The Girl on the Video, Parts I - III - Sex Stories

The Girl on the Video, Parts I - III

... leap.”

“The problem with that is that any therapist would probably tell us outright that what we are thinking about doing is wrong. I need a more balanced viewpoint.”

“There’s always Megan,” I said, half-jokingly.

“Right, and on the other side of the coin there’s Megan.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence, then Jesse shook her head and came to me, wrapped her arms around me, and laid her head on my shoulder.

“Jeez, Bryce, what the fuck are we going to do.”

The smell of her perfume and the conditioner in her hair, the feel of her body pressed against mine, her breasts against my chest with just two thin layers of fabric between us. I hugged her to me and felt my erection growing again. Underneath her dress I could feel her nipples harden.

She looked at me and we gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then our lips met.

Then Jesse’s phone rang.

“Fuck,” she said and disengaged, reaching for the phone on the coffee table.

“Speak of the devil,” she said, hitting the answer button. Megan’s face popped up on the phone’s screen. “Hi Megan.”

“Hi Jesse, oh hi Bryce. You guys hanging out? I didn’t interrupt anything did I?” she asked. I looked closely at the picture on the screen. Megan was calling us from the bathtub, bubbles piled high around her.

“Um,” Jesse said, looking at me, then at the phone. “We were just working on sorting out some things, you know, like you said we needed to.”

“That’s awesome,” Megan said. “I can leave you ...

... two alone. I was just dropping in to say hi.”

“Wait,” Jesse said. “Don’t go yet. We’re kind of, well, stuck.”

“Stuck? Do you want some help?” she said.

Jesse and I looked at each other, I shrugged.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “We could use some help.”

“I’m not a therapist,” Megan said. “But I might be able to help. I’ll be right over.”

The phone went dead.

“You know what this means, right?” Jesse asked.

“It means we are opening ourselves up to that three-way relationship,” I answered.

“Right,” she said. “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Me too.”

We sat down on the couch, side-by-side, holding hands. We both wanted each other, but we were holding back.

“We need to tell Megan the whole story,” I said.

Jesse nodded.

We didn’t say another word until Megan knocked on the apartment door a half hour later.

She was wearing a white spaghetti tank, nothing underneath, and a set of light colored tights, also nothing underneath. Her blonde hair was still damp and pulled back in a pony tail She dropped a bottle of wine on the table next to the one we had been working on and poured all of us fresh glasses, then sat down across from us in the living room.

“You two look beautiful together,” she said, looking at us. “You make a cute couple. So what’s the problem?”

“There’s some history you need to know about,” I said.

“So tell me.”

Jesse started before I could continue. “A couple of months before the shoplifting incident, when I was seventeen ...