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The vague idea first came to Sara when she woke up with Shane’s hand in her pants. He wasn’t doing anything especially untoward; he had a habit of hooking his fingers into the waistband of whatever she was wearing. He did the same thing with Ryan’s belt loops, since they’d started dating. He liked to hold other people close, and it was just his own weird way of accomplishing it. But his hand had migrated in the night, and now his bony wrist was stretching out the elastic of her pajama shorts as the tip of one finger brushed against the border of her pubic hair. He could have fingered me in my sleep and I wouldn’t have noticed, she thought, a wave of heat washing over her, settling between her legs and throbbing through her clit. She squeezed her thighs together, curling her toes in the sheets, her eyes still shut. She could see it behind her eyelids: Shane creeping into bed with her, finding her sleeping and deciding to just take her, regardless if she was awake or not. Shane’s fingers twitched in his sleep and she pressed his hand against her. His fingertips were inches from her wetness, which was already leaking from between her labia. He could fuck me in my sleep, she thought, and it played out in her mind like a personalized porno - Shane spreading her legs, pushing her pajama shorts to the side, fingering her until she was wet, and then just… sliding his cock into her, fucking her to get himself off. Shane made a sleepy noise, and his fingers twitched again. She pressed his palm against her vulva, awkwardly, and his fingers curved around her with purpose this time. She covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes squeezed shut and her breath coming in desperate pants. His fingertips slid between her labia, and he huffed against her temple. “So what’s got you so worked up?” Shane’s voice was rough in her ear as his fingers entered her. “You’re like liquid inside.” “Don’t you mean I’ve got liquid inside?” She sighed, rolling onto her side and forcing his fingers deeper inside of her. “I forgot that you’re the epitome of eloquence first thing in the morning,” Shane said, his fingers curling, brushing against her g-spot, his thumb on her clit. She was so wet that she could hear it, the sounds loud and nasty in their bedroom. He fucked her with his fingers, his thumb rotating perfectly along her clit just the way she loved. “I mean,” she said, her voice rough. He scooted closer until her forehead was against his shoulder. “You mean?” He spread his fingers just enough to make her feel it, and she cried out. I’m like a finger puppet right now. If he fisted me, I’d be a hand puppet. The mental image was enough to make her giggle, and he looked at her sidelong. “Something funny?” “Hand puppet,” she mumbled, and then she shuddered as another finger slid inside of her - three now, spreading slightly, curling and straightening, filling her up. “That made no sense whatsoever,” Shane told her, and the bones in his wrist shifted as he spread his fingers again, making her whine. She was going to say something pithy, or maybe smart, but… his fingers. She’d be a drooling stump and never say anything again if it meant that Shane would just keep curling his fingers. “Hmm?” Shane wriggled his fingers like he was drumming them on his desk, and Sara’s hands went to Shane’s shoulders, digging into the skin and muscle. He could do anything to me, she thought. He’s so much bigger than I am. It wasn't the first time she’d had the thought. With their height difference, how was it even possible for her to not have thought about it? What if she’d stayed asleep? What if he’d woken up before she had and had found his hand where it was. What if he was less moral than he was… what if he’d done this while she was sleeping and found how desperately wet she was. The image of his big body over hers, her eyes closed and her head lolling back and shaking as he fucked her, floated through her mind and landed like a silk scarf. She came around his fingers, squeezing them with her pussy almost violently, and the rush of wetness across her thighs alerted her to the fact that she’d squirted. She sobbed against Shane’s shoulder as he held her through her orgasm, still thumbing her clit and pressing on her g-spot. “Wow,” said Shane, withdrawing his fingers carefully and then casually licking them clean. “You’re not usually that… responsive, first thing in the morning.” Sara’s hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, and she kissed him like it was the end of the world. When she pulled back, she spoke right up against his lips. “Shane,” she said, her voice rough with sleep, “Shane, I want to do a thing?” Her hand slid down and she grabbed his cock, stroking it roughly and spreading pre-come along the shaft, slicking up her palm. “I am always interested in things,” he said, his face taking on the unfocused expression it got when he was having his cock played with. “Especially your things.” She twisted her fingers around the head of his cock so her thumb was against his frenulum, and he groaned into her mouth. “Well,” she said, and stroked him again. “Well. Have I got a thing for you…” * * * A month and a half later, Sara sat on the couch and ate a pot brownie. She didn’t get high very often; she didn’t like how giggly it made her, and she usually ended up so sleepy that she didn’t do much more than lie in bed and smile at the ceiling. She’d only tried edibles one other time, and it had left her so out of it that she hadn’t been good for much of anything for almost a full day afterwards. Good thing it was Friday, huh? She set the brownie's wrapper down on the table and leaned back into the couch cushions, letting her eyes slide shut. Nothing was happening so far, but it took her a bit to really… feel it. She probably shouldn’t have scarfed down the whole thing, truth be told - maybe she should have just had half of it. She’d never been good at moderation. Why deprive yourself when you could pursue something with both hands outstretched? She wasn’t sure when she’d know that it was hitting her, until she was suddenly sitting there with a metaphorical slapped face. Oh well. She flopped back on the couch, put her feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the television. “I should watch some Harold and Kumar,” she told Obi, who was sprawled next to her like an orange croissant. She ran her fingers across the ridges of his spine, his fur like expensive velvet. He was purring, and it vibrated along the bones in her fingers, in her joints. Obi had no opinions on Harold and Kumar, but he liked having his chin scratched. * * * Sara was well and truly lost in the haze when Shane came home with Ryan in tow. She was watching… what was she watching? She’d started off with the movie, but now it was something Netflix had suggested and she’d just let it play. Who cared. She was sitting comfortably, the cat still purring and kneading at her thigh as cartoon characters frolicked on screen. She looked up when she heard the door unlock, and grinned dopily when she saw Shane’s long, familiar face. “You look baked to hell,” Shane told her, kicking his shoes off and settling his bag down. He made a beeline for the kitchen, his big feet slapping on the tile. “I am not,” Sara said. “There’s no such thing as hell.” She burst out laughing, and then she heard a familiar throat clearing. “Ryan,” she called, “I didn’t save you any brownie. I know it’s polite to share your sweets, but I got caught up.” “It’s all good,” said Ryan. He looked amused. “You didn’t strike me as the edible type.” “We’re all edible,” Sara said, “if you look at it the right way.” She giggled so hard that she nearly fell off of the couch. “You must be high, if you’re repeating Tim Burton’s jokes,” said Ryan, and he sat on the couch next to her with a cushion between the two of them. It wasn’t the usual easy intimacy that the two of them usually indulged in, but… Well. “Tim Burton stole his jokes from… elsewhere,” said Sara, and she wrapped her arms around herself, still giggling. Shane shambled in, shoving a beer at her. “You are a mess,” he told her, and kissed the top of her head. She took a slug of her beer. “You still love me,” she told him. “I do,” Shane agreed, and he nudged her over the cushion, so that she was pressed against Ryan. Shane sat in her vacated spot, his long legs stretched out in front of him and one arm slung over the back of the couch. She lolled against Ryan with her head on his shoulder, and he went stiff against her. She could practically feel his eyes down the front of her loose shirt, which had a neckline that plunged like a Disney villain tumbling off a cliff to their comeuppance. She was wearing a pink bra printed with little rosebuds, and she wondered, faintly, what Ryan thought of it. When she turned her face up towards his he was pinker than her bra, and when they made eye contact his eyes darted away. He stared at the television resolutely. “So, what are we watching?” Shane’s hand squeezed her upper thigh. She squirmed and let her legs fall open, one half on top of Ryan’s. Her skirt rode up, showing a lot more leg than was ever on display at the office. At least, a lot more leg than she usually put on display at the office. There were other people who were… bolder. By some standards, Sara was downright demure. “No idea,” Sara said cheerfully, and sighed as she relaxed into Ryan. The room was spinning, but not unpleasantly. Ryan was warm and solid, and he smelled good. He untensed by degrees, and she knew he kept sneaking furtive looks down her shirt. The idea of him wanting her like this - wanting, but not having - made something deep in her belly clench, slow and delicious. Shane’s hand was a lot higher on her thigh than it would be normally, when they had company over, but she was too far gone to care. She drank her beer and let the guys bicker over whatever they wanted to watch - she was apparently so out of it that they didn’t ask for her input. At one point Shane pulled her closer, and her lower legs were in Ryan’s lap; he tentatively rested his palms on top of her shins, his fingers very stiff. From this angle, Ryan could probably see straight up her skirt - it barely covered her upper thighs. She’d worn cute underwear today - green with blue stripes. She was dozing by the time the movie came on. Her beer bottle almost tipped over, and someone’s hand (who’s hand? Who knew?) grabbed it, and then it wasn’t her problem anymore. She pressed her face into Shane’s neck, and Shane rubbed her back. His hand slid up the back of her shirt, stroking up the line of her spine and leaving goosebumps up between her shoulder blades. She shivered and became aware that her nipples were hard - and then she was aware of them pushing through her bra, through her shirt, and Ryan was staring at them. Shane was staring, too. She jerked awake at one point with Shane’s hand on her side, the tip of one finger against the side of her breast. “Sara,” said Shane, and he pinched her just hard enough to wake her up. “I think you need to go lie down.” “I am lying down,” Sara said, laughing. “For a given value of lying, although I’m telling the truth!” “You are totally wasted,” said Ryan. He sounded impressed. She could almost feel his voice rubbing across her skin like velvet, and she shuddered. Her everything was on end, like row after row of goosebumps, like wheat waving in the sunlight. But what if the wheat had hands and it was all reaching out towards the sky. “The inside of my head is really ridiculous,” she told them. “There’s nothing but… overdone metaphors in here.” Ryan stared at her thighs, up her skirt and along the curves of her breasts. His eyes were like a Wartenberg wheel, running up and down her skin. It left her toes curling and her cunt wet. “I always thought it was full of eyes and fangs,” said Ryan, his hand squeezing her ankle. His own eyes were glued to the apex of her thighs. “Judging by your art.” She tilted her head back and everything spun - the crown of her head pressed into Shane’s thigh, and her breasts were practically falling out of her bra. She spread her legs wider until one foot was on the floor and her skirt was up around her waist. “C’mon, Sar,” said Shane, and helped her up. “You’re flashing Ryan.” “Sorry,” Ryan said, and he looked away. “You mind helping Sara to bed?” Shane asked. “Why can’t you?” Sara reached up, tracing the line of his profile. “Shaaaaaaaaaane.” She always forgot how being stoned made her horny. Combined with Ryan’s eyes on her, it was all… perfect. “Because I need to start making dinner,” Shane said with some authority. “You’re all thumbs in the kitchen.” “If he was all thumbs, he wouldn’t be able to walk,” Sara said, laughing again, this time so hard that she slid off of Shane’s lap, off the couch, and onto the floor. She landed flat on her back with her skirt flipped up around her waist. “Ryan? You okay with helping her?” Shane indicated Sara, still giggling on the floor. He stood up, already making his way towards the kitchen. “Yeah, sure,” said Ryan. “C’mon, Sara. You’re a mess.” “A mess of everything,” she said, still giggling as he lifted her up bodily with his hands under her armpits, pulling her upright. His wrist was against her breast, and he was blushing very hard. “Oh yeah,” said Ryan. “A complete mess.” He held her against his chest as she clung to him like a limpet. His hands went to her hips, his chin against her forehead. She looked up at him while running her hands along his biceps, squeezing them. “You’re so strong, Ryan,” Sara said. “I bet… I bet you could haul me over your shoulder like a caveman.” “I wouldn’t go that far,” Ryan said as he helped her to her feet. She wobbled as she made her way towards the bedroom to the background sounds of Shane in the kitchen. She clung to his shirt, her fingers wrinkling the fabric. His hand was on her side but it moved up stealthily, as if she wouldn’t notice that he was clearly copping a feel. His hand wasn’t pressed against her breast, but only just. “Ry,” Sara said, her voice thick, “Ry, my underwire is digging in. Fix it.” It was a blatant lie as she wasn’t even wearing a bra with an underwire. Her mouth was so dry that her spit felt like quicksilver, rolling around her mouth like little balls. They walked to the bedroom, slowly but surely. Like the march of time. Endless. Inevitable. “Where?” His hand slid along her stomach, and then they sat down on the bed. “You know how underwires work,” Sara said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “They do the thing.” “I don’t wear bras much,” Ryan said dryly. His hand skated along the underside of her breast, right along the band of the bra. “There,” said Sara.”The wire is poking out.” And then she fell back on the bed, dizzy with weed and alcohol. She lay there, her eyes closed and the room spinning around her, and she let her breath even out. In and out, in and out, slow and steady. She kept her eyes shut as Ryan’s hand rested gently on her leg, right above her knee. It moved slowly up - she wasn’t going to say anything, do anything. She was dizzy and shaky, just feeling it all happening. His fingers were very delicate as they traced the curve of the underside of her breast. “Sara?” Ryan’s voice was a little louder, “Sara, you with me?” She didn’t respond. “Right,” Ryan said, quieter. His hand reached out, cupping her breast, and he squeezed. His movements felt furtive, nervous. He skimmed his thumb against her nipple. She kept her eyes shut - she wished she could see his face, but that would ruin it, wouldn’t it? The arousal was hot and deep, burrowing through her belly like an earthworm. She was so wet it smeared across her thighs, soaking through the fabric of her panties. Could Ryan smell her? What else would he do? He was very careful as he pushed the neckline of her shirt down, and then the cups of her bra up. He gave a little gasp as her breasts were freed, and then he leaned forward. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her breast, his lips around her nipple. His tongue swirled along the tip and she let out a little moan, squirming, her legs spreading wider. He pulled back quickly, pushing her skirt further up, and his fingers traced between her labia. She was so wet that her arousal coated his fingertips, making them slide easily. “Oh,” he said, very quietly. She bit her lip, and she knew she was beginning to shake. He was moving so slowly that she could barely detect it. Her clit was so hard, and the rest of her was so wet. She was so wet, and he was just… touching her. She felt it all. All of it, spinning. She was so high that the world spun around the two of them. She could feel her nerve endings firing all over her whole body, from her clit to the spot under her navel. She felt the warmth of his hand against her skin as he carefully, carefully pushed her panties to the side. She was primed and sleepy - it was such a weird combination. She was falling asleep as the tip of his finger slid up and down her slit, swirled along her clit. Her last thought before she fell asleep was to wonder what Shane would do if he found out. * * * Sara woke up - sort of - to Ryan’s head between her legs, his tongue lapping at her clit. She was coming across his face, wet and gooey, waves and waves of pleasure washing over her slowly and carefully. It was the most deliberate orgasm she’d ever had - Ryan pulled it out of her like someone spinning straw into gold. The weed and beer slowed everything down until it was like swimming through taffy, and it was impossible to think, impossible to do anything but come and come, her thighs tense and her heels kicking. She quaked through the aftershocks as she fell back asleep, Ryan’s fingers tender on her inner thigh. * * * She woke up a second time, and Ryan’s head was still between her legs. Shane was standing off to the side, leaning over her. She blinked down the line of her body at Ryan, her abdominals still spasming, and her cunt was stuffed full of at least two fingers - Ryan’s fingers? His tongue was on her clit, and he pressed on her g-spot. Someone was moaning and gasping, and it took her a minute to realize it was her. She was moaning. She was sobbing, everything was spinning, and her pussy clenched around his fingers. She grinded into him, and then a hand cupped her cheek. She looked up into Shane’s face, hazily, and shook, her pussy still shuddering around Ryan’s fingers. “Shane?” She blinked up at him blearily. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he said. “Is Ryan -” “Ryan’s on the couch,” said Shane, as Ryan spread his fingers inside of her and he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking, making her hips arch off the bed. “Isn’t Ryan… y’know…” She would have indicated, but her limbs were made of lead. Ryan’s fingers left her pussy, and one probed her asshole. She squirmed, but her limbs were still too heavy. It was hard to move. It was hard to anything. “Ryan’s on the couch,” Shane repeated as Ryan’s finger sank into her ass, his own thumb pressed down on her lower lip, then down onto her tongue. It was only the second time she’d ever had something in her ass, but she was high enough that she could barely feel anything - it was just a hot, solid stretch. “Okay, that’s good,” said Sara, and she was pulled down into the deep well of sleep. She was still full of Ryan’s finger, and Ryan’s tongue rasped along her clit as lazy pleasure began to slide through her veins again. * * * When Sara woke up for the third time, there was a cock in her mouth. Shane's cock, specifically, resting on her tongue, and then there was a hand tangling in her hair, using it to keep fucking her face. He was really fucking her face, too, the kind of face-fucking Shane didn’t normally do since she was kind of… delicate. She gagged and Shane pulled back, his cock smearing wetness across her lips. She was still loopy, her head spinning, and her chin was wet with drool and pre-come - her whole face was wet. There was something in her ass and something in her pussy, and those somethings must belong to Ryan, although this high she couldn’t tell what was where. There was a thumb against her clit, and she jolted forward with each thrust. Her skirt had been shoved up around her waist, her bra pushed down. Her breasts were forced up and forward by it like they were on display, and they shook with each thrust. They felt… cool. Had they been sucking on her nipples? Her whole body was… pulled, tightly. Her pussy was still throbbing, her ass was still full, and when she looked up through half-lidded eyes at Shane, who was still fucking her face, he made eye contact with her and winked. “Go back to sleep, baby,” said Shane. “Just coming in to check in on you.” His tone was calm, casual even, and her pussy squeezed around Ryan’s… fingers? Ryan gave a deep, guttural moan. “Ryan went home,” said Shane. “Mmm?” She swallowed around his cock, drool flowing down her cheeks, almost dripping into her ears. She was aware of the taste and the pulse of him - all of him existed, right here and now. All of her existed, too, and Ryan was here too. They were all here. She was… really, really stoned. The realization of her state of inebriation seemed to arrive along with her orgasm - wave after wave of it, crashing down. Wetness dribbled out of her cunt when… whatever had been stuffed in it was carefully pulled out.- was it her come? Was it Ryan’s, or Shane’s? Did she even care? She sobbed around the cock in her mouth as she went limp. “Go back to sleep,” Shane repeated, as he fed his cock deeper into her mouth. “You’re still really high.” * * * Sara woke up in the morning with her head pounding, her mouth dry. Ryan was on one side, Shane on the other. When she sat up Ryan stirred, turning over to look at her. “Sara?” He sounded nervous. “Hi,” she said, and then she made a face. “Wow, my voice is gone.” “You, uh… you took a pounding,” he said. He looked nervous, too. “Did you have fun?” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “You did great,” she told him. “Was it like your fantasy?” He ran his hands along her face, and she realized that she was sticky with come - and maybe tears? “Oh, yeah,” said Sara. “It was… fucking perfect.” She shivered and realized that her pussy was tender and her ass was sore - both in the best way possible. She had snatches of memories - dreams of orgasms, dreams of being fucked and manipulated and pulled this way and that. Of her two lovers fucking her while she was nothing but a meat puppet. “If we do it again, maybe we could do it a little different?” asked Ryan. “It felt weird, you being all sleepy like that. And… I dunno, do you think I could be the boyfriend and Shane can be the creepy friend next time?” “Sounds like a plan,” said Sara, and she nuzzled into his cheek. “Are you… are you okay?” She kissed his mouth, sweet and soft, and he kissed her back. She knew she must have the worst-tasting breath in the world, between the come and the dry mouth. “Yeah,” said Ryan, thumbing her cheekbone. “Next time we do that, how about you stay awake for it?” “I can find it in me to do that,” Sara agreed, and she bumped her forehead against his affectionately. “I took pictures. Pictures and video,” said Shane, his voice rough with sleep. He sat up, looking over at the two of them from his side of the bed with a fond expression. “So you can preserve the memories, and, y’know, masturbate until you can’t feel your toes.” “You know me well,” Sara said, and she flopped back onto the bed, her eyes half-shut. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” “Because your boyfriends are willing to fuck you when you’re so stoned that you can’t move?” Shane’s tone was one of gentle inquiry. “Yep!” Sara giggled, and closed her eyes. The room still spun around her, but gently. “I think I’m still a little stoned.” “Next time, maybe don’t eat a whole pot brownie,” said Ryan. “I’ll try to remember that,” Sara said, and her hand drifted between her legs to rub the sticky wetness there. She really couldn’t wait to see those pictures.