I’m not even sure what I was looking for when I placed the ad. Some physical contact, a new experience. An awkward encounter with a similarly clueless man, eager to put his hands on another. Presumably someone older than me, jaded by an inability to find the sex of his dreams (or his porn habits) instead turning to the easy option — a doppelgänger who would play with his penis for fun. The ad read ‘wanted — shower wank’ and was non-specific beyond that. Hot water + soap + nudity = mutual pleasure. As far as bait goes, there was barely anything on the hook. But somehow, it turned into my first threesome, and the best sex of my life.

The first threesome I ever had fell into place in a way that felt almost surreal. The setup was like a porn film with a plot that stretched believability. Once placing the ad, a stream of responses trickled in. A couple were overly aggressive ‘let me fuck you in the ass’, ‘drain my cock’ and not worthy of reply. But then, one response stood out. A man reached out, interested — but with a twist. He very casually dropped in that he wanted to involve his girlfriend. And, as an afterthought, he asked if I’d be okay with him wearing women’s underwear. I found the request oddly endearing, although my overwhelming assumption was that he wasn’t genuine, that this was a bot or a scam, or just someone wasting time. Nowhere in his response did he even mention the scenario I was proposing, which included two men soaping each other up in the shower.

He admitted it would be his first time with a man, that he was nervous. I reassured him it was fine, and that I was in a similar boat. I could talk a big game via messages but was similarly inexperienced, unsure exactly what I liked or disliked, apart from taking my clothes off and letting curiosity spark inside me. The idea of being with an inexperienced man while his girlfriend watched — or even joined in — was intoxicating in a way I hadn’t expected, mostly because of the impossibility of it all. I guess this is how people fall for scams and catfishing, I told myself.

As I drove toward the hotel, my excitement continually tempered with skepticism. Was this real? Would I show up and find no one there, or worse, some kind of elaborate joke? But I was a single man, with no prospects other than those in my head. I was ripe to be played and taken advantage of, but felt I ultimately had nothing to lose.

I got lost twice, circling unfamiliar streets, my mind buzzing with doubts. I fulfilled the one request of me on the way — I picked up some lube from the supermarket. An odd request, given I had specified my lack of interest in anal sex of any kind. But I figured it could have a myriad of purposes, or perhaps be an obscure test of how genuine I was. Finally, I arrived.

The door opened almost immediately, and there she was — his girlfriend. And she was stunning. The kind of woman who, at a glance, I’d assume wouldn’t give me the time of day. Long legs, toned body, soft curves, full lips that curled into a knowing smirk as she looked me up and down. Her hair was bleached blonde with a full five centimetres of darker regrowth, a look I had always loved. It read like a stylish choice, not a lack of care. She was confident and polite and effortlessly sexy. I kept looking for the catch, the ‘gotcha’ moment.

“You found the place,” she said, and added “you’re cute”, while stepping aside to let me in.

Her confidence was magnetic, effortlessly drawing me in. I stepped inside, an expansive and comfortable hotel room with a balcony overlooking the beach. The perfect place for a couple to escape reality to live out some fantasies. I wondered if perhaps they were from interstate, or what might possibly allow them such freedom to mutually arrange this visit.

The space was simple but inviting — soft lighting, a long stone island bench top, some beers and a bottle of Coca Cola, with a bottle of wine open on the table. The boyfriend lurked on the other side of the bench, barely acknowledging me. He was hunched over and wearing a thin black hoodie, cradling what looked like a bourbon and coke. My assumption was a case of overwhelming nerves, and I didn’t really blame him.

I went into autopilot, forgetting how otherworldly this was and slipping into my part. I accepted an offer of a drink, and we talked logistics. Condoms? Yes. Anal sex? No thanks. Play it by ear? Sure. I was still waiting for him to find his voice, for her to take a back seat. To my surprise, she took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom, without speaking a word.

She closed the door behind her, maintaining her light grip on my hand. “He’s still getting himself together,” she said, turning to face me. “A little nervous. But he’ll join us when he’s ready.”

I swallowed, the reality of the situation settling in. Was this really happening? It felt entirely too good to be true. Before I could process it fully, she stepped in closer, her body brushing against mine, her scent — something warm and sweet — filling my senses. She placed her mouth on mine and kissed me, slowly and confidently. I kissed her back as best as I could from my frozen, semi-confused state. Before I could make any move, or even rest my hands on her body, she stepped back and gripped the hem of her sundress, lifting it up and over her head in one fluid motion. No hesitation, no shyness. Just pure, unfiltered confidence.

Underneath, she was wearing nothing but a black lace thong and bra. My breath caught as I took her in, my eyes tracing the curves of her body, the smoothness of her skin. She smirked at my reaction, then reached for the front of my shirt, pulling it up over my head before working on my belt, my jeans. My hands found her waist, then slid down to grasp her ass, firm and perfect under my palms. Things were moving so fast I became determined to show some agency, some confidence of my own.

She sank to her knees, her fingers curling around the waistband of my underwear. Slowly, agonisingly, she peeled them down, freeing me. I stepped out of my underwear and she brushed my penis and balls with an assessing gesture, feeling the handful and clearly liking what she saw.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, a glint of mischief in them before she leaned in, taking me into her mouth with a tenderness that sent a shudder through my spine. Her lips were soft, her tongue deliberate. I exhaled, threading my fingers into her hair, still half in disbelief that this was really happening. She worked her mouth back and forth on my cock with subtle moans and breaths, placing a hand on my lower back and tracing down to my bum. I was enjoying the view of her pert and athletic bum in the lace thong, and feeling like the luckiest man on earth to have her attention.

After a while, she stood, her lips glistening, and pressed her mouth to mine. The kiss was deep, consuming. Our hands roamed, grasping, exploring. I let my palms slide up her back, then down again, fingers digging into her curves and squeezing her behind. I lifted to unfasten her bra, and she hastily helped me by standing back and sliding it off her shoulders and straight to the floor.

Her breasts were small but perfect, her nipples pebbled under my touch as I leaned down to kiss them, savoring the way she arched into me. I was sliding my hands up and down, soaking in the sensation of her smooth, sweet skin as much as I possibly could.

She guided me backward toward the bed, pulling me down with her. I hovered over her, pressing my lips to her neck, her collarbone, trailing my way down her stomach. She writhed beneath me, her breath hitching as I moved lower, my mouth leaving heat in its wake. When I reached the waistband of her thong, I hesitated just long enough to tease before hooking my fingers in the fabric and dragging it down.

She was already visibly wet, her body responding before I even touched her properly. She was very smooth apart from a small polite landing strip perched above her vulva. I kissed the inside of her thighs, inhaling her scent, feeling her muscles tense in anticipation. Then, finally, I pressed my mouth to her, tasting her, savouring the way she gasped and arched against me.

I didn’t rush. I wanted to make her fall apart. My tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, circling, teasing, pressing. She responded effortlessly, running fingers through my hair and pressing me into her, returning her hands to clutch her own breasts and grasp at her nipples. I followed suit and reached a hand up and clenched hard on a nipple, eliciting a moan that was partly a shout of excitement. It cast my mind to the other party missing from the room — what was her boyfriend doing? Was he watching from somewhere? Had he grown upset that we were having too much fun, and left? These things flickered in my mind and were quickly absorbed by the writhing sounds and scents of this beautiful woman. I was going to make the most of it regardless.

I slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right, matching the rhythm of my mouth. Her fingers tangled in my hair, gripping, tugging, her moans growing louder, needier. I could feel her body tightening, her thighs trembling as pleasure built inside her. I could tell she wanted me to press harder and faster. I lifted back and caught her eye, and her gaze was mesmerising. I was in charge in a way I was not used to, and I embodied the character completely. I returned her gaze, dark with lust and longing. I could feel the walls of her vagina tense and flex around my fingers, and I pressed deeper.

For at least ten minutes, I stayed there, lost in the taste of her, in the way she responded so beautifully to my touch. Then, breathless and desperate, she reached for the bedside table, grabbing a condom and pressing it into my hand.

I knelt up, rolling it on quickly, and positioned myself between her legs. No hesitation, no teasing. I entered her in one slow, deep thrust, swallowing the way she gasped beneath me. The connection was immediate, electric. We moved together, shifting through positions, exploring each other with reckless hunger. The hotel window framed a breathtaking view of the beach, the waves rolling in the late afternoon sun, but my focus never left her. Even though we had only just met, our chemistry was undeniable. Every thrust, every movement was met with eager reciprocation. She held my gaze, her lips parted, her breath shallow. “I love the way you look at me when you do that,” she whispered, voice thick with pleasure.

Still, no sign of her boyfriend.

He eventually arrived, stepping into the dimly lit room with hesitation, his body tense with nerves. He was skinny and lean, with sporadic dark chest hair. He was wearing frilly black underwear that clung tightly to his lean frame, a contrast to the raw sexuality that had already filled the space. His eyes flickered between us, a mixture of apprehension and arousal playing across his features. He barely looked up, and had is arms folded around himself as if someone was making him do it, shy and repressed. It felt almost comical, but I owed him a great debt for the pleasure I had already had, and felt sympathy for his nerves.

He dropped to his knees, attempting to take me into his mouth while his girlfriend watched, her lips slightly parted, her gaze locked onto mine with that same electrifying intensity. But I could feel his hesitation, the way his movements were uncertain, the way he barely knew where to place his hands. He was trying, but his uncertainty made it clear he needed more time to ease into this. He had one hand on my shaft and the other on the small tent poking the middle of his lacy underwear.

I focused on her instead, letting my hands roam over her body, cupping her breasts, sliding over the curve of her waist. She responded eagerly, her body arching into my touch, every shift and sigh telling me exactly what she wanted. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, “Keep going… I love watching you like this.”

We returned to having sex, her legs wrapping around my waist as I thrust into her, her breath coming in soft, urgent gasps. I could feel her tightening around me, her nails raking over my shoulders. He sat off to the side, watching with wide eyes, one hand stroking himself slowly. I could tell he was high, his movements sluggish but fascinated, his attention locked onto the way we moved together.

I wasn’t complaining. If anything, the whole situation made it even hotter.

After a while, his voice broke through the rhythmic sounds of our bodies moving together. “I want you to finish on her face,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. It wasn’t something I typically did, but when I glanced down at her, she bit her lip and gave me that same sultry look she’d been giving me all night. Her pupils were blown wide with lust, her expression a silent invitation.

That was all the encouragement I needed. As I pulled out, she shifted onto her knees, her mouth slightly open, her tongue peeking out as she waited for me. The tension coiled in my spine, the sheer eroticism of the moment pushing me over the edge. I could see his eyes fixated on my cock, and my body, while not muscular, was flexing and shiny with sweat.

With a deep groan, I came, hot and thick across her flushed skin. She closed her eyes, a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips as she ran her fingers through the mess, smearing it slightly before wiping it away with a towel.

The boyfriend disappeared almost immediately, mumbling something about needing a drink. I wasn’t particularly concerned. Instead, we cleaned up together, taking a moment to touch and stroke each other, the contrast between the rawness of before and the tenderness of now making it even more intimate.

We stepped out onto the balcony, the cool afternoon breeze brushing against our bare skin. The beach stretched out before us, and an attentive passer by could probably spot our naked figures. I couldn’t possibly care less in that moment. She handed me a drink, and we clinked our glasses together before taking a sip.

We made a bit of small talk, catching our breath. She turned to me with a satisfied smirk, her eyes flicking downward. “You have a really nice cock, you know that? Especially that thick head…” Her fingers trailed lightly over my forearm as she spoke, her voice laced with appreciation. I couldn’t help but grin.

The boyfriend lingered nearby, silent. He seemed to have retreated into his own head, leaving the two of us in our own little world.

After about ten minutes of lazy conversation, she leaned in, her lips brushing against my neck. “Do you want to go again?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I checked the boyfriend for a reaction, but he was gazing out to sea.

Who was I to say no?

We moved back into the room, the anticipation building once more. I laid her down, spreading her thighs as I settled between them. I kissed my way down her body again, taking my time, savouring her shivers and soft gasps. Impossibly feeling nostalgic for moments that happened within the hour. I traced the same placed, and pressed the same buttons. Fatigued, we were slower and even more intimate. I was embodying the character again, this time feeling in love as well as lust. I had never felt so good, and my gratitude was expanding.

My tongue teased her, tracing patterns over her sensitive flesh, while my fingers pressed inside her, curling just right. She arched against me, her hands twisting in the sheets, her breath coming in quick, uneven moans.

The heat between us built again, effortlessly slipping back into the rhythm we had already found. Another condom, another slow, deliberate thrust as I entered her from behind this time, gripping her hips firmly as I moved. I was delighted to see her body from an angle I hadn’t considered yet.

I knew I would struggle to come a second time, but that didn’t matter. The way she clenched around me, the way her moans filled the air, the way her body moved with mine — I was as hard as I had ever been, and I intended to make this last.

He reappeared after a while, stepping back into the room with a newfound sense of purpose. His eyes flicked between us, his nerves from earlier seemingly replaced by something bolder. He hesitated only a moment before making his request.

He wanted me to take him.

I had already been clear that it wasn’t something I was into, but he asked anyway, his voice laced with hopeful anticipation. And after everything — the afternoon’s intense pleasure, the way his girlfriend had thrown herself into me with such abandon — I felt an odd sense of obligation. Like I owed him something for letting me experience this with her.

So I tried.

But the moment I even attempted it, the reality hit me. My body shut down, the arousal I had been riding on all night vanishing in an instant. I went completely soft.

He took it in stride, laughing it off, brushing his fingers through his hair. “No worries,” he said, his tone light, though I caught the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Maybe just come on my face instead?”

I hesitated, but again, I tried. He knelt before me, eyes shut, lips slightly parted as he waited. She sat beside us on the bed, watching with an amused expression, running her fingers over her still-sensitive skin. I stroked myself, pushing for that last bit of release, but it just wasn’t happening. I spent ten long, drawn-out minutes trying, feeling the awkwardness creep in with every passing second.

Eventually, I gave up.

We untangled ourselves, the energy in the room shifting from feverish to something subdued, uncertain. I slipped back into my clothes, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and detachment, as if I were already watching the whole night play back in my head from a distance.

A few quick goodbyes, no promises of next time. I stepped out into the cool evening air, letting the door shut behind me, and left them there in that hotel room overlooking the ocean.

A week later, an email appeared in my inbox from an address I didn’t recognise. The subject line was empty, but the message itself was simple and biting — something along the lines of calling me a whore. No context, no signature.

I always assumed it was him. He was probably right.

But the thought didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I never saw her again. I knew her name, but that was it — no way to reach her, no way to seek her out without stepping into the realm of something desperate.

I kept hoping, though. Hoping I might run into her somewhere, catch a glimpse of that sultry smile again, even just for a second. But I never did.