Impossible Without First Crossing Your Arms

I’m visiting a small town, renowned for its parties during the summer season. Traveling on my own, as is my preference, I approach two girls while finding a spot at the beach. Turns out they’re sisters, and although I’m not quite sure why, on that day I just can’t make up my mind as to which girl I like better.

With no wingman to occupy the one I will not choose, I stay in neutral and we chat the afternoon away, listening to a beach concert, then meeting up again in the evening. Being locals, they aren’t as outgoing as I am (a stranger in a new city), and in the evening after some barhopping, I follow them home, say goodnight, and am seriously thinking of calling it a night. Socially, my spirits are high. Sexually, they’re dampened from having to share my graces between two women vying to get my attention all day, making sure that one isn’t feeling left out on account of the other.

Simply put, I’ve had a day’s practice of starting and stopping my needs.

On a whim, I go to Main Street instead of walking the slight distance to where I am residing. It’s about one o’clock in the morning on a summer weekday in an otherwise deserted town. Turning onto Main Street, I realize I’m completely alone, apart from the two girls coming up the street behind me. Since it’s nice to see someone, I sporadically comment on this: “Geez, this place is empty, are you the only ones out here ?” I don’t stop for this, but simply start walking backwards, making it an off comment, which it is.

We chat a bit. They’re headed for one place and I tell them I’m heading for the other (small town, remember ?). I ask them if it’s any good, and they tell me they’re also traveling and are new to the town, but it’s OK. Coming up on their chosen venue, I tell them I’m coming with them, indicating that I have nothing better to do so I might as well. Like it’s nothing much, which it isn’t to me in the frame of mood I’m in by this time.

Having slowed down, I’m the last to come up on the place. The blonde, who I can tell is the leader, sits down on a bench outside next to her friend and lights up. She pats her hand on the seat next to her but my momentum has already taken me past her, and since I would have to double back, I keep my cool and instead take the end seat beside the brunette girl.

A funny thing happens then, which I immediately spin to my advantage. The guy guarding the door, a bald, fattening, but jovial guy in his forties, sees the exchange, looks at me, and theatrically slaps a hand to his forehead, indicating that I am one stupid fuck. The girls of course see this, and they also see how I handle it. I turn it around on him, spreading my arms to the sky and rolling my eyes … suggesting that he is the idiot, and stupid enough to boot that I couldn’t explain it to him in a million years. All in good fun, of course.

The girls reappraise me and share their cigarette. We talk a bit about fashion (I’m wearing a slim leather jacket over a very thin T-shirt that leaves the upper part of my chest exposed, along with tucked in jeans in black converse shoes. It’s hip, relaxed and very metrosexual, which lets girls know I speak girl-speak).

We enter and walk up to the bar, where the rest of their girlfriends are waiting. Sharing my graces equally, though lingering a bit on “my” girls, I’m immediately taken in. I get treated to a shot of tequila by the group, being “cleared” by having entered with their friends.

By this time it is firmly established that I am the prize, and the rest of the bar is starting to notice (some drunk guy barges in and angrily inquires of the girls as to what makes me so fucking special, since he’s probably been trying to get in with them all night. Along with the guy at the door, he’s hugely helpful).

The girls tell me that they’re bisexual (the blonde) and bi-curious (the brunette). I tell them I think it’s cool, staying in my hard-earned neutral mode while doing so. When they tell me they want to share me I shrug it off, indicating they should chill, and not move so fast or they’ll spoil the suspense. Still conveying amusement and interest, I give them the “oh not again” reaction. And then I don’t move on it, to prove that I don’t have to. We talk, flirt, have a drink. They go to the ladies room, probably to discuss tactics, and I wait in the bar, suddenly approached by guys who want me to tell them how I do it. The girls re-emerge, and we sit and do a bit of light kino.

I’m touching both their hands at different moments, making sure they’re touching each others’, showing them I’m drawing up the contract but haven’t signed yet.

We hit the dance floor with the rest of the group, and at first I stay innocuous, solo-dancing just because life is good and I love living it out on the dance floor. I’m not touching them, just having fun, alternating dancing opposite them or their friends. Then I make sure they’re dancing with each other, rubbing against each other while I watch. I let the blonde rub up against my back but stay in neutral. Then I close with the brunette.

The dance floor is suddenly crowded with spectators, mostly dudes, some of whom are starting to get aggressively envious. When a guy with a scarcity mentality tries to pick a fight I stay in the mind frame that these girls are doing this to me, I’m not doing it to them, and I calmly let him in on the fact that they are the ones that are together and if they want to dance with me I’m not stupid enough to say no. He has no ready reply to this. Then I return to the girls and start making out with them, at first being the center of attention but soon making sure that graces are divided three ways, with me the least important party.

Escalating almost to a degree of foreplay, we’re running hands over bodies as we sinuously spin on the floor, closing to embrace, playfully evading, light kisses alternating with deep kissing, a hand brushing a breast, a hand brushing my cock, all to the beat to the music. We continue this, partying the night away. Some Australian guys from the girls’ hostel want in on the action but are brushed off.

Just before closing time, we slip away. On exiting, I make sure to put my arms around their waists and give my thanks to my helper at the door.

We stroll down the streets, talking, retrieving a bottle of wine that the girls had previously hidden in a bush. They’re throwing me some shit-tests, probing to know If I’m gonna be able to handle it. I tell them truthfully that I have been in this kind of situation before (omitting that it included only making out). I deliberately stay vague, trying to not ascribe value to what is about to happen. I keep my cool, my indifference indicating that it is no different than going home with one girl. This also conveys to them that I don’t kiss and tell. I do specifically not try to validate myself, since I instinctively know that to reach for it is to fail; I have to have already reached it.

We get to the Hostel, and as a miracle, all is quiet. On agreement, we enter the girls’ dressing room. Barring the door, we get undressed and hit the shower. We start kissing. I hold my hands on the small of their backs and press them close. Three-way kissing proves to be quite fun. The blonde is the slighter of form, small, perky, you name it. The brunette is a little bit more voluptuous … they complement each other nicely.

I find out that touching two girls between their legs as they are both trying to kiss you, is impossible without first crossing your arms. Great trick. Another discovery I make is the importance of equal sharing, and the need to give them space; to be able to back off and let them play by themselves at times. I let the blonde be the dominant one among us, as the brunette finds comfort in this. An attempt to retain the initiative on my part is bad idea; the only reason they are letting me in on this is because I’m in it on their terms.

Doing it in the shower means doing it standing up; I alternate between them doggie-style, managing to change condoms in between. The steam forces us to open up the windows, giving the girls the window sill to lean on, leaving them hanging halfway out.

When we are done, we slip into their room, remove our towels, and snuggle down between the covers, all still naked. After having said hello to the roommates who are still awake, and the Australians who are for some reason finishing up their party in this room in particular, the girls shoo them off. We chat for a while, and when the blonde drifts off to sleep, the brunette and I finish up.

An Aussie walks in the next morning, a big lumbering guy, and timidly tells me I’m his god. Sweeter still is the dual embrace as I lay there on my back thinking that life is good.