To clear the air: Lash and I’d been making each other come since our first high school gig; it seemed natural to honor our horizontal ties throughout our would-be college years…and it goes without saying the boy was a fantastic lay. (Not to preen, but I’m a seriously talented lover myself, and sexy AF despite my inherent cringe factor). Between the two of us, we’d compiled enough moves in our racy repertoire to satisfy a frigging harem. None of the other Rim Shot brothers knew Lash and I were spit (and pearlier fluid) swappers; since we didn’t want to mess with our band’s dynamic, we’d agreed to keep our dirty deeds out of the public spotlight.

Ashley complained now and again about our covert arrangement, but his massive sex drive prevented him from issuing an honesty's-the-best-policy ultimatum. Talk about frisky: I thought at one point I'd need to get this horndog a leash. I was equally overstimulated, because boning Lash under our bros' noses was just plain hot (and scandalous—I admit I toyed with the idea of surreptitiously recording us with our pants down and “accidentally” posting it to Rim Shot's Tik Tok tour diary). Re: fucking Lash: I planned to keep it up indefinitely...unless Cade decided to stop blueballing me. In that case, I might switch players midgame.

Anyway, upon returning from a successful wee-hours pot-scoring quest (MJ's still illegal for recreational use in FL—too bad, so sad) my DL fleshmade sex doll offered himself up for an impromptu ass ravishing in the privacy of our shared suite. Despite the ungodly hour, my cock commanded me to play, and I obeyed. (He trained me well.) Nut number three, the first non-solo big O I’d achieved since Cade had evaded my advances, was religiously ecstatic. I’m talking a toe-curling, pillow-muffling, obscenity-laden immaculate ejaculate from the big man himself. Ashley is a goddamned legend when it comes to bacchanalian, cum-swilling excess; but I'm a goddamned deity.

Through the soft gauze of pleasure, however, there was an undercurrent of ick—an off-putting wet-towel malaise that had no place in lazy, post-orgasmic heat. Luckily Ashley didn't seem to sense my unease, although he repeated my name a few times in a bid for attention. I ignored him until he pinched my left ass cheek.

“The meat’s already well tenderized,” I griped.

He flicked his long blond bangs away from his kohl-lined, black-and-tan eyes. “Lemme ask you something.”

I waved him off. “Go down on me first. That'll get my attention.”

Still tipsy from a chugged pint of Seagram’s 7 (Bleurgh!) and mega high from weed hunting with Rem and Clive, he gave an exaggerated pout. “I'm not a piece of meat, Ede.”

I coughed into my hand, "Eat me."

Not to be mean, but Ashley was a total slut. We’d been screwing for years, with no plans of stopping in the foreseeable future, and I was privy to the nitty-gritty of his top-of-the-class sex ed. Bottom line: Lash gave medical-grade blow jobs. Who was I to refuse a budding urologist his vital contribution to my manhood's maintenance? I had to prioritize my health.

“Ha!” Lash snorted. “I only offer my services to paying customers.”

Reality check: I could have his backpussy whenever I wanted it. But I wasn't about to destroy his pride in addition to using him for hanky-panky.

I gave him my sweetest smile. “Okay, so now that your services have been satisfactorily rendered, what can I do for you?”

“Are you trying to fuck Cade?”

His random question sucker punched me.

If only I were fucking him! I wanted to scream. Then maybe I wouldn't be wasting time canoodling with Plan B.

Harsh? Yes. Fair? Absolutely. Deep down (or not that deep—more like, just-the-head penetration level), I realized keeping Ashley as my fuckbuddy was potentially a dick move. Over the years, Lash had somehow managed to imprison my cock between his legs...though if I thought about it hard enough, I could probably admit I'd wedged it there in the first place. However, he didn't possess that heartstopping allure Cade managed to pull off without even trying.

Gradually I became aware of the room's deadly silence, and then it all came crashing back: I was supposed to be answering a very important, very disturbing question.

“Cade?" I affected my best bitch-please tone. "Nah, I don't want to fuck him. Too moody, too high maintenance. Too sweaty jockstrap-ish, too reincarnated James Dean.”

He frowned. “Then why did you pause before answering?”

“Why? I was shocked!” I scoffed. “You and I both know Cade’s straight.”

Ashley narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

Nervously I quelled my urge to whistle and scanned the floor, trying to remember where I'd flung my clothes (in case this conversation went south a few minutes down the road). In matters of little head versus big head, one must have an escape plan handy when the former incriminates you.

“Do you appreciate our special relationship?” Ashley pressed.

The answer was automatic; I sighed in relief. “Lash, you know you’re great in bed.”

Staring into the abyss of my soul, he ordered, “Then stop thinking about fucking Cade when you're fucking me.”

Speechless. I'd always restrained myself from calling out Cade's name while Ashley made me come; neither of them should have a clue about my inner thoughts. Unless...but the idea was too preposterous to entertain. Cade wouldn't express bi-curiosity—not even to Ashley, his best friend. Or so I thought. So I liked to think. So I fucking hoped to think. As much as I'd cream my jeans to hear Cade had been fantasizing about me, I would've been horrified if he'd admitted it to my fuckbuddy.

Ashley snorted. “I'm glad you're not denying it. That means you're less of a liar than I thought.”

Defensively I held up my hands. “I'm not sleeping with him.”

“I know that. You're sleeping with me. But if you want to continue sleeping with me, you need to stay focused on me. You're harshing my buzz.”

Shocked at his nonchalance, I could do nothing but give an affirmative nod as I reached for my shirt, which had mysteriously landed on the lampshade.

“Where are you going?” Ashley demanded.

“I thought—”

Grabbing me by the hair, he pulverized my lips. (Of course it felt amazing—I like it rough.)

“Aren't you forgetting something? It's my turn,” he panted in between hard kisses. “I was too drunk to come when you fucked my ass.” Gripping my hand, he guided it to his stirring cock. “Solve my problem, twink.”

Refusal would have been in bad taste.

“Okay,” I murmured. “Tit for tat.”

He licked my lips, getting them wet and ready. I allowed him to place my head where he wanted it; then I opened my mouth to oblige his need.

As I worked my magic on him, deep groans and low growls erupted from his throat. He was getting close.

Suddenly, the door to our suite swung open. 

Mercy! I inwardly screeched, panic mode fully activated. 

“Shit!” Ashley moaned. “Worst timing ever.”

Against my will, I made eye contact with Cade. Pupils dilated, mouth agape, he stared at me. I stared back, lips still stupidly wrapped around Ashley's schlong.

Cade turned his black-eyed gaze on his best friend's cock in my mouth. "What the fuck?"

Man-whore, my mind chanted, he's seen your true form. Oh, the horror!

I’m willing to bet all three of us died a little inside.