I had a boyfriend in college, he was a grad student and I was an undergrad. He had broken my hymen and put me to take care of his laundry. Sex was often, mostly missionary, but from time to time he took me when I least expected it. After he graduated he took a job two hours away and came to visit every other weekend.
After a while he started talking about this girl at work, Charly. Everything was Charly this and Charly that. All about Charly. As his girl it was unsettling that he only talked about another girl. After one lengthy story about Charly I broke the ice about it, “that’s nice, but is she good in bed”. He stammered, what was I accusing him of? I repeated my question, was she good in bed. If she was, fine, but if she wasn’t why did he keep talking about her.
We agreed to just let it be, I was his country girl and Charly was his city girl and it was up to him to travel to keep us both happy. As Thanksgiving got close I told him I wanted to meet this Charly and more than anything I wanted to see what she had, nothing on, just her birthday suit. My boyfriend stammered again, I told him that was alright I would let Charly see what I had to offer, nothing on. Then I told him that I wanted to lay in a bed with he and Charly and he would make us both happy.
The arguing got heavy but I insisted. Lots of men could keep two women happy, why not him. And I was sure Charly would welcome the opportunity. Women need to know their competition first hand, tits and ass are fine, but what kind of tits and ass are we talking about.
We got together on the Wed before Thanksgiving, at a motel with a king sized bed. We had the place, and we undressed piece by piece until he was looking at us both naked. I put my hand under Charly’s boob and lifted it, then touched her warm spot between her legs. I asked her if she wanted to kiss, get wet first.
We didn’t give him an opening. We showed him that we could take care of ourselves without him. In today’s world two girls is nothing, college teaches you that. No toys, just hot lips and warm hands and nothing was off limits. We didn’t need his tool to reach orgasm. We gave up after several orgasms and just laid there looking at him with his dick in his hand.
“Well, aren’t you going to make us happy?”
The backstory is that she and I had talked on the phone about it, and we were both determined to make him understand we were more than capable of being happy without him. He had to earn us, if he wanted us, he had to make us his. It was up to him, he wanted a country wife and a city wife, well then, make us happy.
