Never a Bride follows the continuing adventures of Kat McKinney, self-styled wedding slut. Kat doesn’t envy her married and to-be-married friends. Really. Well, maybe she envies them the party. And their ability to be sure of someone. Maybe that.
But if some of those married and to-be-married friends want to include her from time to time…
Well, who is she to disappoint them?
Never a Bride is being released on July 31, along with KD West’s collection of ménage à trois tales, The Visitor & Other Threesomes! Go to the Stillpoint/Eros Facebook page to sign up for the release day event, including giveaways of ebooks, audiobooks, and a signed copy of a print book!
(Note: the following story includes graphic depictions of sexual activity between — and among — adults. FFM threesome. Readers 18+ only!)
Never a Bride: Kat McKinney, Marital Aid (Henry and Sarah)
It’d been two months before, and I was in Henry and Sarah’s living room and Henry was pouring me my fourth (fifth? eighth?) drink of the night. Sarah was out of town on business and I’d run into Henry on the street. You’d be surprised just how often that happens in New York. The both of us were out running errands and didn’t have plans for the rest of the night. You’d be surprised how rarely that happens. He invited me over for dinner.
“I make too much food when Sarah’s gone,” he told me, putting down a plate of gnocchi and balsamic strawberry pork chops.
Henry is the kind of guy who makes this for dinner. He’s not a chef; he just actually cooks. Like a grown up. Henry and Sarah are the most grown up friends I have. They both have real jobs, they cook real food. They live in a nice neighborhood in an apartment I’d stab someone for. They have a great marriage, one of those bulletproof partnerships of equals. The kind I’ve always wanted. I feel like I’m in a movie when I’m with them, or a tv show. Because who actually has a life like this?
Henry is a solidly attractive man. A classic fedora of a man (before fedoras got douche-y.) Manly but not butch. Loose but not crass. With his thick, dark hair and sharp, dark eyes, he would be totally at home in a black and white film. He is a man who will age well. It occurred to me that Sarah is surprisingly fun for someone so sturdily practical. She has made sound choices in her life, all around. She speaks of marrying Henry as if it was inevitable but I imagine her choosing to marry him, looking at him on display in Bed Bath & Beyond, saying ‘Yes, that one will age well. That is a classic. I’ll take him.’
We’d never been alone before, I realized. Henry and I. I’m friends with Sarah. Henry is her husband. We’re friends by association. But why should that matter? The conversation flowed as easily as the booze and I trotted out an old line that had made Nick laugh, so I use it in conversation when appropriate. “I just don’t think I could get a tattoo,” I said. “I mean, this is me we’re talking about. What on earth am I going to commit to for the rest of my life?”
Henry quirked a smile in his charmingly sardonic way. “I feel like I’m picking up on a not so subtle metaphor here.” There’s something strange in the way that he’s hot. Not hot, maybe, but attractive. He is solidly attractive in a slightly strange way. Like he could be the romantic lead in a Spike Jonze movie.
“The thing is,” he continued, “a tattoo isn’t going to snore. It isn’t going to change. You’re not going to wake up one morning and realized that you’ve got a totally different tattoo than you meant to have.”
Oh. I stifled a sigh. I guess nothing is perfect. I know it seems like I’m jealous of Sarah, because I am, but I was genuinely sad to realize this. I might have felt a little smug if I found out that her job wasn’t as great as I’d thought it was, or her apartment wasn’t as perfect it seemed. But I never once thought or hoped that their marriage had cracks.
“I mean, you’re not going to get bored having sex with the same tattoo for the rest of your life.” He finished and took a sip of his drink.
Oh. The problem was sex. The problem is always sex.
People say that infidelity is a symptom of some other problem in a relationship but I don’t really believe that. I think there are plenty of people who are in really great relationships that just like fucking other people. Or, hell, just want to fuck other people. Because fucking other people is fun and people like having fun.
And that was when I realized that I was alone with my friend’s husband and he was telling me he wanted to fuck other women. And the only good reason to tell someone that is if you want to be fucking them.
I should have left. But I couldn’t leave. I mean I couldn’t leave right then. Because I didn’t want him to think I that I thought he was hitting on me. Or that I was, like, shocked that he would admit to the drawbacks of marriage and I must call Sarah at once. I didn’t want him to feel guilty or weird or embarrassed. I might have also just been too drunk and lazy to get up and go home right away. I will admit it was a factor. And I thought maybe I was making this up. Maybe he was just telling me this because this is what you tell your slutty friend. This is my role in the friendship ecosystem: Kat McKinney, the Slutty Friend, the friend of no judgment. I figured I’d just just steer the conversation elsewhere. I have a brown belt in flirting Aikido.
“You have this thing,” Nick later told me, when I’d first related this story to him. “You want to be assured that you’re the hottest girl in the room. That’s probably what he picked up on. Thought you were flirting with him.”
I didn’t really like this revelation about myself. I didn’t want it to be true. But if Nick said it, he was probably right. Still, it’s weird to think that I put something out there without knowing it. I didn’t say I have a black belt.
I got up to leave, finally, and I thought I was in the clear. There had been a few more close shaves, flirting-wise, but I thought it would be okay. I just had to get my coat on, bundle up, and… and he was standing very close to me. Dangerously close.
Henry is very, very, tall. At that close range, with the light behind him, he was a 2001 monolith of a man. If I’d touched him there would have been some freaky psychedelic light show, or… I’d learn how to use tools or something, whatever, I never saw the whole movie. He was so close that I would have to fake right and juke left like a running back to get out of there. I was trying to be good. I was trying to not hook up with my friend’s husband. But not hooking up with people isn’t exactly my strong suit. I’m the Slutty Friend, that’s my whole deal, I’ve put a fair amount of work into figuring out how to get people into bed and not much thought into how to avoid it. And, I kinda hate this about myself, but a small part of me feels like I have a reputation to uphold.
He put his arms on my shoulders and said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Oh god, I thought here it comes.
“Do you…?” He licked his lips. “Do you think you could get me and Sarah into one of those sex parties you go to?”
Oh. Oh! Thank fucking god!
“Oh, uh, I think so. I mean, if Sarah wants to go.” I fumbled a little while my mind switched tracks. “I… did she say she wants to?”
“No, but she seemed like she might be interested.” He took a step back and sat back down again. “What’s involved exactly?”
“Oh, well, it’s not, like, a free for all. It’s just, uh, couples mostly, having sex in a place where other people are also having sex. I mean, sometimes they meet someone and swap or, like, add a third or whatever.”
“And would you…” he looks at the floor but raises and eyebrow as though he’s looking at me “maybe, want to be our third?”
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I know this role: Kat McKinney: Marital Aid.
“Yeah, sure.” I smiled softly, welcoming in a no-big-deal way. It’s important in these instances to seem interested but not eager — just on the friendly side of neutral, and always, always, equally interested in both parties.
It’s actually a shame that it’s illegal to make a job of this, because I’m really good at it. And I’ve had the practice.
If you’ve never been to a sex party, let me dispel some myths; It’s not a free-for-all Prince song, nor is it a fantastical realm of the wealthy, nympho elite. There’re no velvet cloaks and Venetian masks. Not at the parties I’ve been to, anyway. It’s just everyday people, some attractive, some not, all very polite.
Manners are important in group sex. If you want people to get down in public, they need to feel comfortable. And manners are meant to put people at ease. So people ask before touching, take a ‘no’ with grace and ease, and are very clear with their invitations.
So a sex party is more like a mixer than Caligula. At the beginning at least.
“So what do we do?” Henry asked, leaning down so I could hear him over the music.”
“Just get comfortable,” I said to them both. It was important that I divide my attention equally between them. “Have some drinks. Check out the area. Try the food, it’s fabulous.”
“So it’s just… like a regular party?” Sarah asked, tucking a strand of straight blond hair behind one ear and surreptitiously checking out the crowd.
“Well,” I said as a naked man roller bladed by, “kinda.”
So we acted as if it were, in fact, a regular party and, in many ways, it was. The only exception was that people slowly started to peel off to back rooms in twos, threes, and fours.
The back rooms must have been starting to fill up because after a while people started getting frisky on the couches around us. Sarah didn’t seem to notice but Henry did raising an intrigued eyebrow. He didn’t want to be the first to say something, though.
A man on the couch across from us moaned and Sarah finally looked over. A woman held back her blond mermaid hair as her cheeks hollowed around the man’s cock.
“Oh my.” Sarah said, like she’d just heard some juicy gossip. Her plush red lips pursed to take a sip of her cocktail.
“It’s, uh, it’s surprisingly erotic,” Henry said, both his eyebrows up, “and more than a little surreal.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Sarah shifted to look around her, “but I mean, how does it start?”
“The same way most sex does,” I made my voice soft, inviting, permissive, “with a kiss.”
She smiled, getting my hint. She looked flattered and maybe a little bit like she just accepted a dare. She leaned in to kiss me, soft as a moth’s wing at first but with a growing slow burn of intensity.
We looked back at Henry, his classic face made comical by an expectant smile. We giggled a little and she pulled him over to me.
His kiss was slow but strong and I could feel the power coiled in his body. Sarah was lithe against me and when they kiss I could see their familiarity. To each other, their touch was homecoming. Henry started by unzipping her dress. This had been his idea, and I was the guest star, so was important that we make Sarah our focus. It’s hard to feel insecure when there are two people showering you with attention.
Sarah kissed me as Henry took off her dress. I let Sarah take off mine. Her hands were soft, her fingers long, the tips of her nails moved lightly along my skin. I don’t think she’d been with a girl before. Something about her touch was more appreciative than lustful, the wonder of exploration rather than the satisfaction of attainment. Henry’s hands were all strong, gripping, desire. I could feel the roughness, the work he does with them, as he clutched my breasts. Making out with both of them was like chocolate and peanut butter, salty and sweet.
I gave Sarah’s nipple a soft lick, gauging the intensity she enjoys. With just a small lick, her whole body writhed. This is going to be fun. Henry crossed behind her and she turned her head to kiss him. My tongue circled her areola and she moaned into his mouth. Henry gripped her full breasts in his hands, presenting her nipples to me.
“She’s come this way before,” he told me. Oh, this was going to be fun! I let my tongue go wild, moving in spiraling circles, light little flicks, up, down, right, left, Xs and Os. Sarah’s body started thrashing. Henry held her in place. Her voice mounted to fever pitch as she moaned
“Oh, god. Oh, GOD. OH, GOD. OHHHH, GODDDDDDD!” Her whole body shuddered as she climaxed.
This was just too damn fun.
Henry slipped out of his pants and relieved Sarah of her panties. He slid himself into her from behind, spreading her legs wide so I could see his cock moving in and out of her. I knelt down to lick her clit, letting my tongue play the same way it had with her nipples. I could keep that up as long as Henry was going slow, which he did for a while. While I was down there, I gave his balls and the base of his cock a few, long, slow, licks, tasting Sarah’s juices on him.
Sarah was overcome by our bombardment of her senses, only able to say “Oh, god” but in a variety of tones and inflections. As arousal stiffened her body, Henry started to speed up and she began to rock her pelvis on his. I rose up between her legs to kiss her. but I kept a finger on her clit, working those same ups, downs, Xs and Os. Sarah started moving herself, bouncing on Henry’s cock. His hands free, Henry caressed my body, enjoying the novelty of my flesh. I my hands came up to roll Sarah’s nipples between my fingers and I leaned forward to kiss Henry as Sarah came, moaning into the curve of my shoulder.
His mouth was just like him; strong and sturdy, his tongue reserved but forceful. I wanted to feel him taste me. I wanted to feel his cock inside me, his body against mine. But I could tell Sarah wasn’t there yet. And I was not here to get in their way.