I wouldn’t label myself as bisexual, primarily because I’m not keen on labels, but there have been instances where I found myself attracted to both genders. Honestly, a threesome involving a man and a woman has been on my sexual bucket list since I began exploring my sexuality. Perhaps it’s because I struggle to get off to anything other than lesbian content, which has sparked my curiosity about being intimate with another woman. Alternatively, the thought of a threesome with two men feels overwhelming to me—like being a potato tossed around. (No judgment if that’s your thing; you do you!) Regardless of the reason, the idea of a man and a woman together intrigued me.
Little did I realize that threesomes were not for me, a lesson I learned the hard way over five years ago.
It all began on a Saturday night. I was out with colleagues, indulging in way too much alcohol (a definite no-no). My then-boyfriend was at home, also drinking with friends while binge-watching a new HBO series. As I made my way to his place, accompanied by a co-worker who had already hinted at being open to a threesome, my liquid courage took over. I boldly asked, “So, would you be interested in a threesome?”
Knowing she was bisexual and I was curious, I still felt a wave of nerves. I wanted to ensure she understood this was just for fun and that our work relationship wouldn’t suffer. Luckily, my drunken state gave me the confidence to ask.
To my surprise and relief, she was enthusiastic, suggesting we go for it that very night.
We stumbled into my boyfriend’s house, where he had just fallen into a deep sleep. Although we had discussed the possibility of a threesome before, we had never acted on it. I was confident he’d be open to it with the right person. I climbed the stairs and gently woke him, asking, “Hey, want to have a threesome?”
He seemed to have higher standards than I anticipated, responding with, “With who?” After I told him, he recognized her from work and agreed it might be fun. I dashed downstairs to grab some water and let my co-worker know it was on, while he fetched a box of condoms.
To be honest, I was so inebriated that I don’t remember how it all began. It just… happened, and it was nothing like I had imagined.
Perhaps it was because I prefer being dominated, but both of them gave me the reins out of respect. While she was intimate with my boyfriend—which honestly didn’t bother me—I was left wondering, “What do I do now?” I felt awkward and thought, “Guess I’ll just take care of myself,” which was not the vibe I had envisioned.
Or maybe the truth is simpler: I just didn’t enjoy threesomes the way I thought I would. I had been with women before, but this was a different experience. Even with alcohol, it felt bizarre. I’m not shy in bed; if something makes me laugh, I laugh. I communicate openly and refuse to fake pleasure.
But this co-worker, while lovely at work, was too over-the-top in the bedroom. As she approached climax, she started yelling, “I’MMA SQUIRT! I’MMA SQUIRT!” Now, I’ve only squirted once, and it was a shock to me. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
Then she escalated, shouting, “OHHHH, YEAHHHHH! SMACK IT! SMACK IT! SMACK IT!” I timidly tapped her with my fingers, unsure of how to react. Thankfully, she burst into laughter, and soon my boyfriend joined in. Naked and giggling, we realized the moment had become surreal. We decided that was enough of the threesome and went downstairs to whip up a quick meal, enjoying the rest of the evening without any more three-way shenanigans. She slept downstairs while my boyfriend and I took the upstairs.
That experience solidified my decision: no more threesomes for me.
If you’re curious about home insemination, check out this insightful post on the artificial insemination kit or learn about shared parenthood at Shared Hope Program. For further information on pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC offers excellent resources.