As I approached the house, there was another car parked in the driveway. If it was one of Sarah’s friends who I hoped would be leaving soon.
Opening the outside door to the kitchen I could smell the sweet odor of pot.
Sarah and another woman were sitting at the kitchen table. They were drinking red wine and munching on Doritos and potato chips. Clearly, they had smoked a joint or two.
The woman had shiny, long, black, straight hair down to her lower back, and looked to be Asian-American.
Sarah introduced the lady as Maggie O’Hara.
I had spoken briefly with Maggie on the phone when she had called looking for Sarah.
And I had been shown a wonderful picture of Maggie on all fours, nude, with her face hidden by her long hair.
This Maggie O’Hara sitting at the kitchen table with Sarah was not the Irish lass that I had expected or pictured in my mind.
Both were wearing T-shirts and shorts, a little unusual given the cold weather outside.
Sarah typically wore no bra, and I could see her breasts jiggle and her nipples poke out of her shirt as she moved.
Maggie got up to shake my hand. She also wore no bra, and her breasts jiggled underneath her shirt when she stood.
Maggie’s breasts were twice the size of Sarah’s and her nipples pushed her T shirt out and stretched the shirt material between her tits.
More important to Sarah and Maggie than my arrival, or my meeting Maggie for the first time, was that I had brought food.
“How did you know we were starving?” Sarah asked, excited to see the food containers.
The fact that I had brought only two dinners did not seem to matter to either.
The containers of food were opened and the two took in the aroma of a roast beef dinner as if they had been deprived of food for several days.
“Why don’t you guys split the dinners onto three plates, while I go upstairs and change?” I suggested.
Before I had even finished my sentence, the food was already being divided.
I went upstairs with positive thoughts creeping into my head.
Both ladies were scantily dressed and stoned. Was I reading too much into that?
Maggie had seen pictures of my cock, and I had seen a nude photograph of her. And, according to Sarah, Maggie had even kept one of my cock pictures for herself.
Dare I think that I might have them both tonight?
Would tonight be my first threesome?
I thought about changing into my work-out pants and a light sweater.
The work-out pants, especially without underwear, did nothing to hide an erection. I certainly did not want to walk downstairs with a noticeable bulge in my pants if I had totally misread the situation.
I opted for jeans, a comfortable sweater and a pair of old loafers without socks.
This was appropriate dress for an informal dinner and conversation. But it was clothing that I could quickly lose should the need become necessary.
Downstairs, the ladies were already eating their dinner and apologized for starting without me. I knew what the “munchies” were and totally understood.
I retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and sat down at the table.
I opened my beer, began to eat my portion of dinner, and attempted to determine what the two were up to.
Getting them to talk wasn’t easy. First there was the food, which each consumed with great fervor. Second, they both had the giggles.
Maggie, I was informed, had been at the house all afternoon and would be spending the night.
Maggie’s mother was Hawaiian, and her father a Canadian military officer. Her parents had met in Vancouver, and that’s where Maggie spent most of her childhood.
One of three siblings, Maggie was named after her father’s mother, Margaret.
Maggie’s long hair was like silk and moved in waves as she turned her head during the conversation.
Her hair had been cut to a “V” at the ends, with the point of the “V” down past her lower back.
She had beautiful dark, deep eyes, with long lashes, full lips and very white teeth that accentuated her smile.
Her every move was slow, flowing and sensuous.
Maggie had gone to college in Vermont, was an art major, and had taken up drawing, painting and photography as her avocation.
She had published and sold several pieces of her artwork and photographs and was apparently well known within the arts community.
Sarah was certainly an admirer of Maggie’s work and artistic abilities.
While the two ladies were different – Sarah, a natural blonde, about five foot three, 20 years old, and a student; Maggie, exotic, with black hair, five feet seven or so, 27, and a teacher and mentor – it was their passion for art and photography which had caused them to meet about two years before.
Maggie, already well known for her drawings and photography, had been a guest speaker in Sarah’s college classes several times, and Sarah had visited Maggie’s studio on more than one occasion.
While I did not know for sure, Sarah had made references and comments over time which suggested that the two had slept together, and done so more than once.
On this cold February Friday night, after we had eaten and as Sarah and Maggie continued to attack the Doritos and drink wine, I learned that the two had spent the afternoon taking pictures of each other.
“Naughty” pictures, as Maggie put it.
I had not noticed, but Maggie’s photography equipment had been set up in the living room. There were cameras and lenses, lights and what I would call light reflectors/deflectors arranged around the couch.
I, of course, not caring much about the equipment, wanted to know more about the “naughty” pictures.
Both ladies had wanted to take pictures of the other, and this particular weekend seemed like an appropriate time.
Sarah would be graduating soon and moving to her new job. As her graduation and move to upstate New York approached, Sarah would be less and less available for these occasions, something of which I was keenly aware.
Maggie handed me a digital camera and showed me how to look through the pictures on the camera’s digital screen.
There were nude pictures, but with the right lighting, shading and angles, what one saw was more “artistic” than naughty; more flowing lines and curves than hard core pictures; more art than naughty.
With most of the pictures, but not all, I could not tell which were of Sarah and which were of Maggie.
There were some nipple pictures and photos that displayed some pussy. In those pictures it was apparent whose picture it was.
There was a second camera on the seat next to Sarah.
To these stoned, wine drinking, giggling ladies, that second camera was much more interesting.
At first the two teased me about seeing the pictures on the second camera.
Eventually, Sarah handed me the camera and I got to see the more “playful” pictures the two had taken.
All in color and with the same attention to lighting, shading, angles and detail, there were tit, nipple, pussy, and ass pictures; pussy insertion pictures, using Sarah’s hair brush or a vibrator or both; full body pictures; and pictures of each on their hands and knees taken from several different angles.
No attempt was made to hide anyone’s identity.
The two watched as I scanned through each picture on the camera.
“These are great,” I recall saying more than once.
“Do they make you hard?” asked Sarah.
“Absolutely,” I responded.