And that’s how I know that condoms make great pony-tail holders.

A Feve-some Threesome

For Wenchie, because she asked.

And in case you need help figuring these things out:  This post is NSFW.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So.  Threesome.  (Now would be a good time to click away if you’re squicky about such things.)


So there were three of us, it was MFM, and the ‘F’ stands for ‘Feve’, who was most definitely sandwiched in the middle.  Oh!  And for those of you who are new here, The Smotch is my spouse.


Ready?  Here we go…

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when Fr…ack(!), I can’t use his real name in my blog…

Meh.  Frack will do.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when Frack invited us over, but I knew it would include some sort of sexual shenanigans, so I shaved my legs and straightened my hair and slid into a soft sexy (short!) sweater dress (and that’s it ~ the only thing I wore underneath was my silky smooth skin), rounded up my Smotchy and some supplies (the non-latex variety), and hit the road.

Having never previously visited Frack’s home, we got the nickel tour upon arrival, which was about as entertaining as watching paint dry, but there was much ooh-ing and ahh-ing between the menfolk because Frack had spent the whole day re-insulating his storage space or some such nonsense, and I was like, Frick!  Frack’s gonna be too wrung out for me to wring any pleasure out of him because he’s been busy augmenting his attic all day, and Smotch was all, “I wanna go to Home Depot with you dude,” so I man-handled the situation (heh) by stripping off my dress, and then they both shut up and started putting their mouths to better use.

And holy cannoli, does Frack have some fine frickin’ oral skills!

So my pussy was getting licked, stroked, and sucked by frickin’ Frack’s delightful, delectable tongue, and his concentration on my clit was equal parts fleeting and focused, which meant I was right there, right there, fast approaching almostalmostalmost… my edge (and if you don’t know about Edging, then you should do something about that), and then, just as I was ohgod, don’t stop about to hit that right there, right there point where pleasurable pinpricks of erotic agony set my body to buzzing don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, he stopped ~ STOPPED!  The FUCK, Frack?!? ~ and grinned and said, “Shall we continue this in the bedroom?”

Oh.  My.  GOD.  The bedroom?!?  I just lost my orgasm and I guarantee it’s going to take the two of you an *hour* to find it again, but yeah.  Sure.  LET’S GO TO THE BEDROOM!  Fabulous frickin’ plan, Frack.

But I didn’t say that.  I mean, I *did* say it, but I only said it in my head.  My spouse could see my thoughts written all over my face though, so I might as well have said it, because he sort of snort-laughed, then said “Way to go, Frack,” or some such nonsense, and then I stomped off down the hallway with a slick coating of girl cream coating my thighs and a parade of penises in my wake.

‘Kayso, once we got to the bedroom, I manhandled the situation once again, and it was a matter of moments before Frack’s cock was on its way down my throat and Smotchy was sexin’ me up from behind (or, more accurately, *in* the behind…he was a l’il excited and wasn’t paying much attention to where he was placing his…erm…apparatus…) until I squeaked (in surprise and discomfort ~ I mean, c’mon…I wasn’t exactly expecting that!) and was all, “Dammit, Smotchy!  Get the lube!” and the Mister was all “Sorry!” and Frack was panting out directions as to where the lube was located, and I was reveling in his hyperventilation and plotting my diabolocal ‘leave him dangling’ scheme (cuz he totally deserved to be left hangin’ after that whole STOPPING fiasco), when it suddenly occurred to me that my body temperature had risen to 5,784 degrees and I’d gone blind.


Shit!  Spontaneous combustion is imminent, and I can’t see!

I.  Can’t.  SEE!

Oh my God, it’s true!  Not only does masturbation cause blindness, but menage-a-Feve does too!  ShitFuckDamn!  I wonder if this means I won’t see colors anymore when I orgasm…

Oh.  Nevermind.  It’s just my hair in my eyes.  And nose.  And every other possible place you can imagine.  And it’s in my way.

So now I have a thick, hard, well-lubricated cock nnnnngggh… driving into my ass ggghhhhaaaaa… and a deliciously wet (holy pre-cum, Batman!), slightly curved, fat fuck tool in my mouth aaaauuuggh… and oh my God Oh.My.God., my HAIR.  It is seriously in the way.

Seriously.  In.  The way.

Houston, we have a problem.

So I’m all, “Tiiiiiiiiime OUT!”

And Smotchy’s all, “Sorry, sorry, I was just so damned excited watching you devour Frack’s dick that I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was putting my own…”

And Frack’s all, “Frick!  I was so close!”  (Served him right.)

And I’m all, “Chill out, guys.  I just need a ponytail holder.”

And then two male voices in unison, on three:





Except I didn’t have ponytail holders in my bag, cuz I didn’t think I’d need ponytail holders, cuz I’d straightened my hair for Smotch so I figured it’d be down all night, cuz for some reason that makes him hot.

So it’s Smotchy’s fault that I have no ponytail holders.

But no ponytail holders is no ponytail holders, regardless of whose fault it is.


What to do?  What to do?

So I’m all, “Sorry, guys.  We’re gonna hafta come up with a solution here PDQ or ain’t nobody gonna be cummin’ tonight.”

So Frack’s all, “Wait right there.  I have an idea.”

Then Frack wanders off to do actualize his idea, and I lay back on the bed and look lovingly into my husband’s eyes and say, “Dude, I’m sweating like a mofo,” and Hubby stares back at me in a confused Zen fugue kind of way and says, “Well, it’s snowing out,” (which made perfect sense to the two of us at the time but probably makes zero sense to you, dear reader…sorry ’bout that, but I don’t really wanna explain; this post is long enough as it is) and meanwhile neither of us have any idea what Frack is doing, but it sounds something like this:

Riiiiiiiiip!  Wha-poooh!  Snip, snip, snip.  Thwack, snap!  Thwack, snap!

And then he comes back in the bedroom and gives Mah Main Man one of those “I’ve got this” looks, hands me something circular and vaguely elastic, then says, “Try this.”

So I did.

And it did the trick.

And that’s how I know that condoms (or, more specifically, the little ring of elastic that’s supposed to snap around the base of a man’s cock) make great pony-tail holders.  (Hence, the title of this post.  :D)

However:  It was only after glass penetration and Hitachi stimulation, a brief stint in the hot tub, a delicious and nutritious snack break, and various other forms of erotic tomfoolery, and four orgasms, that I took the time to ask where he’d come up with a hair tie out of thin air.

As it turns out, it wasn’t out of thin air at all.  It was out of an ultra-thin (ribbed-for-her-pleasure!) condom.

Feel free to file that information away for future use.













What’s that?

Oh.  Well, of course there’s more to the story.

Maybe someday I’ll tell you what it is.  😛

Meanwhile, feel free to examine the photographic evidence, and use your imagination.  😉

0 thoughts on “And that’s how I know that condoms make great pony-tail holders.

  1. williamsjoel22

    Well, necessity is the mother of invention …LOL!!! 🙂 That was one HOT STORY, Mrs. Fever … and You say there’s more???
    You sure know how to bring out the FUN SIDE of sex in all Your stories. LOVE IT 😛

  2. wildoats1962

    At work last week they decided to start/or enforce the long hair must be up rule {someone got their hair stuck in a conveyor}. I didn’t think my hair was that long, but I was told to put it in a pony tail. It would’ve been really fun to see their reaction if I had had Frack’s resourcefulness.

    I met Juicy Jenny, the Sysop of Scoreboard of Indiana, in Feb of 93. I asked her what a lipstick lesbian was, that was how she described herself, and it was the first time I had heard the term. She was definitely more bi than lesbian. Best sex I’ve ever had. Fortunately I had a large glass of water next to the bed. I don’t think either of us could walk for a while, and I did share the water. We had both lost quite a bit of fluid. The real advantage of a king size bed is that you can keep moving when the wet spot gets big. Elkhart got 14 inches that night.

    But that was snow.

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Methinks the sysop made quite an impression on you, Wildrice. I remember reading about your fluid exchanges once before… 😉

      I can’t even imagine 14 inches… That’d be like tandem-parking two Smotch cocks in my girly garage. (Yes, I realize you’re talking about snow; but I’m not. :P) Um, ow…?

      The only times I’ve slept on king sized beds has been while vacationing. I took my husband to the Oregon coast earlier this month to celebrate his birthday, and the condo we rented had a ginormous bed. There was room enough for one or two additional bodies to lay in that thing. And don’t think for one moment that we didn’t consider it! 😀

      1. williamsjoel22

        —> !!! (light bulb shining above my head) So that’s the purpose of having a King size bed. 😛 I “sleep” on a double bed and there have been times when I have had the privilege of sleeping on a King size bed, like on vacation and other places. I’ve always wondered why people would want such a large bed.Thanks Mrs.Fever for answering a question I’ve always wondered about.

        1. Mrs Fever Post author

          Is “sleep” supposed to be a euphemism, Williams? You “sleep” on a double bed?” (Cue music: Sleepin’ single on a double bed…)

          I suppose king-sized beds are probably the most comfortable option for king-sized people, but I’m queen-sized, so for me it just seems like a lot of excess space. And one of the best things to do with space is fill it up! (Take that as you will.) So yeah, we definitely considered doing more than just sleeping in the bed at the beach. 😉

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