Two weeks after that mind-blowing threesome with Vikram and Raj, I was still sore in the best ways—my ass tender from their relentless pounding, my throat raw from choking on their cocks, my skin marked with faint bruises from their grips and slaps. I'd replayed it all in my head, fingering myself to the memory of being double-penetrated, pissed on, and covered in their cum. Vikram texted me sporadically: filthy promises like "Next time, we'll stretch you wider" or "Raj wants your ass again." But nothing prepared me for the invite that came Thursday: "Saturday. Aisha's away for the weekend. Be here at 7. Wear nothing under your coat."