sex

"After four orgasm-riddled threesomes with a woman, she became my best friend."

WARNING: explicit content.

I was on my knees on the bed. Face down, ass up ready to meet my future best friend.

I had been positioned like that for a good four minutes and I felt like a dickhead.

He had told me to wait for them like that.

“Really? She will think this is hot?” my words lathered in whinge.

“Is this how all threesomes kick off?”

“Yes babe, no more questions,” he said as he aggressively pushed me on to the bed before giving me a kiss on my head.

I could hear her giggling with him in the living room. I could smell her opulent perfume when she entered the room. I could feel my heart racing as her soft hands touched me.

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“Go on, touch her young soft skin,” he smirks. A direct insult on the fact she was a lot older than me.

A tongue kiss, a blowjob and ten pumps later I had my head in between her legs.

“Tell me what you like,” I remark in my “sexiest” voice. Upon reflection I was trying a little too hard to look like I was straight out of the Porn Hub lesbian category.

I’d always loved women but she was different.

We giggled together throughout the threesome. We both talked too much when we were nervous and we both had the same self-deprecating humour. I was ready to braid her hair and prank call boys with her on a Saturday night right there and then.

We both fit the narcissist’s prey mound. She was under his spell as well. I secretly liked her but my God I hated her. I wanted the narcissist to myself.

After the three of us slept together on four orgasm-riddled occasions, he dumped me for her. Dick.

I spent the following four months cursing her name and wishing I could trip her in the hallway or at least shave her eyebrows in her sleep. She had good eyebrows.

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Then, she turns up at my work. She was freelancing at my work.

Bitch.

There she was in her stockings, heels and freshly cut fringe. I was well acquainted with her Instagram so I knew it must have been cut in at least the last three days.

I glared at her. She glared at me.

“Do you want to get a wine after work?”

I could hear the words coming out of my mouth but I couldn’t quite comprehend why I was saying them.

She accepted with a Brady Bunch smile. I was strangely excited.

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I suppose I’d always been a good Samaritan. If she was still seeing him I thought maybe I could save her. I could come to her rescue on my white horse like the Princess Charming she’d always dreamed of.

We sat opposite each other at the bar. We fell in friendship love right there. Head over heals in gal pal love. I wanted to slap a friendship bracelet on her wrist immediately.

We unravelled all of his lies.

We laughed about his bad breath, his try-hard fur coat and his creepy glasses. We spoke about our creative projects. She gave me the names of people to contact about my writing. We had so much in common and my God she had good eyebrows.

We never realised how manipulated we were. Narcissists prey on the people pleasers.

We have been beating ourselves up for years for falling for his games, believing his insults and seeing the world through his creepy-ass glasses.

We don’t talk about him anymore. We do barre classes, drink wine and eat Thai food. I babysit her kids and she even helped me get my latest job.

We always giggle when people ask how we met.

I’ve now traded his lies for her jokes, his insults for her advice and his aggression for her kindness.

Her vagina is the best and worst thing to ever happen to me and I wouldn’t trade her in for the world.

We are now boss ladies slaying life together and of course we always keep our asses down and our heads up.

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