I answered their ad 'Friends First' and we exchanged preliminary emails. It emerged K and J were a happily married couple in their 50s. K had been bi-curious for some years, but his wife J feared he'd fall into a gay scene, which she imagined as risky promiscuous sex. So they'd decided to 'explore their sexual frontiers' together in an MMF relationship. They hoped for 'warm, generous sex with a friend' (as they put it) not 'strangers just using each other'. Nothing was promised beyond a soft swing, and not that unless everyone felt comfortable when it came to it. We met the first time at the Skylark pub (on the moor just north of Plymouth) just to get to know each other. They looked an ordinary enough couple, he slim and balding, she with glasses and a bit overweight. More important, they spoke sensibly and could hold a conversation. At least they wouldn't be boring! We had a pub meal, a few drinks, and just talked about ourselves and what we hoped to experience. After a couple of hours I suddenly realised how relaxed I felt with them. The awkwardness we'd felt at first had just melted away. I reached over and stroked J's hand and got a lovely warm smile in return. We glanced over to K and I reached for his hand too, which is not something straight men usually do. He grinned and reached over to take J's other hand. Really I think it was that moment that assured the success of the sex we were going to share. The feeling of mutual trust, not whether people had perfect bodies or huge cocks. The next time I came to their house, all hot and sweating from not wanting to be late. After a couple of drinks I asked if I could take a shower before we got close. K said he would too, so I suggested on impulse we shower together, the pretext being we could soap each others backs! Backs led to bottoms, then to balls and cocks. So we emerged from the en suite bathroom both naked and half erect, feeling pleasantly clean and with the male-male ice well and truly broken. In the bedroom we saw J, who'd not wanted to be left too far behind, standing in just a rather mumsy pair of flowery pants, her arms modestly folded across her chest, grinning from ear to ear. Of course I couldn't resist taking her two hands in mine to reveal her lovely heavy tits, and my erection swelled from half to full. At K's suggestion J lay face down on the bed so we could stroke her back, something he said she always liked. As we knelt either side of her our stroking hands criss-crossed so she never knew which was a husband's hand, which her new lover's, so couldn't feel embarrassed. K's hands gradually strayed to her thighs, sometimes lingering on the thin cloth between her legs, and mine did too. Then his slid beneath her pants to squeeze her buttocks and mine did too. When J was gently purring like a cat, K gently pulled the pants down and away, so our hands could roam freely, still ambiguously, over her hairy cunt-lips (now visibly red and wet) and her pleasantly rounded arse. On impulse, I separated her arse-cheeks with my two hands to see her little brown puckered hole. It looked so inviting I lent over to run my tongue across it and a little way inside. The effect was electric, as if I'd touched a button. This clearly wasn't something K might be doing. She spun over onto her back and I instantly thought I'd caused offence by taking too much of a liberty. But she pulled me urgently on top of her, in that way a woman has who just wants to be entered without delay. This was much more than we'd discussed, but so obviously what she wanted that I slid fully into her. Thrusting rhythmically and kissing her mouth I felt I was drowning in her delicious warm wetness. Soon I arched my back so the hair over my pelvic bone brushed her clit and my thrusts pressed my cock against the front wall of her cunt. Her sounds and movements showed she was close to coming and I was desperately afraid of coming too soon myself. Feeling me hesitate she whispered 'Don't hold back. I'm going to have K too. . .'. So I just let the blissful wave of my orgasm wash over me and felt my semen pulsing into her. Moving aside, I let K take my place. As he moved across I caught sight of his erection, amazing for a man nearly 60, stiff as a rod, and so engorged the skin of his nob was stretched thin and shiny. Maybe it was seeing his wife in a new light, maybe the thought of my sticky wetness already inside her. That's not the kind of erection you'll see in many porn films, but a man fully aroused, body and soul. I held her hand and she squeezed mine when, after just a few seconds of K's thrusting, she came with a lovely breathy moan. Then he followed almost immediately with an indescribable triumphant sound, something between a grunt and yell. J spread her arms on the bed and we all subsided drowsily, she with a man curled comfortably either side of her. We were together many time over the next nine months until K's job took them away from Plymouth. There was never the slightest boredom or over-familiarity because the MMF combination gives such scope for inventing variations for three-way pleasure. That was more than two years ago now, and I've almost given up hope of finding another couple who I could feel quite so much at ease with, so free to be my true self.