Have you ever fantasied with your partner about what it would be like to have a third person join you in the bedroom? Maybe you have purchased a dildo to act as your mystery third? If so then this story is definitely one for you
“I’m really not sure I trust you to keep your eyes closed”
Her tone is teasing but her expression is more serious, and he raises an eyebrow.
“Then I guess you’re going to have to blindfold me.”
They both know that no matter what the words might suggest to a stranger, trust is something they have always relied on.
She smiles, holding out the strip of material.
“Honestly? I was hoping you’d say that…”
He holds still as she raises her hands and firmly knots it behind his head. Her hands drop to his buttons next, stripping him out of his shirt in practiced motions.
“So what are you going to do, now I’m at your mercy?”
A fingertip traces down his chest, over his stomach, pausing just short of the jeans.
“Mercy comes later. Now, we play…”
His steps are hesitant, even though he would have said the rooms were familiar. She is more confident, leading him by the hand and guiding his journey. In a few moments he is pushed to his knees, fingers now stroking through his hair. His lips brush bare skin, hearing the sound of her clothes dropping to the floor. Her hand guides his mouth, a trail of kisses over her hip, the scratch of the lace, then her smooth thigh. There is an odd thrill in being pushed lower, gentle yet insistent, as he reaches out his hands to grasp the end of their bed. Again the sound of fabric sliding over skin, then she moves before him, the springs creaking as she lays back.
You know what comes next, don’t you?”
He is already leaning forward.
“That’s right. You can’t see, but you make such a pretty picture right now…”
Her words pause as his mouth brushes skin again, this time between her parted legs.
“I want you to imagine what I’m picturing… us being watched by a third person… yes, like that…”
And although she can’t keep up the flow of words, he does indeed imagine a nameless watcher and the show they are putting on.
Because he can’t see, every other sense is magnified. The sound of her breathing slowing once more. The tremble in her thighs. The scent of her. The rich taste on his tongue. He can picture her face, imagine her flushed skin, but the blindfold means everything else is a mystery.
“Did you like the idea of the audience?”
The words make him tense a little; he hadn’t expected her to return to this after her climax, had thought she would be embarrassed. But she doesn’t wait for an answer.
“Or maybe you prefer the idea of them joining in?”
Her hand grasps his, drawing it to the surface of the bed, and he is shocked to find something there. He realises that there’s not a third person below his fingers as she speaks.
It’s pillows, he tells himself – relieved, and maybe just a little disappointed. She guides his hand again, and now their linked fingers move over something else. A belt? It seems to be holding two pillows together, approximating a third person. Another strap. And then… He pulls his hand back in reflex.
“Don’t be shy,” she says, and he can hear laughter in her voice. “They won’t mind.”
He reaches out, suddenly tentative. He feels the strap tight over the pillows, then some textured material… and the cool, smooth shaft.
It’s firm, but somehow not hard. Erect, but not rigid. Gradually he gains confidence, fingertip running from the thicker base to the flared tip. He can feel it sway and instinctively grasps it, curling his fingers and thumb around the circumference.
“I’m thinking about them twitching when you do that,” she tells him.
Her voice is low and intimate, whispering as if they might be overheard.
“Would you be getting them ready for me?” He swallows hard. “Or maybe we’re doing it together, getting them ready for you.”
He feels her fingers over his, once more guiding his movements, this time in a familiar motion.
He, She, They
“Do you like that idea?”
He’s not sure when he moved; still on his knees, but now closer to this imagined guest. She’s shifted too, leaning over, legs underneath her. Their hands move together, slowly, as she speaks.
“I think they’d have enjoyed watching your mouth on me.” Closer still, her breath on his cheek. “I think it’s their turn, don’t you?”
The blindfold should mean there is nothing to see. Instead it ensures there is nothing to distract him from the images being shared. In his mind, the two of them are perfectly clear, but the third person is somehow blurred, apart from the firm cock in his grasp. No face, no shape, and he can’t even tell if they’re a man or a woman. It doesn’t matter.
She kisses him, and her weight shifts as he feels her hand on him too. Her fingers run over the bulge in his jeans, and she laughs into his mouth.
“How lucky I am… spoilt for choice…”
His fingers tighten as he bites at her lip, now imagining the silicone dildo in his hand twitching as this imagined third person watches the kiss. She pulls back to speak.
“It’s rude to leave them out… do you want to share?”
What shocks him, in a corner of his mind, is that there’s no more encouragement needed. He leans towards their joined hands, and he’s too intent on his desire even to picture her face. He rubs the tip against his parted lips, swollen from the kissing, sticky from her orgasm, and taking it into his mouth seems not only natural but inevitable. He hears her groan, and for an instant it seems to be echoed by another.
His hand and hers hold the cock steady as he moves. He knows she must be watching, knows she is close from the sound of her breathing. As he lifts up, for a moment her lips meet his again, before they share a kiss with the silicone between them. She pulls away and whispers again.
“You’re getting them really wet and slippery… is that so they can be inside me? Or you?”
James Mycroft was a Sherlock Holmes fan before Benedict Cumberbatch made him cool again. He reads, writes and enjoys adrenaline sports, including those that happen in the bedroom. Sadly he is much less interesting in real life than online.