“Ready for the main event, gorgeous?” he said, as he let his fingers slip free.

“You cocky motherfucker, let’s go already.”

“Now what do we say when we want something?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck my ass already!” I whined.

“On your back, then. Call me a sap, but this part is way better with eye contact.”

It took a little shimmying and adjusting, but soon my ass was dangling just off the edge of the bed, with pillows propping up my head and the small of my back. Adam’s big strong arms supported my legs. He generously doused the condom with fresh lube.

“You said you can take it pretty hard,” he said, “so I’m using a nice thin lube. If we need to slow it down, I’ve got thicker stuff in the closet. So, uh. How do you feel?”

“Nervous, but excited. You?”

“Same, if I’m honest. Hence the cockring, it’s my little insurance policy.”

Fuck him, he certainly looked confident as he slid his penis back and forth across my vulva and clit. When he finally set it against my asshole and began to push, my breath caught in my throat.

“Sorry, this always takes a second... ahh, there you are.” Just the tip of him was in me now, and I struggled to keep my holes relaxed—not because there was any discomfort, more like I was too fucking eager.

“More, please. At least give me the head of your cock. Please.”

He gave me the warmest, dopiest grin. “You look so pretty and sweet when you’re pleading for cock.” He pressed into me, and I felt a satisfying slip as the widest part of him got through the narrowest part of me. “Oh, yeah, there we go.”

And, as if it needed to speak for itself in agreement, Adam made his penis twitch inside of me. A subtle but titillating gesture of enthusiasm. I answered back with a quick clench of my cheeks, and caught the little smile on his face that said he’d felt it.

Full of pep and absurdly aroused, I fixed him with a stare. “You feel fantastic. Now give me the rest.”

“Oh, we’re getting there, sugar. Better that you feel teased than rushed.” And here you could really see the Adam difference. Most men would get this far and take it as time to start pounding away mindlessly. Adam wrung nuance and aching need from every step—meaning in this case, he pulled all the way out, and stuck it in again, and again, spreading me open with a little less subtlety and more force each time, until he was fully fucking me. His neat, shallow strokes denied me the fullness I craved but did evil and delightful things to my hole. Reflexively I began to play with myself.

“You had the right idea. I like watching you fuck me.”

“Yeah, and I get to see you all blissed out and pretty, touching yourself.”

I reached out and put my hand to his chest. “There’s just one thing missing. You on top of me, holding me down and kissing me, filling me.”

“I don’t know, how aroused are you?”

I grinned a tense grin. “I am no longer a girl that’s horny. I’m one giant horn that’s slightly girly.”

“Showtime,” he said with a nod, and slowly pulled out. I felt like I might become dopesick if I waited, so I all but catapulted backwards toward the pillows. And dropped the politeness.

“Get over here you bastard, I need your cock. I beg you.”

Those words seemed to tickle him. He did a little jig, his stiff cock swinging about like a tetherball, then leapt onto the bed. The moment he reached me he was throwing back my legs. He had on the biggest, most winning Adam grin of all time.

In the periphery of my vision, I could see him aiming himself, and then he was in me—first a relief, then a blissful thrill, then a deep and overwhelming pressure that made me feel like my eyes would bulge out of their sockets. I knew that pressure. What was new was feeling it without discomfort or obligation or hurry, free to examine and appreciate it.

“That ass,” he whispered in my ear, “is mine .”

Finally he pulled back, and began reaming me out with long, slow strokes. Every thrust a jolt to my senses.

“How’s that?”

I smiled meekly. “You finally got around to... rearranging my guts, I see.”

In a second, he had my wrists pinned back behind me with one hand and was groping my tits with the other.

“Still having a good time?”

“No, I’m having the best time.”

He bent down and kissed me, and this time it wasn’t subtle, it was winner-takes-all tonsil hockey.

“How are you... so damn good at this?” I said breathlessly between kisses.

“Cause details matter? And there’s that... fucking other men thing... You learn shit.”

“You know what you are? You’re… green apples… and honey.”

He looked at me quizzically as he kept pounding me. “How d’you figure?”

“You’re sweet and… delicate, but also tart… biting… and challenging.”

“I think of myself as a soft dom... but I like your description.”

A familiar and bittersweet tension was creeping over my gut, narrowing my vision, making it hard to think of anything but my desire to be fucked to completion.

“I think if you go a little harder, I’mma come.”

Adam smiled broadly and released his grip on my wrists. “Same. Feel free to get loud… the walls are thick, and it turns me the hell on.”

“Oh, I’m not usually a—“ but the words died on my tongue.

Adam had hunched over and lunged at me; he necked furiously and fucked just as furiously. Even then, there was precision and care to his movements that felt un-guy-like—a piston and shaft, not a jackhammer. In every stroke our pelvises ground together, and his cock sank deep into my ass evoking poignant, primal satisfaction.

I tend to think of my orgasm as a shy, sweet woman who looks like me, and comes out to play when things are safe enough and interesting enough. But that lady wasn’t home right now. This orgasm was a she-beast. I heard her lumbering towards me long before I spotted her. She was not shy, she was loud. And furious. And down for a fight.

Adam’s arrived to the party first. He came away from my neck, threw out one arm to grab the headboard. I watched as he let out a breathy, beatific moan that gradually turned into a tight-jawed roar. His whole body twitched with staccato thrusts into my ass, not really letting up but rather changing the pattern.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Fuuuuck, agh, fuuuuck!”

The wildness in his eyes really did me in. Not one to be outdone, I dug the nails of my now freed hands into his shoulder and screamed. My pussy and ass slammed rhythmically shut, as though trying to expel his cock. It caused just the slightest, and sweetest, bit of pain. My abs ached from the exertion.

I looked up, and saw Adam staring back at me with dumbstruck wonderment as I wrung the life out of his erection, savoring every last spasm of pleasure.

“Get down here, idiot,” I said, and pulled him into the kiss.

…

“So, that was really something,” I said in the darkened room. It had taken a good minute or two for the aftershocks of my orgasm to cease.

I was lying very flat and still on top of the bedsheets, and Adam was next to me, also lying very flat and still.

“Yeah. It was.”

“And the fucked thing is, I think I could go another round.”

“Hmm.” Adam scratched at his chin. “I could go again, if you give me half an hour, some tea, and a gatorade. Or, you know, we could go again in the morning. It is 3AM, after all.”

“Shit, really? Let’s sleep then, this ain’t our twenties anymore.” I yawned. “Can Missy come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me toss you your underwear first. She has an unfortunate tendency to want to sniff buttholes, and yours...”

“I know, I’ve got total snail butt. Lemme clean up a little.”

...

I awakened in the morning to bright light streaming into the modest bedroom, and a delightful little black and tan ball of dog, who had nested on the divot where the covers draped between my knees. I told myself, not for the first time, that I had to find myself a new place, where the HOA would let me get a dog.

The next thing I noticed was the smell of eggs and bread, and coffee, which was odd since Adam didn’t drink any. Then I realized there was a platter already sitting by the bedside. On it was a BEC sandwich on the most amazing looking bagel, and a steaming cup of Dunkin Donuts. I sat up, and started eating. It was delicious and it took me right back to my school years in New York.

“I thought you’d like it.” Adam was standing in the doorway in gray sweats and a plain black T. A big dumb grin plastered his face.

“Is this a fucking New York bagel?” I was gesticulating with the sandwich in hand.

“Better. They’re shipped frozen from Montreal. I’m piloting this as a breakfast item at Dead Joara, either with cream cheese or as a breakfast sandwich with vegetarian bacon. You can’t get these bagels anywhere in the Carolinas.”

I scratched my head. “I don’t know, dude. This feels suspiciously like a plot to seduce me.”

He just laughed, and said, “With all due respect, six hours ago you begged me to fuck you in the ass. And that was with no bagel.”

“I think… you loved my butt so much that you want me to stay in your bed forever. As your sex slave.”

“Perhaps. But don’t kid yourself, you’d stay for the dog.”

I nodded vigorously as I picked up the coffee. “I would. I’d also steal that dog, so, watch out. But seriously, thank you so much for breakfast.”

“You’re entirely welcome,” he said, bowing slightly. “But it’s only right. It’d be un-southern of me to cum in somebody’s mouth and then not feed them in the morning.” Coming over to sit on the bed beside me, he put an arm over my shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking that, if this were an overture to me to start a relationship, I would be sorely tempted. I like you. You’re handsome, great in bed, and if it weren’t for all the bullshit we probably would’ve been friends all along, because we’re art nerds that hate small and stupid minds. Alas, Atlanta is a long ways from here. And I don’t want a relationship. Been much happier single.”

“Well you’re in luck,” he said. “Cause I don’t want that shit either. I get it. I’m too slutty to settle down with one man or one woman. Or even one man and one woman... though that’s tempting, not having to pick teams.”

“Right?”

“Lemme tell you what I think. First, though, I’ll tell you the real reason why I pulled out the stops for breakfast. I’ve always thought you were a terrific girl, and I’ve always kicked myself for letting that damn poem get stolen. So last night, when you came home with me—even just to talk—it felt like a second chance to do right by you. I burned a lot of bridges in my twenties I can never rebuild. So I know. Ass is nice, but second chances are priceless.”

I reached out and put my arm around him too. The man looked about to cry.

“I know what you mean, Adam. Seeing you on your feet, hearing you speak well of me, the chance to get to know you again—all of that is healing.”

“So here’s my fuckin crazy suggestion,” said Adam. “Let’s be friends. The next time you wanna talk to someone about the local music scene, you call me. And the next time I need makeup or fashion advice, or just want to shoot the shit with someone from back home, I’ll call you. And, if you’re ever back in town and feel like going out, maybe getting laid? Call me. I’ll do the same if I’m ever out your way.”

I pulled Adam closer, and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you, you’re right. I will.”

…

We fucked again before I got showered up and had him take me back to where my bike was. Once could have been a fluke. But getting off on anal sex twice? Now I was sold.

After that, I felt pretty fulfilled in the hoeing department for a while. Eventually the urge came back, and by chance, a few months after that night in Morganton, I stumbled onto an invitation to another one of those damn pheromone parties, this time hosted by an acquaintance in Atlanta.

It was a fucking disaster. Only time I’ve ever walked out in the middle of foreplay to call a Lyft. Don’t even want to talk about it.

My friendship with Adam, on the other hand, has been a real success story. We’ve gone out a couple times, just platonically, and we talk all the time, second only to me and Alex. He and she have also become chummy, after the three of us went to see BTBAM play at The Orange Peel. We have a running gag about having a threesome, and at this point I don’t think anyone knows if it’s idle trash talk or a very, very slow moving game of Chicken.

Which brings us to the present. My dumb bitch juice filled self tentatively agreed to yet another one of those parties, hosted by none other than Jessa Pickens. I already checked; Alex and Adam are sitting this one out. So why, I wonder, haven’t I called it yet?

I guess I keep thinking about recreating the magic of that night. When I know full well, the magic wasn’t in the party games, it was in the people there. So, logically, if I’m in the mood for magic, I could cut out the middleman and just call Alex and Adam, have us meet up at her place with a bottle of gin and a pot of tea, see where the evening takes us.

So here I stand, a quarter in hand, and I’m gonna flip it. Heads, party with the shirts. Tails, party with my friends. The coin’s up, and...

Hmm. Interesting.