A small group of us traveled from Martha’s Vineyard to Boston that early spring morning. The five of us all met the previous year during an excursion in the mountains of Nepal. We became friends in the beautiful but Spartan surroundings, vowing to meet again afterward and run the next Boston Marathon together. We were simultaneously excited and in a state of animated suspense. We were all chatty during the 40-minute ferry ride and 80-mile drive to Boston, engaging in playful banter to calm the nerves.

We got our race numbers and other memorabilia in the registration hall before leaving to stay at another friend’s house for the two nights before the race. He lived alone in a single-family home on the outskirts of town. After pointing us to our respective sleeping areas to put down our luggage, we left to go to a restaurant for dinner. Beth and I agreed to sleep on a makeshift double bed in the downstairs den while the men slept in the two bedrooms upstairs.

Throughout dinner, Beth’s tall and slender build often distracted me from the general conversation. In her twenties, about 10 years my junior, she was flirty and self-confident. I'm not usually interested in anyone like that—seemingly always on the prowl, looking to impress and manipulate others for her own pleasure. Or, perhaps it was rooted in a need for approval, I didn’t care much then either way.

She commandeered much of the conversation, and the attention of our host, John, and Erick, at 45-year-old the oldest in our group and the only one married. Despite my intention to ignore her jovial teases, she liked to touch everyone, frequently hugging, rubbing, or squeezing those around her, and each touch jolted me like electricity. Realizing she might be trouble, I did not reciprocate, until much later, that is… but I would never have foreseen what happened later.

Tired, we were quiet and contemplative on the short drive home. After preparing for bed, I was under the covers first. Cool, fresh air was coming in from the wooded area outside and I pulled the thin cotton sheet up over my shoulders. It had a light lavender detergent smell and felt soft and silky against my chin. The bed was in view of a landing on the second floor. I could see the men retiring one by one, turning off lights as they went to bed too. I turned on my side toward the wall, pretending to sleep.

Eventually, Beth came out of the bathroom and plopped herself down on the bed. Before lying down, she stretched, raising her arms above her head, yawning loudly. Her long, loose T-shirt also lifted up, her nipples pressing against the material. She did not bother to be considerate, which irritated me a little, but I still wondered whether she was wearing anything else than the shirt. I soon found out.

I didn’t move or say anything. She lied down and wriggled a little to get comfortable. We were motionless for a long while. My mind drifted to the marathon, and, eventually, out into formless and timeless space. It was dark and quiet, with only a dim hall light shining from above and the occasional creak and squeak of a house cooling down at night. At some point, I became aware that she had tucked in close behind me, her pelvis pushing into my buttocks and her tummy against my lower back.

Her heat stirred up a hollow feeling in my lower stomach, signaling the beginnings of lust. Swallowing dryly, I tried not to move, listening for clues that she was awake. Her breathing was slow and even. I assumed that she was asleep and the contact was unintentional. She smelled of strawberries and I had real difficulty containing my desire to reach back and touch her. Only partially successful, I slowly pushed my buttocks back, pushing harder into her while keeping my own breathing rhythmic. We laid like that for what felt like ages but was probably not even a minute.

Sighing deeply, she put one arm across my body, staying motionless otherwise. Now, her breasts were tight against my upper back. I imagined her nipples pressing against me and felt the heat expand from my tummy downward. The moisture was starting to spread between my legs. It was almost impossible not to react, but I held on, uncertain what to do and not wanting to risk rejection. Lying on my left side with her arm loosely draped over me, her relaxed fingers touched my right breast. I could feel a fingertip against a nipple now fully erect with anticipation. Every in-breath intensified the contact and shot a bolt of desire to my engorged wet spot.

Our bare thighs touching became a ravaging fire that I didn’t know how to control.

Then, she moved her fingers, lightly rubbing my nipple. Lying still otherwise, she spoke: “I’m horny. Can I touch you?”

I gasped, cupping her hand tight over my breast. “Yes, please. I was wondering whether you were asleep.”

“I was just pretending to be asleep, trying to work out how you’ll react.” She added hesitantly, “I’ve never been with a woman before.”

“It’s okay. Just relax,” I replied. I reached back, gripped her buttocks, and pulled her tighter against me, still holding her one hand to my breast. She was breathing heavily, squeezing and rubbing my breast through the thin material. Still under the sheets, I rolled onto my back, pulling my sopping wet panty off in one movement, discarding it to the side. After getting rid of my night shirt too, I turned toward Beth.

“You’ve got a beautiful body. I’ve been admiring it forever,” I said, confessing the attraction that I have denied to myself since we met in Nepal. I pulled her shirt over her head. She did not have bottoms on. Taking in her glorious full naked body, there was no point in holding back anymore. I kissed her hungrily, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Her moans made me feel shaky with desire. She tasted minty, and her flesh felt cool against my skin.

I pushed one leg between hers, rubbing against her clit while pinching her nipples between my index finger and thumb. Her areolas were small and pink, each capped with a perfectly hardened bead of flesh. Grazing my fingers lightly over both side boobs and under boobs, I lowered myself onto her, taking one nipple into my mouth, a leg still pressed against her pussy, feeling her moist center against my thigh. I gently circled the areola with the tip of my tongue before flicking my tongue against the nipple. After several slow, long licks, I sucked the morsel into my mouth, tasting the mixture of salty excitement and mixed berries.

She ran her fingers up and down my back, uttering low whimpers of desire. Slightly propped up on one elbow, my nipples rubbed against her midriff. Sucking her nipples, I ground my wet snatch against her leg, enjoying the increased sensitivity of my swollen clit. I reached with my other hand to dip my fingers into her slick juices. Using long, slow strokes, I spread the wetness from love hole to clit. She had been cupping my breasts with both hands and removed one to reach for my pussy. I lifted my pelvis off her leg, letting her reach me.

Hesitantly, at first, she touched me. “You’re so wet,” she said.

“I know,” I replied. “You're the reason.”

She looked down at my hand. “It feels so good. I’m close,” she said, almost whimpering.

I plunged two fingers into her, then three, fucking her with my hand, pushing the fleshy part of my palm against her clit with each stroke. Her breathing became faster and she started contracting around my fingers. Her breathing was fast and irregular.

“Yes, yes, yes…” she moaned. “I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum.”

Then her waves washed over me, which sparked my own contractions. Experts say that a climax activates 30 areas of the brain. It was so intense, it felt like more. We laid silently, just breathing hard, letting the climax take us up… and up, before gently subsiding. I was still lying half on top of her. There was a light coating of sweat between our bodies that created a suction that was resistant to me moving away.

I watched her face. Her eyes were closed and her blond hair spread on the pillow. She looked completely relaxed and content, but her chest still was rising and falling more than usual, belying her apparent restfulness. I rolled off her, lying on my side, with one arm across her breasts, gently caressing her soft skin, unable to look away. She was so beautiful and serene, just lying there, her breath slowly returning to its usual cadence. Probably feeling my gaze on her, she smiled.

“I can do that again any time,” she said.

Movement in the dim light upstairs drew my eyes upwards. It was John and Barry. They were standing there, looking down at us. I wondered how much they saw, if anything. The answer was in their hands. Both were massaging a thick cock that peeked out of their pajama shorts. In unison, they started down the stairs without saying a word…