Threesome Adventures or Misadventures – The Secret Lesbian

Sometimes you make some good choices and sometimes you make some bad choices.  Unfortunately this isn’t a story about a good choice.  Fortunately it gives me something to actually write about.

So it’s Friday morning and Venice and I have cleaned up the house a bit, especially our bedroom.  Since our threesome adventures have started, the room has turned from our sacred place to a scary place after midnight on Fridays.  This Friday in particular, we were going to have a cute girl coming over to hang out with us.  Her face was so adorable and she had a personality that matched.  We had been talking for a few weeks, but never had the chance to meet her face to face until now.  From the multiple pictures she sent us, we could tell she was going to be a cutie.  Venice was so excited.

There were a few problems though, specifically little red flags I noticed when she told stories.  For instance, her personality seemed real tomboyish to me.  She also bragged about having a best friend who was married, but was never satisfied by her husband.  She made sure to let Venice know that she was the one her best friend came to when she needed to get off.   I suggested to Venice that I thought she was just a lesbian pretending to be into both of us to experience her. Venice would laugh at my assumption, but didn’t really say much else.

Friday night came along and Venice and I were outside sipping White Russians and relaxing.  We knew our friend would arrive at our house soon so we were both a bit nervous.   As her car pulled up I looked at Venice and said, “You may as well go hug her first.” She laughed and told me to shush.  She knew I was referring to her being a lesbian, but she paid me no mind.  An older, larger lady got out of her vehicle and I started looking in the passenger side or backseat for our friend.  I didn’t move towards the woman because honestly I had no idea who she was.  I saw her and Venice hug, but I figured Venice was being extra friendly.  I kind of glanced in the vehicle and noticed it was completely empty.  I then looked back at the woman and said, “Oh, you’re Bertha?”  Her name isn’t really Bertha, but for privacy reasons that is her name now.

Bertha looked back at me and said, “Yea, who did you think I was?”

I quickly responded as politely as possible, “I don’t know, someone lost looking for directions?”   As I said that I made a sarcastic face and leaned toward her to give her a hug.  She postured back a bit and gave me a halfway man hug.  I really didn’t want to hug her anyway so I was okay with that.

First of all, she did not look like her pictures in the least.  I’m not naive or anything, we’ve all been around the Internet long enough to know that everyone does the duck face and we all use our best pictures.   However, I don’t see how anyone can take photos that look nothing like themselves at all and use them as a way to introduce themselves to strangers.   I mean, I guess it gets your foot in the door, but it also almost guarantees you will never meet them again.  Regardless, I knew this was going to be a long night.

As we walked back toward the garage we had a few chairs outside that we usually sit in and talk, so as not to look like we are rushing anyone into the bedroom.  Before I could get to the chair, I turned around and Bertha stopped halfway in our driveway and had a bag of weed in her hand and her pipe up to her face taking a hit.  The lighter illuminating her face did her no justice.   The night just got much longer.  I also thought it was a bit unusual she didn’t feel the need to get our permission to just blaze up in our front yard for all our neighbors to see.  Let’s just say, we come from different places.

I made a quick joke regarding Venice and I being so unattractive that she needed to get high before she got any closer.  She looked at me and laughed, then said, “Well, you’re not the hottest couple I have been with, but they all can’t be winners.”  Venice looks at me with her eyes open wide.

Although I knew she was joking, I also knew that she was delusional.  I mean, I understand that these “unicorns” are so hard to find, but when you are a unicorn that smells like shit and your horn is broken, I’d rather just find a horse.  Seriously.

Bertha walks over to the garage and before she sits down she pulls out her pack of cigarettes and begins to light one up.  Although Venice is allergic to the smoke, she just smiles and looks at me with her “what the fuck” face.  Not to be rude, we do not mention the cigarettes and try to get to know her better.  She small talks, but I notice she is very manly.  By manly I mean, her mannerisms.  I am almost 100% positive Bertha is not bisexual, but more of a lesbian wanting to get into Venice’s pants.  As she finishes her first cigarette, she smashes it on the side of our house and flicks it across the driveway.   As soon as I see that I say, “Whoa, that’s a driveway not an ashtray.”

She responds, “Oh, you are the super picky type, huh?”

I was a bit drunk so I respond back with, “I don’t know if I am picky, but I do know I don’t want cigarette butts all over my yard.”

She apologized and asked if we had any alcohol for her to sip on.  Still trying to be cordial, I invited her in and let her take a few shots. Venice  also made her a rum and Coke.

After a few moments she said she forgot something in her car so she went back outside.  After she left the house I asked Venice if I could just turn off all the lights and close our garage door (it works on Halloween, maybe she will just go to the next house over and leave us alone).  Venice laughed but insisted we stay polite.  I looked back at Venice before Bertha came back in and said, “How can we get her to leave without hurting her feelings?”

Venice responded, “Let’s just see how things go.  She had a cute personality on the phone, maybe she is just nervous.”

Bertha came back in the house and she already had her shoes off.   She smiled at me and said, “This is usually how I walk around you know.”

I said, “Barefoot?”

She said, “Hell yea.  There is nothing like it.”

I then said, “Bertha, seriously, you have to keep certain things to yourself, no one is excited about hooking up with a chick that likes to walk around barefoot.”   Although I was joking, I  immediately caught myself in a mistake.  Why did I say the words hooking up?  I have no idea.  What the fuck was my brain thinking.  If I could have pulled out my brain at that moment I would have dug it out of my head and held it in front of me (rum and White Russians would probably be dripping from it) and punch it in the face.  That’s right, I would punch my brain in the fucking face.

Either way, after I said it I smiled like I was joking and she immediately laughed.  Our bedroom had plenty of space  with a king size bed, a couch, and two oversized chairs on each side of the room.  As I sat down and checked my phone, I looked back up and Bertha was nude standing over Venice.  I am unsure how she moved so quick to totally remove all of her body armor, but she did.  Venice quickly stood up so she was eye level and started kissing Bertha.   I watch the two kiss and saw Venice opened her eyes and look at me with what I call the death stare.  Unsure exactly why she was giving me the death stare, I could assume it was because she wasn’t happy.  I unbuttoned my shirt and walked over to the two as they lay on the bed.  I helped lay them down and slid my hand between Bertha’s legs and rubbed her pussy.  I quietly talked to Bertha making her feel good and asked Venice if she had ever seen anyone so sexy.  Venice didn’t answer, but nonetheless, at least I asked her the question.  I rubbed my hands over her body and worked my face down towards Venice’s face.  We met above her crotch.  It was almost as if I silently called a meeting and Bertha’s pussy was the meeting area.

The meeting didn’t last long.  Apparently our office was being bug bombed or someone threw a stink bomb in it.  Whatever it was, it was not usable.  Bertha took the term bomb pussy to a whole new level, that’s for sure.

Angry, I grabbed my dick and started bouncing it on her face with it asking her to tell me she loved my cock.  She wouldn’t respond, so I looked at Venice and motioned for her to stop rubbing her thighs.  The girl quickly changed her mind and confessed her love for my cock.  I knew this bothered her, but I didn’t care.  I pushed my dick in her mouth and for the first time Venice saw me totally erect with another woman.  Venice, who was staying away from the girls pussy, was actually sitting off to the side with me, rubbing the girls thighs and pussy with her hand, watching the girl suck my dick.  Venice reached down and grab my cock, pulled it from the girls mouth and started using my dick to thump on the girls face and lips.  As she did this, I looked down and asked her who has the best dick.  She replied, “You do.”

I believe I acted this way because I was disgusted.  Usually I am a bit more nice and less aggressive.  Tired of watching her rock back and forth sucking my dick, I immediately got off the bed.  At the moment upon impact of my nostrils to her odor, I came to a revelation that Venice needed to experience some things alone.  Truthfully, I was feeling guilty anyway, always being like a third wheel, and this girl didn’t seem to want penis at all.  In fact, I believe my penis would have actually melted if  Venice would have tried to slide me inside her.  It was that bad.  So, in order to be a better husband I told myself to sit this one out and let Venice enjoy her experience.

Seriously,  how could anyone leave their house smelling like that?  I was so upset, I refused to even watch.  I was afraid my eyeballs would get mad at me and boycott my vision.  I didn’t want that.  Wait, let me stop the story here because I have another story I’d rather tell.

A few days earlier I was playing with the TV and was channel surfing.  I notice that Venice turned on the closed caption and the words were literally writing over the guide area.  Basically, I couldn’t see what was on television because the closed caption literally put the box and words right over the guide area.  Confused and a little bit retarded when it comes to my television (not like most guys I suppose), I asked Venice to please turn off the closed captions.  I then complained and said, “Please just leave  that function off for me?”  Venice shrugged and ignored me, but within a few seconds she toggled a few buttons on the remote control and I could thankfully browse my channels again.

Ok, back to Bertha.  So, I am frustrated and refusing to turn around.   I start watching a television show but the TV is turned down so low that all I can hear is Bertha moaning.  At one point, I even hear Bertha ask Venice to sit on her face.  Like I said, I refused to turn around and look.  Hearing her voice infuriates me  but I am even more upset at Venice for not teaching me how to turn BACK ON the closed caption function.  I wanted nothing more than to just read what was being said on the informercial about pajama jeans so I could take my mind off this train wreck in the bedroom.  Eventually I give up, I turn around, and poor Venice is sitting on top of Bertha, with almost perfect posture.  I mean, I know why she isn’t slouching or leaning forward, she didn’t have a gas mask for that position.  She looked at me with her eyes wide open and blinked.  I think I saw a tear.  It reminded me of the old Indian commercial when the Indian had trash thrown at him as he was walking alongside of the road.  Except she isn’t Indian, she was a Filipino sitting on top of a white beached whale.  No, I don’t want to disrespect the whales of the world, she was more like a beached walrus.  Is that possible, can walruses get beached?

Ok, I just Googled “beached walrus.”   No, they can’t get beached, but they do flop around almost identical to Bertha on our bed, so the description still fits. I believe this term is called “wallowing.”

Feeling I let my wife down to let her fight the war alone, I decided to put my combat boots on and do what any man would do.  I left the room.

Honestly, I thought I heard a noise coming from the garage and felt like maybe it was a burglar or something.   I didn’t see or hear anyone in the garage, but to make sure I was going to protect my family, I decided to look in every single room one by one and just turn each light on and off checking for anything that could possibly harm my family.  Nothing, the house was empty.  I remember mumbling to myself something like, “Oh my god, Venice is going to kill me for leaving her alone this long, but fuck that, I don’t want to go back in there.  This is fucked up.  I am not a bad person, what did I do to deserve this?  Last year I donated can goods, and I even worked at a soup kitchen for a few days during Thanksgiving break.  I’m a good person.”

So, after I went outside and checked the mail, I came back in the house and decided I needed to man up.  I helped decide to have threesomes, so now I must deal with the consequences of my decisions.

I walked in the room and it was as if Venice hadn’t moved a single inch. It was like she was sitting on top of an invisible chair sitting over Bertha.  Her posture was absolutely precise.  She wasn’t leaning to the left, she wasn’t leaning backwards, she was sitting down with her back straight up to the ceiling like she had on a back brace.  I felt horrible.  She looked at me and with her hands she motioned to slice her own throat.  I was in trouble here.

I sat in the chair next to the bed and pulled my pants down.  I grabbed my penis and told it sorry (in my head).  I don’t know why, but I did.  I then said out loud, “Venice, I’m lonely baby, come over here and suck on my dick for a little bit.”

Venice sprung up from the girl’s face and was literally across the room so quick I could swear I saw a trail of light behind her.  As she got comfortable and started sucking my dick, I smiled to myself knowing Bertha had no interest in me or my penis.  I almost felt like I was in a safe zone.

However, safe zone or not, I was still worried about my little man.   Before I could really relax I saw Bertha roll over to her stomach and watch Venice suck my dick.  After a few minutes she announced to the room, “Hey V, why don’t you come over here and sit on my face again and let him stand over you so you can suck his dick.”  Not only was that not going to happen, but I found it hilarious the girl just wanted to roll back over and not move at all.  I looked down at Venice who wasn’t saying a word and watched her look up at me with her Bambi eyes and blink.  I knew I couldn’t do this to her.

I hesitantly replied back, stuttering a bit, “Why don’t you…… why don’t you come over here and put…. you should come over and put your mouth on one of my balls and let Venice suck the other”  My dick died instantly.

However, unlike my dick, Venice perked up and replied, “Come here girl, let’s suck on these sexy balls together.”  I gave Venice a dirty look.  Venice then motioned with her hands for Bertha to come to us.  She did, slowly wallow over to where we were sitting and look at my genitals, and hesitated.  Was her not liking men worth another shot at Venice possibly sitting on her face again?  Venice made her decision very easy.  She moved her hair out of her face and grabbed the back of her head.  She then gently pushed down and said, “Don’t be scared, he keeps his boys nice and clean.”

At that point, I felt both of my balls being sucked on, each going different directions.  I look down at my right nut and smile.  I look down at my left nut, and quickly look away.  I felt so bad for my left testicle.  In fact, I just wanted this to end.

You’d think, a man getting his balls sucked by two different women was a dream come true, and maybe it was.  Maybe I am being a bit dramatic for the story, because truthfully feeling two mouths on each side of my sack, I couldn’t talk.  It was like mistakenly being called dead because you took a super potion that makes you lifeless for a certain amount of time.   As you watch the coroner inspect your body while you lay there in a paralyzed state, unable to talk or scream.   I wanted to yell stop.  I wanted to stand up and rip my testicles away from both of them and get Bertha out of the house.  But realistically, all I could do was lay there, mumble, and drool.

As I watched, I could tell Bertha was more interested in Venice because she kept letting my ball flop against my body and lean over to kiss her.  Venice would smile, keeping her mouth protected by my right testicle, and just nicely push her head back down into my left one.  Eventually Venice released my ball and asked, “Ryan, where is your phone, I want you to take a picture.”

Annoyed because I could barely watch, let alone want pictures to memorialize the moment, I replied, “My phone is dead.”

Venice, knowing I was lying but still upset over me leaving her in the seated position for at least 10 to 15 minutes responded, “Okay, well I will get my phone.”

I definitely didn’t want her to have the pictures on her phone.  I could only imagine how she would use these photos against me.   “Ryan, empty the trash now, or in two minutes I am tweeting this picture.”  I quickly tried to sink the idea, “Baby, Bertha doesn’t want us to take pictures, she barely knows us.  They may end up on the Internet, or some stupid blog or something….”

Bertha looked up and cut me off, “… I don’t care.”

Venice nicely put her hand back behind Bertha’s head and lead her back to my ball.  Venice then stood up, her titties exposed but her dress on her lower half, and said, “Hold on I will get my phone.”

I responded quickly, “No, no, I forgot my phone is charging near the bed.  Just use mine!”

“That’s okay, I’ll use mine.”  She left the room.

OH EM GEE.   OHHHHHHHH EM GEEEEEEEE.  Don’t panic Ryan, don’t fucking panic, damnit.  I looked down, and Bertha was busy enjoying my left testicle.   My dick exposed, my right ball sagging and abandoned by Venice, Bertha stayed the course.  Since she had already abandoned her status as a lesbian by sucking my cock and balls, she decided she may as well just embrace the dick.  Unfortunately, it was my dick. I don’t really know what happened, but I just felt slimy warmth over my ass, balls, dick, and stomach.  I didn’t have the heart to look so I  leaned my head back and started counting sheep.

One sheep jumps over the fence.

I don’t really remember what happened next.  I know she was touching me all over and playing with all my piercings. As her tongue and mouth explored my body, I went to my happy place.  Honestly I am trying to forget the event, so writing this blog isn’t helping with my ballzheimer’s disease I am trying to create.

24 sheep jump over the fence.

Now, after being Venice’s hero and saving her from Bertha, she was nowhere to be found.  We promised each other we would not leave the room while having a threesome.  Especially with me being the guy and Bertha being the… girl like thing.   What if I got carried away and she came back in the room and I had her bent over in front of me banging her?  How could she break our agreement like this?

736 sheep jump over the fence.

Finally, Venice came back into the room.  I have no idea what is going on at this point but I looked down and Bertha let my dick fall from her mouth and again started licking sucking under and on my left nut again.  Venice settled back into her position and handed me her phone.  When I turned the phone on, I noticed it was still on the “Retry” screen from “Candy Crush Saga”.  Not only that, I clicked the retry button, and it said I could not take another turn for another 20 minutes. Are you kidding me?  Venice didn’t just lose once, she played all five lives while I was alone in the room with Bertha?  I looked down at Venice and showed her the Candy Crush timer and burned her soul with my stare.  She looked up at me, sucking my ball, pulled really hard until I felt a rush of pain in my stomach, and let the ball go so it snapped back into my crotch like a rubber band.  “Go ahead Ryan, take the pictures.  It’s going to be sooooo hot.”

I loaded the camera and tried to take nothing but blurry pictures.  Thank goodness she has an LG Intuition.  The camera is so shitty even if I would have tried the images would have been horrible.  The bad thing is, I accidentally recorded like 40 seconds on video because I didn’t know how to work her phone.  So I do not just have stills of this nightmare, but also video.  Well, I take that back, I have nothing of this nightmare, Venice has everything.  Randomly Venice will text me during the day with portions of a picture just to let me know she is in total control now.

After a few minutes of them sharing my dick and balls, I got up and pulled my genitals away from both of them and ran to the bathroom.  I made fake vomit noises and called for Venice to come help me (pretending to be drunk, not grossed out — I’m not that rude).  I grabbed the soap and started scrubbing my left testicle and told Venice to let her know I am done for the night.  After a few minutes, I walked out of the bathroom and saw Bertha was ready to go.  I ran back to the bathroom and yelled for Venice to please walk her out.  Again, I made sounds of vomiting.

Now, this story may sound ridiculous, because it is.  However, this is a true story.  Some things may sound dramatic or have been slightly changed for entertainment reasons, but it’s my afterthought.  This is a true story.

A wise man once told me, there are no bad experiences or good experiences…. just experiences.

4 thoughts on “Threesome Adventures or Misadventures – The Secret Lesbian

  1. Verrrry scary Ryan… but I must say, REALLY fucking funny!! You DO know how to tell a story!
    You both need to publish these memoirs at some point. I have a feeling you’ll quickly find a very rapt audience!
    This chapter, with all its thrills and “spills” might aptly be entitled, “Venice and Ryan Jones and the Temple of Vaginal Doom.” 🙂
    If it wasn’t just bad hygiene, it sounds like a real live case of vaginosis…. all other blatant character flaws aside.
    I actually had to break up with a girlfriend, years ago, who I really liked. She was cleaner and more well kept than most people, but there was just no getting away from that problem… “things” just gradually fizzled out 🙁
    Anyway, you’re one hell of a patient and kind couple to have let the night carry on that long.
    I think the upside is you’ve both got a joke between you that will probably make for some great laughing fits for the rest of your lives.
    I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for that night!
    Best of luck in round 3!!

  2. Horrifyingly entertaining. Reading this was like watching a savage NASCAR race crash in super slow mo. You know someone’s going to be hurt, cars are going to flip, explosions are imminent, but just….can’t…turn….away…

    …bones heal, and chicks dig scars….but…mental scars..I dunno.

    …stay strong brother…it’ll all be ok.

    J.

  3. Pingback: 14 Sex Blogs & Websites to Follow in 2014 - A Good Woman's Dirty Mind | A Good Woman's Dirty Mind

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