Mon 1 Jun 2009
A Different Kind of Smart
Posted by shazamsf under disaster
[4] Comments
Mr. Zip had placed an ad in CL looking for women who wanted to participate in a threesome with him and me. Mr. Zip has had MANY successful encounters based on his well-written CL posts. Mr. Zip’s ads are longer than most, and make clear that he wants not only a sexy, kinky woman, but one who can write and carry on an intelligent conversation.
When he places an ad with me in mind for a threesome, I let him do all the hard work of sorting through the responses. I trust his judgment and know that he knows how to find a woman with whom we will both have fun. However, I don’t show up to the party with no idea of who will be there.
Mr. Zip culls through the men, the idiots, the couples, the too old, the too young, and forwards me the approved emails with photos. Mr. Zip is always enthusiastic about potential encounters and usually writes something gushing about a the lady along with her forwarded email.
Mr. Zip was particularly keen on a young lady of only 21 years, and not only because she was a young lady of only 21 years, though sometimes that is enough. In our case, however, we didn’t need to settle for just young, soft, flesh. Sarah (sounds nice, doesn’t it?) was a smart girl who was also kinky.
Sarah was a physics major at UC Davis so she was no dummy. She was engaged to be married but wanted to do some exploring before she settled down. She was interested in threesomes, D/s, etc., and was doing the difficult work of getting all her experiences in before she was to marry. (I do not subscribe to this apparently common idea that people can get things out of their systems before settling down. It simply doesn’t work.)
Sarah didn’t want to engage in any of her sexual adventures close to school for fear that word would get back to her fiancé that she was a dirty girl, which she was. Also, Davis, California, doesn’t have much in the way of opportunities for threesomes beyond the drunken frat party.
The three of us decided to get together at Mr. Zip’s house on a week night. One of the major impediments to threesomes is having to juggle three schedules; we lucked out that all of us were available relatively soon after Sarah initially responded to Mr. Zip’s ad. Sarah had to drive a little more than an hour to get to San Francisco from Davis, but was willing to do so for the opportunity to have fun with the two of us.
Mr. Zip and I were relaxing at his house waiting for Sarah. I had some wine while we waited (Mr. Zip isn’t much of a drinker). Sarah text messaged Mr. Zip several times to tell us she was stuck in traffic. And stuck she was. There was some sort of accident that caused a Sarah’s trip to take twice as long as it should have.
When she finally arrived, Sarah was upset about the traffic and apologetic that she’d taken so long. Mr. Zip and I were fine, just sorry she was so frazzled by the traffic. Mr. Zip gave Sarah some wine while she settled in.
She told us about the first time she’d had sex: it was a threesome with a man and another woman. They were also significantly older than she. Mr. Zip and I certainly could see the pattern; I was in my mid-30s, and Mr. Zip in his mid-40s.
Sarah was quite the drinker; she was keeping up with me. The three of us were getting to know each other, but mostly we wanted to know her. She said she found her soul mate, her fiancé, in the physics department and knew he was the one because they were both studying the same obscure specialty within the field.
Sarah and I started kissing each other. Mr. Zip was around but he could tell that Sarah felt more comfortable with me than him at the time. Eventually we went into the bedroom where the three of us began exploring each others’ bodies. Sarah was concerned that her breasts were to high when compared to mine. I didn’t take it as an insult, but I did explain that she needn’t worry, because with another decade of gravity her breasts would likely be lower on her chest too. Sarah’s body was soft yet firm, like 21-year-old flesh should be.
We were still drinking wine and Sarah continued to keep pace with me … until she didn’t. Without warning, Sarah ran to Mr. Zip’s bathroom, where she puked in his sink. Mr. Zip and I talked to her through the bathroom door. She said she’d be ok. We brought her some water. Eventually she emerged from the bathroom and went back to the living room to rest on the couch. But not for long, because she vomited on the couch. She darted back into the bathroom, where she was again sick.
Mr. Zip was cleaning Sarah’s barf off his couch when Sarah finally came out of the bathroom. She and I sat on Mr. Zip’s bed. Sarah was crying. Through the blubbering and tears she told me that she was extremely embarrassed, but she had clogged the bathroom sink with her puke. I assured her that it would be no problem to take care of and went to the bathroom to assess the damage.
The sink was up to the safety drainage hole in vomitus-laden water. I fiddled with the plunger but nothing happened. So I reached into the sink in an attempt to pull the drain stop out. I could not. Nothing I did helped the sink drain, but I was in vomit up to mid-forearm. Sexy! I told Mr. Zip that his sink was clogged and that there was nothing I knew to do (I’m not a fucking plumber.) and then went to the kitchen sink to thoroughly wash my hand and arm.
Sarah was still in Mr. Zip’s bedroom, crying. She sputtered that she wasn’t a drinker but that she was trying to calm down when she guzzled the wine. (I really wish she had told us that before she up-chucked everywhere.) I sat next to her on the bed and told her it was no big deal, that we were all nervous. She kept apologizing to me and saying she wanted to make it a good experience for me. I made it clear that I wasn’t the one who was inexperienced and that everything was fine. I recall her resting her head on my breast and me stroking her hair. I felt both maternal and turned on; it felt wrong and so right. I soothed her until she was no longer crying.
She looked up at me with tear stains on her cheeks and looked so pretty. Mr. Zip and I weren’t sure if Sarah was well, but she assured us that she was feeling much better. We proceeded to have our threesome.
At one point I was on my back and she was straddling me. Mr. Zip was standing at the foot of the bed between our legs. I reached down to play with her pussy so he could see the nice view. Then, while we were still in that position, Mr. Zip fucked me. It was an interesting feeling to have the person fucking me not the person on top of me.
Sarah was enthralled when she watched Mr. Zip fist me.
We had a lot of fun, but the traffic and the puking had taken up a lot of time. It was 5am and I needed to get home to my animals. Mr. Zip gave me a ride home.
Mr. Zip told me that when he got back to his house Sarah was asleep in his bed. He, too, was exhausted. After they napped Mr. Zip was surprised to find that Sarah was interested in exploring more of her naughty side with him alone. The night before she had seemed focused on me; they hadn’t had much interaction at all, and certainly hadn’t fucked. But when it was just the two of them she asked him to spank her plump bottom. He gladly obliged, and then he fucked her.
Sarah and Mr. Zip stayed in email contact for some time. She told him that she drove to San Jose (an even further drive for her) to have another threesome with a MW couple, and that she wanted to see us again. Scheduling often gets in the way of threesomes, and a second encounter wasn’t to be.
I swear. True story.
4 Responses to “ A Different Kind of Smart ”
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[...] that end, I continued to fuck men when I could, and it was during this time I had the threesome with Mr. Zip and the 21-year-old booze hound. I told Ms. Absinthe exactly what I was planning on doing that night and suggested she stay at [...]
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[...] there I received a phone call from a friend, Mr. Zip, a friend with whom I have threesomes. Which wouldn’t be all that interesting except that it came out in our conversation that he [...]
I agree with you that the idea of getting things out of your system before settling down is ridiculous. But not only that, you should be able to do these things with your future spouse. Or at least discuss them.
It’s along the same lines as people thinking sex stops when they get married. If it does, then something needs fixing.
Suddenly I feel so much better about all of my drunken sexual failures, I’ve never vomited. On the other hand I also rarely have gotten so much fun eventually.
Sounds like a great time and it’s too bad you weren’t able to get with her again before her stupid self imposed sexual ‘deadline’.