For a couple of years, we met every Monday afternoon for Happy Hour to discuss the latest goings-on at our respective libraries. Three young up-and-coming librarians, we had all been at an ALA conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. Instantly connecting with each other during an exceptionally dull presentation on Information Technology Policies, but not realizing that we actually all worked within about thirty minutes of each other in King County, Seattle.  

We are all in our late twenties, slowly working our way up the ladder in three very different but obviously related careers. Rachel was a high school librarian, Sam was a librarian at a prestigious law firm downtown, and was knee-deep in academia at the University of Washington. 

The clichéd librarian stereotype did not fit any of us. Except maybe Sam, who wore those thick-rimmed hipster glasses, gray pencil skirts, and slightly too tight cashmere sweaters, which emphasized her great (fake, I might add) tits. She often added some pearls just for some 1950’s elegance, so she looked every bit the hot librarian. But I think she did all of that on purpose, aiming to seduce an attorney she was lusting after. 

Usually, we would be in a bar somewhere, but with COVID-19, we had been taking turns hosting. This was my week, and the three of us were crashed out in my living room, drinking vodka martinis. It’s about the only drink I know how to make and do a pretty good job of them.

We discovered that afternoon a quite significant statistical anomaly between all three of us. I’m not sure how the conversation came around to this subject, but none of us had ever been with a woman. 

I know, right. You would have thought that there would have been the ubiquitous drunken experimentation in college, or a high school crush on a cheerleader, or something, anything! But no, we were firmly wrapped up in our heterosexuality. Or were we?

Rachel announced, 

Well, I’ve always wanted to feel Sam’s tits,” as she knocked back the dregs of her third martini.

Sam looked somewhat amused and said,

Well, Isaac the Dumb Fool hasn’t discovered them yet, so you may as well cop a feel,

Rachel reached over and gently squeezed Sam’s right breast, 

Wow! They feel so real,” she exclaimed.

That’s what ten grand gets you. Fabulous tits that don’t look or feel fake.

And with that, she pulled off her teeshirt and undid her bra, letting us see for ourselves.

They were pretty impressive, that’s for sure, and Rachel reached out again, but with both hands, and cupped each one tenderly.

Did you lose any nipple sensitivity?” she asked,

And with that, she started to slowly rub Sam’s nipples. 

I’m not sure who was the more shocked; Sam for the effect that it was having on her, or Rachel for being so forward. I came to realized that I was holding my breath and biting my bottom lip, feeling myself get curiously turned on watching my friends do something so erotic.

There was a tipping point here. We could have laughed it off, blamed my exquisite martinis, and gone back to gossiping about work, but that didn’t happen. Sam reached down and kissed one of Rachel’s erect nipples, the tenderest of kisses, almost imperceptible. Except the result was far from that. Rachel let out a breathless,

Oh. My. God!

I was transfixed by what was happening. Watching Rachel kiss, lick, and occasionally bite Sam’s beautiful breasts was turning me on far more than I could have ever imagined. Sam was now lying back on the couch, enjoying this new experience. Rachel was between her legs, kneeling on the floor, so studiously devoting all her attention to Sam’s chest.

It was a breathtaking vision, and I still don’t know where the courage to join in came from. I had never considered my fellow women in anything other than platonic appreciation of all their varied forms. Sam was obsessed with Pilates, and it did amazing things for her ass, which I was now looking at with new eyes. 

The short emerald green dress she wore that day I had seen many times before, but today I saw it in a different light. I got up from my armchair and crossed the room with something in mind. I wanted to see that fabulous ass. Maybe even touch it.

Sam didn’t flinch when she felt my lips on her ass. I couldn’t help but stroke and kiss it; so toned and firm, I think I could have bounced quarters off of it. But more significant was the fact that she was clearly aroused by her attention on Rachel’s boobs. I drew in her deliciously intoxicating scent coming from her wet sex and started to rub her pussy through her damp panties with my fingers.

It was a natural progression for me to remove them and bury my face in her sex. Listening to Rachel’s ever-increasing moans of pleasure from Sam’s mouth, I really had to lick her pussy—There was no stopping me. 

As if we all realized the various stages of each other’s arousal needed to be satiated, the individual items of our clothing all came off. Sam turned her attention to Rachel’s immaculately trimmed pussy, I returned to Sam’s incredibly wet sex, which left me the person getting the least amount of attention, but I didn’t care. I remembered an old boyfriend saying that about threesomes: Someone always gets left out. 

I knew that would change very shortly. 

We three were all down a fun new rabbit hole, and none of us wanted to climb out anytime soon.

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