More than a Threesome
When I was twenty-three I was invited to spend a summer on the island of Jura, one of the Inner Hebrides. I had replied to a math tutor application which had intrigued me, not because it paid so well, but because it provided me the opportunity to find out what life was like in such a remote place.
The idea that I did not quite know what I was getting myself into also appealed to me. I had been informed that I would be staying at some sort of farming community where several families lived to together. Some of their children needed summer classes in maths. That was all the information I had.
After a long and interesting trip which led me to what appeared to be the very edge of the World, I finally reached my destination. And quite a destination it was! The community consisted of five buildings which were built around a field between two low mountains. The area was surrounded by wild scrubs and scattered forests on three sides and on the fourth side wild meadows stretched out for several miles until they visually blended with the sea on the horizon.
I was greeted by a tall, muscular man with a grey beard and grey eyes. He took me to one of the houses and there he introduced me to his wife, a sturdy looking woman, wearing an apron and a simple dark brown skirt. Their names, I can no longer recall because they were always addressed as the house-father and the house-mother. The house-mother showed me my room; a sparsely decorated, but quite romantic wooden space in the attic.
Not much later I was called down for supper. I was introduced to the other family members: besides the house-mother and father, there were five siblings, aged between nine and twenty-seven; an uncle; a grandmother; and three people who, like me, had found temporary employment at the residence.
It struck me that everyone was wearing simple, old-fashioned clothes. When the house- mother quietly entreated everyone to be silent so that she could say a prayer, I realized that my summer experience was likely going to be more singular than I had bargained for.
And so it turned out to be.
I had somehow ended up in a strange bubble in space/time where the 17th Century had coagulated and trapped an entire valley and its inhabitants like a mountain range of amber. It was expected of me – it was assumed natural; it wasn’t even a question – that I was going to work on the land with these people, every day, usually until lunch. In the afternoon, or in the evening I tutored the communities’ six teenage kids.
When I had an afternoon off – and the weather allowed it – I made long walks. In the endless evenings, with their ceaseless twilight, we talked to each other and played board- or card games.
Alcohol was sparsely available and the drinking of it was not much appreciated. When I tried to teach some kids poker and blackjack I was firmly told that these were objectionable activities. Card- and magic tricks were also not condoned.
I felt conflicted. On the one hand, I truly enjoyed the beautiful scenery and I was experiencing something utterly unique, plus I had never lived so healthy; on the other hand, I was becoming bored and frustrated. My frustration was not in the least sexual. Some of the girls were really attractive. And so innocent! So pure and untouched!
The less I tried to think about them the more I did. Especially Bridget, a nineteen-year-old who belonged to ‘my’ family began to appear alarmingly often in my mind. At first, I hadn’t paid particular interest to her – which had been much more due to my being accustomed to the prevalence of provocatively clad women in a 21st-century urban environment, than to her lack of charm.
She dressed like the rest of her family – plain. She didn’t wear make-up. Her skin was pale, which is only natural for someone who’s never been outside of Scotland. But hidden under those unflattering robes were the features of a model: long legs, round hips, a flat stomach and breasts shaped like two perfect halves of a small melon. She had long, slightly curled blond hair. And those eyes… blue diamonds that cut straight through my heart and made me come in my sleep!
One evening I returned from an after dinner walk and found Bridget with another girl in the kitchen. It was quite late, around ten o’clock; everyone else had already gone to bed.
Who’s this girl, Bridget? I asked.
The girl turned to me and laughed at me cheekily.
I’m Beverly, she said.
Beverly, I repeated softly. Her name aroused me. I didn’t really know why.
People always call me Bev, she added.
She was a bit shorter than Bridget, around five foot six. She had a healthier complexion. Her chestnut colored hair was cut almost boyishly short, but the way it curled forward around her ears was very feminine. The most remarkable aspect of her appearance was undoubtedly her breasts; I figured they were contained in a double D bra.
Bev is my childhood friend. She’s from the island of Iona, Bridget explained. She’s staying with us for a week.
That’s great! I said.
Why do you think that’s so great? Bev laughed.
Ehm… well, it is, isn’t it? I answered you both seem delighted to see the other again.
I then noticed a faint smell of alcohol.
What have you naughty girls been drinking? I asked.
We didn’t!
Nothing!
Yes, you did… you can tell me.
No… please don’t tell anybody. It was just a cup! Bridget cried.
I won’t tell anybody if… you tell me what it was. And: if you let me have some too, I laughed.
Bridget seemed genuinely relieved.
I’d like some more too actually, Beverly grinned.
Okay, okay… follow me, Bridget spoke, quietly!
She took us outside, to a tool shed. There she took the lid of a barrel that was stashed in the back.
Here we keep our secret apple cider, she laughed.
We drank several cups and became quite elated. The girls couldn’t stop giggling.
Now here’s a moment you have to seize, I whispered to myself.
It was necessary to start taking risks.
Listen, I said, teaching is only a front: I’m really a magician. An actual magician with inexplicable powers.
Like Merlin?
Yes! I can read your mind, for instance. I know your desires.
Okay, Bev laughed: try us.
You, Bev, are not a virgin. You have been with boys, but not with men.
Very good, she said.
But you, Bridget, you are a virgin. You would like to be with either a boy or man, you don’t really care which it will be as long as it happens sooner than later. You just don’t know where, when and how to start.
Bridget stared at her feet and blushed.
I am right, am I not?
She affirmed this by nodding her head.
You never talk about these feelings to anyone, except Bev. But – I turned to Beverly – You would not mind being with a girl! In fact, you have fantasized about Bridget – just like I have.
The girls produced some exasperated noises.
Now, this is all in the open it might be a splendid idea to do something with it.
Do something? Bridget squeaked.
Yes, I said, why don’t you, for instance, give Beverly a kiss?
No, no way! Are you crazy?!
You can give me a kiss…?
No!
Perhaps Bev can give you a kiss.
Perhaps I can, Beverly spoke with a voice that suddenly sounded quite husky.
Bridget seemed paralyzed while her friend approached her and proceeded to plant a gentle kiss, half on her left cheek and a half on her lips.
This is so crazy! Bridget whispered when the kiss was over.
Would you rather go back to Pythagoras? I said.
Yes! No! Eh – what?
Yesterday we were still discussing Pythagoras.
Oh yes, well, maybe that would be… I’m confused.
We find ourselves in a situation were Pythagoras’ theorem might prove rather useful since we are forming a most interesting triangle at this very moment – of two sides it has been proven what their exact position is and to what lengths they will go. Now the third side is still an unknown factor. Will the other two sides be able to solve this equation?
Bridget stared at me in disbelief. She fumbled with her hands.
It is apparent that the two known sides must exponentially increase their efforts, I said while winking at Bridget.
Maybe we should both give her a kiss, simultaneously, Bridget whispered.
We did that. First, we kissed her on one cheek each. Then we kissed her on the left and right side of her mouth. With the third kiss, Bev stuck out the tip of her tongue and licked the other pairs of adjoining lips.
You are very, very beautiful, dear Bridget, Beverly whispered softly.
…And you are very, very naughty, Bridget answered hardly audible. Then she looked at me and said: and you are a very bad teacher!
Not at all! I exclaimed I am finally in my element. Now you can enjoy the most profound part of my teaching!
The energy was right. Beverly and I were by now operating in sync. We both kissed and licked Bridget just under her earlobes. Together we untied her bra. We admired her milky breasts, stroked them, kissed them, licked her nipples. We untied her skirt and did not linger to deliver the coup de grâce straight after: we slid her knickers down her legs.
What a beautiful triangle! Bev remarked.
Her pubic hair was light as the sun rays. She had not shaved it (an idea which would probably have never occurred to her), but it would have been completely unnecessary. It was indeed a perfect triangle.
This is so crazy and so unfair. I’m completely naked and I’m the only one! Bridget moaned.
Ssst! Her friend said while she placed her index finger on Bridget’s mouth. She instructed Bridget to sit on a workbench and open her legs. The most beautiful, delicate pink rose unfolds.
Now we see who’s actually the very, very naughty one! How wet she is! Bev exclaimed.
Touch yourself for us.
I don’t know… I’m shy… the poor creature murmured.
Bev picked up a rubber hammer and held its handle close to Bridget’s face.
It’s either your fingers or this! She declared.
Oh no! Oh my god! Bridget stammered. It was mere play-acting – it was obvious that by this time she was enjoying the game as much as us. And so she began to masturbate for us. Just when she was starting to climax Bev told her to stop.
I’ve changed my mind, she said, you are going to get the hammer anyway! Teacher, do you happen to have any condoms with you?
I always do. Thank God I had several at that moment.
Beverly slipped the condom over the rubber handle. She added some saliva and began to penetrate her friend. Bev had to act with care, which she did, but after a while, she could move the conversed hammer in and out smoothly. Bridget’s sighing, moaning, and yammering grew louder and louder.
Perhaps it’s better if I place my hand over her mouth before we start to wake people up, I said. Thus I sat down next to Bridget on the workbench and smothered her sobs with my right hand. I put my left arm around her and played with her breasts while Bev was fucking her vigorously with the handle. Bridget bit my hand when she came.
Not long after that, we were all naked. The girls had switched positions and Beverly was now laying on the bench. Bridget had climbed on top of her and she shamelessly pushed her pussy onto Bev’s face. I had placed myself in front of Bev’s opened legs and began to fuck her. While I was doing this Bridget moved her head towards mine and we French kissed. When we stopped kissing for a few seconds I groaned: this is the best triangle yet…
Bridget laughed. Her Saffire eyes were moist and yet they twinkled. For a moment I forgot who I was.
WRITTEN BY
Basilio Valentino
