28/11/2020
Aunty Abena Please keep me Anonymous, I don’t even know how to start my story, am enjoying this but I know it not right, my husband and my boyfriend go out for a beer together.
Usually when I reminisce stuffs like this, i wrap up a session of erotic writing with a brief meeting with my vi****or. But this time around the game plan changed.
Climbing the stairs, I replayed a story I’d just written in my mind. By the time I reached my room, it was clear that a vi****or wasn’t what I needed. This is why it’s essential to have more than one friend with benefits.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey s*xy,” his Long Island accent poured through the line.
“Hey. I’m feeling a certain kind of way. Can I come over?” I asked. I believe in being upfront. I also don’t like talking on the phone unless it’s to make plans.
He chuckles, “Yeah, but my friend Ben is here too, but we can leave him in the living room and escape for a bit. He’ll get a kick out of hearing us.”
“Does he want to watch?” I’m an exhibitionist, so that sort of thing is really up my alley.
“Um, I fairly certain he wouldn’t say no.”
My friend kwasi and I have known each other since an evening at the kikibee’s club several months before. He’s friends with my husband (yes, my husband and my boyfriend go out for a beer together). We trust him and know he’ll back me up if there’s ever a situation that gets out of hand.
His friend Ben is a fellow life styler, though I’ve never met him, I know the two are close and have known each other for a long time. I’ve heard stories of th*****mes they’ve been involved in together.
I pulled into kwasi’s driveway, and, as usual, he meets me outside in ripped jeans and no shirt. He opens my door and takes my bag. Sure, I’m showing up at his house for a mid-day b***y call, but he still knows how to be a gentleman. People need to remember their manners when they hookup.
Entering the townhouse, I head straight up to Kwesi’s bedroom. Sometimes we hang out and chat or have a drink, but by now, he knows that if I come over in the middle of the day, I don’t need any warming up.
“Hi, you must be Frances, I’ve heard so much about you,” Ben reaches out one large hand to shake mine.
“And I have heard quite a bit about you,” I wink at him.
“Yeah, Kwesi likes to tell stories,” Ben says, still holding my hand, “so, tell me, Ms. Frances, what are your rules today?”
This is why I love men who are involved in non-monogamy. They don’t just assume they are invited to the party just because you’re in a bedroom and about to screw their best friend. In fact, no assumptions at all are made.
Rather than make an assumption, use your words. Communication is always the right idea.
“Ah, well, you haven’t met my husband, and I didn’t discuss having a th*****me with him,” I launch into the rules discussion, “so, today you can watch, you can touch a bit if you like, but that’s it.”
“Is kissing ok?” he raises one eyebrow.
“Kissing is encouraged,”
“Ok, so I can pleasure you and kiss you, but I will not be getting my dick wet today,” he’s smiling at me.
“That about sums it up.” I expected him to lean in and kiss me at this point. He didn’t.
Ben wandered over to the chair in the corner and sat as if he were about to enjoy a football game on Sunday afternoon. One arm draped over the back of the chair, daring us to impress him.
Kwesi laughed, and then he turned on the switch. Sometimes I’ll give you all the lewd details, but this story is about my new voyeuristic friend. During the hour-long session, I was placed into every position imaginable, Kwesi certainly enjoyed having another set of hands to help with handcuffs and blindfolds.
You might be wondering how this man could resist joining in while I’m bent over, blindfolded, and bound. The reason is simple. He’s not an as***le.
We had a discussion, and I was very clear about the rules. Ben didn’t attempt to cross the line once.
There is something intensely erotic about eliminating your sense of sight and having multiple people caressing, slapping, and licking your body. Eventually, you lose the sense of which hands belong to which person. When your sight is gone, the sensations on your skin are intensified.
This sort of thing should only happen when you’re in a room with people you trust. My relationship with Kwesi is such, that I could truly let go and enjoy the moment.
At home that evening, I relayed the events in detail to my husband while we danced between the sheets. He was impressed by Ben’s asking for and adhering to our rules.
“Did you get his number?” he asked while increasing the pressure of his finger on my g-**ot.
“No,” I gasped.
“Want me to ask Kwesi for it?”
“Uh, huh,” my back arched.
“Next time you should f**k them both,” with that, and another slight increase in pressure, I went over the edge. An or**sm ripped through me, leaving me panting and breathless.
Please I will continue later…….
