Sometimes experience and the lessons that follow need sharing.

by David Cain

I’ve lived with two women several times in my life, although never with any delusions of polyamorous bliss. Involved with one woman, we were both lovers of the other woman and practical convenience overshadowed any kind of lingering childish jealousy. We lived a bohemian life. Sex was a daily feast.

So many men have told me that their best fantasy is one shared with two women. My response is usually encouraging, for the sake of support, but the fantasy is simply foolish. One man and two women is a woeful waste of cunt; there simply aren’t enough pricks in attendance to satisfy the variety of holes. Any man who lasts long in those circumstances has numbed his privates beforehand. The arousal level is stratospheric but the performance is doomed to crash and burn.

This situation is alleviated considerably if the women are also lovers, releasing the man from the pressure of being the only source of stimulation. Not simply willing to pretend to be lovers, but actually being lovers, the women can go on without him, if need be, give him a chance to rest, recuperate, refract and reload. Love improves an orgy.

One of the reasons the fantasy is so popular is probably because it takes advantage of the fact that group sex tends to depersonalize the encounter. With one partner, you have to look them in the eye, be responsible for them, take care of their needs, be attentive to their moods and whims. In group sex, we are only one of the crowd, someone else will take care of the gazing, the responsibility, the needs, the moods and whims. Everyone can take care of themselves. Group sex allows people to be selfish without ruining the sex.

That may be true for a house party or any other orgy with strangers but with lovers, it is far from the case. Everyone is responsible for everyone, taking the emotional interplays to whole new levels. A minefield of potential disasters, every encounter is necessarily analyzed for harms. The chemistry of a group is difficult to manage, sex makes it so much more so. Explosions are immanent. Keep your head down.

So these arrangements are always doomed to fail. They are, however, fun while they last.

One period when I lived with two women, I was studying for the bar exam. Eight hours of my days, every day for three months, were spent reading and taking faux tests, a grueling experience, so much fun I have taken two. With two women taking care of me, tending to my needs, making sure I was fed and stoned and feeling up to the task at hand.

Sitting at a desk for so long, studying intently, left me stiff but not in a good way. Silver ended every study day by giving me a deep muscle massage. I would lay naked on the table while Silver rubbed my body hard and Ella gave me a rundown on the day I had missed.

By the time the massage was done, I was loose, relaxed and rock hard. Silver shifted her approach, still rubbing but in much friendlier ways. Ella disrobed and joined in the petting while my hands found their ways first to one cunt and then another, any boob or butt in reach, teasing and caressing and fingering and pawing.

Silver sucked my cock while Ella fingered her pussy and I reached over to do the same for Ella. Each tickle of arousal sizzled electrically around the circle from mouths and hands to genitals, through the heart and mind and back again.

The massage table being high above the ground, we usually found an opportunity to move to the nearby bed, shedding whatever clothes remained. I’d shove my cock in one cunt for a few strokes and move to another. A pussy on my face, another on my staff, women kissing and licking and everything turned to white light for an orgasm that melted the mind.

Leaning back against the headboard, dazed and confused, I would watch the ladies lick and finger each other until I felt another rise growing in my John Thomas and I would push my way back into the loving fray for another round of thrusting and coming.

The study day inevitably ended with all three of us collapsed on the bed, exhausted, napping and laughing until someone felt the need for food and we turned our attention to our next loving feast.

But all good things must come to an end, so it was with the wild wood weeds.

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, cannabis, fiction, literature, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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