I was thinking about the importance of sex in relationships the other night when me, my boyfriend Ben and our boyfriend Luc made a Jackson Pollock ***ting out of the sheets of a Parisian hotel.‘You take so long to cum,’ I said.‘Better than the opposite,’ Luc said, his French-American voice rising More… as if asking a question.‘He’s right,’ Ben said. He was lying on his back with his legs at right-angles. He’s a magazine journalist. ‘I hardly think that is something to complain about.’‘It used to be the opposite,’ Luc said. ‘When I first got with Marc I’d cum too quickly and then when I started taking longer and longer he thought I was becoming bored of him.’Luc blushed. I jumped off them both and dived into the shower. There are three of us in this relationship. I’m one third of our three-way love-in. Technically speaking it’s called polyamory, but I’d rather just call it ‘having a good time’. The benefits are huge: who doesn’t like the idea of being lavished by two people, both emotionally and sexually?So that’s my role in the whole shenanigans. What about the others? Well, Luc, the model, 24, has tree trunks for thighs and is quite French and quite American. He tells everyone about us and looks quite like he’s been carved by Bernini. He’s also got a raging libido and flips like a slinky. Ben’s the glossy mag editor. In another life I imagine him running one of those New York nightclubs where they turn 99 percent of the queue away. And then there’s me, Seb, the writer. I’m the gangly one who understands people but doesn’t necessarily like being around them all the time.We sleep together, go to parties together, and fuck together. So far we’ve told a few of our friends. They’ve not batted an eyelid. Luc last week introduced us to his mum, brother, and *** in a Brasserie in Paris as his ‘two boyfriends’. It’s strange because it’s not strange. We feel completely at ease with each other. Though of course, eventually, there’s bound to be complications.Our first hurdle is a pretty big one – more like a high jump in fact – we are about to move in together. Or, specifically, Luc is about to join me and Ben. We live in London and have done for the past four years.Luc came along two months ago like some kind of delicate, expensive import. Bored unto death by a controlling boyfriend, he came to the deep comfort of our king sized bed and never left. Instead he had come to see our friend, George, who was staying in the spare room. Needless to say Luc didn’t stay in the spare room with him.As he stood at the end of the bed, muscles taut as he stretched, Ben said: ‘Move in with us’. ‘Okay,’ said Luc. ‘But are you sure your flatmates won’t mind?’ ‘Of course not.’He didn’t expect him to say yes – it’s just a chic thing to say. At this point we hadn’t even had sex. Just a forty-minute blowjob that transformed into a tired, twisting mass of limbs and tongues.So here we are. A few months later and Luc’s about to move in with us along with his cat Dan. Luc ensures us that the ginger creature is an unfortunate piece of wreckage from his relationship with Marc. I’m tempted to rename him, though, who names an *** Dan? And, amusingly, a piano. At the same time we have to negotiate our parents, and our flatmate Joe, who do not yet have a clue of any of this. What on earth could go wrong? Naturally, really rather a lot.Equality of intimacy and a volume of communication are the two most important poles in this relationship. When you're a three the rations are spread thinner. But the opportunity for gains are higher. It’s important when you’re all fucking that attention is divided equitably between everyone. You don’t want to end up with the classical idea of a ménage à trois with one guy alone jacking off while the others stare deeply into each other’s eyes imagining their future having dinner at The Wolseley and taking business class flights to LA etc.So there’s us. If sex is the propulsion that drives a relationship forward then we’ve got enough fuel to get us far. Luc’s libido matches Ben’s. Meaning that basically they want to fuck morning, noon and night. I’m a lot slower. Like an old car I can flag sometimes. I sort of build up in a teased way that demands a lot of patience. But it’s attentive. It’s something split in three. While Luc or Ben are fucking me the other’s licking our chests, nipples, stroking thighs. The moment that changes things will veer off in another direction. But for now? We’ve got a cat to prepare for.Three Boys and a Cat is published every two weeks. Get the next post here. Seb Heath is a pseudonym for a writer working in London. Straddling the worlds of luxury and academia. Seb has written about everything from economic reform, the Pre-Raphaelites, and 5* hotels. Contact Seb or follow him on Twitter @seb_heath