Searching for More

I found myself in bed with two women, and it changed my life.
I think I should state upfront that I’m not a lesbian. Not even a closet one. The closest I came was at a friend’s house one night when we were both twelve. We wanted to practise kissing, so that, when the time came for the real thing, we’d be ready. It was really gross.
The fact is I’m really boring. I’m 23, and I’ve lived with my boyfriend Ben for two years. We have a fantastic, loving relationship, but the sex side is … well, you know. Safe. Comfortable. Which sounds more like a family sedan than a Ferrari. I want a Ferrari! But I’ve never been able to raise the issue with Ben.
I mean, just two months ago we were watching TV and then the movie ended and the late night porn came on. I was quite turned on, I have to say. What’s not to like about great looking half-naked men and women cavorting in exotic climes? But when Ben saw it, he paled. He turned the TV off silently, then turned to me and said: “Thank goodness you’re not into that sort of thing. I can’t take the pressure of comparison. I mean, seriously, those big muscly guys don’t turn you on, do they?”
Hoo boy. Big question. One of those “does my bum look big in this” questions.
“They don’t turn me on, but what they do sometimes does.” Sometimes? Oh great, Sarah, now you sound like you’re a porn fundi!
“Like…like what?” Ben asked nervously.
And that is when I tried. I put it out there. You see, my one and only sexual fantasy, the one thing which makes my heart beat faster, is the idea of a threesome. Yeah, I know, not exactly an easy thing to mention to your “your turn on top” boyfriend.
“Like cunnilingus.” Ok I didn’t even try. I couldn’t. But Ben smiled. In fact his face nearly burst. Ben, in his defence, tries really hard at cunnilingus. For about ten seconds. That’s his idea of “reciprocal”. Then I have to give him a fifteen minute blowjob. I don’t know, I’m not sure this equality thing has reached the bedroom yet.
And so we carried on, and I thought that, hey, the downside is my sex life is predictable, the upside is my lovelife is predictable. Which is more important, your clitoris or your heart? I’m voting for heart, every time. I thought I could do without that kind of thing. You know, the sex thing. I thought I was happy the way I was.
But then last night … last night I was home alone. Ben is away, finding himself in India. We’d been exchanging dirty text messages, and I was very horny. And so something … some little devil in me … made me type “porn” into Google. Up came 178 million results. So far so good. The lists of what was available were overwhelming, and then all of a sudden, on page seven of the results, I came upon a personal. Two very attractive women were looking for another woman for a night of abandonment. I think it was that word that hooked me. I needed abandonment. I needed to let go, be wild, free my body to enjoy itself. To at least test drive a Ferrari.
I told myself that, because it was women, it wasn’t like I was cheating. I told myself I would just check it out. And then I was on the site, and looking at the pictures. And looking at the pictures made me hot. There is something so beautiful about the naked female body. When you see naked breasts you want to touch your own breasts. In fact I was touching my own breasts.
Seeing two gorgeous women entwined on the screen turned me on like I’d never been turned on before, because I could imagine myself into every gesture, I could imagine myself as the giver and the taker, the caresser and the caressed. And then, just as the panties were about to come off (theirs and mine), the browser gave me an error message. What? What was going on? I checked that I hadn’t knocked my cable out in the excitement. No. Then what?! And that’s when I realised, it was the 29th of the month and I had run out of bandwidth.
Oh, the agony! My vagina was throbbing with excitement and tension, and despite the best efforts of my vibrator and my hands, it was not to be satisfied. I lay awake for hours, imagining those two women. And me. Those two women and me.
The next day at work I was gripped with a terrible idea. Maybe I could get onto that website. Maybe I could catch the grand finale, so to speak. And then, of course, email the women. Email them and make a date. I spent the whole morning typing the url into my browser and then deleting it. I wasn’t sure if the company had automatic internet blockers that would report back what I was doing. I imagined some kind of sex police rushing into the office, with my sad lonely boss Alan at the forefront, screaming: “I always knew you were a dirty whore!”
But the temptation was irresistible, so I devised a cunning and devious plan. I would offer to work late, and then log on to the porn site from someone else’s computer. I even knew how to delete the internet history thingy, so no one would ever know!
Alan seemed terribly suspicious when I offered to work late, but he accepted, and left at five on the dot with all the other office drones, leaving instructions as to how to set the alarm. Gary in accounts lingered until five thirty, and looked like he wanted to strike up a conversation, but I ignored him studiously and feigned interest in the spreadsheet I had open on my screen. I couldn’t tell you a single thing that was on it, but Gary was convinced, and sidled out at last.
The second he was gone I ran over to his computer – I figured that since he had made me wait, I would put any incriminating evidence on his machine. I typed in the url, fingers trembling, my groin already seeming to hum. There they were, my beautiful women, and I quickly got back into the groove, moving with them, until I was floating on a sea of pleasure.  For a moment I lost all sense of where I was and what was happening.
And then I opened my eyes (when had I closed them?) and I was alone in the office, in Gary from accounts’s chair, with my skirt up around my waist, my panties halfway down my thighs, and an enormous grin on my face. It was a matter of seconds to email the women – Selena and Jude, I discovered – and request a liaison.
And as I reached my car the phonecall came. A private number, of course. A low voice with the hint of a smile, that seemed very familiar. Of course it was, I’d just been listening to it scream in ecstasy.
“Sarah? We got your message, and we’d love to see you. In fact we’re both quite turned on right now, just looking at your picture. We love that little lacey top, darling, but we’d love to take it off you even more. How soon can you be here?”
She gave an address about twenty minutes drive from my office, and I promised I’d be there in fifteen minutes. I drove like a demented drunk person, and I was there in ten. Even the outside of the house seemed glamorous to me, although it was just an ordinary suburban fifties house. But there were scarlet curtains in the windows, and an arch of lavender over the gate, whose scent carried me up the path, to the open front door.
I walked into paradise. Selena greeted me at the door with the soft brush of her Angelina Jolie lips, and closed the door softly behind me. As soon as I moved inside I noticed the perfume of the place, resplendent with musk, jasmine, and sex. The door to my right was ajar, and inside a midnight blue room lay Jude in black negligee. I moved into the room slowly. It felt like my moves were choreographed by someone outside of myself.
Inside the room something soft and low was playing, something a little different. It reminded me of the Juno soundtrack. Selena followed me in, and her robe fell open, offering enticing glimpses of her lilac underwear against her hazelnut skin. I reached the edge of the bed and Selena was behind me, her lips whispering against my neck, her hands softly unbuttoning my blouse from behind. Jude watched us with wide eyes, her hand softly stroking the skin between her breasts.
Selena took my blouse off me and started on my skirt. I was motionless, giving myself up to these women. Abandoning myself to their mercy. My skirt fell to the floor and Jude moved forward to pull me towards her, towards her breasts that felt like peaches. I tasted one, hesitantly at first, and then hungrily, as though I had been starving all my life. Selena moved next to us, and she was circling my nipples with the thumb of her one hand and exploring Jude’s thigh with the other.
My mouth moved down Jude, wanting to take her all in, down to her stomach, and she was groaning. And then Selena moved me sideways, and I found myself with my lips dancing below Jude’s belly button, lower and lower, and she was in the same place on me. Selena was above us both, and her hands and mouth were everywhere.
And then Jude was writhing beneath my mouth, and I felt so strong and powerful and important. She cried out for more, and I put everything I was into her, and I felt the energy pass through her, until the relief poured out of her body. And now I was on fire, and Selena took position between my thighs, her thumb gently opening me, as Jude took my nipple in her mouth and cupped my other breast with her hand. And Selena was inside me, she was part of me, and Jude was surrounding me, enveloping me, and I was carried away.
I remember screaming, a raw sound that I didn’t know I had inside of me, a sound that spoke of primal joy. I remember panting, and hearing Selena carried with me, and then Jude, my orgasm so strong that it took us all.
An hour later I came to. The room was empty, my clothes neatly folded on the chair, a single red rose on top of them with a note: “anytime”.
I don’t remember getting dressed, going to the car or driving home, but I must have. Halfway home my phone beeped with a dirty message from Ben. It seemed so boring now, so mundane. I dashed off a reply and went home to wallow in the bath, remembering every touch, every smell, every sight, every taste and every sound. I came again in the bath, gently, alone.
I drifted through the next few days and, before I knew it, Ben was due back and I was wondering if the whole thing had just been a divine fantasy. I panicked – what if I didn’t want Ben anymore, what if he couldn’t compare with the ecstasy I’d experienced?
And then the door was opening, and there he was, skinny, sun battered, unshaven, and with a light in his eyes, and I was in his arms before we could speak. And I knew that the power I had felt was mine now, and that I could take Ben there with me. And oh, it would be so good. And I chose my heart. Always my heart. And that night I abandoned myself to Ben.  I gave myself to him, and he gave himself to me. Maybe we’d both been scared before. Maybe he found himself in India and I found myself in bed with two women. But all I knew was that we were in the right place.
But there’s a sad postscript to this tale. Two weeks later I noticed something odd at the office. Eventually I placed it – where Gary had been before was now a small efficient woman who moved briskly and dressed sharply.
“Where’s Gary?” I asked Alan that afternoon as I was leaving.
“Fired him. Bastard was watching porn on company time and money! Been suspecting him for ages, he always seemed the type, but caught him out a month ago.”
My heart fell. Could I really allow Gary to take the fall for me?
“Caught him red-handed, so to speak, watching some truly horrible thing. Turns out he had this fetish for fat women, and there’s all these sites dedicated to that. Weird shit. Glad to be rid of him.”

Copyright Karlita Diamond

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A professional voyeur and international woman of mystery, Karlita is a crusader for passion, and promotes (safe) sex wherever she goes. She seeks to inspire joy and happiness, and a sense of curiosity. She will do anything for the perfect Mojito, and frequently has.