“Kiss him again,” I begged, and I watched my husband kiss him over my shoulder. I was being railed from behind and on top of a man who made my mouth water. This was the hottest moment of my life, a fantasy from childhood fulfilled, and I just kept creaming and creaming.
It wouldn’t be until the next day that I realized who this man reminded me of, making the play satisfaction of not one but two long-held fantasies. The first, and oldest, was a bi-guys threesome. Some of the first porn I ever really loved was gay. I thought, “What is more obviously heterosexual of me to watch than two, strong, sexy men fucking?” With that sense of permission, I loved watching two men pleasure one another. Is there anything more masculine? I loved seeing two men’s bodies against one another, imagining myself squeezed in between them. Imagining that I’m the one girl invited to the party. I’m aroused even now. I had always wanted to be spit-roasted, to fuck two men at once, but the kicker and what felt near impossible was to find two men who would also play with each other.
The second, and I hope my admission gives others permission to admit the same, is a recurring fantasy I’ve had around one of my ex’s. I think ex fantasies feel super threatening because they involve someone that there was romantic possibility with, rather than a movie star or someone that is basically an object, or a swinger where the relationship boundaries are always respected. Fortunately my husband is big on not shaming any fantasy, and so I let this one roll around in my mind. Sometimes it was just me fucking him again, I’d remember how his face looks and how sexy his eyes were while he was below or on top of me. Other times it was a threesome with my husband, where I invite them each to watch while I fucked the other and then they spit-roast me together. I liked the fantasy so much parts of me wanted to pursue it in real life, but I couldn’t get over the grimy details.
I never expected something so much better was possible.
We sat in the center middle of the pool area, dangling our toes over the edge. So far, me and my husband agreed, it was the hottest group of people we’d ever seen at a swinger’s club. Maybe it was a Spain thing. It was also the nicest club we’d ever attended. We sat down to take it all in and make eyes with people.
A lot of pretty girls, but no men of interest yet. Until he approached.
I tapped my husband on the shoulder, trying to be cool. “Babe.” His six-pack was visible from across the pool, and, of course, he was looking at me.
I smiled. He waved. I waved back. He walked over.
I barely noticed the woman at his side. Fortunately, she was cute enough.
I threw off the thought I had been too forward, remembering I can do no wrong, and watched him take a seat next to my husband, oddly, instead of me. We learn he and this woman are on their second date. She got naked and jumped in the pool to play with another woman. I liked her body…and her pussy.
At some point he mentions he thinks he might be interested in men. My ears perk up.
I hear my husband say: “I’m hearing you making this, ‘When I, Then I,’–for instance, ‘when I’m sexually attracted to guys, then I’ll kiss guys.’ But sometimes we can switch our when’s and then’s,” I see the realization hit the man’s face.
He responds: “When I kiss guys, I’ll be sexually attracted to them.”
My husband nods. “Exactly.”
“But how does it happen? How do you make that mental shift?” I look at this face I want to sit on, and the response flows out of me.
“I don’t think it’s about forcing the mind. I think, sometimes, we can ride a moment. The first time I ate pussy, I just, I don’t know, something came over me, and I was able to ride that through the thing I was afraid of doing. I think it’s the moment, then the brain, not vice versa.”
His bravery allured me. That, and his body. I wanted to climb him. Thinking about jumping on top of him registered in me that he reminded me of someone. He leaned back casually, all of him illuminated in the warm light next to the pool. Who did he remind me of? Someone super fucking sexy. A familiar scene briefly lit in the corner of my mind, warm lights near a pool…
“Will you be my first male kiss?” He asked my husband.
I feel myself pulsing as I watch my husband and our new friend grab necks. He invited us up to the roof. I’m a sure thing.
The next day I will remember the old memory fully. It was at a party in 2014, too lush and fancy for my tastes, and he was there. He was the sexiest man I had ever met. Who I somehow bagged while three-sheets to the wind on July 4. I had been trying to keep him interested ever since. He had a suave quality that made a magnet out of my pussy. A quality he shares with my husband.
He wasn’t the best lay, but he was my favorite. He was so pleasurable to look at I’d watch him do anything, and I especially loved watching him fuck me. And after, no one made me feel more comfortable or more allowed. Now that I think of it, this is also very much like my husband.
Whenever I thought of him, I re-experienced these feelings of sexy, suave and comfort, until my brain cooked up the perfect threesome. What could be more arousing than the two sexiest men I’ve ever slept with fucking me at the same time? But it wasn’t perfect. Although I’d be aroused beyond belief by the sheer sight of the two of them, there is a potential for undertones of sadness, or jealousy. Or worse, homophobia.
That’s why it was such a boon to find this man. This man who looked like my ex, but hotter. Way hotter. This man who looked like my ex but had no history with me. No romantic feelings for me. A man playing by the rules of swinging, having only lust for me and my husband. This is my ex-fantasy on steroids! No grimy or complicated details. Only the hottest elements. And it’s not just a fantasy. It happened.
I got to watch him in between my legs, on top of me, and beneath me. Feel his breath, taste his mouth. And in the peak moment, when I was so wet and creamy from so much arousal, he pushed me rhythmically into my husband behind me while making out with him over my shoulder. I gush.
How many times does a fantasy work out better in reality than in your head? In swinging, often. Turns out I didn’t need to make a mess, all I had to do was wait. My swinger doppelgänger, MMF threesome came to me without me doing anything at all.
I guarantee there is a swinger doppelgänger of every person you have a fantasy about fucking. I’ve already met and fucked more than one.
Rooting for you to find your doppelgängers,
Honey