How many threesomes start with a roast dinner? Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with gravy and all the trimmings in the pub? I’ll wager none, but here we are and that’s what she’s eating. But she’s hungover and blonde and has even bigger boobs than me, so I forgive her. He’s suggested we get together – he’s told me he’s fucked her twice; she tells me once.

I’ve ordered some fries but I didn’t expect to be chowing down before our exploits. I didn’t expect to be drinking this much either, but I realise he’s the inexperienced one, whereas we’ve both done it before.  Although I try and explain that it doesn’t mean anything; one threesome isn’t anything like another. Like a rose. Bloody rose wine.

What I like about her is her clipped accent. Her utter nonchalance. When she goes to the loo I ask him if this is actually going to happen. He tells me she is “always like this”. And I marvel at how men and women ever get into bed together.

Far too many glasses of wine for me later we are in the corner shop buying more. I’ve brought champagne which is now warm. I feel uncomfortable in a red dress and stockings and suspenders. I nearly bailed altogether; before I left the house I had a very bad feeling about this.

But I wanted to do it for him.

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Back at his place he pours us more wine and we settle down on the sofa side by side. I say this, I’m quite hazy by now. Does he stand there looking at us and pull his cock out? Or does she go to change into a red basque and hold ups? Because that’s what she’s now wearing. Does she have knickers on or do I pull them aside to taste her? While I’m doing that he’s kissing her or am I straddling her kissing her first.

I remember sucking his cock with her. I remember her pussy is as smooth and juicy as it should be and I remember making him taste it, making him lick my fingers.

We move to the bedroom and this is where it gets sketchy. Reader, this is where I point out that you will recall from past form I rarely drink in the bedroom. A cheeky glass of bubbly yes. By this point I am pretty drunk. By this point he hasn’t touched me. I think she has been fingering me with those long talons. Did I suck on her DD breasts? I don’t know reader, I really don’t know.

Now she is licking my pussy while he fucks her from behind. Yet again it is the hottest thing I’ve seen. The concentration on his face, her moans as her face is squashed into my cunt. It seems to last forever, or until we get uncomfortable. I want him to fuck me now, but it doesn’t seem to happen. Instead I have a strap-on and am fucking her as she’s spread eagle on the bed, she’s loving it. He’s behind me and I don’t know what he’s doing. Is he tonguing me or spanking me? Is he doing anything?

Somehow we move positions because  I’m spanking her from behind. Quite hard. She isn’t telling me to stop. I don’t know what happens next but suddenly he is dressed and muttering something about feeding a neighbour’s cat.

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I lie back on the bed with her and we giggle about the afternoon. She asks if I want her to fuck me with the strapon. Sadly for you dear reader I don’t think this happened. He comes back and thinks we are laughing about him. We aren’t.

What I do know is that once she’s left he starts arguing with me. I’m crying and I don’t understand what he’s talking about. Something about me giving him dirty looks. I don’t ever argue with people and I don’t understand: because the things he’s saying I’ve said are alien to me. Did I become some drunken monster in a few hours? Or did he and is projecting onto me? I have my hands on his thighs, clinging onto someone I don’t understand. I’m in love with him and he has me all wrong. Reader, of all people you know, don’t you?

He goes to the loo and I find my phone, the dildos, my bag and my knickers. Somehow we’ve been arguing for an hour. I fumble to order an Uber which arrives so quickly I fly out of there and don’t say goodbye.