“I have three rules,” my new boss lectured at me. “One, no stealing from my store. Two, do not show up drunk, high or hungover to work. And three, no fucking your coworkers. Can you handle that?” He asked me, watching me closely.
It sounded like a trick question. There is no way in hell that agreeing to these three “no shit” rules was the last step before getting hired. Was it really that easy?
“Um, yeah. No problem. I thought those went without saying!” I laughed. And just like that, I was employed. I couldn’t believe it! I was no longer in a financial crisis, but instead working in a cool store (think a local Spencer’s Gifts) with amazing coworkers and only had to follow three simple rules in order to keep it all. How hard could be?
Fast forward six months. I’m manager, loving my job. I’m taking more than a full course load, loving my major. I have a full social calendar, loving all my friends. And life is perfect. Except for one aspect. It had been a month since I have had sex with my ex-boyfriend (so only God knows how long it’s been since my last actual orgasm). I needed sex and I needed it now.
I’ve always prided myself on giving 110%. I was never one to take the easy route, and my sex life is no exception. I wanted what I wanted only bigger (haha) and better. So when someone like me wants to fuck someone, well, someone like me ends up fucking two someones. That’s right ladies, I had a threesome. And the boy involved? One of the literally five male humans in the world who is off-limits: my coworker.
Am I smart? No. Am I responsible? Fuck no. BUT am I sexually satisfied? OH GOD YES- a phrase that was frequently screamed throughout the night. In bed. And in the shower. And on the couch. And on the floor. Of the living room and the kitchen. Basically everywhere in my apartment.
Now I know what you’re thinking. Why risk your job when there are literally THOUSANDS of other college aged boys in your city?! And you make a fair case. But there is one simple justification: his body. This boy and is 6 feet tall with eight pack abs and enough dick that made me question his supposed caucasian ethnicity. So onto the next question. Why would I share all of that? For the lolz, obviously.
The truth is there’s really no explanation. I don’t really think things through. I risked my job and stability in my friendships with both of them for one night. And the end result might surprise you. The girl and I are just as close with no awkwardness and a funny secret. The coworker and I now hump on the regular, and now have the perfect FWB situation.
Now I’m not completely stupid. I realize that this will ultimately blow up in my face, much like he did that night. But until then, we are both adults (clearly not responsible ones, but still). We can talk for hours about nothing, or sit in complete silence, and it’s never awkward. We’ve always had chemistry, which then turned to sexual tension, which then turned to a threesome. And I have no regrets. There’s no jealousy, no feelings, and no mind games. We wingman for each other, we lie to our suspicious friends, and we have some of the most amazing sex I’ve ever experienced.
The best part of it all, however, is the thrill consequence if we were to get caught. And how fucked up our humor is about it. All of our coworkers are in college, so sex is a frequent topic of conversation. He and I use this an opportunity to share stories about each other while keeping it anonymous. There is somehow nothing more entertaining than hearing him give details about “the girl from last night” when I am that girl. Especially when he describes how amazing she was..
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