultural Anthro class. In her reply, the linguist appeared to relish telling me about her days writing her dissertation.
Am I attracted to her despite or because of our 22 year age difference? Some combination of the two? Or neither? I can’t lie to myself and say it doesn’t mean anything at all. I take another hit, and as I exhale, decide it has to do with her level of experience. She’s been fucking longer than I’ve been alive, I think with an anticipatory shiver. I like to think that I’m good in bed, but I can only imagine how Lynne is, how Zoe is; with all that practice.
The discussion of my paper led to more talk, and more thoughtful questions than I am used to getting from anyone, my age or not. I’m not used to people asking about, let alone listening to the process behind the crochet patterns I am designing, or the poetry I write.
I scroll TikTok a bit, and feed the cat, and eat a few slices of an apple myself. When I check my phone again, I note I have one hour left before I meet up with the couple. I send a text to our group thread:
excited to see you two :)
And get an immediate reply from Zoe:
<3 you too, cutie.
I tingle with excitement as I attempt to tame my uncooperative curls with two French braids. At the last minute, I tug on an extra layer of warmth to combat our New Year’s ice storm: some sparkly thigh highs, over the red tights I’m already wearing under my ruffled belt of a skirt.
I’m running late by the time my train stops at Belmont. I send a text:
Sorryyyyy! Almost there!
as I embark on the unbearably icy walk to the bar. Though I fall on my ass not once but twice, I somehow manage to make it in one piece. I see Lynne’s text letting me know they’re in the back room as I walk in. Though I argue with him, the bouncer insists on confiscating my (expensive!) craft scissors. Rude.
I hurry past the front room, where it is apparently karaoke night. I spot them sitting at the bar immediately: Lynne is tall, elegant in an effortless way. A leather jacket hangs off the back of her chair. Zoe wears a curve-hugging sweater dress. They were hot in the photos I’ve seen of them both, but seeing them together, in person, makes my mouth water. Lynne places a hand on Zoe’s shoulder as she points me out; then waves at me, beaming.
“Wow,” I say as I sit down between them in the spot they’ve saved with a puffer coat. “You two are even more stunning in person.”
Lynne grins. I have been thinking of myself as the one under their influence. Now, as I see Zoe blush, I start to feel aware of the pull I have on the two of them. My awareness grows as I lay the seduction on thick all evening.
I brush Zoe’s hair behind her shoulder after a joke and see goosebumps. I feel Lynne’s thigh tense when I touch her under the bar, making a suggestive remark. I find it hard to imagine that I make them nervous, and decide to attribute their reactions to their interest in me. I preen under that spotlight.
I haven’t eaten much today, and the two gin and tonics I let Lynne order for me go right to my head. It’s enough to make me feel even more forward-- I giggle, bite my lip, and lean towards Zoe with my final sip: “So, are you going to take me home tonight, or not?”
Slightly shy, she giggles back. Lynne, though, laughs heartily. “Aren’t you bold?” She says.
I shrug.
~~~
Zoe moves to kiss me when we get through the door of their bedroom in their two-bed in Rogers Park. I stop her with a hand on her chest. “I want to see you two, first,” I say. Watching is half of what I find fun about threesomes, especially with couples.
I am not disappointed with what I see when they kiss, leaning into each other in that instinctual way that comes along with long-term relationships. They touch each other with an ease that can only come from extensive practice. I can see Lynne leading, her tongue entering Zoe’s eager mouth. Her response includes these little muffled moans that entrance me. I feel like I might drool, enjoying this show.
I sit on the edge of their very comfy, expensive-feeling bed. Are the sheets silk? They might be silk. Lynne pulls back from the kiss and looks at me, like a cat who has spotted a bird; and yes, I do feel a bit like I am flying as she steps in front of me. She looks sexy, so sure of herself. As I look up at her, I feel a bit out of my depth. She must sense my trepidation-- “are you okay?” she asks, taking my hand.
“Yeah,” I smile, pushing my nervousness aside.
“Is there anything you don’t want? Boundaries you want to set?”
“Uh, not really,” I say without a pause.
Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Not really?” She says skeptically, though kindly. “Why don’t you think about it for more than a second.”
I actually consider the question, now, and after I rack my brain, an answer emerges. My voice wobbles as I say, “I’m down for pretty much anything but choking.”
“Okay,” Lynne says.
“Sounds good.” Zoe nods.
I have never liked being choked, and nobody has ever asked me before choking me. Most people haven’t even stopped after being asked to. Nobody has ever asked me what’s off limits. I’m grateful that neither of them inquires further, or presses me to reconsider. For a second, my memory darts to a moment. I feel the ghost of a hand around my neck. Lynne touches my shoulder, and a foreign warmth shakes away the uneasiness.
“Can I kiss you now?” Zoe asks. I agree with an enthusiastic nod, taking her hand. The kiss is good. Where she yielded to Lynne, she takes charge with me. As I let my mouth open, I guide her hand to my chest. Soon, her hands are both roaming and caressing all over my body. I place mine behind me for balance. We slowly scooch so I can lean against the headboard.
Lynne joins us on the bed, sitting beside me. I’m overcome with an urge to consume Zoe, combined with the desire to show off. “Can I please go down on you?” I ask her.
“Oh, yes,” she says, pulling off her dress.
“So polite,” says Lynne.
“It pays,” I say. There is too much talking for me, now. Zoe lays beside me, and I start to kiss down her body. I place a final kiss on each of her thighs.
Pussy is one of my favorite tastes, and hers is no exception. I love the way she feels in my mouth, the responsive twitches. The sounds are good, too. Lynne rests a hand on my back. Zoe’s breath starts to speed up as I feel her getting close. The hand on my back moves to play with one of my braids.
“These are so cute,” Lynne says. I’d thank her, but I can’t afford to. With a guttural sound, Zoe comes in my mouth. I keep going through the aftershocks-- I could do this for hours, but I feel Lynne lightly tug at both braids, guiding my head up.
“I really want to fuck you,” she says. She takes my hand and places it between her legs, where a very beautiful bulge is growing. I gasp and feel my eyes widen at how hard she is. “Do you want me to?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes!”
She makes a bit of a show as she takes off her simple underwear. Her cock springs out as the fabric comes off. It’s large, probably the biggest one I’ve seen. I am a bit worried it’s too big, actually; but it’s so pretty, I don’t really care. I have a bit of an oral fixation, and I immediately face her, kneeling, as if to suck her off.
“Actually, I don’t love oral,” she says. I feel bad for having assumed, but a smile on her face reassures me.
“Okay,” I say. “I like it from behind,” I request. She doesn’t need to be told twice: she pushes my skirt up and grabs my ass tight enough for it to hurt-so-good. I feel her against me before she slips her cock into me, so much easier than I could’ve imagined.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she groans. “You feel so good.”
Zoe beckons my head up with a finger on my chin and slips two of her fingers into my mouth. I suck them with my tongue flat, letting her fuck my mouth with them. She moans.
I feel so engaged, my senses overwhelmed in the best way. Her pace is slow at first, which is nice until it becomes torturous. My words are thick, but she hears me when I whimper; “Harder, please.”
“Good girl,” Lynne says. I moan at the praise. She uses my braids as handles. Though she fucks me recklessly, roughly even, I have never felt in more gentle hands.
~~~
Later, on my back, Lynne is thrusting into me with an urgency, an insistence, an abandon when she asks-- “Oh my God, did you come again?”
She must’ve felt it, my cunt fluttering around her cock for the fourth? fifth? time. It’s hard for me to get anything out, but I manage an “mmh-hmm.” She starts to slow down, I imagine to give me some breathing room. But oh! How I miss the speed! “Please, please keep going,” I whine.
This makes her moan, and thank God, she obliges me. I close my eyes with pleasure, but she says, “Look at me. I wanna see those pretty eyes.”
When I do, the look she meets me with is as fond as it is wanting.
~~~
It’s late when we’re all finally too exhausted to keep going. Lynne and Zoe both insist on getting me an Uber, though I tell them I’m happy to catch the red line. It snows all the way home.