Page 31 - AVN October 2016

“I’m cold,” I said—Luca had kept the AC
blasting while he was out—and jumped into his
bed, under the covers.
As we watched some shitty movie and our highs
kicked in, all three of us ended up on the bed. It
was big enough that we could all be comfortable
without touching—I was in the middle with Luca
on my right and Tom on my left. I thought back
to a story Luca had told me once a few years back,
about when he and Tom had gone to Spain and had
a threesome with a girl they met.
“Her pussy was completely shaved,” he had
boasted.
“Did she speak English?” I’d asked.
“No.”
Upon hearing the story, my first feeling was
anger. Not toward Luca or Tom, but toward the
girl.
“She let you do that? What was wrong with
her?” I asked.
“Nothing, she wanted it!” Luca smiled. “She’s
the one who came on to us.”
A nice, normal girl seeking a threesome with
two guys? No way that was possible. I didn’t
believe him. Thinking more about it, I decided I
hated her. It wasn’t something I could explain, but
I had a black cloud in my heart for this girl, whose
name I didn’t know and whose face I’d never seen.
The more I thought about her, the darker the cloud
grew.
Masking my irrational hatred as pity, I’d told
Luca, “That’s just sad.”
“What are you talking about?” He laughed. “She
loved it.”
Side by side on the bed, staring blankly at the
television, I could see in my peripheral vision that
the boys were starting to nod off on either side
of me. I thought for a second what it would be
like to get fucked by both of them—would it be
too awkward? We had been friends for so long;
was it too late to spark that kind of emotion? No,
I decided. It could be kind of hot. I had tried a
threesome with a girl and a guy, and also with two
girls. But never two guys—what would it feel like?
I had fucked a lot of guys for my young age ... I had
been called a slut more times than I could possibly
count. Would having two dicks at once be crossing
the line? What would people say if they found out?
What would my girlfriends think of me if I told
them?
Fuck. I wanted it.
I don’t know what changed in me. Luca had
told me the story of the girl in Spain a couple of
years before that night, and it wasn’t like I had any
reason to change my mind since then. I had fucked
around with a bunch of guys in those few years,
but nothing special. As I sat there, imagining the
different positions they could put me in, I realized
what I had felt for the Spanish girl was not hatred,
not pity—but jealousy. Being someone who had
slept with more guys than most of the girls I knew,
I considered myself fairly sexually open. Nothing
exceptional, but I knew it was enough for others
to talk about me behind my back—it was something I
struggled with. Sometimes, it made me feel good. I was
a “bad girl,” a girl who didn’t give a fuck what people
thought of her, a girl who took what she wanted. Most
of the time, though, it made me feel ashamed. Why did
I love sex so much? Why did my “number” seem to be
growing at a rate four times what other girls’ numbers
were? It had been a major source of fights between my
first love and me—he could never seem to get over the
fact I had fucked more people than he had.
Satisfied to be able to put a word to my emotion,
I sat in awe of my revelation. It felt good to have an
explanation for the black cloud in my gut. I had been
envious of the Spanish girl for being able to fuck two
guys at the same time. Were things different in her
country? Did her girlfriends talk about her when she
wasn’t around? Did she have girlfriends? I realized I
had been projecting my own insecurities on her. I hated
that part of me, the part that wanted sex, the part I
constantly felt I needed to hide. Why should she be able
to enjoy it, but not me? WHY NOT ME?
Fuck it.
I turned over onto my stomach, settling the side of my
face into the pillow and closing my eyes. Spreading my
legs, I started to play footsie with them—my right foot
on Tom, my left on Luca.
Slowly, I felt a hand creep up the right side of my
back. Then one on the left side.
It was on.
We made out for a long time, me kissing one
while the other kissed my neck. Eventually, we were
fucking—this was before anal was on the menu, before
I even knew what double penetration was, so while
one fucked me, I either kissed the other or sucked his
dick. They didn’t seem to mind kissing me after the
other one’s cock had been in my mouth, and that turned
me on. Back and forth, back and forth, they took turns
fucking my pussy, fucking my face, and kissing me. It
was slow and romantic, the way it always is on opiates.
“You look so good getting fucked,” one would say to me,
looking me in the eyes.
We did this for hours. I should mention here how
long a man can last (or can’t cum, depending on how
you look at it) on Oxys. I, on the other hand, had lost
count of how many orgasms I had. After four hours, we
decided to take a smoke break. Popping another Oxy as
Tom rolled the blunt, Luca suggested we should order
Chinese food, and we did. As we smoked blunts and
ate our food, it was as if nothing had happened—we
were just hanging out exactly as usual, except we were
all naked. After we finished eating, now fully in a food
coma, we put the empty containers on the floor and fell
asleep. Luca and I awoke a couple of hours later and
quietly fucked as Tom slept next to us, and eventually
joined us again. We fucked until the sun went down,
at which point they came in my mouth, at which point
I swallowed, at which point we all knew the big event
was over. I took a cab home, and each boy texted me
individually how hot the experience had been.
That sex changed me forever. I wasn’t the same after
it, and I knew I could never go back. It was too good—I
had enjoyed myself too much. I had spent years being
angry at someone I didn’t even know for being able
to experience something I could only secretly dream
about—and finally, that night, instead of envying her, I
was able to be her. It was so much better to be on this
side.
I’ve told the story of that night to a few people over
the years, but not many, because Bella could never find
out. Even in retelling it now, I’ve changed many details
so that Luca is unrecognizable. The story usually results
in shock and then something along the lines of “You’re
so crazy.” They take it as a confession, when I really
mean to be bragging.
I resent that. Upon hearing about our sex that
night, people assume I’m the scandalous one in the
equation—much like I initially assumed of the Spanish
girl. Luca, Tom, and I—we all did the same thing—
fucked someone we wanted to fuck. Somehow, when
the boys talk about it, they are just getting laid. When I
talk about it, I’ve done something bad.
“But don’t you feel guilty that he had a girlfriend?”
some will ask. “You fucked him in her bed.”
Honestly, no. Maybe that makes me a cold person,
but I really don’t think it does. If I had known her, I
would have felt ashamed—had she been my friend, or
even an acquaintance, I never would have fucked her
boyfriend. But I figure that their relationship is his
responsibility, not mine.
The truth is that I was just fucking two people
I wanted to fuck. To automatically assume I’m the
heinous one, not Luca, is upsetting. He was the one
betraying someone he loved after all.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s because I’m a woman. I
can’t help but know the answer is yes.
10.16 | AVN.com | 31