PLEASE NOTE THIS IS A [SUCCESS] STORY

<< I forgot to tag this a success in the title & so far most messages are more r4r replies >>

Prologue

We searched for a man to join us for an MFM for five months (Dec 2021-April 2022) before finding who we were looking for. During those months, we dedicated an inordinate amount of our free time to reviewing responses and talking to different men. My pickiness was a huge part of why it took longer than expected - I’ll own up to that first and foremost. I’m picky about grammar & spelling, I’m picky about reciprocal engagement in conversation, I’m picky about reciprocal desire to give oral sex, I’m picky about appearance. All that is on me. However, my pickiness was far from the only factor that made this search so long & hard, which is what this prologue is about.

On Reddit, we heard from over 500 men. Of these, no more than 20% provided the simple information our post asked for, so we had about 100 responses to actually take under consideration. Of these 100, I was attracted to about 20% (again, thank you so much for being brave enough to show your face to this picky stranger online). Of those 20 respondents, two were catfish, so ultimately I was attracted to 18 men who provided the information we asked for.

To the ~100 men who read our post and took the time to respond thoughtfully: THANK YOU. I appreciate those of you who showed care and consideration in responding to what our post said rather than grunting out a Hail Mary message. I see you, I appreciate you; you kept my faith in mankind intact as so many other messages nearly sucked the living soul from my body - truly, I owe you a debt of gratitude for that alone.

Now about those soul-sucking messages…

Again, thank y’all who showed your faces. If there was attraction, you received photos of our faces in return. A few notes on the photos that (quite) a few of y’all chose to send, however:

1. Why do some of y’all think I can tell whether I’m attracted to you based on up-close dick shots alone? Would you be able to tell that you think I’m attractive based on an up-close pussy shot alone?
2. You increase your chances (with me, and probably with other women) by omitting from your photos toilets, urinals, toilet paper, and other items used for human excretion. For me, photos taken in a bathroom are fine - but I don’t want to be forced to look at items that have direct contact with excrement while I’m trying to decide whether I’m attracted to you; instant ladyboner killer. One man’s toilet bowl even had poo streaks in it—there was no chill to be found.
3. After we told one man we weren’t interested, days later, he sent a snap of his dick to my straight male partner to try to pick the conversation back up—yet again, zero chill. (Shoutout to my patient, chill partner for shielding me from this kind of shenannigan; I’m sure there would have been much more of this if I had given out my Snapchat handle instead of his).

Aside from the above no-nos, I recommend sending more than one SFW photo of yourself; it’s hard to determine attraction based on just one photo most of the time. Or if you want to be extra, you can do what our MFM guest did—he sent a video in his first message. A picture may say a thousand words, but a video captures your vibe.

Pictures aside, by far the most common turn-off that cropped up in the post replies and subsequent conversations was poor grammar & spelling. One man, wanting to confirm his vaccination status for us, did so like this: “have Ben triple vaccination.” Another man spelled my name wrong, even though I had just given it to him in writing. And then there were a whole slew of other fairly standard examples of poor communication and errors that could have been avoided with a simple proof-read. I proof read everything I write, and if I can tell that you don’t, I feel I’m putting in basic effort that’s not being reciprocated.

More disconcerting than poor language skills, but less common, were highly aggressive messages, including but not limited to gems such as “Message me. Blow me,” “I want to fuck your wife’s holes in front of you,” and so, so many Reddit bulls saying Reddit bull things. Why? Just why? Can someone explain to me why? Is there so much crusty jizz blocking the neural pathways of this particular subset of men that when they put finger to keyboard, they can’t but cough out violent spurts of word vomit into my inbox like a rusty faucet belching to clear itself?

Why is she so butt hurt about me saying Reddit bull things? I’m glad you asked. Marketing yourself as a bull to a couple who did not express interest in the kinks associated with the term (i.e., cuckolding, humiliation, degradation, etc) is aggressive on its face. The bull-hotwife-cuckold setup is a specific dynamic associated with specific kinks, and not every couple looking for a single male has those kinks. As we filtered, it seemed like a good chunk of respondents were conflating an MFM threesome with a bull-hotwife-cuckold scene because of the significant number who assumed in their first message that we were looking for a bull, asked if their dick size was “up to her standards,” said they’d love to “put on a show while hubby watches,” and other aggressively graphic and unwelcome cucking fantasies.

I have a hypothesis about why it’s apparently common for men to assume the MF posting the MF4M is specifically looking for a bull. Over the last couple of years, there’s been an uptick in couples dipping their toes into cuckolding, and so a sudden increase in demand for bulls on the market. Obviously, single dudes hustled to fill the gaping hole in the market, and as they were hustling into the world of non-monogamy as newbies, they forgot to educate themselves on the different walks of non-monogamy. This could explain why so many men don’t seem to understand that a couple looking for an MFM threesome is not necessarily looking for a bull. Just an untested hypothesis. I suspect some men calling themselves bulls may also just be grasping for a term that describes a single straight male who likes to join couples, and there really isn’t a term for that that’s not associated with cuckolding.

So, bulls of Reddit, if you want to join couples for non-cuckolding experiences as well, I recommend holding your assumption that they are looking for a bull if they don’t mention this specific kink.

Cuckolding was not the only kink or fantasy respondents to our posts lobbed through the DMs. After chatting briefly, one man expressed that it would be fun for him to watch me be with three men, something I never said I wanted. Several men mentioned in their first message that they like DPs and DVPs, even though our post explicitly says we’re looking for oral only. I personally don’t have interest in trying a DP or DVP & our post says what I am interested in, so again, foisting fantasies on me that I don’t share isn’t a turn-on & ignoring what I am interested in is certainly not a turn-on.

On the flip side of all this fantasy foisting and horned-up aggression are the nice guys, who may be just as horny, but we’d never know because they’re so preoccupied with being nice. Don’t get it twisted, I’m booed up with one of the nice guys and very happy to be, but even my nice guy is aware that his type has a tendency to make a girl wonder whether he's as interested as she is (again, do not get it twisted, my partner makes me believe I’m a goddess every day). I don’t think this subset of men often means to communicate disinterest, but that’s what an overly polite demeanor does for me a lot of the time. I want to hear lust in your words when I show you myself naked and I want to feel like you’re really fucken excited to get at me—don’t be shy because my boyfriend is in the chat too.

And finally, the second most common & first most annoying theme in our interactions with dozens of respondents was the assumption that just because I began a conversation, they would/should be the one to join us. A couple of men used language right off the bat that made it clear they thought they’d be meeting us in person, and one man gave non-answers to my initial smalltalk questions, saying he’d like to talk more about it when we meet up. I need to know that you can interact with me/us normally and comfortably before I consider meeting you. If you fail to understand that I would like to briefly interact with you to see whether we might be an interpersonal fit, that means you aren’t the right fit.

Ok, this roast has concluded. Read on for the sexy stuff.

THE BACKGROUND

I’m still not thoroughly sure what propelled my psyche into such a state of wanton desperation for two cocks at the same time. Or maybe it started out less desperate and became more so over five months of wading through the swampy undergrowth of our inbox, realizing that though the undergrowth was made of hundreds of willing schlongs, naught but a moderate handful were associated with men I was attracted to who could make my partner feel comfortable, while also making ya girl feel special.

If I had to guesstimate, our MFM guest was maybe the 514th guy to roll through our inbox in response to our MF4M posts (we tracked the volume of responses, so 514th probably isn’t that far off). By this point, my leading option was to give up the search for the time being, due to mental fatigue and my rapidly decreasing ability to maintain faith in mankind every time a “Hey she like BBC?” or a “Hi, have Ben triple vaccination” message hit the chat. There were nice, thoughtful messages of course, but I had begun to feel like a permanent eye roll affixed itself to my face whenever I logged in and predictably found way more low-effort responses than nice, thoughtful ones. Luckily, our MFM guest thought I was worth the effort (also, let’s call him by the pseudonym Justin). His grinning charisma and adorably muffled excitement came through my laptop screen via a personalized video to verify, say hi to me and my partner, and make certain I understood how “fucking phenomenal” he thought I looked based on the SFW photos attached to our posts. My eyes unrolled themselves from the back of my head, I smiled & never stopped smiling with every subsequent message he sent. Ya girl felt special.

We wanted to meet Justin while he was in SoCal temporarily, but that fell through right as conversation fizzled with a couple of other men we’d talked to, so I resigned myself to resuming the search months from now, once we’d settled on the east coast. Even though I accepted the probability my MFM wasn’t going to happen in the very near future, I was still having fun talking to Justin.I use my non-throwaway Reddit account for posting nudes of myself, so my partner (he’s the best) thought it would be fun to send Justin on a scavenger hunt to find my nude account because he had gone to so much trouble putting together the best response we received. The next time I posted a video to a NSFW sub from my main account, I messaged Justin from this account letting him know which smutty subreddits to scour. In a pang of wistful fomo, I ended by saying that he was the only guy I was still having fun with and I wished our meet hadn’t fallen through. The reply he sent when he found my nude account—oof—well, here, let me just show you:

OMG OMG OMG OMG! [MY NAME]! [MY NUDE HANDLE] I FOUND YOU!!!

Ommggggg [my name] this literally made my entire week. HOLY SHIT. You are fucking STUNNING. Every inch of you. Absolutely perfect. Literally a goddess. You have such a pretty little pussy! I'm shocked and horny, but most of all, I feel blessed to have laid my eyes upon such immaculate perfection. You can't hear it, but I'm literally giving you a round of applause right now. I cannot wait to worship you in person. HOLY FUCK.

I'm going to make it my life's mission to end up with my cock down your throat. After I do a complete deep dive into your posts and rub one out, I'm going to look at the possibility of flying down for a day sometime in the coming weeks. We are going to meet before you leave in June. I fucking PROMISE. PINKY PROMISE.

The last part of your message is so so sweet. I'm sad too that the stars didn't align but I will fucking make them align and will be seeing you very soon. Every time I see a notification that I've got a message from you, I swear my heart skips a beat. I feel so so so blessed to even be chatting with an actual goddess.

Thank you for blessing me on this day. April 7th will be a day that will forever be remembered. Now excuse me while I go jack off :')

My heart violently hiccuped for several beats; I had no expectation that unveiling my porn treasure trove would motivate him to find time to come back down from Northern California on a short timetable. Though, as it turns out, my partner did have such an inkling (he’s the best). I was just tickled to hear that Justin had jacked off to my nudes, and the pinky promise to fly back and meet me was above and beyond.

Let’s pause here for a flashback/side note: For the whole month of February, we were talking to a different guy - the guy we thought we would have this MFM with. We liked the chat, rapport, drawn out build-up, but when the time came to nail down a meet, it was apparent he was not in a hurry, and he wasn’t willing to drive 30 minutes to meet us halfway unless it was a Friday or Saturday. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having preferences like this, and I don’t know his life; people have shit going on, I get it. That said, by this point I was frothing at the mouth for a second cock, to be very crass, and the awkward disparity between my frothingly crass energy & his über-polite, laissez-faire energy was enough to sour the vibe for me. Turns out, feeling like I want to suck a guy’s cock badder than he wants me to—ladyboner killer.

In high contrast, Justin was about to travel several hundred miles to meet me (note: he had other business near LA / I wasn’t his sole reason for being here) on whatever day of the week, at anyplace of our choosing, and not for one second did he allow me to question how badly he wanted me to suck his cock.

THE MEET

Saturday, April 23rd came, the day we met Justin. When we arrived at the speakeasy-style bar I had chosen, my partner and I strolled around the back of the building looking for the entrance, which was not in the back of the building. Returning to the front, we spotted Justin irl for the first time. When he spotted us, his devilishly crooked smile felt exactly like I’d hoped. I went in for a hug, and he smelled great - not like cologne - like when you just like the way someone smells. My partner’s scent is also intoxicating to me, so before we’d even properly finished saying hello, my horny mind was flashing forward to a hazy vignette of both men’s auras enveloping me.

At first, we sat outside on the patio to enjoy the spring SoCal weather and the twinkle light aesthetic, my partner and I opposite Justin at the picnic-style table. We talked about this and that, as humans do, and at some point early on my partner signaled to me, confirming he was comfortable moving forward with the night if I wanted to. I wanted to. As I started feeling giddier that my long-awaited threesome was actually solidifying, I nodded toward the neon “cocktails” sign whose first syllable was the only part visible above the patio fencing and quipped, “It’s an omen.” The boys laughed.

As the sun set, I got chilly, so we went inside for another round. Far from a twinkle light aesthetic, the indoor light was about as low as it could be; perfect for under-the-table tomfoolery. Justin grabbed a drink menu and slid back into our booth to my right. My partner, to my left, slid our table’s candle so it was in front of me, illuminating the menu. I later found out that the candle move was subtle wing-manning (he’s the best), which worked because Justin leaned farther toward the menu, his arm and chest pressing into my back while my partner’s thigh hugged mine and his hand squeezed my left leg. They smelled great - intoxicating.

So intoxicating that at some point I came to and realized we had been looking at a relatively unhelpful page of the drink menu, maybe for a while, who knows. I tried to play off my temporary horny stupor by finding the correct page of the menu and eventually resigned myself to just reordering the same drink rather than trying unsuccessfully to focus my mind on the menu and away from the electric current running through every part of my body that was touching their bodies.

As Justin slid back out of the booth to order our drinks, I became aware of the steam that had begun radiating from the crotch of my jeans. I thanked him for getting the menu and told him it was the perfect excuse to cuddle, making some kind of maniacal tongue-out winky face as I did. Once the touch barrier was broken between me and Justin, all I wanted was to keep him and my partner pressed against either side of me. The rest of the second round of drinks is a horny haze of both men brushing and squeezing my thighs, hips, and the bare skin on my back exposed by my crop top. I’m sure there was conversation as well, but don’t ask me for those details.

By the time we neared the bottom of our drink glasses, I had a smirk glued to my lips. Justin playfully asked what I was up to with that mischievous smile. “Quite obviously mischief,” I shrugged. The boys laughed. Shortly, I asked if we should coordinate a ride to Justin’s hotel, which happened to be the W Beverly Hills. I could tell he was somewhat tickled to tell us that’s where he had booked, probably knowing that the UCLA area is noteworthy for me as an alum. I was tickled to hear that’s where we were headed.

In another show of gentlemanly wingmanship, my partner (he’s the best) opened the front passenger door of Justin’s car and offered it to me. Justin drove us the short distance from the bar to the W, his hand buried between my crossed legs for most of the drive, my hand reaching back intermittently to hold my partner’s in the back seat.

THE THREESOME

One floor below the penthouse suite, we were in Justin’s suite. After the obligatory bio breaks, we ended up on the pristine white couch overlooking the towering luxury buildings in the foreground of the surrounding cityscape. Holy twinkle light aesthetic, Batman!

Not much time passed before both men were pressed up on either side of me, brushing my hair away to kiss my neck and shoulders, caressing the soft skin exposed on my back, and slipping their fingers inside my bra to tease my nipples. I was at once lost in the sensations I’d been feverishly fantasizing about for so long. Tracking the passage of time was just not possible - too lost - but maybe several-ish minutes in, they pulled away for bit and I merged back into the space-time continuum.

Justin, leaning back and ogling my cleavage, commented how soft my tits were. My partner agreed and noted that my necklace (the same one in the titty drop video linked earlier) drew the eyes to them nicely. “Yeah? I had no idea,” I said, lashes batting. At the suggestion that I take out the tits, I stood up and faced my two handsome Ms as they stayed seated on the couch. I paused for a brief moment to savor the fact that I was about to strip not only in front of the two sexy men who’d made my evening hot as hell so far, but also in front of the residential windows making up the twinkly Beverly Hills cityscape. My little exhibitionist heart went pitter-patter.

Disrobed down to my periwinkle lace thong & my necklace, I plopped back down on the couch between them. They couldn’t keep their hands off & I didn’t want them to. Now that nearly all my skin was bare, the sensation of their facial hair continuously sweeping over my shoulders, neck, and collarbones sent currents through my whole body (but let’s be honest, mostly to my clit). The combination & contrast of my partner’s tingle-worthy rough stubble and Justin’s softer short beard was the stuff my dreams had been made of for the past I-don’t-know-how-long. I think at one point or maybe at many points as they enveloped me in kisses and groping hands, I tilted my head back, resting it on the back of the couch, arching my back, and pushing my heaving chest forward, non-verbally pleading to have my nipples played with. I’m very familiar with the feeling described by the term “needy pussy”—it feels hot and deeply achy, like I can’t not have a cock in me right fucking now. I had never felt that same genre of neediness in my nipples until now. When both men ravenously indulged my pleading, I then understood the feeling that precedes the phenomenon of male premature ejaculation. An orgasm vibrated just below the surface that maybe could have been unleashed without laying a finger on my vulva (putting this to the test is on my bucket list now). I was desperate for my pussy to be touched by that point—peak mouth frothing energy. Justin slipped his hand down the front of my lace thong as both men continued lavishing my whole upper body. He felt up my soft outer lips, then slid his fingertips gently over my clit hood and down my slick inner lips to play with my grool that had been building up all evening. I’m not sure what other incredulous exclamations escaped his mouth as he began lightly spreading my wetness around, but I believe that’s the point in the night when both men began ooh-ing & ahh-ing over my “pretty pussy,” which I could not get enough of.

When I thought I couldn’t need a tongue on my pussy more badly, my partner (he’s the best) pulled back, stood up, and asked Justin if he wanted to taste me. Of course, Justin said “Of course I do.” I peeled my lace thong off as my partner set up a pillow for me to lay back on. Justin stood up and motioned toward the pillow. On my back on the couch overlooking the city, my legs draped open, I watched Justin look my pussy up & down as he approached with a covetous twinkle in his eyes, and my partner prodded, “She tastes amazing.” Justin knelt at the foot of the chaise and didn’t pull his eyes away from my pussy as he wrapped his arms and shoulders firmly around my thighs and sunk his warm tongue between my overheated lips. Once my partner saw my pussy was being thoroughly taken care of, he turned his attention to my mouth, placing his cock over my face. I reached for him, put him in my mouth, and felt him get hard in my throat as I continued shivering under Justin’s tongue sliding over my achingly hard clit - again, the stuff of my dreams & fantasies. I don’t know how long I squirmed, squealed, and whimpered on the blissfully torturous edge of orgasm I had been teetering on ever since my clothes came off, but when Justin’s fingers slid into me and beared firmly upward, I was no longer teetering. A few seconds? a couple minutes? of feeling my throat full of cock, my wanting clit and lips licked and rubbed inside and out—my body squirmed, my pussy twitched, my hand gripped Justin’s arm as I went over the edge. OhmyfuckinggodOhmyfuckinggodOhmyfuckinggod. It was the release that had been pent up for so long.

So long it was dizzying. I sat up, and once I had synchronized my eyelids, derpily smiled up at the two sexy Ms who had just made this F’s horny dreams come true. It was clear I needed to catch my breath and recalibrate my inner ear fluid, so we all cuddled up on the couch with me as the centerpiece. I may never recover from that flagship MFM orgasm, but as soon as I recovered my breath, I could not wait to put my eyes, mouth, and hands on my first new cock in three-and-a-half years. I knelt on the floor in front of the pristine white couch and didn’t pull my eyes away from Justin’s cock except to smirk greedily at him before sticking my tongue out to take my first taste of his tip. I took my time licking the pre-cum from his tip; tasting how aroused he had gotten before I had even touched him fanned my arousal, even right after a mind-melting orgasm. Around the time I had cleaned up his tip and begun working my lips down his shaft, I felt my partner toying with my pussy from behind until he laid down and started slowly easing his tongue onto my clit. As I rocked back and forth/up and down, gagging myself on Justin’s cock and grinding my clit on my partner’s lips and tongue, the cool, light-headed tingles of asphyxiation began mingling with the warm kneecap tingles of a slowly unfolding orgasm. My watering eyes rolled into the back of my head. OhmyfuckinggodOhmyfuckinggodOhmyfuckinggod.

My watering eyes opened and looked up at Justin admiring me choking down his notable thickness, just as my partner filled me up with his hardness from behind (dreams & fantasies). It was around this time I started feeling like a one-pump chump—I suppose in the best way possible—as I soon felt my pussy walls tighten around my partner’s cock, my clit vibrating harder each time he hit my front wall in just that right spot. Sploosh. Three orgasms already? C’mon. I guess I really had needed this. I came up from Justin’s cock for air, my cheeks and chin shiny with saliva, a sizable string of which trailed from his tip to my mouth as I pulled away. My partner turned to Justin, “What a good little slut, she just squirted all over my cock.” Justin turned his wickedly twinkling eyes on me, “Oh yeah? You’ve been thinking about this for a long time, huh?” His tone was a little teasing, and my dick-drunkenness was apparent as I answered “Mmhmm,” at the same time gliding my slobbery lips back down his shaft.

With the score 3 orgasms to 0, my partner sat down on the couch next to Justin. My turn to put some points on the board. I continued stroking Justin, whose cock was dripping with my slobber—my hand almost too dainty to grip his girth—as I leaned over and began sinking my partner’s cock down my throat. When he was also dripping with my slobber, I gilded my hand up and down, sinking my throat back onto Justin. Swapping cocks between my hands and throat became my two Ms turning me 180 degrees every so often, taking turns throat-fucking me (dreams & fantasies). At some point, my partner wanted a break, excusing himself to the restroom and returning ready to indulge his voyeurism.

My partner describes: “I felt like I was watching porn in person. He had a really big, nice cock & you’re gorgeous. You were clearly really into it, and your eye makeup looked especially good.” The scene apparently looked as good as it felt and tasted. Single-mindedly absorbed in the sensations of Justin filling up my throat and of studying the details of his cock at length with my outstretched tongue, I of course frequently indulged my voyeurism, looking up to drink in Justin’s incredulously lustful expressions, his murmurs of “you’re perfect,” and my partner’s glintingly proud half-smirk. Among the blissful moments of throat-clenching self-asphyxiation & slobbery tip-tasting, I came up for oxygen & water a couple of times, the boys checking in to ask how my jaw was doing (aww). My jaw, and the rest of me, needed more cock. Draped over Justin’s lap, I wrapped my lips, tongue, and throat around his impossibly thick dick for the last time that night, bent on drinking in more than just his lustful expressions—ok, maybe this was peak mouth frothing energy. Lost in my self-gagging/tip-tasting groove, my partner proddingly pointed out the familiar look in my eyes, “She really wants cum down her throat.” It wasn’t long before I got what I wanted. Watching, feeling, and hearing Justin unload what had clearly been building up at least over the course of the night filled me with arousal, gloating pride, accomplishment, and jizz. Still kneeling, I leaned back on my heels and grinningly stuck out my freshly glazed tongue before knocking back the rest of his load.

My voyeuristic partner, also filled with arousal and pride, stood up and cradled the back of my head with his hand, waved his cock just for a second in front of my still hungrily gleaming eyes before helping himself to my throat. He must have been incredibly hot & bothered after his first experience watching me porn the place up with another cock from a third-party perspective. He unloaded down the back of my throat with an aggressively heated quickness I had not before seen. And that’s how I swallowed two loads, almost at the same time. I was so wonderfully full of pride, accomplishment, and jizz.

THE END

Epilogue

In the following days, I may have been a little too pleased with myself; I was probably unbearable for a solid 48 hours after I had entertained two cocks and downed two loads. Bless my partner’s soul for putting up with me as I was up my own arse & over the moon about suckessfully taking down the biggest cock I’d had in years. Ya girl’s ego was thoroughly stroked.

Luckily, my partner is the best. He plays into my gloaty self-satisfaction whenever I bring up the time I made two men cum. Oh wait - that reminds me - I do know what propelled my psyche into such a state of wanton desperation for two cocks at the same time: he did. Toward the end of last year, he made (yet another) mention of maybe finding a guy for me for an MFM. He periodically asks because I’ve always said I’d be open to it, and when he asked for maybe the dozenth time in November of last year, he apparently struck while the iron was horny. I’d been buzzing with more sexual energy than usual the few months prior, and my mind latched onto the idea insatiably when he brought it up.

He ignited the fantasy to begin with, then he supported and wing-manned every step of the way. Told you he’s the best.