Rachel apparently has threesomes all the time.
This is not a happy memory, you guys. It's humiliating and degrading and full of bad feels and I wish it never happened. However, I hope this doesn't detract from the humor in its absurdity.
It was 2003. I was 20. I was perpetually miserable what with the constant pain and hopelessness and all. Dad thought a trip to Europe would be fun and might cheer me up. So it was just me and him, father and *retch*, well, you know.
First stop was Paris. My legs were fucking killing me from all the walking and I was burning through 3-4 battery packs a day for my spinal cord stimulator. At least the Louvre was pretty awesome and Moulin Rouge was entertaining. And the food was good. Dad was cringeworthy, though. Try as he might, he can't shake certain "ugly American" stereotypes like JUST TALKING LOUDER and being atrocious with pronunciation to the point of no one being able to understand him (even in London, natch).
I guess it was alright. I can see how it could have been a lot of fun if I wasn't in constant pain (and away from my as needed medical weed).
Next stop: Amsterdam! No more need to worry about a weed shortage there. One of the first things we did once we got checked into the hotel was go to a coffee shop. I got a couple grams of this crystalline white widow type shit. My dad got a couple of grams of just about the weakest brown bammer I've smoked, because apparently that was marijuana to him (poor bastard). It certainly eased my leg pain and made me generally happy.
The next morning I got all stoned and we went to the Anne Frank house. That was... far out. I mostly spent my day with relaxed legs and a pleasant buzz while we checked out various attractions, only in moderate pain.
That night, well, we were in Amsterdam. So dad was going to take me to the red light district. If I wanted to, but I didn't see saying no as an option. He might think there's something wrong with me, I thought. I was supposed to want that. I even convinced myself I wanted that. "Okay."
We almost got mugged on the way there. That was fun.
Window shopping was interesting. There was a very wide assortment of... goods on display. A lot didn't conform to mainstream standards of beauty but seemed to be doing plenty good business. #BodyPositiveProstitution But window shopping was hard. I felt ashamed and embarrassed looking at these girls. Still, I liked them and kept looking.
I saw two beautiful women standing in one window. I thought maybe a threesome might cure my inability to perform. They were both smokin' hot, after all.
So I went inside and got my pants off, still clutching my SCS controller. One girl laid down on her back and the other pressed against me from behind. I set the controller down on the bed, about at the limit of its reach from the cord attaching it to my ass. I slipped on a condom and in I went.
It was meh. And stressful - a lot of pressure to perform. But it just wasn't doing it for me. I didn't want to be inside a vagina, I wanted a strap-on to be inside my vagina. I wanted to go down on these girls. These were the only things I knew to get off on. But I tried. I pumped and thrust with my SCS controller flopping around on the bed, tugged by my ass. It started to peel off and the stimulation sensation started to pulsate and waver, further distracting me.
They started to get impatient. How fucking long was this going to take, they wondered. So... I pretended to orgasm. Yes, it's sad and pathetic and they clearly talked about and mocked me in another language (Dutch?) as I took the condom off and put my pants back on, rubbing the adhesive strip on my ass to stick the controller wire back down.
I stepped outside. I had to put on a smile and pretend to be delighted. "How was it?" "Awesome!" Meanwhile, inside I was curled into a ball of shame.
We went back to the hotel room and I smoked pot. I then lay there in bed, numb. I wanted to cry. But I couldn't. Eventually, after a couple hours, I finally slept.
Years later, in college, this threesome would become "a thing." Like, in Never Have I Ever, people would call me out for "never have I ever had a threesome in Europe." Because I would brag about it. Because I was supposed to brag about something like that. I'd smile and laugh, but inside I was hurting.
In hindsight, it makes perfect sense. Of course I don't like PIV. I want my vag fucked by a strap-on, not my penis inside someone. I only ever got off to fantasies of being a woman. I eventually, a decade later, came once from PIV, imagining myself as a futanari. I felt guilty about that.
So that's your bloghostess' story about her first threesome.
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