Ever since the very first day at my job I’d been flirting with my coworkers Nate and Ben. It had always been harmless, playful innuendo — until the night we were the last ones left at an office happy hour.

Always the party animal, Ben suggested we continue the festivities at his apartment. We piled into a cab, and I tried to tell myself that their hands resting on my thighs meant nothing. Confined spaces and all that, right? Still, I felt a light pulse of excitement start up between my legs.

But on the ride to Ben’s place, we graduated from coy touches to full-on making out. Ben’s face wound up buried in my cleavage, his lips and tongue wiggling into the valley between my breasts.

Meanwhile, Nate busied himself exploring the dips and curves of my neck and shoulders. His open... Read More