I think I’m a little stoned, so it’s not a surprise that I hardly react when Brandon kisses the nape of my neck, all hot and wet. But it is a surprise that I don’t react when he suddenly lifts my top up and exposes my bare breasts to Tyler’s waiting gaze.

      Yeah, that’s a surprise, all right. Mainly because it’s Brandon being so shockingly forceful, but also due to the fact that I can’t quite recall why I didn’t wear a bra tonight.

      So they would see you, my mind throws up, but my mind is ridiculous. I don’t want my best friends to see me, and they certainly don’t want to look. They totally don’t.

      Except for all the parts where they totally do, because when I glance up Tyler is running a gaze that seems suddenly heavy all over my naked tits, and Brandon has cupped one of said tits with a single too-large hand.

      And I think – though cannot be sure – that he’s making little noises. Little hot moans into the nape of my neck, followed by some breathy pants – of the kind that would usually arouse me. I mean, if this wasn’t Brandon doing this I’d definitely be wet by now. Mainly because the sounds he’s making are so hot and desperate and horny, but also because he doesn’t take long to find one of my completely not stiff nipples and kind of … tug it a little.

      As though he’s just testing this whole thing out. Seeing if I’ll mind, or something. And I guess I don’t, because when he does it I make a sound of my own – though I swear I don’t mean to. And I don’t mean to shiver, either, when Tyler comes out with the following:

      ‘Yeah, you like that, huh?’

      In a voice that no longer sounds like his own. This new voice is really rough, like someone dragged a piece of sandpaper over it – though I’m not sure I’d understand what he’s saying any better if he said it in his normal tone. He is talking about sex things, after all, and though he’s likely just as semi-stoned as me – and God only knows how far gone Brandon is – there’s something so wicked about that. So disturbing.

      He expects me to answer him, and with words I’ve never used in front of either of them. And though I know what those words are – things like mmmm and yeah and feels so good – I can’t quite do it.

      Instead, I have to just lie there quietly in Brandon’s arms, as he teases and toys with one nipple, and then the other. Fingers feverish and almost fumbling, sometimes falling into a kind of greedy squeeze of my heavy tits – like he thinks this whole thing is going to go away, soon. As if I’m just tolerating him fondling me, letting him get it out of his system before I put a stop to the whole thing.

      But I’ll be honest, I don’t think the latter’s going to happen. There’s no urge in me to stop anything, despite the strange, almost uncomfortable silence we all seem to have fallen into. It’s punctuated only by our combined heavy breathing, and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it without bursting out with something.

      Or at least, I’m not sure until Tyler leans forwards and licks wherever Brandon isn’t touching. After which, all the words I want to say – we should really talk about this before we all start fucking being chief amongst them – fall away inside me. Electric sparks of pleasure zip from my now unbelievably stiff nipples all the way down to places I don’t want to discuss in polite company, and I make a sound instead of the sensible things I need to say.

      A rough, dirty, moaning sort of sound. That gets louder when Brandon mutters, ‘Yeah, suck it. Suck her nipple.’

      I mean, Jesus. Where did he get that from? He’s the sort of guy who can barely request that someone pass him the peas. He once pissed himself in primary school rather than ask the teacher if he could go to the bathroom. He shouldn’t be telling his best friend to do that to me.

      And his best friend shouldn’t be obeying.

      Because, oh, he does. He takes one tight peak in his mouth and sucks on it sloppily, messily, until I’m writhing and mindless and pulsing hard between my legs. My entire body has suddenly disappeared right down into my solid, aching clit, and worse than that, I think the pair of them know it.

      They’re both going at me so hard and greedy, and the moment I make any sort of move – a hand on the back of Tyler’s head – he starts shoving my skirt up.

      Of course, I immediately go bright red. Not because I don’t want him to do it – because it would be ridiculous of me to deny it now – but because he’s going to see, in a second. My dependable, no-nonsense friend Tyler is going to see that I’ve wet my panties, because he and my other friend are licking and sucking and rubbing my nipples.

      I want to die of shame, I really do. And yet somehow, once he’s got my skirt up and he’s looking at me there, it’s not half as bad as I had imagined. I know how rude it must look – the panties are just little cotton things, flimsy as anything, and I’ve made them so wet I can feel the material clinging to my swollen bud – but he does nothing to make me feel weird about it.

      Quite the contrary. He groans and then, after a second of arranging me this way and that, rough hands on my thighs spreading me wider and wider, he says, ‘Fuck, your clit’s so big.’

      And I swear, I feel nothing. Apart from intense arousal, of course.

      It’s so intense that I don’t even protest when he gets hold of the material that’s covering my slippery slit, and pulls it aside so he can get a better look. I just watch him, near breathless with anticipation, body now ready for anything while my mind takes a vacation.

      ‘You want me to lick it?’ he asks, and I don’t know. It’s like he’s a different person, suddenly. Or maybe it’s just that I’m a different person, because I find myself rolling my hips up at the fingers that refuse to do anything but hold that piece