Love & Sex

I Did It for Science: Threesome

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I Did It For Science by Grant Stoddard


To participate in a threesome with a woman and another man.


State your hypothesis in the form of a prediction that can be verified by the results of the experiment.

Will the addition of another person make sex thirty-three percent hotter , or will too many cooks spoil the broth?

Please list all the materials required for this experiment (including, if applicable, how they were obtained).

Female (one)
Male (two)
Bottles of sub-par Merlot (two)
Heinekens (nine)
Condoms (four)

In this portion of your report, you must describe, step-by-step, what you did in your lab. It should be specific enough that someone who has not seen the lab can follow the directions and recreate the same lab.

It’s Friday. I’m the houseguest of a young married couple and their baby in Los Angeles. I know exactly eight people who live west of the Hudson River, but my assignment is to arrange a threesome with a girl and another guy before the weekend is out. Culture shock is imminent.

Completely disregarding the disappointing results of last month’s Craig’s List experiment, I turned to the Internet for help. I discovered a website called Threesomefinder.com. Most of the listings were from SoCal couples “looking for sexy females to explore with” or “hot Latin studs” seeking “sizzling adventures with a pair of beautiful chicas.” There were no ads from men seeking couples. I posted my own but didn’t have high hopes. Oh, to be a horny bi female. They have the swinging world by the balls.

On Saturday, increasingly desperate, I called the handful of Los Angelenos I knew and asked for help. One offered the phone number of a gigolo who specialized in schtupping other men’s wives and girlfriends for the bargain-basement price of $300 a night. I politely declined. Then my friend Brian called with a glimmer of hope. One of his college friends had recently moved to L.A.; in addition to being hot and blonde, she was apparently not averse to getting naughty every now and then. As it turns out, I didn’t have to take Brian’s word for this. I’d met Julia before, at a party two years ago. She’d been the hypotenuse in a make-out triangle with me and my soused ex-girlfriend.

In literature, this is called “foreshadowing.”

I emailed Julia, telling her I was in town and asking if she knew anyone who could help me out. She picked up on my not-so-subtle hint and immediately began throwing out suggestions for our third wheel. I couldn’t believe my luck. I’ve asked a number of female friends if they’d thought about being with two guys at once. More often than not, it was something they’d considered but never done, and all of them had conditions: “They’d both have to be total strangers,” "they’d both have to be really good friends of mine,” "it would have to be my boyfriend and a stranger.”

Julia, however, had no qualms. She was gleefully leading the way into trouble. Our plan was to hit a lively bar, where Julia would strike up a conversation with a guy that we’d both agreed upon. This would be easy: Julia is as fun as she is cute, and any straight guy in his right mind would want to get naked with her. Much trickier would be the introduction of a disheveled-looking Englishman at the other end of the bar. I was concerned that some dude might grab the wrong end of the stick and assume I was out to grab the right end of his. Even worse was the prospect of rejection. “Honey, you’re hot,” I imagined a potential third slurring to Julia as I pretended to watch a game of pool. “But your friend over there . . . ” I wasn’t sure my ego could withstand that blow.

Julia was going to be the one fooling around with Mr. X, so she had supreme veto power. That’s not to say that I didn’t have my own hopes for what he might look like. I imagined somebody on the skinny side, stylish but not super-trendy, under thirty, fun and most importantly, into it.

I called my friend Liz and fretted about how our indecent proposal would be received. I feared that many guys would let their masculinity get in the way of double-teaming a girl. Even a few of my close friends questioned why I’d ever want to participate in a “sword fight.” As luck would have it, Liz produced a candidate. Zach was a stand-up comedian who happened to be performing at a Melrose comedy club the next night. Not only was he fun, twenty-five and attractive, he had previous three-way experience.

We now had a firm plan: I would meet Julia at the club. Liz would be there with her friends; she would introduce us to Zach in the bar before the show. We’d see at least one performance from him that night.

Before leaving the house the next evening, I was nauseated from a bad case of nerves. I could barely stuff down a granola bar for dinner. After putting the baby to bed, my hosts strolled out of the nursery and tossed me the keys to the family station wagon. “Good luck with the threesome,” they grinned. For a Manhattanite, the concept of driving — let alone valet parking — is utterly foreign, but I handled both without major incident. At the club, I had a beer, my first and last of the evening. Julia turned up, looking even hotter than I remembered. Liz and her boyfriend arrived shortly thereafter and introduced us to Zach, who had been sitting near me at the bar the whole time. Tall, svelte and blonde, Zach brought to mind a better-looking Seth Green, with an definite Jeff Spicoli air. I couldn’t tell if he had a cock-sure swagger about him, or if he was just drunk. Liz had given Zach a casual heads-up about the situation; we shook hands and the three of us tossed around an awkward glance like it was a live grenade.

Leaving the group behind, Julia and I headed for a table. “He’s really cute!” said Julia and gave my bum a squeeze. (Not a phrase I’m used to hearing when it’s my bum and someone else’s cuteness.) Zach was slated to perform last. During the ten or so acts — some side-splittingly funny, some bum-clenchingly cringetastic — Julia ran her hand up my leg, suggestively squeezed my thigh and even planted little kisses on my neck. She was ready to go. “Siegfried and Roy last weekend?” said one comic, finishing his set. “Now that was a fuckin’ eighty-dollar ticket!” Zach was next. In addition to being very funny, he was definitely three sheets to the wind. He later told me that many comedians perform for drink tickets, and he had been redeeming his at a fair rate since around seven.

The show ended around 11:30 and we reconvened in the bar. Zach was with a large group of friends, and it was suggested that everyone meet up at a lively bar down the street. Julia said she wanted to ride with me, and as the valet grabbed the car, we kissed. “Nice wagon!” she said quite sincerely. As we drove off, I knew this was the only opportunity we’d have to talk about the threesome before things were finally set in motion.

“Um, are you sure you’re okay with all this?” I asked her.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” she said, gazing languorously out the window. “Are you? I mean have you thought about what this’ll be like?”

“A little,” I replied. The truth is, over the past year or so, I’d thought plenty about having a male-male-female threesome. Most straight guys say they’d prefer to be in bed with two girls, but to me, an M-M-F seemed much naughtier. The input-output ratio was more logical.

“What turns you on about this?” I asked Julia.

“I guess I just like being the total center of attention. Besides, I’ve had a boyfriend for the past year and . . . ” she made a point of staring me straight in the eye as we idled at another red light, ” . . . well, it’s really fucking slutty. And I like feeling that way sometimes.”

I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

At a packed bar on Santa Monica Boulevard, Julia, Zach and I ended up at a booth picking over a pizza that was criminally bad by New York standards. Julia and Zach didn’t seem to notice. A line popped into my head: For me, sex is like pizza; even if it’s bad, it’s pretty good. Where did that nasty little falsehood come from? I remembered: the 1993 cinematic debacle Threesome, starring Stephen Baldwin and Lara Flynn Boyle.

After an hour of small talk about MTV, the peace of mind to be derived from pilates and rental prices in the greater Beverly Hills area, the time had come. I invited Julia and Zach back to where I was staying, just on the other side of Laurel Canyon. I promised that I would take them both back to their cars in Hollywood before dawn. As we trundled into the station wagon, Zach flopped into the backseat and passed out. He was so impossibly laid-back that I couldn’t help feeling jealous. He was more like a prop than an active participant. I’d taken on the roles of team leader, production manager and designated driver, and I foresaw that this dynamic would carry on in the bedroom. I would be concerned with the logistics, the ambience, the schedule. All Zach had on his mind was fucking Julia, caveman-style. We stopped at a red light. Julia and I turned around to look at our comatose cargo. Very quietly, Julia turned to me and whispered “Yay!” She squeezed my hand and smiled as we drove up the winding hill and down into the Valley.



Quantify the effects of the experiment.

I was so concerned with hooking this trio up that I hadn’t thought about how everything would go down. As we pulled into my hosts’ driveway and Zach rose with a start, I realized this was a highly inappropriate staging area for a clusterfuck. There was a baby upstairs, for God’s sake. Julia, Zach and I filed into the guest bedroom and sat there quietly.

Suddenly, inspiration. “Why don’t we jump in the pool?” I suggested.

My two new friends looked at each other, wide-eyed. “What? It’s freezing!”

This underlined a trans-continental difference of opinion. It was a balmy sixty-seven degrees out.

“Is the pool heated?” Julia asked.

“Of course,” I lied. In retrospect, my pool idea was a stroke of genius, designed to turn three people sitting in a guest bedroom into three people going at it like crazy. We’d all just strip off and dive in together, like the wild and crazy kids we were. We’d all be naked; it would be silly and fun. I shucked my clothes off and helped Julia get out of hers. The soft moonlight gave us all a vague idea of each others’ bodies. After Zach battled with his sneakers and regained his balance, he unfastened Julia’s bra while I pulled her panties over the formidable curvature of her butt. Crouched on one knee, I took in its moonlit majesty. I looked up and saw a sinewy Zach simultaneously admiring Julia’s bootyliciousness. It actually felt great to share in the euphoria of disrobing a beautiful girl.

Even though she was frantically trying to rub warmth into her arms, a giggling Julia delighted in the reverence we were giving her body. She looked us both up and down and put a hand on the small of our backs. “Very nice!” she smiled. “Let’s go!” I said, grabbing Julia’s left hand and motioning Zach to grab her right one. Giggling, Julia shook her hands free and grabbed our wangs instead. “Okay, ready boys? One . . . two . . . three . . . GO!” she said, giving us both a squeeze for every syllable. I was so relieved that we’d gotten naked that I forgot how loud four hundred pounds of flesh and bone hitting the water can be. Luckily, the splash was partially drowned out by gasps and high-pitched squeals.

“HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!” yelled Zach.

“THIS POOL IS NOT HEATED!” gasped Julia.

“SHHHHHH!” I said, waiting for a bedroom light to flick on or the baby to wake up. “They must have turned off the heat.”

There was no “It’ll be okay after a minute” talk; the water was indisputably arctic. Each of us grabbed our bundle of clothes and barreled into the guest room. In the ambient light from the pool house, Julia draped her towel around her shoulders while Zach and I tried to rub some life back into our rigs. After we were both dry, Zach and I frantically toweled her off until her teeth stopped chattering. We started kissing her neck, then Julia pulled all of us onto the bed and underneath the luxurious goose-down comforter. Zach and I were on either side of Julia, taking turns making out with her, kissing her bodacious ta-tas and tummy in between fits of giggles from everyone. We were having a threesome, and it couldn’t have come about more perfectly. It was the naughtiest thing I’d ever done, but at the same time it felt quite innocent, like kids playing doctor. The only difference was that two of the kids were sporting erections you could hammer nails with.

I knelt over Julia while Zach lay on his side next to her, their left legs intertwined. Curious, I lifted up the comforter to see what I was up against. Yep, just as I had suspected; another man’s large, hard penis. Julia’s fingers spidered their way down our chests and stomachs; pausing briefly to bite her bottom lip, she simultaneously wrapped them around both of our cocks. I shoved the comforter off the bed entirely so I could watch things happen, my gaze alternating — tennis fan style — between Julia’s mischievous face and her ambidextrous handiwork. Zach’s face was nuzzled deep in the nape of Julia’s neck and covered by ribbons of her long, wet hair. He groaned into Julia’s neck, which made her giggle uncontrollably. She and I exchanged a look, then I worked my hand between her thighs, where I found . . .

A hand.

Where I hadn’t expected one.

Zach had beaten me to it. He also had a hand on her right breast and his mouth on her left. He was hogging all the best parts! This went on for a couple of minutes, and I started to get antsy. Julia looked like she was having a dream about cross-country skiing. What could I say without bringing the action to a screeching halt? “Hey,” I whispered to Zach. “Dude.” Nothing. “DUDE!” I said, curtly tapping his hands. “Sorry, man!” he chuckled as he continued to monopolize Julia’s torso for a further ten seconds. He reluctantly freed up a breast, but it was the one he’d been drooling all over. It seemed that Zach was fucking with me while he was fucking with me!

“Now, now boys!” said Julia and pulled firmly me by the rig towards the headboard. I followed her lead, kneeling beside her head as she stuffed an extra pillow beneath her neck. Even Zach stopped what he was doing and watched the proceedings. Julia didn’t break eye contact; she even winked as she put my old chap on her lips.

“Duuuuude!” Zach breathed in awe. For the first time, he was taking in the gravity of the situation. Julia flipped into full porn starlet mode, holding the base of my unit in one hand and a handful of Zach’s curly hair in the other, her eyes darting between our wowed faces. Zach shuffled up the bed and took up a mirror position on Julia’s left side. She idly stroked his wagging member with me in her mouth. The sight of Julia partaking at the boner buffet very nearly sent me over the edge. “STOP!” I said, retreating half a moment before passing the point of no return.

Zach was not in a patient mood. With me out of the fray, he straddled Julia’s torso, placing his trouser schnauzer an inch from her mouth. Julia just laughed and started going to town on him. Still awed by this six-legged, two-penised, two-breasted golem I had helped give life to, I shuffled down the bed and started kissing the inside of Julia’s soft thighs. (Luckily the light was dim enough to conceal the finer details of Zach’s ass crack, which was a mere eighteen inches away.) As I went down on Julia, she moaned around a mouthful of Zach and he made a funny squeak. I found this completely hilarious and absurdly sexy. The chorus of Diana Ross’ “Chain Reaction” spun on repeat in my head. I couldn’t remember the next line. I hate when that happens. It was all I could do to stop myself from asking either of my friends if they knew how it went.

I took two condoms out of my jean pocket and threw one to Zach. I put one on and started fucking Julia, who was now practically shouting around Zach’s dick. Zach unstraddled Julia’s rib cage and took a side position so he could see what was going on. Immediately after I went in, I was so close to coming that I had to be very, very still if I was going to last more than a minute. That’s the thing about a threesome — you’re in the strange position of proving your sexual prowess to twice the audience; if you’re a two-pump chump, twice the people would know. I dug my fingers into Julia’s rounded calves, trying to channel the energy elsewhere, like a lightning bolt trying to find something earthed. Getting used to the heightened visceral experience of something so incredibly hot took a couple of minutes and much visualization of Margaret Thatcher. Eventually, the increased vigor with which I was “bringing it” seemed to be re-enacted at the other end of the bed. Julia was sucking Zach’s tool as if it contained the antidote to a tropical disease. It felt like I was driving the bus, and it was good.

Zach looked down at the action. He managed to say “Dude, let me hit that” and make it seem charming. Still drunk, he attempted to the put the condom on backwards four times before finally rolling it down. He put his left hand on Julia’s right hip and his right hand on her left; impressively, he spun her onto all fours with a minimum of fuss. As I removed my condom, he started banging away as hard as he could. Julia and I had to make three or four attempts before I was successfully docked in her mouth. Through the conduit of Julia’s body, I could feel each of Zach’s thrusts on me. This felt both good and alarming. It was like she was a tuning fork, I was the hand holding the tuning fork and Zach was the hard surface on which it was being struck.

Suddenly, Julia’s groans seemed ever-so-slightly louder. Was this drunk idiot better than me? I grew concerned. Actually — momentarily — I began to shrink concerned. I regained my composure by convincing myself that I had set the groundwork for Julia’s increasingly orgasmic-sounding squeals. It’s a bit like when you can’t open a jar of applesauce, and you give it to someone else, who pops the lid off effortlessly. You can loudly say, “I must have loosened it for you,” and simultaneously steal his thunder while saving face. As I looked into Julia’s face — eyes wide and filled with pleasure, mouth agape and filled — I wanted to relay a similar sentiment. Like, “We all know you’re about to scream the house down, but let’s not forget who laid the foundations, eh?”

With as much fanfare as he could muster, Zach came, then collapsed on both of us. He had lasted a pathetic three minutes and fifty seconds. Yes, I admit I eyed the clock, but just for shits ‘n’ giggles. My entire left leg was now blanketed in sweaty dude, and I quickly pried myself out. Julia’s whispered entreaty “Come on me” resuscitated Zach, who retreated to watch my money shot from a safe distance.

The next half-hour was a fuzzy, semi-conscious blur. I remember having lackadaisical sex with Julia while Zach drooled next to us, face down in his pillow. The next thing I remember, I woke from a doze and saw Zach spooning Julia. Then dawn broke. After Julia helped Zach back into his clothes, we reluctantly got back in the car and drove silently through the misty canyon. We dropped Zach off at a grubby diner for coffee; he was going directly to his day job at a talent agency. He shook my hand and gave Julia a bleary-eyed kiss on the forehead before stumbling away. Not ten seconds later, he came running back. “Listen, I’m playing at the Laugh Factory next Wednesday. You should both come by. Later!”

Julia and I said goodbye. “That was an interesting evening,” she giggled. “Let’s talk soon.” I watched her drive away, grinning, a little bit shocked, replaying the evening’s many highlights in my head.

Summarize your findings. Don’t forget to attempt to identify possible variables that could result in different findings for others trying to recreate your test results.

There are three kinds of threesomes: beginner (i.e. making out), intermediate (penetration) and advanced (double anal). Although this was a relatively tame experience, it amplified sex beyond anything I knew. It was like starring in a porno of my own making, with attractive, normal people who were doing it for the sake of doing it. It was the ultimate sex for sex’s sake: I didn’t have to worry about boyfriend-girlfriend jealousy. And the added mental stimulation was revelatory: imagining how Julia would relate the experience to her friends was incredibly hot.

I think it’s odd when people refer to their friend or significant other as their “partner in crime,” but that’s kind of how it felt, the dynamic between Zach, Julia and I. There was something familiar about the feelings that our threesome invoked, like it was second nature. I think that dynamic is often played out in movies although the sexual aspect is often muted. Like Luke, Leia and Han in Star Wars, or Butch Cassidy, the Sundance Kid and Etta. (To that end, I get the feeling that Julia would have been riding on my handlebars to the Bacharach number.) This was the first such experience for Julia and I. I haven’t been able to share too many firsts like that, and I felt that I had set up an experience that would be forever carved into our psyches.

Ultimately, I’m amazed this actually went off without a hitch. I had two hot, fun, drunk co-conspirators, the stars were in alignment, and everything went smoother than I could have dreamed. For those reasons, I might be hesitant to try the same thing again. This may have been as good as it gets.

Do you have an idea for Grant’s next I Did It for Science? Let him know here.

 

© 2003 Grant Stoddard and Nerve.com, Inc.