by multiple men

Rachel pours a double shot of vodka into her empty glass and chugs it: the fifth drink in a short period time for such a skinny woman. She grimaces and looks to the group, “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this. It’s so messed up.”

“We won’t judge,” Monica assures her. “I confessed that I had a fantasy about the horniest asshole I’ve ever met. One that I have absolutely no intention of making a reality.” She slaps at Joey arm which made an attempt to wrap around her shoulders.

“No,” Rachel shakes her head, “Mine is fucked up. I haven’t even told Ross.”

“It’s alright babe,” Ross says. “Just tell us.”

Rachel stands up from the table, no makeup, white t-shirt and skin tight jeans, “No! Not yet! Y'all need to be drunker! At least drunk enough to give me the illusion that you might not remember this.”

The morning after a night of drinking. We all think we’ve escaped without a crippling hangovers, but now the killer has busted through the front door. I glance to my wife. She shrugs, “We’ll have time to sober up before the drive. I want to hear this.”

She pours herself a shot of vodka. I pour a shot of whiskey. The rest of the group follows. We toss back shots before the breakfast has even settled in our stomachs. I’m already feeling the ****.

Rachel makes us all take one more for good measure. Drinking this quickly is going to get us drunker than last night. Phoebe pinches her nose when taking her shot then chugs vodka afterwards. She coughs and I’m afraid she’s about to puke, but she controls herself.

Once seeing that we are all drunk or will be there soon, Rachel quietly says, “I have this fantasy where Ross’s friends have their way with me…non-consensually.”

Joey chokes. His loud horse coughs fill the kitchen. We sit and watch him recover too embarrassed to say anything ourselves. She couldn’t have said that.

After he calms himself, Monica says, “Sorry, I must have heard you incorrectly. Did you say you’ve fantasized about being **** by our husbands?”

“Yeah,” she answers shyly, “I know it’s horrible. Obviously not in a traumatic emotionally scarring way, but in a fun role play, ya know.”

Roleplaying getting to **** Rachel? I not going to admit it out loud, but I’m into it. Who wouldn’t want to take control of that perfect body and pretty face?

Nobody says getting negative. We all know how **** she is admitting this fantasy.

Phoebe asks, “When did you first have this fantasy?”

Her cheeks bright red from the ****, Rachel cracks a wide smile and laughs, “My wedding night.

“As y’all may remember, Ross’s was piss-drunk. The groomsmen literally had to carry him into the house and dump him in bed. So needless to say, I didn’t consummate the marriage that night, but I was feeling frisky. I had an extremely dirty thought that I ended up pleasuring myself to.”

The **** and the story have taken ahold of her. Without realizing it, Rachel slips a hand down between her legs, and mimes pleasuring herself on the outside of her jeans.

“I thought about the groomsmen. They dump my passed out husband on the bed and turn their eyes to the lonely bride on her wedding night. They decide to help me out of my dress, but they are so eager to help they rip the dress off me in shreds, leaving me in my wedding night lingerie—pure white lace, garter belt and all. The groomsmen can’t take their eyes off me. They’re ravenous wolves and I’m a lost little sheep. I tell them thank you for the help, but words aren’t enough. They want more thanks. They want me to get down on my knees and thank them. These are big strong men. I have ****. I get down on my knees. They unzip and pull themselves out. I thank them with my mouth throughly. But that just excited them. They want more. They strip me naked. I tell them no. My husband is right there. They say it’s okay. It’s a tradition in Ross’s family that the groomsmen all get a taste of the bride. They each take turns getting their taste—taking me right there on my wedding bed right next to my sleeping husband. Each has me in their own way. I always start by saying no, but by the end my begging them by name for more. Each groomsman fills me with their seed, and hopes that I get pregnant on my wedding night. Then they each kiss me sweetly and smack my ass on the way out. I lay exhausted and abused next to my cuckold husband.”

Joey nudges me, “{Zack} and Nick were a part in this fantasy as well. Should we tell them?”

“NO!” Rachel screams, jumping up so fast her chair falls over.

“I was just joking,” Joey says. “I would never break your confidence. But that fantasy is not except for the **** part. I’m not into that. I’m into super consent—that’s where the girl wants my big dick so badly she literally grabs it and sticks it in.”

“Glad to know my best man wouldn’t have fucked my wife on my wedding night,” Ross says, pouring himself even more whiskey. Either he’s not taking the fantasy well, or he’s using this as an excuse to get as drunk as possible in the morning.

Monica says, “A night with four guys could be pretty hot.”

Joey grins at my wife, “God, I love knowing that you’re such a slut. Why didn’t you ever fuck me? I gave you so many opportunities.”

My wife rolls her eyes, “Getting a text asking if I was DTF, didn’t do it for me. At least you didn’t try to hide that you only wanted one thing. You didn’t waste my time.”

Phoebe giggles to herself ignoring their conversation, “One of the groomsmen in my wedding was gay. I would’ve had helped sucking dick.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be involved in that gangbang,” Ross says a little too quickly.

I look at Rachel. The tension in her shoulders has eased. The group has accepted her fantasy, and it’s not the big deal she’s made it out to be. It just makes my fantasy of seeing her in a wet T-shirt that much lamer.

Rachel asks me, “Why are you smiling?”

“Just embarrassed that I by far had the lamest fantasy,” I say.

“What was your fantasy again?” She asks, her blue eyes rush the blood to my cheeks.

Monica drapes over me, “It’s so cute. My husband has a crush on Rachel.”

“Do not,” I try to say, but my lie can’t even convince my tongue to say it.

My wife kisses my cheek. “Don’t be embarrassed. Who wouldn’t have a crush on this woman? If you want you can put her on the list, I wouldn’t mind.”

“What’s the list?” Rachel asks.

“Five women he can have sex with outside our marriage. Typically it’s only celebrities. Who’s on your list right now, babe? Connie Britton, Katy Perry, and Jennifer Aniston?”

“It changes,” I say. My celebrity crushes always change depending on my mood or when I most recently watched something with them in it.

Monica intensely looks at Rachel, “You’re like a combination of all his celebrity crushes. The hair and complexion of Connie Britton, the boobs of Katy Perry, and the abs and toned legs of Jennifer Aniston.”

“Well I don’t want Chandler to waste a spot on his list. He has more of a chance with those celebrities that he does with me,” she smiles as she says it.

Fuck. It’s such a turn on for me to be teased. It’s why I have such an attraction to Phoebe. It’s just made Rachel that much hotter.

Monica laughs, “Keep playing hard to get. He’ll just want you more.”

“Everybody loves a chase,” Rachel stands up. “I think I’m going to stretch my legs and go for a walk. When I get back, y'all better have forgotten what I told you.”

“I already forgot what you said,” Ross says. He’s already melting back into his chair with his legs kicked out, the bottle never far away to refill his glass.

Monica kisses me, “I’m going to take a shower. I reek.”

Drink Phoebe decides she wants to make a five-course breakfast. She’s gathering every available onto the counter, lining them up so she sees what she has to work with.

Joey leans over and whispers in my ear, “Let’s go take a walk. Rachel wants us to make her fantasy come true.”

It takes me a second to comprehend what he’s saying: let’s go **** Rachel.