Brave Little Promises

In spite of this happening 6 years ago I still think of it often, it’s on the highlight reel I revisit when I’m in the mood, mostly when I’m ovulating. I haven’t spoken to Rumi since my almost-ex-husband and I separated, but I’ve wondered how he’s been lately. Is it a bad idea? It’s wild to me how my biggest desire at that time was to be fucked by two giant men at once, whereas now the idea of ever letting a man touch me feels uncomfortable. I know it could shift again one day, my desires will change like they always have through my life. I’m pretty certain though that at the end of it all this will still stand out as one of the hottest things that’s ever happened. (Note: I still daydream all the time about the Gold Star plan we devised that night… maybe one day?) Please enjoy this walk down memory lane.

July 2015 - Archive

Part 1

Months ago we’d whispered and blushed about it while leaning against a bar, our hearts still pounding from the fast and furious threesome we’d just had.

“Have you ever done it before?” Rumi asked, his voice giving away the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, a few times, I really like it,” I looked at the floor, smirking, how is this still so hard to admit?

He stammered a little, “You’re unreal Heart.”

“So…. is that a yes?” I asked, hopeful. He laughed.

It was an enthusiastic yes, and here we were, the three of us in my big bed months later sweaty and tingling after fucking for an hour. I wanted it but I was nervous.

“It’s my first time trying this,” he said, “I’m not really sure about logistics…”

We discussed the possible equations of double penetration, I squealed when he suggested that he’d like to be the one fucking my ass. “Are you kidding me?!? Your cock is fucking massive!!! There is no fucking way you’re getting it in my ass, especially while I’m already getting fucked!” Intimidated wasn’t a strong enough word.

He was sheepish, my husband was snickering at my wide-eyed defence. We joked a little more about positions and awkwardly jockeying around two huge hard cocks, eventually agreeing that I should be on top of Rumi and my husband would fuck my ass from behind.

He held my face close to his while my husband slowly filled the little space inside of me that was left. I gasped, my mouth open, my breath was rapid but everything else had slowed down as Rumi stared into my eyes, “oh fuck” (I don’t know which one of us said it).

Afterwards we sprawled across my bed, two basketball-player-sized men and me, proud of our accomplishments and exhausted from our orgasms.

We talked about other sexual goals, triumphs and extremes we would like to try, anal was a recurring favourite on Rumi’s list. “It really turns me on, I’m really into ass play but it’s a hard limit for my partner, and so many women are scared off by my size, understandably, so it’s not something that happens often,” he explained.

It’s funny how my brain works, letting Rumi fuck my ass had me scared and squeamish a mere hour earlier, but there I was suddenly fantasizing about it… craving it even.

It was a combination of my people-pleasing tendencies perking up at hearing it was something he liked so much, and my stubborn streak that always starts to show when faced when a seemingly impossible challenge. Hearing “so many women are scared off” made that little perfectionist voice in my head defiantly declare “not me!” And though it makes me squirm now to admit it, the fact that he doesn’t get it at home really pushed my buttons.

It was getting late, he dressed and we both followed him to the front door to say goodbye and thank him for another lovely evening. “Let’s do this again soon, ok?” he asked as he kissed me goodbye and shook my husband’s hand. “Absolutely,” I replied, taking a deep breath of saucy courage, “And next time I’m gonna let you fuck my ass.”

There is something about rendering a man completely incoherent that just never gets old.

Part 2

It was months before we could make good on our promise, but it was a deliciously slow tease. I became preoccupied with the challenge; it tiptoed across my mind while I masturbated, my husband whispered about it in my ear while we made love, how he couldn’t wait to watch me get my ass fucked, how slow and sexy it would be, how good it would feel. I would send Rumi a cute picture of my bum once in a while, playfully asking him if I’d been on his mind, “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve cum watching that video,” he confessed. I’d made it just to torment him, the whole thing had me smug and fucking wet with anticipation.

They were both hungry to fuck, that rapid raw energy, persistent hands and tongues as they put me on my hands and knees and buried their faces in my ass, one at a time, while the other shoved their hard cock in my mouth and told me how fucking pretty I looked. “My turn” Rumi said when he wanted me, to my husband, not to me.

My husband smiled at me, patted my head and sat down with his whiskey to watch. I had been in a submissive haze while they worked on me, in a placid dreamland as tongues pressed against my ass and fingers ran through my hair, but suddenly my head was crystal clear and I could hear the ice clinking in my husbands glass as Rumi started with his fingers.

He reminded me I could change my mind at any time, my husband reminded me there were lots of other fun things we could do instead, I nodded, knowing already I was too stubborn and too fucking turned on not to achieve. “Such a brave girl,” Rumi said, and I beamed with pride.

It was so slow, agonizingly slow, vulnerable in a way I’ve never been with him before, all while my husband sat a few feet away watching, sipping his drink. The hottest fucking part was when he was finally all the way inside of me, eyes locked as he pressed deep against me and gasped “Holy fuck you took the whole thing.” I swear to fucking god I almost came right then.

And I really did cum just moments later when my husband put his glass down and joined us, one hand pressing firmly against my chest the other gripping my hair and teasing my lips with his cock while I rubbed my clit. I asked them to keep going and they did until I was covered in cum and they were breathless and I was curled up in between them.

My husband teased me later for getting so turned on by rising to the challenge. “Are you kidding?” I laughed in my own defence, “His face, the genuine look of surprise when he said it was in, that’s the biggest fucking gold star. The perfectionist in me was overjoyed.” We joked about a Gold Star Gangbang where someone would be assigned the job of putting gold star stickers on my face and chest for every sexual achievement during the evening. I was giddy at the thought, “I know you’re teasing me but that’s the hottest idea ever, perfectionism kink at it’s finest. Can we do that?”

“Sure baby,” he replied. “We just have to find a few more boys.”