The conversation with Sadie was more straightforward than I had imagined. We had met three times after finding each other on an adult dating site and had come to like each other in more ways than one.
Finding chances to meet was not easy, because although we both lived in Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, I spent a lot of time on business in the neighbouring island, Tobago. For her part, Sadie was unavailable sometimes, for reasons she didn’t reveal. Our second meeting had been for anal sex, because the only date we could agree on had been during her period, so I had suggested a backdoor liaison and it had proven to be oddly romantic, a departure from the norm for practical reasons and confirmed because we really wanted to see each other.
Sex of any sort with Sadie was nothing less than brilliant and we had pushed each other’s boundaries because we trusted one another. Things that I had had to suggest or even campaign for in other relationships, Sadie would volunteer, taking the lead in a way that made it all seem so natural. And at the same time, I liked her very much as a person and we had come close to getting emotional, even though that was not what she and I were looking for.
So when the idea of a threesome occurred to me, there were no feelings to hurt, no ambitions to damage. I knew she would go along with it; in fact, I was pretty sure she was thinking of suggesting it herself.
We communicated electronically because I have never been comfortable with the phone, and messages have a sort of mystique that really suits a relationship such as Sadie and I had. Our WhatsApp conversation that evening was a curious mixture of playful, romantic, and challenging.
“Hello you gorgeous woman. Hope you had a good day. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
“Oh my God,” she sent back. “You’re not pregnant, r u?”
“Well,” I replied. “You did put your finger right up my ass last week. And you had just taken it out of your pussy, so it had sperm on it.”
We continued in this vein for a while until it was time to get to the nitty-gritty.
“Have you ever had a threesome? FFM?”
“No,” she replied. “You want to?” Messaging gives you those few seconds of uncertainty. Was her response encouraging or was she offended? Did she think I was implying she wasn’t enough on her own?
“I would like to try it if okay with you,” I said.
“Great,” she replied. “You got someone in mind?” Again, was the “great” sarcastic? And was I now to confess that my search for womanly paradise had not stopped when I met her?
“No,” I said. “But I can start looking if you like the idea.”
“Call me,” she wrote with finality.
In a few seconds we were talking on the phone and it was as if we had quickly undressed.
I could tell by the way she said hello that all was well.
“So,” I said. “Do you want to?”
“I would love to,” she replied. “Love to. I’ve thought about it sometimes. Have to be the right girl, though.”
“Okay. So, what should I be looking for?”
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want a big black woman,” she said flatly. She was, I should point out, a big black woman herself. Not enormous, but as tall as me and with a full, generous body style that in the Caribbean they call “thick”. I love women like that and to me, Sadie was both beautiful and exciting.
“Okay,” I said. “There will be one beautiful big black woman in the bed anyway.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Not too many white women on the site, though,” I pointed out.
“Indian,” she suggested. “There’s even less of them, but it would be great, wouldn’t it? You’ll have to reword your profile and be very specific.”
“Maybe you should reword yours too,” I suggested.
She thought about it for a few seconds, then said, “Nah, better if it’s you. We don’t want a lesbian because they won’t want to include you.”
This was typically considerate of Sadie and one of the things I liked about her.
“Whoever it is is going to be in bed with a very sexy woman,” I said. “She might not be able to stop herself.”
“That’s cool,” she replied. “That would be great. As long as it’s balanced.”
At that moment I was full of love for Sadie and if we had been together in person I would have wrapped my arms around her and told her so.
As soon as we finished our conversation – both of us excited and giggly – I got to work on a new profile, having created an extra email account because some of these sites won’t allow a second profile with the same one.
The new profile was easy to create because we had discussed it.
I called it Interracial Trio.
“Mature white man and black woman seek Indian female for threesome. Looks unimportant. We are very discreet and respectful and expect the same.”
The part about looks being unimportant was Sadie’s idea and I agreed with her. Neither of us had film star looks but we were attractive to one another and happy to be seen together. In fact, I was very proud to be with Sadie and she seemed to feel the same about me. Obviously, we wanted to find a good-looking woman, but we didn’t want to put off the modest ones who didn’t see themselves as Bollywood material.
I trawled the site for candidates and found just one possibility. I’m not sure if Indian women don’t go in for this kind of thing or if they prefer to be with men of their own culture, but you don’t find a lot of them on a race-neutral site. The Trinidad site was full of black people because they are the majority of the population. There were a handful of white women and no Chinese at all.
I sent a little teaser to Guyanagirl, asking her to read the profile.
By eight in the evening, she had responded and after a few nervous formalities, she wanted to know what we expected of her.
“You will be kissed and caressed lovingly and intimately,” I told her. “We will kiss you and lick you all over and when you’re ready, I will fuck you. What you do to us is up to you.”
I kept Sadie informed. She wasn’t keen on having her picture on display, but had sent me one of her fully clothed in a smart, sensible black dress, with her face obscured by some art software or other. I sent Guyanagirl the sensible Sadie pic plus one of me full-frontal, cropped at the neck. She sent me a message saying “Oh my god!!”, and a photo of her in a one-piece swimsuit with big black sunglasses and her hand over her mouth. She was slender; not exactly skinny, but narrow of shoulder and hip. Nice big breasts. I liked her a lot and I knew Sadie would too. When she saw the pic, she said, “Grab her. Soon as she can.”
I left it there for the night.
Guyanagirl and I moved off the site and on to email. Her name was Kira and she was a laboratory technician. We chatted about this and that; she was interested in local history and would spend some lunchtimes at the library. She was also interested in where her family had come from. The Indian community in Trinidad and Tobago consisted largely of workers brought over when slavery had been abolished and the plantation owners had to try to keep their businesses going without the benefit of free labour. The Indians were not slaves as such, but were paid very little: “indentured” workers, they were referred to as, the word meaning contracted, so they weren’t forced to work, but bound by a contract that presumably was better than what was on offer at home.
Sometimes I found myself deep in an email conversation with Kira, forgetting that she was Guyanagirl and that we were in touch because we planned to have sex together along with Sadie.
Kira had to go away for a week for a course, but said she would keep in touch and we could get together when she returned.
That Sunday, Sadie’s family threw a party and I was invited, not as the boyfriend but just as a friend. It was a big family and her parents lived in a large house in Arima, not too far from Port-of-Spain, where Sadie and I lived.
It was loud, of course. In the Caribbean, they don’t think they’re having a good time unless a PA system is being abused to distortion level. There was a reggae band as well as a DJ at the front and a row of trestle tables sagged under the weight of a feast. Curry crab, curry goat (they don’t go in for ‘ied’ endings in that part of the world), saltfish and ackee, and a range of salads that seemed to have been provided by someone else – someone who wasn’t obsessed with being of Caribbean origin.
Beneath a tree in the back yard sat a middle-aged woman with long dreadlocks and African features but pale skin. This was Sadie’s Aunty Ginny, who lived mainly in England and was here for a few months, as she was every year. She was dressed like the English idea of a gypsy, in flowing robes and a headscarf, and was giving tarot readings and gazing into a crystal ball. To help with creating her own little world, she had an iPod with a small external speaker that was oozing 60s and 70s hippie music.
“Incredible String Band,” she would inform me when I asked, and when she realised I was interested she would call out, “Love, the Forever Changes album” or “Doctor Strangely Strange: nobody’s ever heard of them.” I was fascinated by Aunty Ginny and found myself hanging around nearby, eavesdropping on the readings given by Virginia Fox, as she styled herself.
“Virginia Fox,” I enunciated slowly and with an implied request for clarification.
“To be more correct,” she said in a dry tone, “Virginia likes to fuck but doesn’t get asked much anymore.”
I teetered on the verge of saying, “I would” before deciding it wouldn’t be a gallant thing to do after all. But it was there on my face and she saw it. She gave me a sad, stoical smile.
Ginny was Sadie’s favourite aunt and they were as close as mother and daughter – in fact, Sadie told her things she wouldn’t dare confide in her Mum about. So Sadie approved of my obvious immediate connection with Ginny. This older woman radiated sensuality. She smoked weed like it was sustenance and for the first time, I saw the sharing of a joint as an intimate thing. Sometimes she would take the hot white object further into her mouth than was necessary so that she could give me some of her saliva when she passed it to me.
When Ginny and Sadie disappeared for half an hour I sat in the gypsy’s chair and turned the music up.
It was a long, hazy day, and Sadie and I decided to end it together, making love in her bed after an X-certificate taxi ride in which she sucked my cock with no regard to the presence of the driver. That night was heavenly, like a dream. Sadie was less stoned than I was, and she treated me to the most sensual, dreamlike sexual experience of my life. She was all over me, bouncing up and down on my dick, then sliding up my body and sitting on my face, rubbing her crotch all over me and presenting me with her arse to lick, which I did gratefully, and adoringly. I began to think I could spend my life with this woman and her fabulous body, her womanly loving ways, and her fearlessness. I started a rambling, impromptu speech about this but she shushed me, smothering me with her ample body and kissing me until I slipped further into heaven and fell asleep.
The next morning I went home and when I checked the site, there was a message from Biryani Mami, who must have been new.
“Might be interested,” she said. “Is your girlfriend bi?”
“Yes,” I replied. “We both want to do nice things with you.”
“Photos?” she asked.
I sent Biryani Mami the pic of Sadie in a dress plus the full-frontal one of me.
“Now you,” I suggested. She sent a picture of her in denim shorts and a singlet, sitting cross-legged on a rock by the sea. Long, silky black hair and big eyes, brown skin, and a faraway expression. She sent no words with the picture.
Sadie was delighted at the quick response and wanted to meet her, but we had agreed that meeting Kira was a weekend project and we were hoping to have her over that Saturday night. Biryani Mami would have to wait.
By the time Saturday arrived and Kira appeared at my door, I felt like I had known her for years through our mutual love of libraries and research. I found myself introducing her to Sadie as one would a colleague to a business contact. Sadie, though, had one thing on her mind, and it wasn’t 19th-century churches. She fetched drinks – large measures of rum and coke – and arranged us in the chairs around the coffee table. She was wearing a different black dress: this one was close-fitting and short, showing off her bountiful chest and her full, shiny, naughty thighs. With her high heels and lipstick, there was little doubt what he was thinking of.
Kira looked like the same person as in her photos, which is not always the case in these circumstances. Her slender shape was in marked contrast to Sadie’s voluptuousness. She was wearing a white blouse and short, burgundy skirt and she looked smart and attractive, but not dressed to kill. Suddenly I felt protective of her. I was certainly full of desire for her, but the idea of this being purely a sexual liaison seemed wrong somehow. I was crazy about Sadie but also getting slightly obsessed with Kira.
I went to the bathroom to think, piss and rinse my dick, and when I returned, the girls were not in the lounge. I heard voices from the bedroom and saw them standing, wrapped around each other, Sadie feeling Kira up beneath her skirt. I walked behind them and unzipped Sadie’s dress, sliding it down and placing it on a chair. Then I unhooked her bra and placed it on the dress. Finally, I knelt and pulled her panties down and off. She stepped out of her shoes and leaned forward with her hands on the bed.
“Vic likes to lick my ass,” she said. Kira had undressed and was standing, enraptured, watching us.
“You can do it if you like,” Sadie told her warmly. I stood up and Kira replaced me behind the Caribbean queen, tentatively getting her tongue going as if she had never done it before. I knelt on the bed and kissed Sadie, then slid off again and got down beside Kira, kissing her arms and her back and down, down to her crack. She gasped as I put my tongue between her buttocks, then adjusted her position to give me a better angle.
A minute later we were all lying on the bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing and licking whomever and whatever came to hand. Then I was on my back with Kira sitting up on me, my cock buried in her cunt, and Sadie straddling my head, opening herself up for me. If she could have turned inside out, she would have, so I could lick the inside of her body.
Sadie could tell I was getting close to cumming.
“Save some for me,” she said admonished, and Kira lifted herself off my thrusting cock.
She lay on her back and invited Sadie to lick her pussy, in a neatly trimmed little garden with its pretty, rose-like lips. Sadie needed no further encouragement and was immediately engrossed in lapping at Kira’s cunt. I got behind Sadie and started to fuck her.
“Make me cum, Sadie,” Kira squeaked and screwed up her face as the big woman between her legs sucked her clitoris. I was so turned on watching them that I was losing control and I sensed that the girls were in the same condition. There was no way any of us would be able to stick to whatever plans we had vaguely worked out. We would just have to do it again and again in different configurations, but for now, we were all going over the same waterfall in our helpless canoes. I banged Sadie from behind as I unloaded my desperate cargo into her and Kira saw the look of ecstasy in her first female lover’s eyes and it took her over the edge too. We collapsed into a gasping, writhing heap, sweating, hearts pounding, and smiling helplessly.
“Wow,” Sadie hissed. “That was incredible.”
“Incredible,” Kira echoed.
“You two are the sexiest women in the world,” I declared, and we all stroked and kissed what we could find.
Sadie had emerged as the MC. “Time for you to shag our special guest,” she announced, walking over to the chair and sitting in it. I kissed Kira and ran my hands all over her firm, silky body. She slid down and sucked me, licking the length of my cock, kissing my balls, and sucking my scrotum. She was doing it like she meant it, as if she was doing more than having sex. She was making love to me, demonstrating her love through sex. I knew Sadie would be aware of this and just hoped it wouldn’t upset her. On the other hand, I had seen how the two of them looked at each other. They might not have been in love – not yet, anyway – but each clearly thought the other was pretty wonderful.
I fucked Kira face to face and we kissed and I sucked her lower lip like a baby with a nipple. My right hand quickly found its way around her hip and into her crack and I just caressed her there with my middle finger. I was careful not to suggest through my movements that I wanted to penetrate her arse. I hoped she would just understand that I thought she was wonderful and there was no part of her I didn’t adore. Then she did it for me. By some subtle pelvic movement, she impaled herself on my finger and she looked deep into my eyes to verify that I had noticed what she had done and why. I kissed her again and we stayed locked at the lips as we came to simultaneous, heaving orgasms.
“Shit…” Sadie said. “You two…” She sounded approving.
We made love several more times that night and Kira was persuaded to stay over, so we did it again in the morning. When she eventually left we were all quietly terrified that we would never be able to do it again. “Call me.” “You call me.” “Take care, lovely girl.” “My first. Love you both.”
Sadie went off to meet her sister and I caught up with the digital events that had happened while we were busy.
A message from Biryani Mami. “Hey. If mutually convenient dates for both of you are difficult to come by, I can always meet you one by one. Let me know.” Ordinarily, that would have been exciting, but being tired and loved out, I didn’t pay much attention.
I checked again later and there was another message. “Seriously. We can arrange a trio one day, but for now, I can get to know you, can’t I?”
I decided not to tell Sadie about this. I didn’t intend to do anything about it but it violated an unspoken agreement I thought we had: a threesome was a threesome, not individual pairings.
We arranged for a return match with Kira the next weekend and Sadie and I took a few days away from each other – which was our natural state, after all.
Biryani Mami sent me something every day. “Confession time,” she said eventually. “That pic isn’t me. I’m not Indian. I’m not that young or that slim. But I know you will like me and I like you already. Forgive me and give me a try.” She attached a body pic wearing a small bra and a tiny thong. Her skin was pale and not just soft but a bit loose. She had tattoos of clouds just above her pubic hair, which I could see was left natural. One cloud about an inch wide, another diagonally below it, slightly smaller, and a third with a halo on it, just peeking out above what would have been the waistband if it was anywhere near her waist.
“Discreet,” I sent her.
“Absolutely,” she replied. I wasn’t sure why I was so worried about this. Sadie and I were still not an item, not officially, but I felt I was betraying her. And not just her, but also Kira, who had lodged herself in my subconscious in the drawer marked “girlfriends”.
I arranged to meet Biryani Mami at a beach bar. She hadn’t given me her name but told me I could call her Biry. I would recognise her because she would be all in green, she said.
The sun was going down but it was still very warm when I arrived. I sat and tried not to drink too fast, a bottle of a local brew, Carib, sweating in front of me.
Nobody in the room was wearing anything green. It’s not a popular colour for clothes: makes you look pasty. I tried to look nonchalant, but a man waiting for a first date to show up probably has that look about him, watching the door, unable to relax.
After 20 minutes a familiar figure walked in. Aunty Ginny, looking great in a denim skirt and a man’s Levi shirt. She stopped and surveyed the room. When she caught sight of me I waved bashfully. Caught in the act, although really I was doing nothing wrong, and if anyone would understand the situation it was Ginny. She got herself a rum punch and came over.
“So what’s happening?” she asked brightly. “Waiting for Sadie?”
“No,” I said. “Just someone. Sadie and I aren’t, you know, official. I like her a lot, but…”
Ginny patted me on the arm. “I’m only teasing,” she said and picked up the drinks menu. She began reading out the name of the cocktails. “Ever had one of those?” she would say, and if I hadn’t, she would order us one each. This went on for half an hour until the bartender could hardly keep up and nor could I.
“She does like you, you know,” Ginny said. “A lot. And she told me about the Indian girl. You both like her, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t meeting her,” I said uncomfortably.
“I know,” she replied, and then, “Anyway, it’s not going to happen, is it?” I shook my head and smiled at her. “Probably for the best,” Ginny said. After a pause, she lit up. Like an eco-friendly light bulb. “Hey, we’d better get something to eat. Priya’s is just up the road. Fancy that?”
“Sure,” I said, and we both stood up. “What I could really do with,” Ginny said, “is a biryani.”
