Another bizarre, but not necessarily erotic, “threesome” story:
November 1990
It was my freshman year in college. I was sitting in my dorm room late at night, listening to the radio. The deejay, Houston, had a sexy, deep voice. When he asked for requests, I called in. Two hours later, we were still on the phone with each other.
Houston’s show ended at 2am, and he wanted to come to my campus afterward. I didn’t feel comfortable having him in my dorm room without having met him first so I suggested that we meet in the town outside of my college’s campus. He offered to bring his friend (and the most popular deejay at his station), Arnie, with him. My best friend, Emily, was willing to join us so it was a “date.” The fact that it was 2:20am didn’t seem to faze us in the slightest.
Emily and I met Houston and Arnie on College Street, and stayed there chatting for almost an hour. Houston was older (late 20s or early 30s) with brown hair and brown eyes. He was 6’1” with a little extra pudding in the middle. His smile was warm and genuine.
Arnie, on the other hand, was younger, cuter and a Boston Boy through-and-through. He had a cockiness that could be attractive if you liked him or an instantaneous deal breaker if you didn’t. He clearly used his professional success as a way to meet women and expected to be fawned over. *Yawn*
We all went back to my dorm room to talk more. Arnie was actually interesting and friendly, once he took off his “I’m the Best DJ in Boston” veneer. By the time the clock hit 6am, my eyes were starting to close. As the guys walked out, Houston kissed me goodbye. He had soft lips, and his sweet kiss left me wanting more.
The following evening, Houston and I talked during his entire four-hour show. He mentioned that he and Arnie were off work on Friday, and wondered if we would like to go out on a double date. Houston said that they wanted to get a hotel suite and make it a special evening for us. Emily and I thought that sounded great.
Houston and Arnie arrived outside of our dorm at 8pm in a black Porsche 944. The car was beautiful, and as we hopped in the back seat, we had a feeling that this was going to be a memorable night. We got to the hotel suite, and the guys had several bottles of Malibu rum for us. (I had mentioned to Houston that Malibu was my drink of choice so he won points for that.) We poured some glasses and toasted the evening ahead. Then, Houston said,
“I have some bad news. One of the deejays is sick so I have to go into the studio for a couple of hours.”
“Boooo!” I cried.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.”
On his way out, Houston kissed me goodbye and talked privately with Arnie for a few minutes. Once Houston left, Emily, Arnie and I sat in the living room to watch television and drink more. Arnie stopped us in mid-conversation to take notes on a cocktail napkin, insisting that he had come up with a great joke for his next radio show. The first time, it was amusing. But by the fifth time, though, it was annoying.
Emily and I couldn’t stop laughing at Arnie, and we also couldn’t stop drinking. I can’t explain the logic – or lack thereof — behind our next moves, though. Somehow all three of us ended up in the bedroom. We didn’t talk about it beforehand. We didn’t discuss any ground rules. We just went in the other room and got naked. Really quickly.
Arnie alternated between kissing Emily and kissing me. We took his cock out of his white briefs, and both of us gave him a hand job. I had never done anything like that with another girl. Then, we threw a blow job into the mix. I think that Arnie kept waiting for Emily and I to start making out with each other, but that never happened. (She’s beautiful and I love her as a friend, but we never questioned our sexual orientation or cared to experiment with each other for the fun of it.)
Emily and I kept working Arnie’s cock. When he was finished (note: not we), Emily and I headed into the living room. Neither of us felt bad about what happened. Rather, it just felt like we had another crazy Emily and City Girl adventure.
I went back into the bedroom, while Emily watched TV. Arnie and I started kissing again and then I got on top of him and fucked him. It wasn’t particularly good, but after such an…umm…eventful evening, it seemed fitting that we had sex.
When Houston got back to the hotel, we all were in the living room. Houston saw the unmade bed, his face got red, and he called Arnie over to talk. Voices got raised pretty quickly. Apparently, Arnie had agreed to wait to hook up until Houston had gotten back from work. And, they had also decided that Arnie would pair off with Emily, and Houston with me. Since that wasn’t how the evening went, Houston was very mad at Arnie and said that we all needed to leave the hotel right away. Within five minutes, we packed up our stuff, and Houston drove us back to the dorm. I gave Houston a kiss on the lips goodbye, but he was still livid at Arnie.
Over the coming months, I talked to Houston from time-to-time, but never saw him again. It’s not my most entertaining college story, but the story of my second quasi-threesome still makes me laugh.
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