Two's company. Three's a party.

The colored lights are eclipsed to your eyes as another figure approaches, rounding your bodies to stand before you. The silhouette is that of a second man, one who towers over you.

Your moan is swallowed into silence by its cause: your second companion's lips covering yours as his hand takes your chin. The one behind you shifts to have both hands over your chest, his attention focused on giving your breasts a sensual massage. Front-man puts his remaining hand on your hip, his grip comfortably tight, communicating he is taking control.

One tiny step closer and you are the center of a writhing, warm human sandwich. Your hips move in tiny circles, rubbing against each man in turn. Your heart flutters a bit every time you feel one has grown stiffer. Not in a million years would you have expected to be in such a situation, having the attention of two men all to yourself because they find you attractive. So far as you know, you've never even had one before tonight.

The music kicks up, some high-tempo techno song you've never heard. In seconds, all three of you have adjusted your timing, synching up to the new beat. Back-man moves his hands under your dress, clearly happy to find you braless. Front-man moves to have both hands running along your sides, his tongue plundering your mouth like a barbarian invader, relentlessly dominating your own. His tongue is so long, you swear you feel it tickling your tonsils. The gentle lavender flavor lingering from your drink mingles with the smokey, complex flavor of some bourbon, the concentration alone enough to tell you it was served straight up.

In the background, nearly reduced to a hum in your mind by all of the other sensations assaulting your synapses, the music layers in reversed vocal tracks. A little piece of your mind, the minute bundle of brain cells still connecting to your consciousness, giggles, making a little joke about satanic messaging in song lyrics played backwards. That was one of the dumbest things-- words played back in reverse sound like gibberish. There's no way any song out there has anything like that without actively playing the vocal track backwards.

The subconscious portions of your mind giggle for a different reason. They hear what the words are telling them and absorb each line as gospel. These are the kind of men you have always needed in your life. They have the right to do whatever they wish to you if they can physically dominate you-- and you stand no chance of fighting back. Besides, you want them to have their way. What they want is what you want.

You let out your loudest moan yet, swallowed by Front-man's kiss as his fingers find your pussy. Your thought processes begin melting as he deftly plays your sensitive nerves like a master-class pianist, moving your thong out of the way so smoothly that you swear it melted away from the heat he is eliciting from you. He clearly knows what he's doing to you, as does his partner in crime.