Chapter One

My fiancé, Grant, and I had been together for years. With the wedding coming up, I had no doubts that he was my person. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder how our relationship would change over time, when we got older, when life happened, when we weren’t the same people we were at the start. I knew that was normal. We'd both already changed so much.

When we first met, I was still coming off my wild phase. I’d grown up in a conservative Mexican-American family in Texas—strict, church-going parents, the whole thing. But when I moved to LA, I cut loose. Nothing too reckless, but I went out a lot, drank a lot, had flings with guys, and occasionally made out with girls. That part of my life felt electric and free.

Then came Grant—a few years older, past his frat boy days, fit, responsible, still fun but clearly looking for something real. A wife, a life. At first, I didn’t think we’d last. We were too different. But something clicked. And soon, I was dragging him out with my friends, getting drunk, dancing all night. One of those nights ended in a threesome with an old party friend—someone I barely spoke to anymore.

It wasn’t planned. I was drunk, the girl was flirty, and Grant, wide-eyed and thrilled, just went along with it. Back then, I didn’t think Grant and I would become anything serious. I was in my YOLO phase, and he was just another chapter.

But as we got serious, then engaged, Grant never forgot that night. Every now and then, he’d bring it up—half-joking, half-hopeful.

“We should do that again,” he’d say. “Invite your friend back over for a fun night.”

I’d roll my eyes and change the subject. That girl was long gone, and those days felt like a different lifetime.

I had moved on—or so I thought.

Until one night on New Year’s Eve. We were having some champagne at home and planning out our next year leading up to the wedding. We talked about our resolutions, personal and professional goals, and some things around the wedding.

When I asked if there was anything he’d like to do this year before we got married, I expected him to say something like skydiving or going on a spontaneous trip together.

Instead, he responded with, “Have a threesome,” and looked up at me with almost pleading eyes.

“A threesome?” I said, taken aback.

“Yeah, we should have one before we get married, Tin.”

“Oh, okay. Sure. Let me just go on Amazon and order one up, Grant.”

He laughed.

“I’m serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re the only couple to do it. And we’ve done it before.”

“That doesn’t count,” I said. “We were basically strangers. I was drunk. I barely remember it.”

“Still. You weren’t exactly not into it.”

I shook my head and stood up.

“You can keep dreaming, Grant. Night.”

I went to bed, annoyed. Not because the idea offended me, but because of how he brought it up—like ordering a pizza. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

A few nights later, I was at Linda’s place—wine, bad TV, cozy couch. Our usual thing.

We’d known each other for years, since the end of our party-girl phase. We still had that rhythm, though: wine in hand, bras optional, zero filter.

Halfway through some trashy dating show, two contestants wound up in a threesome. Linda scoffed.

“God,” she said, “people will do anything with a camera on them.” Then she looked at me. “Wait, didn’t you and Grant have a threesome once?”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow. Just diving right in, huh?”

She shrugged, smiling. “I remember you mentioned it, like, forever ago.”

“Yeah. It was early on, before we were serious. I was drunk, this girl I used to party with got flirty, and it just sort of… happened. Grant was wide-eyed and game, of course.”

“Was it good?”

I shrugged. “Parts of it, yeah. But honestly, it was kind of a blur. I didn’t really want it—I was just in a phase where I said yes to everything.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Ah, the ‘why not’ era.”

“Exactly.”

She paused, then asked, “Would you ever do it again?”

I hesitated. “Funny enough, Grant’s been bringing it up lately. He wants to have one before we get married. Like a final wild fling or something.

Linda blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Wow. That man is bold.”

I grinned. “Men really think we just keep a backup girl on call for this kind of thing.”

She laughed, then tilted her head. “So... would you?”

I thought for a second. “If we never had one again, I’d be totally fine. It’s not something I need. But I’m not opposed to it either. It would just have to be the right situation. Not planned out, not pressured—just something that made sense in the moment.”

Linda nodded slowly. “I almost had one once. Or tried to, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I was seeing this guy who wouldn’t let it go. He was obsessed. Constantly sending me girls on Instagram, making comments when we were out, like, ‘She’s hot, think she’d be down?’ It felt like a game he was trying to win.”

“Charming.”

“Super,” she said. “It wasn’t about me at all. Just the idea of it. I didn’t even like the girls he was picking, and every time I wasn’t into it, he acted like I was being difficult.”

I shook my head. “Grant isn’t that pushy, exactly—I think he knows better than that. But he treats it like it’s no big deal. Like, we’ve done it once, so what’s the holdup?”

I paused, turning my wine glass in my hand.

“But back then, there was nothing to lose. Now it’s... different. We’re in something real. It’s not just about sex anymore. If it goes wrong, it’s not just an awkward night. It’s damage.”

Linda was quiet.

“And if it’s someone we know?” I added. “That’s not just the relationship at risk. That’s a friendship too.”

She nodded. “Yeah. That’s the part I always get stuck on. When something already matters, and you bring someone else into it… you don’t always get to undo that. Even if everyone means well.”

“Right,” I said. “And I don’t have a lot of people left I’d want to risk like that.”

We sat for a moment, quiet but still with each other.

Then Linda said, “So maybe the best version—the only version that wouldn’t blow up—is with someone you already trust. Someone who understands the relationship, doesn’t question it.”

I glanced at her. She wasn’t looking at me, just talking it out, like she was figuring it out for herself as much as for me.

“Someone who doesn’t need a bunch of ground rules spelled out,” she went on. “Who already gets what it is. What it isn’t.”

“Right,” I said softly.

“Someone who won’t read into it, or catch feelings, or make it complicated. Who won’t be weird the next day.”

She looked at me now. “Where it’s actually mutual. Not just sex. Something shared.”

I nodded, slower this time. “Yeah. Something honest.”

She held my gaze a second longer.

Then we both looked back at the TV, though neither of us was really watching it.

The room went quiet—not awkward, just... still. Like we’d both arrived at the same place. And didn’t need to say anything else.

But I felt it. That slight shift in the air.

Not a plan. Not even a possibility.

Just a question we hadn’t asked out loud—yet.

A few weekends later, Linda came over on a Friday night before a concert we were planning to go to. She was supposed to meet up with a guy she’d been casually seeing. Someone she wasn’t head-over-heels for, but still, there was potential. Or at the very least, a good night out.

She showed up with a bottle of wine and a little bounce in her step.

“Hope you two are ready to rally,” she said, handing it off to Grant before following me to the bedroom to get ready.

We always got dressed together when she came over—no modesty, no awkwardness. We’d seen each other naked a hundred times in our party days. But this time, something felt a little different.

She peeled off her clothes without thinking twice, standing in just a black thong as she rifled through her overnight bag, looking for a crop top.

Her body was ridiculous. Long legs, toned stomach, soft skin, those perfect implants she used to jokingly call her “retirement fund.” I wasn’t checking her out, not exactly, but I was noticing. Maybe more than usual.

I pulled off my own shirt and stood in front of the mirror in my bra, fluffing out my hair while she leaned in beside me to fix her eyeliner. We were shoulder to shoulder, boobs out, wine glasses in hand, half-dressed and laughing about some mutual friend’s messy breakup.

“You look hot,” I said, trying to keep it casual.

“So do you,” she smiled, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Like, annoyingly hot.” We both laughed, and she gave my butt a playful little smack as she turned back to her bag.

We finished getting ready and went out for one last drink before heading to the show when her phone buzzed.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Venue’s shut down. The show’s canceled.”

I looked over. “Seriously?”

“Yep. And everyone’s bailing. Even the guy.” She sighed. “Well I guess I shaved everything for nothing.”

I laughed. “What a waste.”

“No, seriously,” she said. “I was looking forward to getting laid tonight. I haven’t had sex in months. Like, months.” She looked at both of us, shameless, casual, honest. “I’m so horny I could cry.”

Grant laughed awkwardly, but I caught the quick glance he shot me, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to find that hot.

I just sipped my drink. “Well… we still have the house, the booze, and no plans.”

Linda sat up. “Can we at least play something fun? Like a drinking game or something?”

“Deal,” I said.

Grant went to the kitchen and came back with an old deck of cards and three fresh drinks.

“How about King's Cup rules? Cards decide the game.”

We cleared space on the coffee table and started pulling cards—categories like “most likely to,” “never have I ever,” “waterfall,” and “questions only.” Silly, random, fun. Nothing too wild, but just enough to keep the buzz going.

We were a few rounds in, already laughing at some dumb debate about who was most likely to join a cult (Linda won by a landslide), when she pulled the next card.

“Never have I ever,” she read, tapping the deck. “Let’s make it interesting.”

We all held up five fingers.

She looked between us, lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“Never have I ever… had a threesome.”

Grant and I immediately dropped a finger. No hesitation.

Linda stared at us, eyes wide, then let out a dramatic gasp.

“Ewwwwwwwwwwww!” she said, dragging it out in mock horror. “You pervs!”

I smirked. “You asked.”

She shook her head, grinning. “I would never. Absolutely not. So indecent.”

“Clearly,” I said. “No interest at all.”

“None,” she said, taking a slow sip of her drink. “Although…”

She left it there—vague, unfinished. I raised an eyebrow, but she just looked down and started fidgeting with her rings.

Grant cleared his throat and tossed a card into the pile. “Your turn,” he said, motioning to me.

I picked a card. Waterfall. We groaned and took our sips, then Linda leaned back, eyes fluttering a bit from the wine.

“Okay, I lied,” she said, after a beat.

“About which part?” I asked.

“I mean… I’ve thought about it. But like, only in the right situation.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the air thicken a little around us.

Just then, Grant stood up. “Refill?” he asked, holding up his empty glass.

“Yeah,” I said. “Bring the bottle.”

He headed toward the kitchen, and the room went quiet for a second.

Linda was still leaning back, her legs tucked underneath her, hair falling softly over her shoulder. She looked at me—really looked—and I couldn’t quite read her expression.

I leaned in slightly and kept my voice low.

“Okay, maybe this is crazy, but… hypothetically—if we were to have a threesome, do you think it would make things weird? Between us, or you and Grant? I just… I love how easy it is when we’re all together, I don't have to worry about anything.”

Linda looked at me, thoughtful but relaxed. “I don’t think it would be weird. Not unless someone made it weird.”

I smiled a little. “Good answer.”

She glanced down at her drink, then back at me, more gently this time. “I think I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious.”

Just then, Grant came back into the room carrying the bottle and three fresh drinks. He set them down carefully, glanced between us, and raised an eyebrow like he could feel something had shifted—but wasn’t sure what.

I gave Linda a small, private look—You good?

She gave the faintest nod.

I reached for my drink, but didn’t take a sip. Instead, I slid over on the couch, close enough that our knees touched. She didn’t move away—she leaned in just a bit, our shoulders brushing.

For a moment, we both just sat there, quiet, close, kind of suspended between everything we’d said and what might come next.

Then I turned toward her, slow and deliberate.

She looked back at me, and something passed between us...curiosity, maybe a little nerves, but no hesitation.

I tilted my head slightly, giving her room to meet me halfway if she wanted to.

She did.

Chapter Two

Her lips met mine in a kiss that was soft and slow — not tentative, but careful, like we were both easing into something we’d already decided was okay.

Her hand slid lightly onto my thigh. I felt her exhale against my mouth.

Her lips met mine in a soft, lingering kiss, her hand brushing up my thigh. Across the room, Grant stood frozen, drink in hand, eyes wide.

He looked stunned. “Wow,” he said. “That’s... fucking hot.”

I didn’t answer. I just held his gaze for a second—steady, maybe a little daring. Something had already shifted between us, and we were all feeling it.

That was all it took.

He set his drink down with this quick, nervous movement and crossed the room like he was afraid to break the moment. Like he’d trip if he didn’t move carefully. His eyes flicked between us the whole time—checking, asking, hoping.

I reached for his hand and pulled him down beside us.

Linda didn’t wait. She leaned in toward my neck, her lips barely grazing my skin, warm and slow. Grant kissed the other side - softer, more hesitant at first, like he still wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do.

His hand slid up my thigh, fingers brushing the inside, then higher. He found my clit and started rubbing with that kind of practiced ease that only comes from knowing someone’s body by heart. His other hand curved around and grabbed my ass, anchoring me.

Linda pulled my shirt up with one hand and kissed my chest, teasing the edge of my bra with her tongue before slipping it down and taking my nipple into her mouth.

I moaned—helpless, caught between both of them. The warmth of Linda’s mouth on my breast, the exact rhythm of Grant’s fingers between my legs, both of them tuned into me like I was the center of the room.

I leaned into it, breath catching, hips shifting just slightly under Grant’s hand. My fingers reached out on instinct—one to Linda’s chin, the other to Grant’s jaw. They both looked at me, still touching me, but waiting for whatever came next.

I held their faces for a second, breathing hard, eyes darting between theirs. My voice came out calm, steady, but there was no mistaking the heat under it.

“Kiss.”

They paused for a beat—just long enough to feel it.

Then they both looked at me.

Grant first. Then Linda. Like they were waiting for a final green light.

I didn’t say anything. I just gave the smallest nod—yes.

Then they leaned in and kissed.

At first, it was a little slow, like they were both checking to make sure it wasn’t weird—but it wasn’t. Not even close. Their mouths found a rhythm fast, and it wasn’t shy. It was curious, focused, hot.

And they didn’t stop touching me.

Grant’s hand stayed between my legs, rubbing slow and steady. Linda’s hand slid up my side, fingers grazing the edge of my bra. I was still in it—centered, held between them—but now I was watching, too.

Watching my future husband kiss my best friend.

Something twisted in me for a second—this flip in my stomach, sharp and weird and kind of beautiful. It didn’t feel like jealousy. It felt surreal. Like I’d just crossed a line I hadn’t realized I was standing on.

And I liked it.

I was letting this happen. I had made it happen.

And it was hot as hell.

Grant pulled back first, just slightly, still catching his breath. Linda’s smile was slow and a little dazed, like she was surprised at how into it she was.

He looked at me—really looked at me. Eyes soft, a little stunned, like everything had finally landed.

“Thank you...for this,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t performative. Just real.

I didn’t say anything right away. Just reached up, cupped the side of his face, and kissed him. Slow and deep, letting him feel my answer in the way my mouth moved against his.

Linda let out a soft laugh. “Okay, I get it. This is hot, but you two being sweet about it is even hotter.”

I pulled back and raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t get jealous. You’re next.”

“Oh, am I?” she said, grinning as she tugged her shirt over her head.

“Unless you’re backing out,” I teased.

She snorted. “Hardly.”

She stood and shimmied out of her jeans, kicking them off with a little flair. “Is it weird I’m nervous now?”

“Only if you stop,” I said, already pulling off my own bra.

Linda gave me a look like oh, it’s like that, and unclipped hers too. Her tits spilled out perfectly, round and high—those famous “retirement fund” implants she used to joke about.

“Jesus,” Grant muttered, eyes wide.

“Okay, relax,” I said, laughing. “Pretend you’ve seen boobs before.”

I shot him a look. “Breathe, babe.”

He blinked, grinning. “I’m trying.”

Linda and I were already half-laughing as we fell back onto the couch, our bare skin touching in little shocks of heat—thigh to thigh, chest to chest. She kissed me again, deeper this time, tongue sliding into my mouth with this soft, confident pressure that made my toes curl.

Behind me, I felt Grant’s hands on my hips, steady and warm.

Then Linda shifted, just slightly—reclining back against the arm of the couch, legs parting instinctively. Her eyes flicked down between us, then back to mine, this unspoken question hanging in the air.

I didn’t need her to say anything.

I leaned down, kissed just above her pubic bone, and felt her inhale sharply.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, almost laughing through it.

I kissed lower. Then licked once—slow, deliberate, teasing the edge.

She let out a soft moan and dropped her head back, her thighs already twitching.

I took my time—circling her clit, then flattening my tongue and sliding lower, tasting all of her. Her hips lifted toward me without thinking.

“Oh my god, Tina...”

Behind me, Grant’s hands tightened. He knelt close, his cock sliding against my folds—teasing, rubbing slow, hot lines over my clit as I stayed buried between Linda’s legs.

I moaned into her, hips rolling back into him instinctively.

He didn’t push in yet—just rocked against me, his cock slick from how ready I already was.

Linda’s fingers slid into my hair, her breath stuttering. “Shit, that’s so hot,” she said, voice thin and tight. “You licking me while he teases you like that…”

I groaned again, tongue circling her clit, hips grinding back harder. Then I felt Grant line up.

His hand gripped my waist, and this time, he didn’t wait.

He pushed in—slow and thick, filling me in one long, deep stroke that made me gasp into Linda.

“Oh, fuck,” I choked out, lips still pressed to her skin.

“Holy shit,” Linda said, her voice cracking. “Yes. Fuck her, Grant. Fuck her while she licks me.”

That pushed him deeper. His hips slammed into mine with more urgency, his rhythm starting to build.

I moaned again, mouth still working Linda’s clit, the vibrations of my voice making her twitch underneath me.

We were all moving now—my mouth on her, his cock inside me, Linda gasping and grabbing the cushions as her thighs started to shake.

“Tina—don’t stop—” she whimpered. “Fuck, I’m—oh my god—”

She came hard, her whole body locking up beneath me, fingers tightening in my hair, her hips jerking with each wave.

I kept licking until she was practically squirming away, too sensitive, her breath coming in shaky, stunned exhales.

Behind me, Grant groaned. “I’m not gonna last…”

I glanced over my shoulder, gave him this half-smile, half-command. “Come for me.”

That was all it took.

He pulled out fast and came hard across my lower back, gasping, his body jerking as he spilled onto my skin.

Linda let out a satisfied, breathless “Wooooo… that was hot.” She was still recovering, blinking like she’d forgotten where she was.

Grant staggered back, catching himself on the edge of the couch, totally wrecked.

I sat up slowly, wiping my mouth, my whole body still flushed and aching.

Linda looked over at me, brows lifting. “Wait… you didn’t come, did you?”

I shook my head once. “Not yet.”

She sat up immediately. “Oh, hell no. That’s getting fixed.”

Grant looked up, eyes still a little dazed. “Bedroom?”

I sat back, stretched, felt how wet and needy I still was. “Let’s go.”

Linda stood, pulled me up with her, and said, “Come with me.”

I nodded, still catching my breath, and we started walking—naked, flushed, her hand still in mine.

Grant got up too, quieter now but clearly not done. He followed behind us, eyes lingering on both our bodies, still half in a daze.

We made our way down the hall, the air heavy with the heat of everything we’d just done—and everything we weren’t done doing.

.....The night is just getting started more to come in Pt. II