I devote all my energy to Shane’s dick now that I’m no longer multi-tasking. Up and down, faster now, I add a little flourish at the top. Shane begins to pump his hips, fucking his hot prick through my fist. "Yeah, that's it."

“How does he feel in your hand?” Fletch asks me.

“Velvety, warm. So hard and thick.” I keep stroking and Shane’s dick gets redder, the head seeming more sensitive and a darker purple. I have the sudden urge to kiss it. Taste it.

And then his back arches. “Gonna come.”

He grabs my hand, maybe afraid I’ll stop too soon, and his body starts quaking. His cock throbs in my hand just as it erupts, sticky white cum continuing to spurt in pulse after pulse.

“Oh, God. There’s so much,” I say in honest surprise.

He groans lustily as he coats my hand. “Job well done,” he says after moaning again.

I bring my hand to my mouth and lick my fingers.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so hot,” Shane says, and it fills me with a strange kind of knowing pride. There’s a woman settling into the heart of me. Instincts I worried I might not have are beginning to show themselves. Dark, dirty instincts.

“Not done yet,” Fletch says, reaching for me and pulling me roughly to him. His grip is powerful. Possessive. My name comes out of his mouth in a hoarse whisper and suddenly his lips are pushing into mine. He growls against my lips.

He’s palming the flagpole in his lap. It’s tall and proud and a hungry. Primal lust surges through me. I take both hands to him eagerly.

“Oh, sweet Jesus. Your hands are wet.” Wet with Shane’s cum. I’m off the charts on a scale of prude to slut right now. I am stroking a guy using the cum of his best friend as lube. And I love it.

Fletch leans back and closes his eyes as I practice the same moves I just learned. He’s breathing hard, and the electricity in the air is sparking. He thrusts himself hard into my hands and spurts. It’s fascinating. I want more. I want him to do it again. I want Shane to do it again.

But then the once electric vibe in the room cools quickly, the three of us suddenly aware of what we’re doing. What we’ve done.

The porno on the 72-inch screen seems too loud, too brash.

My hands are sticky and wet.

“Hey, you want us to do you a solid, too?” Shane asks.

I jump up off the couch. “Um. No. That was great, guys. Thanks.”

That was great, guys, thanks?

“Pen, let us take care of you.”

“No, thanks. I have to go study calculus now. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”