I wake up a bit later from someone stepping on my mattress. I guess I crashed on the right one, ‘cause it wobbles. There’s scurrying around, seems like reshuffling of mattresses or something. I want to open my eyes, but they’re heavy so I don't bother.

I hear noises coming from the opposite side of the room. Hushed voices, I can’t make out what they’re saying.

My mouth is dry, but I don’t feel the strength to get up to find water in the dark. I’ll just go to sleep again. Manage this when it’s light out so I can see.

Another sound. Is that a moan?

I listen attentively, and indeed discern some laboured breathing, kissing, ruffling of clothes. Another moan. This is a girl’s voice. But I have no idea who. I don’t know if I care. Probably not. I should just sleep.

I feel myself dozing off a bit, in spite of the sex noises only getting more prominent. I’m too wasted to be bothered by that stuff at this point. The high has settled nicely in my system, but I’m less fucked up than when I crawled over here. I can feel the hairs on my arm standing up a little. But not in a bad way. It’s like I have fur or something. Is this how a cat feels?

Suddenly there’s another feeling on my arm. A very light caress. It’s soothing, like putting on a jacket when you’re cold. Though I’m not cold. Is it my sleeping bag shifting? Realise that I should’ve been in it, but the smoothness of the fabric tells me I probably just pulled it over myself, because I was too wasted to give a shit earlier.

I still don’t give a shit, but this feeling on my arm is nice.

It slides further up my arm, then over my shoulder. It’s not the sleeping bag, is it?

No, it isn't. Now I’m focussing on the feeling, I can discern clearly that it’s fingers. Someone is touching me.

My heart speeds up. What the hell? I’m being taken advantage of! I should do something!

But I kind-of like it.

Maybe it’s a very innocent caressing sort of advantage taking. Like, an advantage for two. Then again, the one doing this thinks I’m asleep, so whatever they’re doing, this isn’t okay.

Feels okay though.

The fingers lightly travel up my arm again, slowly up into the sleave up my T-shirt, lingering on my shoulder for a bit, then slowly exploring the underside of my collarbone, sliding towards my chest. Slowly, carefully, making my heart race and my skin beg for more.

Holy shit, this is so wrong. I need to do something.

I roll abruptly to my side, and the arm instantly retracts.

There, problem solved.

Or not. They’re probably going to start again as soon as they’re convinced I’m still asleep.

I lie awake, silently. Waiting.

Nothing happens, and I don’t feel relieved.

Why? Am I afraid they’ll do it again? I could just open my mouth and tell the person next to me to not touch me in my sleep. Whoever they are. If I say it loud enough there’ll be witnesses too. They won’t dare to try again.

But I don’t. I’m not saying anything. I’m waiting for the soft caress to return. And it’s not dread either. It’s anticipation.

I don’t get it. I don’t even know who that is! I’m being violated in my sleep, how am I not furious?

I’m not though. I miss the touch and I want it to come back. 

It doesn’t. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe the person who did that just realised they were way out of line and are now silently withering in shame.

The moaning on the other side of the room continues, then is broken by a giggle. Anna. I’m sure that’s Anna. So that means the one touching me was not Anna. The fingertips were small though, I think… Is it a girl? Not Ivanka. She has those nails. And I bet with her history she’d never…

Could it be Alex?

Probably not.

I want to know. And also, I don’t want to know. I realise I am a complete pervert, but I just want them to start doing it again.

Maybe I should encourage them?

No, I shouldn’t.

But I want to. Also, it’s not sexual assault when you consent. So, then all is fine. Please touch my arm.

I can’t say that, though. Everyone will hear that.

I turn back into the position I was in earlier and lay still for a minute. When nothing happens, I shift my hand over to the other person one millimetre at the time. It takes ages, but I’ve hardly moved at all when my finger finds a hard metal thing. A ring? The metal moves and now my other finger feels skin. It’s someone’s hand. Someone wearing at least one bulky ring.

That could be almost anyone. Not Alex though. Not that I care.

I slowly move my fingers against the other person’s. They reciprocate. It’s exhilarating.

I manage to deduct the hands are indeed not larger than mine, which means it’s probably not one of the guys. Was I really being violated by a girl?

And can she maybe do it again?

As if they could read my mind, the hand slowly starts trailing up my arm again, the person turning to shift closer. The hand trails up over my shoulder to my neck, so slowly, it’s excruciating. Their touch is laden with some sort of static electricity that makes my skin tingle. 

I move my hand forward a little, uncertain what it’s going to encounter, and afraid of breaking the spell. I stop as I feel a fabric. A shirt maybe. I don’t dare to touch beyond it.

Everything that’s been going on in my mind fades, when the fingers trail over my lips. The person exhales with a sigh, making the loose fabric of the shirt move against my hand. Then their fingers disappear again.

I stick mine out as silent encouragement. They find a seam. Probably the hem of the shirt. I poke it, the skin underneath trembles, and is accompanied by a shaky inhale. Is this person ticklish?

The fingers re-appear on my skin, then on my shirt, slowly trailing downwards. I hold my breath as my heart goes into overdrive. The fingers linger around the bottom of my shirt and remain there. But I want them back on my skin.

Oh shit, they’re waiting. Is this part of a really strange consent game? I stick one finger under the shirt, and slowly touch the skin there. The person shudders again. The exhale now fanning over my face. Are they closer?

The fingers leave the hem of my shirt and dip under, they slowly trail up over my stomach, then slowly down again. I feel so hot I might be running a fever. The soft touches leave trails on my skin that ache for the contact to return the second it moves somewhere else.

I need to know. I move my hand slightly down to find out what the person is wearing the shirt on. That way I can figure out who… But I’m confronted with the hem of a boxershort before I encounter anything else. And it’s not just the hem I’m feeling. The hem is standing up because something’s pushing it.

I can feel myself react in response. The touches under my shirt feel even hotter, as I realise this is most certainly not a girl. I can feel the evidence throbbing against the waistband.

I think I know who it is, but I don’t want to focus on that. I don’t want this moment to be taken away by my brain taking over thinking about what-ifs. I just want to touch this boy right now, surrender to the feeling of his skin under my fingertips and the way he’s driving me crazy with his touch.

So I do. Softly caressing the hard tip through the fabric is the most exciting thing ever.

But what’s even better is the hand slowly moving downwards over my abs, dipping slightly into the hem of my pants, then stopping, as if asking for permission.

I find the hand with mine and open my zipper. The hand immediately dives in and goes for the money. I bite my lip as the cold hand touches the flesh, my breath hitches.

Then movement. The body beside me scoots closer, breathing hard as my hand is pressed against his rock-hard dick in return. I squeeze it a little, and feel the side of my hand getting slightly moist.

Shit this is hot.

A shuddering breath. Closer by now. A second hand, coming up on the underside of my chin, tilting my face, guiding it until my lips meet another pair. I don’t know who starts, but the kiss is tender and soft, like the touches. They make me feel special. Like I’m something to cherish.

Yeah, it’s really Fuzz.

I open my eyes, and however dark it is, I recognise the face instantly. His eyes are closed, with a knot between his eyebrows from concentration. He pecks my lips once more, before wrapping his hand fully over my erection and starting to move up and down. I copy his movements, leaving us both breathing hard against each other.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced outside of my dreams. The way he touches me is so unfamiliar, so delicate, and so incredibly pleasurable, I don’t fucking care that it’s Fuzz who’s doing it.

I don’t mind doing this to him either. Honestly, it’s extremely exciting to feel him throbbing in my hand, to hear his breath stifle if I squeeze slightly in the right place. He sucks my lip as I up the pace, his heartbeat racing under my hand, a breathy moan against my lips.

Oh shit. People are gonna hear this.

They can’t. I press one finger to his lips to convey the message. A slow nod makes me think he understood.

I start massaging him, slowly moving up and down, teasing the wet tip with my thumb. The other boy is panting, but clearly giving it his all not to let real sounds escape his mouth. It’s hard for me too, especially when I get closer, but we should really stay silent.

I cover his mouth to reduce the sounds coming from his lips. He licks my fingers in response. I move them into his mouth, and he sucks and bites on them, as his abs started trembling.

Feeling him orgasm in my hand is the hottest thing on earth. I can feel the pulsation of his cock as his cum shoots out in sticky waves, over himself, over the inside of the blanket, over my arm. I stroke him slower until he’s fully spent.

But before I can fully register it, he moves his upper body over me and kisses me hard, grinding his hips into mine. The sudden shift in intensity and pressure drives me to the apex.

Against my own restrictions, I let out an unvoluntary broken moan into his mouth as I go flying over the edge, feeling my heart race as I come harder than ever.

The feeling of bliss spreads from my groin outward, and even reaches my toes and fingertips. My heart races in my chest as we still, a shuddering breath leaving my mouth.

Milan softly shifts his weight off me, but one leg is still covering mine as he buries his face in my neck and presses a soft kiss to the side.

I slide one hand into the ragged mop of blonde hair that's resting on my chest, and peacefully fall asleep.