Following my college graduation, I chose to have some adventures for a gap year before moving on with my life — and that year sure started off with a bang! And it was one I’ll never forget.

I was 21 and planned to visit parts of New England that were unfamiliar to me before heading off to Europe. My friend and college roommate, Curtis, was my partner in crime for the entire excursion.

Curtis and I first flew to Boston from Los Angeles and headed up to Maine and Vermont, then back down the East Coast to New York City. We had arrangements to fly from the Big Apple to London, then on to the continent. We would be out of America for about five months.

While in New York, we stayed at a hotel close by the home of my godmother, Maribel. She lived in a spacious apartment in Greenwich Village. I’d visited her there with my parents many times in the past, but Curtis had never met her. Tall, elegant and always impeccably dressed — Maribel epitomized sophistication. An educator and a writer, she was the person I’d think of every time I heard the word “intelligentsia.” But she wasn’t stuffy or staid. Whenever she entertained at her apartment, the wine flowed incessantly, as did the laughter.

Maribel never classified herself sexually. For years, she’d had a female companion, but when their relationship fell apart, she began a romantic friendship with a male colleague named Cal, who was at least ten years her junior. She surrounded herself with accomplished people: filmmakers, composers, performers and the like.

Curtis had majored in political science, and Maribel was a published historian, so I’d figured there’d be a good connection between them. I was correct. They hit it off right from the start.

Near the end of our Manhattan stopover, there was a Saturday-night soiree in honor of Curtis and myself, to which Maribel had invited her most interesting friends. Soon after our arrival, I found myself talking with a theatrical set designer, while — across the room — Curtis conversed with a gallery owner and his wife. Then, when the party was well into its second hour, she arrived.

She was called Sunny — though the name wasn’t exactly apt. Her hair was dark, her skin pale and her smile not beaming but wry. She was 30ish — a stage actress, who’d also done some indie films, though none I’d ever seen. She was only a bit over five feet tall with wondrous curves, which she showed off in a tight, wine-colored dress. I’d hoped that being of the theater world she’d drift over toward the set designer, allowing me to meet her. But she initially made a beeline for the gallery owner, his wife — and Curtis.

“Are you the godson?” I heard her ask my pal.

“Jim? No. He’s over there,” Curtis replied as he gestured toward me.

She waved at me, mouthing, “Hello, Jim!” Soon, she came over and introduced herself.

“We finally meet,” she said, pulling me into a loose embrace. Her perfume was a cedar-laced scent that made me think of Christmas.

“Maribel has done nothing but rave about her ‘Jim-bug’ since she heard you were stopping here on your way to the grand European tour!”

She then greeted the set designer, who she appeared to know. After a bit of chatting, she headed off again, going straight to the drink table in the kitchen.

At that point, my godmother scooped me up to introduce me to more of her friends. They were a fascinating lot. However, I could think of nothing but the stunningly sexy Sunny.

Another hour passed, much of which I spent talking with Maribel’s guy, Cal. I kept glancing over to the corner where Sunny and Curtis huddled together on a loveseat, laughing and talking.

Goddamn it. He was doing it again.

In our junior year in college I’d been seeing a girl named Eva. Things were just getting serious between us. Then we’d had a quarrel, and before it could be resolved, Eva and Curtis wound up sleeping together. Now, there he was schmoozing with Sunny. Women couldn’t seem to resist his dark wavy hair, disarming smile and stupid fucking dimples.

I’m not unattractive, but a chick magnet I am not.

I knocked back more drinks than I should have that night. At one point, I even locked myself in solitary confinement in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub and attempting to tamp down my exasperation.

As the party wound down, I looked for Curtis, but he’d disappeared. So had Sunny. I couldn’t believe it. Maribel told me Curtis had bid her good night, but she hadn’t seen Sunny leave. I went back to the hotel, swallowed two aspirin and went to bed.

I woke close to noon with only a mild hangover. Curtis’s bed had not been slept in. I went out, got coffee and a bagel, and bought the SundayNew York Times. I breakfasted alone, reading on a bench in Washington Square Park. When I went back to the hotel an hour later, Curtis was napping on his bed, fully dressed.

“Hey,” he said, his voice drowsy.

“I thought you’d died and gone to hell.”

He stretched like an awakening cat and asked, “Why’d you leave the party so early?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You disappeared around midnight. I looked for you.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “I was there until after one o’clock.”

He sat up. Those wavy locks of his looked like a rat’s nest at the moment.

“Maybe you were in the bathroom or something,” he said. “I looked everywhere.”

“Where did you stay last night?”

“Who are you? My mommy?”

“You went home with Sunny, didn’t you?”

He smiled, then fell back on the bed and did his cat-stretch thing again.

“She’s amazing,” he crowed.

“Jesus.”

“It’s always a sunny day when you’ve had a Sunny night.” He was smiling like a fool.

“Fuck you, Curt. Anytime I have my eye on somebody, there you are.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “How was I supposed to know you liked her?”

I glowered at him

“Look, Jim, Sunny is a beautiful person. A beautiful sexual being. Yeah, we fucked. As a matter of fact, I fucked her in the ass — if you want to be crude about it. And it was … ”

“Was what?

His eyes rolled upward as he searched for just the right word, then he finally sighed: “Transcendent.”

Just as I was saying, “Oh, go fuck yourself,” his cell phone rang.

“It’s her,” he announced.  He went into the bathroom and locked the door. I sat on my bed with my eyes closed until he came out again.

“She got comp tickets from that set designer guy for a three o’clock matinee,” he said. “Some Eugene O’Neill-like thing. Right here in the neighborhood.”

“Good. I don’t want to be around you now.”

“No, you stupid motherfucker. She got a ticket for you, too.”

When we met Sunny at the playhouse, she was all sweet and breezy. Dressed in a black cotton dress, she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. Her manner was warm and overfamiliar — as if she’d fucked me the night before instead of my friend.

But the show — a few one-act plays set in wharf saloons and on the high seas — was so good it kept my mind off Curtis and Sunny. The only theater I’d seen lately had been crummy college stuff. It was terrific seeing actors who knew what they were doing.

We went to a diner for a bite afterward, and as the three of us sat there, I once again found myself in Sunny’s thrall. She wanted to know about me, my family, my education, the upcoming “European tour.” She was playful. Flirtatious. A slut she may have been, but she was an engaging one.

We lingered at the diner. The three of us shared a big slice of red velvet cake and drank flutes of prosecco. At one point, the conversation came to a lull, and she just sat there with that droll smile of hers, her eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us. She cut off a tiny bite of the cake with her fork and put it to her mouth daintily.

“I love red velvet, don’t you?” she said. “I gravitate toward cake, but especially red velvet.”

“It’s very good,” I said.

“Such a lovely afternoon. Here in the Village with two handsome young men.”

Curtis and I sat stone-still, unsure of where she was taking things.

“Jim-bug,” she said. “Your friend Curtis and I had a lovely time last night, but all the while, I was thinking about how I hadn’t been able to spend any quality time with you.”

A silence fell then that was beyond uncomfortable.

“Both of you are sweetcakes yourself and … fizzier than prosecco,” she said finally. “What would you say to spending a little time together back at your hotel? Just the three of us. No strings attached?”

I’m sure I must’ve been sporting a dazed look.

“Oh, good,” said Sunny. “I don’t hear any nays.”

I started to speak, but Curtis cut me off.

“Damn it, Jim,” he said under his breath. “If you say no to this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

I kept my mouth shut, for once.

Even back at our hotel room, I wasn’t convinced anything would happen.

Fortunately, maid service had tidied our room that afternoon, so the place was not a total wreck. Sunny went into the bathroom, while Curtis and I sat on our respective beds. I glared at him; he smirked at me.

I just about had a stroke when Sunny came out of the bathroom dressed in only a lacy black bra and panties. Her face was flushed from the prosecco, but her arms and taut belly were creamy white. As she moved, my eyes traveled from her tiny dent of a navel to her fit ass, in all of its firm, rounded splendor.

“I didn’t want to damage my dress,” she said. “In the heat of the moment, things can get torn.”

Her legs were flawless — without birthmark or blemish.

“Why are you boys in your own corners of the ring?” she teased. “It’s not a prizefight, ya know.”

She sat next to me on the bed, putting one hand lightly on my shoulder. Then she reached up to stroke my hair. A finger twirled one lock into a loop.

“You have such soft hair,” she told me. Her lips moved to mine to kiss me ever so gently. My heart raced as my nervousness morphed into arousal.

We fell back on the bed, feeding on each other’s mouth. She caressed my neck and arm, then her fingers interlocked with mine as she squeezed my hand gently. We lay perfectly still for several moments.

“Don’t be shy over there, Curtis,” she said softly. “This is a big bed.”

I heard him clear his throat. My eyes were closed, but I felt his shadow pass over us as he came our way.

Sunny sat up. She unbuttoned my shirt, slowly but unhesitatingly. Her face moved to my partially bared chest. She nuzzled it with her lips and cheeks. Then she resumed the unbuttoning.

I sat up, bracing myself with my arms. Curtis sat shirtless on the other side of Sunny. He ran a finger along her back, then moved his hand to the elastic of her panties, which he pulled partway down. Her magnificent ass was even paler than the rest of her body. She must have spent some time at a beach in a bikini or something equally skimpy.

“Yes, let’s get rid of all these bothersome clothes,” Sunny said.

Curtis yanked her panties the rest of the way off. My God, what beautiful buttocks that woman had! She may have been a New York City actress who lived in a high-rise building with a doorman and elevator, but she had the muscled buns of a Montana mountain climber.

“You’re so … ” I was suddenly tongue-tied.

“I’m so what?” she prompted.

“Toned.”

“Dance classes,” she said. “Three times a week. Gotta keep up with the new batch of ingénues the universities keep pumping out year after year.”

I stood and removed my unbuttoned shirt. I watched Curtis unhook Sunny’s bra. Like her bottom, her breasts were ivory white. Her shockingly pink nipples looked succulent, as if in need of a mouth — maybe two mouths.

Curtis, however, skipped the nipples and went straight for her pussy, which had a bristly little nest of dark, close-cropped hair adorning it, like a cozy sort of welcome mat. He knelt on the floor while she sprawled on her back on the bed. He was already familiar with her body, of course. He kissed her vulva, then flicked his tongue lightly over her clit. She began breathing deeply and more quickly.

As Curt continued with his oral agenda, I sat down and began kissing her again. But it was none of that soft, dry kissing. I smashed my wet mouth onto hers. Our tongues dueled, and I felt the vibrations from her throat as she moaned.

Curt had apparently been a fast learner the night before. He seemed to know just what to do with his mouth and tongue to bring Sunny to the very edge of orgasm. He would take her to the brink and then back off. For a few moments I pulled my mouth away from hers, watching his workmanlike skills as a cunt-muncher. When it came to pussy-eating, he was a natural.

“This is torture,” Sunny said, sounding a little desperate.

“You want me to stop?” asked Curt.

“Fuck no, I don’t want you to stop!”

I sat back and watched as he brought her even closer to release. It was a cruel game of cat and mouse, but she reveled in it. The next time he had the audacity to back off, she sat up and pushed him away. She looked at him, then at me.

“Why are you two still wearing pants?” she demanded. She crawled to the head of the bed and sat back to watch as we dropped trou.

Show pony that he was, Curtis had gone commando that day. Once he’d shucked his pants and socks, he was bare-ass naked. He stood at the foot of the bed with his uncircumcised cock jutting out, fully erect. My cut dick was completely engorged, too, but it was still encased in my boxer briefs.

“Go over and stand by him,” she told me. “And take the damn underpants off. I want to see what’s on the menu.” She fingered her clit as she spoke.

I did as I was told. Curt and I stood together before Sunny as she sat on the bed. Three naked people.

She took Curt’s cock in one hand and mine in the other. She ran her hands lightly over them. A bead of pre-come had materialized at my dick slit. She scooped it up with one finger and placed it on the tip of her tongue to savor it.

“You two are so beautiful, but so different,” she said as she gently played with our ball sacs. “One hairy man, one smoothie.”

It was true. Curtis was hirsute, and I was sleek except for dabs of hair at my crotch and armpits.

“Can’t we all just get along, now?” she said. She spoke playfully, but with a hint of chastisement. She must’ve sensed the tension between us. “You two are going to be traveling together for months. If you quarrel with each other all the time, the female population of Europe is going to be pretty damn annoyed with the two of you — and likely with America in general.”

I looked over at Curtis, who was laughing softly.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell this dumb fuck all day,” he said.

Instead of arguing, I sat on the bed and kissed one of Sunny’s breasts. I took her nipple between my lips and slowly swirled my tongue around it. Soon Curtis was at her other side, feasting on her other gorgeous tit. After a minute or so of that treatment, Sunny pushed us both to our backs. She proceeded to take turns sucking our aching hard-ons. I’d had some decent blowjobs in the past, but none of my previous sex partners had been so adroit at cocksucking. She took my boner to the hilt.

After a while, the three of us seemed to realize simultaneously that it was time to ascend to the next step.

Curtis reached into the pocket of his discarded pants and tossed a handful of rubbers on the bed. I took one and suited up. I looked over at Curt. He hadn’t yet removed his condom from its wrapper. He seemed to be waiting for me to make a move.

I’d never before made love to anyone with someone else watching, let alone a friend. I feared my cock might wilt, but it didn’t. No way on Earth that could have happened, as aroused as I was. I fucked Sunny in missionary position. It was a snug but easy fit as she was, fortunately, wet with excitement. I was surprised to hear Curt urging me on: “Yeah, Jimbo. Fuck that pussy.” When I came, I was shocked to hear myself moaning, quite loudly.

Then I sat back, spent, as Curt screwed Sunny doggy-style, bringing both her and himself to orgasm. It seemed beyond surreal. But there we all were, and I felt not one pang of jealousy or shame.

Our London flight was set for later the next day, and Curtis and I were to meet Maribel and Cal for a late breakfast before heading to the airport. But we’d cavorted until long after dawn with Sunny, so we were bleary-eyed when we arrived to meet them — at the same diner where we’d eaten with our playmate.

Memories of us DP-ing Sunny earlier that morning — me in her ass and Curt in her snatch — kept coursing through my tired brain.

“You boys look exhausted,” said Cal. “Are you OK?”

“Late night,” I said.

“Oh, poor Jim-bug,” said Maribel. “I hope that damn fool Sunny didn’t chatter at you boys all night after the show. I’ve tried to keep her in line, but she’s incorrigible.”

And then she winked at me.

Curt told me later that Cal had surreptitiously winked at him at the same time.

Ever since that afternoon, I’ve been trying to figure out just what those winks were supposed to mean.