Manage a Trois

It has always surprised me the way sometimes things pan out so differently to how you first might have imagined. When you start the evening off by meeting an Egyptian and end it sandwiched quite seductively between two beautiful French men, you know you’ve made it. At least, for now I have.

Let’s rewind. Although it may surprise some of you, my once so frequent raids through Gumtree have become very very infrequent. Too many men are simply looking for either spats of flowery love or a big bear daddy who’ll show them the way to leather county (and whip their asses in the process). So, it was after a great time that I checked out the new flurry of ads that had been posted. And I replied to one. And we met last night. He is an Egyptian: leaving behind the pyramids for Middlesbrough.

I’ve always considered myself brave for being able to meet random people without ever seeing a photo. There’s a part in us all that hopes that no news will be good news. That in fact, it is a Tom Cruise look alike that hides behind those words. And it has only recently occurred to me just how words and the internet can often create such a false sense of intimacy between people. Because fundamentally, more often than not, we’re so used to taking things at face value that we forget to ever look beyond the surface.

Having said that, the Egyptian wasn’t bad looking, if a little chavy. What he was however was shy and confused. He’d never explored the scene, nor had he ever, as he explained to me during the course of the night, been anywhere where everybody knew he was gay. I felt it was perhaps a little early in the day to spew forth my sexual revolutionary theory for fear of frightening him.

There was no chemistry between us at all. He was a nice guy looking for some friends who would show me gaydom. So I tried. And as we parted ways at 5am this morning, he said he’d had an excellent evening and a really good time. My mission was accomplished. And all it took was a trip to Rupert Street followed by a boogie on down at Heaven. I think I’ve well and truly broken him in.

As for me, the evening began in Rupert Street. Yes, it’s official, Rupert Street in Soho is the best place to find financially secure good looking white men. You heard it hear first.

So there we were having a drink, eyes washing over the scene for anybody who might come and declare his lust. The thing about gay men is that many of them feel perfectly able to go out alone without any fear of returning alone. This is because gay men know how to pull and many are super friendly. Whilst the Egyptian went to the loo I was approached by an Italian guy who invited me into his group as he thought I was there alone. It was at this point precisely that the evening started.

As it transpired, the Italian guy was playing host to a group of friends, two French guys ( a couple), one American theatre agent (and his boyfriend) and one Spanish slut. The French guys had caught my attention a while back and we had exchanged what was known as ’the look’ in the gay community. At least, I had with one of them who it later transpired was a doctor. His boyfriend was a civil engineer. Both were edible.

After two hours of flirting with the doctor, telling him and his partner in very blatant terms that I found them attractive and trying to make sense of the French accented conversation, we all decided to go to Heaven.

At this point the American, his boyfriend and the Spanish slut went home for what was quite clearly going to be a threesome. We all knew, from the very fact that that the slut had this tongue down each of their throats in turn throughout the course of much the night.

So, the Egyptian, myself, the Italian and the two French guys all went to Heaven. From this point on flirting became very easy, although this time it was me and the civil engineer.

My boyfriend and I were both saying that you’re cute. I’d have to speak with him about a possible threesome’ he said. ‘But I think you’re very hot anyways’. At this point his hands made their way slowly across my lower back. The best thing about a club where the music is incredibly loud is that you have to move up close to somebody in order to speak to them. And more times than not they won’t hear you the first time, so repeated action is required. Ha.

So, as we danced, I became so consumed by these men, call it controlled infatuation. And it was only a matter of time before the doctor asked me to ’show him where the toilets were’. Originality could help considerably in matters of lust one feels. So, as we made our way from the loos to the various dance floors his hands were firmly placed on my shoulders. I’m sure the smoke in these places is there to make sex appear almost cinematic. And cinematic it was.

‘Shall we go downstairs where you’re boyfriend’s probably waiting?’ I asked. The final word had yet to emerge from my mouth that his lips, soft and wet pressed down on mine. And that was it. The first kiss had been kissed. And I’m sure after a minute of trying to stay on his lips and off the rest of his face, I grew to be quite good, moving in time to the rhythm. And who can ever forget that clean taste of flesh. At the time I thought this was perhaps the most erotic moment of my life. Pressed up against a wall, house music pumping in the background., smoke circling us, lasers working their way down our bodies. Each person lost in their own globe of lust. Yep, Heaven is the place to be.

Later that evening.

Ever since that first kiss and semi grope, I’d had my eyes on the civil engineer. So when he asked me up to a different floor I was out before he’d had a chance to finish his sentence.

When you kiss somebody it can take a while for the mouth to fit the way it should. French guys are great kissers and they know how to use their tongues fantastically well. The kiss I had was how id imagined the best kiss to be, all consuming, greedy, lustful, resulting in a huge erection. Tick, Tick and Tick. It was delicious. Even better than the first one. That a tongue could taste so nice was something beyond my imagination. It was one of those moments in life where you think the world could end and you wouldn’t have a clue.

The fact that we then furrowed into each others jeans, hands frantically groping each others erect cocks seemed so natural. And we moved to three different places looking for greater darkness although I’m pretty sure a few people saw what we were doing. As I peered down, I could see his bell end blossom from inside his trousers. Never in my life has the desire to give somebody a blowjob been so great. But that was something even I didn’t have the guts to do. The kiss lasted the best part of half an hour and the grope just a little longer. And neither of us came, and as usual, I wasn’t bothered in the slightest. I felt satisfied.

Even Later that evening.

‘We’d love to have an experience with you. But we’re only here for a three days and living with friends. Also, there are no places here where we could go.’

As much as I love Heaven, I cursed the club for not having a bed in a darkened room. Oh, how I cursed them. There’s little doubt in my mind had there been any way for us to progress that evening we would have. And it would have been amazing. As I recall what happened last night, the same excitement fills my head. And last night something hit me. I have the levels of confidence now that I’d always craved. I could probably pull anybody I wanted if I tried hard enough. And I will. Last night was a taster of things to come.

Although, a part of me wonders just how perfect it would have been to lose my virginity in a threesome.

Ps. I have their numbers. French men are the way forward.