It Wasn't Just a Sleepover…

Sometimes, fantasies are better left as fantasies.

Three years ago, my inner sinner craved a taste of the wild stories I’d heard whispered over wine glasses and late-night chats with Désirée—that blonde friend who was always a little too drunk, partied a little too much, and had tasted more men than an entire classroom.

I wanted that—I wanted to be that wild.

So, a bold idea lit up my mind: Why not host an orgy? I had never partaken in group sex before, and it felt like the missing piece to finally make me appear cool. The idea was thrilling, intoxicating even.

Two cute male neighbors and a trusted girlfriend seemed like the perfect cast for a story I’d one day tell with a sly grin, proud of how daring I was in my thirties.

But the thing about fantasies is… they have a life of their own. And sometimes, they take unexpected turns.

What happened next? Well, that’s where the real story gets interesting.