The Proposed Threesome

So, I was in bed with my boyfriend (that’s still One Ball,) when someone else decided to pipe up – and no, it wasn’t Grey again. (Thank the good lord for that, though!) And I don’t just mean pop up, as in, say hello, ask how I am, etc. Oh, no. Nothing that simple. Let’s talk about the proposed threesome.

What the fuck is my actual life?

As previously described, I was in bed with OB after he’d randomly appeared at my work. I wasn’t expecting to see him, but it was a lovely (and wonderfully painful) surprise, and after we’d gone home and fucked for a while, we were just chilling in bed, watching some TV, and catching our breaths.

My phone buzzed loudly, so I reached over and checked it. OB swigged some water, then grabbed his own phone.

My notification was a message from The Lapdog. What?!

What are you doing right now?

Sigh. The guy has a girlfriend now, but he still can’t leave me alone. I must be really good in bed, or something.

I replied: I’m in bed with my boyfriend.

Fancy a threesome?

I almost dropped the phone. I definitely made a squeaky noise, and OB definitely heard it.

“You alright?” he asked.

I swigged some of my own water and blamed the squeak on a tickly throat. Thankfully, he seemed to buy it.

The Lapdog has a girlfriend now. A proper one. One that he boasts about all over social media… so why the fuck is he offering up a MMF threesome? I mean, in slightly different circumstances I’d probably say yes, but I actually can’t think of anything worse than a threesome with my ex and new boyfriends.

Oh, that would be some drama, don’t you think?

Shouldn’t you be asking for a threesome from your girlfriend? I tapped back.

One of us ought to remember her, right?

Probably. I’ve got some MDMA, and I want you. I don’t mind sharing.

Well, that certainly explains things. I always was his regular MDMA fuck, but I don’t do that now. He shouldn’t be doing it, either. I told him that, then, after a few more texts back-and-forth, I put my phone on silent and placed it face-down on the bedside cabinet.

Lapdog is an asshole, yeah… but. BUT. I messaged back. I entertained it for longer than I should’ve done. I shouldn’t have entertained it at all. Just like I shouldn’t have entertained the conversation with My Mr. Grey… but I did.

Between the cracks in our relationship, plus outside forces, it seems that One Ball and I are going through somewhat of a rocky patch. I wouldn’t be entertaining Grey or Lapdog if I was happy and settled with OB, would I? I’d cut them down. No, thank you. I’ve got a fella now.

The thought of having one night of no-strings-attached MDMA-fuelled sex with Lapdog (and/or Grey) does fill me with joy, though… I won’t lie. I’m not going to… but it would be so easy for me to say yes.

Maybe I need to think about whether One Ball is the right man for me.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Why Would I Lie About That?