27 – Culinary Seduction

Different people like different things. Some go for apricots, others for sausage—and then there are those who see no reason to choose at all. In general, women tend to be a little more flexible on that delicate question than men. At least, that’s definitely true for the ladies in my husband’s life.

I like both, Chloé likes both, and Nele—the new one, with the bed that bangs against the wall and the academic interest in mono- versus mixed cultures—likes both as well. My husband might not be into sausage, but he’s quite capable of enjoying more than one apricot at a time—as he proved in London.

Naturally, he told the girls about it afterward, with a certain glow of pride. Desires were stirred, and Nele made a point of saying—more than once—that she was really craving some fruit again. She even suggested that next time, he should just bring me along. Charming, sure—but I like to inspect my fruit in peace before I take a bite. I’m not the kind of woman who lets herself get overrun by a juicy peach with perfect proportions. I check the origin first—and whether it’s organic.

The beauty of open relationships? Replacements are rarely hard to find. So Chloé, ever the generous friend, volunteered to step in—ensuring my husband got his next threesome, and Nele finally satisfied her hunger for apricots.

I’ve mentioned before that finding a date for two can already feel like a small logistical miracle. Let me tell you—add a third person, and it becomes full-blown Group Sex Tetris. My parents even had to leave a little earlier to make it happen.

But after six days of surviving the in-laws, I’d say he’d earned a threesome. Unfortunately, his parents were only here for three days afterward. Well—my turn will come.

Of course, Chloé wouldn’t be Chloé if she hadn’t brought the perfect baked goods for the occasion. Since she’s equally uninhibited in bed and in the kitchen, she showed up with a whole tray of apricot-sausage cookies. Honestly, it’s hard to say which experiment was riskier—sex with a stranger, or tasting those cookies. They were like a threesome straight out of the oven: hot, sweet, and with a slightly meaty aftertaste. A mix between a French pâtisserie fantasy and a German barbecue.

The two naughty peaches hit it off instantly. They were thrilled to have found a kindred spirit—a woman who follows her desires and appetites without letting convention hold her back. That’s not something you stumble upon every day. This time, there were no buts: The bed didn’t slam against the wall, everyone was hot, and even the homework was already done. The only thing that puzzled me afterward was how neither of the girls ended up with a sore tongue.

Chloé’s cookies inspired me.

Maybe I should write a cookbook—“Open Indulgence: 69 Recipes for Relationship Salad with Threesome Vinaigrette.”

And if you have any culinary adventures of your own—say, apricot-sausage cookies or double-filled cream slices—send me your recipe.

With instructions. And clear visual documentation.

Because, as they say:after the feast is before the feast.