That morning, after a wild party with plenty of friends, the house was unusually quiet. Everyone had left except for our best friend, who had crashed on the couch, too drunk and exhausted to make it home. I, on the other hand, had been particularly wild during the party the night before. I’d danced, flirted, and drank way more than I should have, letting loose in a way that I rarely did. As I stood in the bathroom, still slightly buzzed and unsteady on my feet, I could feel the lingering haze of alcohol clouding my mind.

Despite my best attempts to focus on getting ready for work, my movements were slow, and the events of the night before played on a loop in my head. My boyfriend was in the shower, and even through the fogged glass, I could feel his eyes burning into me, filled with desire.

I’ve always had a dirty side, and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol still in my system, but I felt bolder than usual. The tension in the room was undeniable, and I could sense where this was heading.

“Wanna do something quick?” he asked, his voice low, his tone teasing.

I smirked at him in the mirror. “We’re already late and so is he,” I said, nodding toward the living room. But my words didn’t stop him. If anything, they spurred him on.

Ignoring my half hearted protest, he started stroking himself in the shower, his cock hard and slick under the water. The sight of him in the mirror sent a thrill through me, and I bit my lip, already feeling my resolve slipping.

Before I could decide what to do, a voice from the doorway startled me.

“What’s going on in here?”

I turned to see our best friend leaning against the doorframe, his hair messy, his shirt barely hanging on his shoulders, and a knowing smirk on his face. His eyes flicked between us, lingering on me just a little too long.

“Nothing,” I replied with a grin. “Except this one doesn’t know how to wait.”

Our friend chuckled, stepping further into the room. “I don’t blame him. Look at you. Hell, now I’m tempted to join in.”

I glanced between them, my pulse quickening. This wasn’t new. Despite the fact that our friend was married, these moments had become a thrilling, forbidden secret we all shared.

“Fine,” I said, sighing dramatically. “But if we’re doing this, it better be worth it.”

My boyfriend grinned, and our friend stepped closer, shutting the door behind him. I dropped to my knees, fully giving in to the moment, and started with my boyfriend.

I teased him with my tongue, taking him deeper as his groans filled the small bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed our friend watching us, his hand already moving to stroke himself. The intensity of his gaze fueled me as I worked my boyfriend, savoring every second of his surrender.

When my boyfriend finally came, I held him in my mouth, letting him fill me completely. I looked up at him, showing him my mouth full before swallowing every drop. Then I stuck out my tongue, empty and clean, with a playful smirk that made him groan in satisfaction.

Then I turned my attention to our friend. He was already rock hard, his hand moving faster as I leaned toward him. He didn’t hesitate, gripping my hair as I took him in. The salty, musky taste hit me immediately, but I pushed through, loving the way he gasped and shuddered under my touch.

When he finally came, the sheer amount overwhelmed me. It felt like three or four times the dose my boyfriend had released, thick and hot as it hit my tongue. My stomach rebelled after the long night of drinking and no breakfast, and I gagged slightly, struggling to keep it all in.

My boyfriend, watching from above, let out a sharp laugh. “You’re such a disgusting little thing,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk.

I shot him a playful glare but swallowed it all anyway, determined not to waste a single drop. I held it in my mouth for a moment, showing our friend the evidence of his release before swallowing it in one gulp. Then I stuck out my tongue again, playful and triumphant, despite the way my stomach churned from the sheer volume.

“Damn,” our friend muttered, leaning back against the sink, his chest rising and falling. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“She’s filthy,” my boyfriend said with a smirk, “but that’s why I love her.”

I stood up, wiping the corner of my mouth and adjusting my skirt. The taste of them lingered, heavy and unmistakable, but there was no time to dwell. I glanced at the clock and gasped.

“Shit, we’re so late!” I exclaimed, grabbing my bag and rushing out of the bathroom.

As I hurried toward the door, they both called after me, laughing.

“So, you had your breakfast this morning, huh?” my boyfriend teased, his voice dripping with mockery.

Our friend joined in, laughing. “Yeah, hope that tides you over until lunch!”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing as I grabbed my keys. “You two are ridiculous,” I called back, shaking my head but grinning from ear to ear.

Once I arrived at work, still feeling the remnants of the morning’s chaos, I opened our shared group chat and sent them a message:

"I still have the taste at the back of my throat."

It didn’t take long for their laughing emojis to flood the chat, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Even hungover and slightly disoriented, the thrill of these moments kept me going and I knew this wouldn’t be the last time...