“Tally’s going to be there?”
“She’s supposed to be.”
“Good. We’re going to make your night.”
Somehow, in the waiting and the hurrying and the lateness that accompanied our making to the party on Saturday, I forgot that little exchange as it happened.
Later, when Jenny sat on the couch in the basement straddled by Tally, and while I stood behind Tally kissing and touching them both, the exchange popped back up in my head. Jenny wasn’t wrong. My night was very made.
This was Saturday, the year-anniversary-party of With Benefits (the non-monogamy social group we help half-heartily run). This was the basement, the floor of the house set aside for such tomfoolery one may engage in at a party full of consenting, sex-positive, open-relationshiped adults. Upstairs was for consenting, sex-positive, open-relationshiped adults who weren’t making out. Upstairs, there was cheesecake.
Downstairs, my wife and my girlfriend pawed and cooed over each other. The kissed like kissing was dirtiest possible thing. Jenny pulled Tally’s shirt up, and each of us, Jenny and I, took a nipple between our teeth. Downstairs, there was teamwork.
Upstairs, there was a dancer. No, not that kind, but splendid new people and wonderfuls of the regulars. There were people talking about open relationships and crazy parents and the beauty and terror of Netflix Instant. Upstairs, there was friendship.
Downstairs, Tally put her hand far enough between her legs to be between Jenny’s legs. They breathed into each other’s necks as I kissed them each in turn. Someone grabbed my cock over my jeans, then someone else. It’s always nice when your wife and girlfriend get along (on your penis). Downstairs, there were erections.
I call Tally my girlfriend again, but that’s just me being lazy. I should really explain that she was in a long-term relationship pretty recently, and that she’s looking for another. In the meantime (and after, if the lucky person who she finds is happy with open things), Tally and I get to show each other just how much we enjoy one another. Specifically, I get the chance again to show her how much I love the noises she makes when she’s very turned on. Jenny is better than anyone else I’ve seen (total people I’ve seen try = 5, I think) at making Tally make those noises. I’m good at watching that happen, very good indeed.
I left the two of them on the basement on the couch, touching each other and grinning madly at the evening. I left them! I did. I wanted them to have some time together. Three people is a crowd, you know, a very kick-ass, wonderful, make-my-night crowd, but there’s something special about two and I wanted them to have that for awhile. It was also a good time standing upstairs talking about goodness of the little potatoes and knowing that downstairs was still downstairs.
They came up enough minutes later to be flushed and radiant blinking billboards for sex. They slid into the couch and into a conversation about either the avoidance of poly drama or the ownership of multiple cats (I only heard pieces of the conversation from the other side of the room, but it was certainly one of those two). For awhile, we stayed upstairs and enjoyed wine and across-the-room fuzzy smiles. Later, we went downstairs and kissed more and wrestled a little, because the hosts had put out mats that said, “wrestle on me” very insistently. Downstairs, there were feats of strength.
Upstairs was generally busier than downstairs. I thought this was neat, because although this fun group that has spent a year growing through word of mouth and Internet really enjoys sexy times, at the end of the night we also really enjoy each other’s company. I think my favorite parties now are going to be the ones that mix the two.
“She’s supposed to be.”
“Good. We’re going to make your night.”
Somehow, in the waiting and the hurrying and the lateness that accompanied our making to the party on Saturday, I forgot that little exchange as it happened.
Later, when Jenny sat on the couch in the basement straddled by Tally, and while I stood behind Tally kissing and touching them both, the exchange popped back up in my head. Jenny wasn’t wrong. My night was very made.
This was Saturday, the year-anniversary-party of With Benefits (the non-monogamy social group we help half-heartily run). This was the basement, the floor of the house set aside for such tomfoolery one may engage in at a party full of consenting, sex-positive, open-relationshiped adults. Upstairs was for consenting, sex-positive, open-relationshiped adults who weren’t making out. Upstairs, there was cheesecake.
Downstairs, my wife and my girlfriend pawed and cooed over each other. The kissed like kissing was dirtiest possible thing. Jenny pulled Tally’s shirt up, and each of us, Jenny and I, took a nipple between our teeth. Downstairs, there was teamwork.
Upstairs, there was a dancer. No, not that kind, but splendid new people and wonderfuls of the regulars. There were people talking about open relationships and crazy parents and the beauty and terror of Netflix Instant. Upstairs, there was friendship.
Downstairs, Tally put her hand far enough between her legs to be between Jenny’s legs. They breathed into each other’s necks as I kissed them each in turn. Someone grabbed my cock over my jeans, then someone else. It’s always nice when your wife and girlfriend get along (on your penis). Downstairs, there were erections.
I call Tally my girlfriend again, but that’s just me being lazy. I should really explain that she was in a long-term relationship pretty recently, and that she’s looking for another. In the meantime (and after, if the lucky person who she finds is happy with open things), Tally and I get to show each other just how much we enjoy one another. Specifically, I get the chance again to show her how much I love the noises she makes when she’s very turned on. Jenny is better than anyone else I’ve seen (total people I’ve seen try = 5, I think) at making Tally make those noises. I’m good at watching that happen, very good indeed.
I left the two of them on the basement on the couch, touching each other and grinning madly at the evening. I left them! I did. I wanted them to have some time together. Three people is a crowd, you know, a very kick-ass, wonderful, make-my-night crowd, but there’s something special about two and I wanted them to have that for awhile. It was also a good time standing upstairs talking about goodness of the little potatoes and knowing that downstairs was still downstairs.
They came up enough minutes later to be flushed and radiant blinking billboards for sex. They slid into the couch and into a conversation about either the avoidance of poly drama or the ownership of multiple cats (I only heard pieces of the conversation from the other side of the room, but it was certainly one of those two). For awhile, we stayed upstairs and enjoyed wine and across-the-room fuzzy smiles. Later, we went downstairs and kissed more and wrestled a little, because the hosts had put out mats that said, “wrestle on me” very insistently. Downstairs, there were feats of strength.
Upstairs was generally busier than downstairs. I thought this was neat, because although this fun group that has spent a year growing through word of mouth and Internet really enjoys sexy times, at the end of the night we also really enjoy each other’s company. I think my favorite parties now are going to be the ones that mix the two.
1 comments:
I can't imagine a nicer party.
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