Miami à Trois

Photo by Helmut Newton, Two Pairs Of Legs In Black Stockings, Paris, 1979, Courtesy Sothebys 2011

Ever curious about bringing your partner to visit AOS? A couples experience can be life-changing! Whether it’s celebrating a special occasion, learning and having fun together, or reigniting a spark, we are here at your service! Nothing pleases us more than to please you…both of you! As a tribute to those special couple friends we’ve developed over the years, and to perhaps intrigue those of you who have always wondered, we’ve decided to start a series of posts exploring how one special couple started discovering the world of kink together. Here’s the first installment written by a very special friend of AOS…


The first time we did it was on vacation.

I guess that’s usually when people feel like they can engage in deviant behavior, and I had already run the gamut from being bad to downright dirty. Here I was, in Miami, cheating on my boyfriend with an ex. I told my boyfriend that I had gone to Florida with friends, under the guise of a college reunion trip. Little did he know I had planned a rendezvous with the ex for a weekend tryst instead — our second one in less than a month.

Three years ago, the ex was “the one that got away.” But a few weeks prior to Miami, we found our paths crossed in Montreal. What had been just initially a casual meet up turned into a full-fledged sex-fueled weekend wherein we realized that the horny-can’t-get-enough-of-you-cream-my-panties lust we had for each other long ago was still very much alive and kicking.

And so…Miami was surreal. We were fucking the shit out of each other, rolling on Molly, drunk on vodka, champagne and the secret knowledge that no one in the entire world knew where we were or who we were with.

I surprised myself when I told him that I wanted to expand our sexual experience together. Like any living, breathing, hot blooded, sexually active, supremely horny male, he had mentioned wanting to try a threesome with me on several occasions. We were close to entertaining the idea of it once, prior to breaking up, but it never really ended up working out. Emotions, expectations and insecurities got in the way of an already tenuous relationship. So the effort was abandoned, and we both assumed it was never to be revisited again.

But a funny thing happens when you break up with someone who loves you and then hurts you. The things that you do to each other during (and after) the process of the relationship’s dissolution reveal the ugliest sides of both of your natures. At this point, we had done all we could to hurt each other, so what else was there to lose? I had an oblivious boyfriend waiting for me back home, with a slew of our own ongoing problems to contend with. And the ex had a life that I was no longer a part of. So that’s when I decided — I would approach a threesome in a wildly converse way (at least, in regard to my usual stance on the matter) — I would shed my emotional self and Just. Have. Fun.

He was the one who suggested seeking out a professional, especially for my first time. Several years my elder, he himself had accrued years of experience, so I trusted his opinion. And so, giggling like bad kids skipping class, we poured over listings on Craigslist, Backpage and Eros while slowly emptying the hotel room minibar. After a few emails, one listing materialized into a pimp named Tony* who was more than happy to text over his bevy of available girls. Tony sent photos of approximately ten escorts in all different shapes and sizes. They were in various states of undress, posing over cars, in bikinis, on motorcycles (hey, this was Miami after all), giving us their most imploringly sultry, sexy and slutty looks.

“What are you looking for?” the ex asked me.

“What do you mean?” I said confused. He had just defined commonly used acronyms to me, like GFE, BBBJ, CIM and my newbie head was spinning. Who knew soliciting for sex meant having to speak in code? This whole scenario was becoming more real by each passing minute and with every new girl Tony suggested. I was beginning to panic. Just a little bit.

When someone new is thrown into the mix with you and a significant other, fears of being rejected both emotionally and physically abound. My insecurities were threatening to rise up and convince me to abort the threesome, for the sake of self-preservation. Did I really want to put myself in a position where I could easily be rejected? I was having visuals of slutty girls traipsing into our hotel room in g-strings, shiny tits slathered in Vaseline and begging my horny ex to have him cum on their faces, while glaring at me in contempt. And where would I be in that scenario? Standing awkwardly in a corner, holding a towel for the post-coital wipe down?

“What kind of girl are you looking for?” He asked me, interrupting my thoughts.

Ooooh. I never thought about that one before. “Um, a nice girl.” I responded. Nice girls I could handle. Nice girls wouldn’t be disrespectful to us, to me. Or so I hoped.

We finally decided on one of Tony’s girls named Mercedes. Fittingly enough, in her photo she was leaning on the front bumper of a convertible, legs wide spread. She had a round, cherub face and dimples, and she looked so cute and nice. I crossed my fingers, hoping Mercedes wouldn’t be someone who would throw me any shade. The last thing I wanted was to battle it out with a bitch.

We made arrangements for her to come later that night, and as the hour to her arrival grew near, I became more and more anxious. He could tell I was nervous, and he kept trying to engage me in conversation as we waited for her in our room. It was really quite sweet. But it wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling apprehension about what was about to go down.

We heard a knock on the door. I motioned for him to let her in while I sat by the open window, smoking a cigarette and balancing my drink on my lap.

Mercedes was a bit older than the photo we had seen of her. Gone were the round cheeks but the dimples remained. She had a slight Spanish lit, peppered with a lot of Miami attitude. He told her it was my first time, and she smiled. She took my hand and led me to the bed.

“Can I see what’s under this?” she asked, tugging gently at my dress.

I nodded. She then lifted my dress up over her head and giggled approvingly. She slipped out of her own dress with ease and let it fall to the floor, revealing that she was wearing nothing at all underneath.

“Can I touch you?” I nodded again as she proceeded to unhook my bra and take one of my breasts into her mouth. I put my hand behind her head. What was I supposed to do with my other hand? I felt like an awkward teenage boy, touching a girl for the very first time. Where do my damn hands go? I sighed as I felt her teeth nip at my nipples. Wow, that felt good.

I looked over at the ex. He smiled back at me. He was holding his drink with one hand, while the other stroked the ever-growing bulge in his pants. I grew wet watching him watch us, and felt Mercedes slip a finger into my panties and inside my tight, wet cunt.

He made his way over to the bed and took his clothes off. At the sight of his hard on, Mercedes moved towards him and proceeded to give him a sloppy, all consuming blow job. For a second I faltered — is this where I’d be forgotten? But he took my hand and guided it to the back of her head, nodding for me to push her down as he choked her throat with his cock. I stood up next to him, and we kissed. It was fucking amazing.

When he started to fuck her missionary style, I hesitated again. I felt as though I were an astral projection of myself, watching his face from another perspective. I recognized his carnal gaze, ready and willing to devour and be devoured. This time, he was too caught up in slamming up against her pussy to guide me into their embrace. And in that moment, I shook off my insecurities and climbed onto the bed, pushing myself between them and sat my pussy squarely on Mercedes’ face. He looked up, surprised, and then broke into a giant grin. He grabbed my hair and pulled me into a passionate kiss.

I don’t know how many times I came that night. I know how many times he came — three. Once with Mercedes there and two more times after her hour was up and she had left. We greeted the Miami dawn, sleepy, sticky in our juices, smiling like happy children. We fell asleep wrapped up in a tangle of each other’s limbs.

We never saw Mercedes again, but we do still think about her fondly. After all, she was the catalyst that brought us closer together, closer than we had ever been to anyone else before. In retrospect, it was so imperative that she held no prior ties to either of us. Her anonymity was liberating for my first time, and her professionalism left me feeling empowered. Never would I ever have thought that a threesome could have made me feel more secure and yet, also more vulnerable. There was a level of intimacy that was had that night, which I never knew was even possible. Turns out, the ex felt the same way too.

In fact, a year later, on the day of our wedding, when the ex was no longer an ex but the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with, we joked about sending Mercedes flowers to thank her.

Now, whenever a friend of mine shyly tells me that she/he has been contemplating having a threesome with her/his boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/fuck buddy/friend, the first thing I say is this:

“Hire a professional.”


*Tony the pimp is in no way associated with AOS, and the services described herein do not reflect those offered by AOS. This is an anecdote not connected with AOS. But don’t worry, a review of AOS by this wonderful couple is coming soon!

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