The Bad Kind of Sleepover

The story of the sleepover is perhaps one of the more unusual, impromptu, and awkward sexual situations I’ve ever found myself. I often wonder if it had been planned ahead of time or if it was simply the result of being drunk and horny. Either way, it’s a story that I don’t tend to recall very often.

It’s a story that I usually don’t talk about or even think about. And it’s a story that I definitely don’t bring up with my friends, as you will see, for very obvious reasons.

It begins at a house party.

The party itself is pretty standard. People do shots, we play games. People chug beers and make inappropriate jokes. Other people get involved in very philosophical debates, while girls in the other room compare boob sizes.

Like I said, the party itself is pretty standard. But this isn’t the story of the party, it’s the story of the sleepover afterwards.

There were three of us sleeping over: Brent, Carol, and myself. Brent and Carol had been dating for over a year. I’d known them both since before they started dating. In fact, I think I may have been the one that introduced them.

They were the typical couple in terms of almost everything. And I’d known them both for so long that they felt like siblings. Carol was cute, but I never thought of her as anything more than a friend.

Little did I know that was about to change.


After the party ends, we set up some air mattresses in the basement. Our hosts leave us with blankets and bottled water and head upstairs for bed. Carol and I are setting up our beds as Brent brushes his teeth a floor above us.

Carol’s wearing pink pyjama pants and a rather low cut tank top.

Normally I wouldn’t pay her any more attention than I would to a guy friend, but she kind of keeps yawning and stretching in my direction. Guy friends don’t have boobs that become more visible in tank tops when they stretch. She catches my eye a few times.

I shake it off though.

We’re all drunk. She’s just tired. Her boyfriend is upstairs. She’s my friend, just my friend. Friends don’t ogle friends’ boobs, so just ignore it and stop looking.

We finish putting our beds together and collapse.

She’s lying directly beside me.

We make small talk about the party, about being drunk, about funny things that happened. All pretty normal stuff for us.

Then, she turns to me. “You’re so far,” she tells me.

“Sorry...?” I reply, unsure of whether she was fishing for an apology or not.

“Come here,” she says, as she pats the bed beside her.

It seems like an innocent enough request.

I scoot over and she does the same.

I’d like to point out now, before I go any further, that it’s not common practice for me to steal my friends’ girlfriends, or to hit on them behind their boyfriends’ backs. It’s certainly not my style to sleep with them.

Just thought I’d throw that out there.

Our legs are now touching. Our faces are inches away. She pulls one of my arms over her and lays one of hers over me.

She smiles.

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if this is innocent or not. But I’m not a cheater, so I bring up her boyfriend.

“Brent is taking a while eh?” I say.

She nods, “He always does.”

“Yeah...” I reply, unsure of what else to say.

She giggles.

We continue our idle chit chat. We chat about pretty much nothing. I’m still drunk, and all I can think about is her hand grazing down my back. I keep telling myself that this is innocent. I tell myself that it doesn’t mean anything. Her boyfriend is right upstairs for Christ’s sake! How could this mean anything?

“Cuddling is nice,” she tells me.

“Yeah,” I reply.

It’s still innocent. Right?

Then the moment breaks.

“Hey guys,” Brent says drunkenly as he stumbles downstairs. “Trying to steal my girl, JD?!”

I look up immediately and stutter, “Brent I uh...”

Carol laughs.

So does Brent.

I realize he’s joking.

“Obviously!” I say sarcastically, hiding my panic. I feel like I’ve just been smacked with a defibrillator.

Carol reaches up and Brent hugs her as he rolls into bed on the other side of her. Carol turns over, her back now to me and starts to cuddle with Brent.

My heart rate returns to normal. I guess it was innocent after all.

I’m relieved. Although, a small part of me which actually thought sex might be on the horizon—probably the penis—is disappointed. But mostly, I’m relieved.

Brent clicks off the light on the table and we all settle down to sleep.

Carol presses her back into me, clearly rubbing our asses together.

In my head I wonder if I should say something or move away. But I dismiss it as innocent cuddling from a drunken friend. I shut my eyes, and fall asleep.


When you’re drunk, dreams are bizarre. They’re a strange medley of highly visual images that are somehow connected to your night. I dream about fish.

In my dream, two fish are talking, while a third fish is facing away; the two fish shouldn’t be, but they are, behind the third’s back. The two fish start laughing in a weird fishy way, and they start to get closer and closer. They start making weird fishy breathing sounds, and now they’re on the land, flopping around together. Each flop sounds like a wet, fleshy smack. They’re making fishing sucking breathing sounds. All the while they’re doing it behind the third fish’s back. They shouldn’t, but that poor third fish is oblivious.

In dreams you have a funny way of knowing things sometimes, even though nothing in the dream tells you so. I start to get the feeling that that third fish is Brent.

As the two fish keep making their fishy breathing sounds and flopping around, the dream starts to fall apart. It takes me a second to realize it, but I’m starting to wake up. The visual images of oddly shaped fish fade, but the sounds of their sloppy, wet breathing remain.

Slurp, slurp, slurp.

I don’t think much of it at first. I’m kind of groggy and obviously still drunk. I look up at the clock casually but can’t make out the time. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour though.

The sounds continue, and grow louder and more frequent

Smooch, smooch, smooch.

All of a sudden, I hear a very audible and sensual gasp.


It suddenly clicks. The grogginess fades away and I remember where I am. I remember who I’m sleeping beside. The wet, sloppy noises continue, now mixed with moans and groans. I suddenly realize what I’m listening to. Carol and Brent are making out!

Oh no... Brent’s not the third fish—I am!

I shake my head. This can’t be happening. They wouldn’t. I’m literally in the same bed as them. I can feel Carol’s back pressed up against mine.

I casually stretch my arm, as if moving it in my sleep. As my elbow moves up Carol’s back I realize that at no point do I feel her shirt. All I feel is her tender naked skin.

Holy shit!

I surreptitiously lift up my head and peer over my shoulder. Much to my dismay, they’re definitely making out. Carol’s shirt is gone, and I can see her breast from a side angle, as Brent feverishly kisses and teases her.

Carol gasps again.

Wow... greaaaaaat...

I slowly turn my head back around and lay there as quiet and motionless as possible.


“Oh Brent!” Carol coos.

Just great...

In my mind, I’m trying to figure out what to do. Maybe I should get up and go to the washroom? Maybe I should just pretend to go to sleep? What if they have sex though? Do I really want to be here when that happens?

I can feel Carol start to grind her hips back and forth, and her ass rubs into mine as she does.

God, how drunk are they?

I hear more kisses, and more muffled sounds, then I see a shirt haplessly thrown across the room. I recognize it as Brent’s.

Oh my god! They’re going to fucking have sex. Two of my friends are about to fuck, and I’m going to feel every thrust of it as Carol’s hips are pressed right up against mine!

OK I can’t stay here. I have to go!

I decide to get the hell out of there. I make the decision to get up and quickly head upstairs. No matter how awkward or weird it will be for them to realize I’m awake, it will be ten times worse for me to lay there and live with it.

I countdown from ten, in my head. I listen to them kiss and slobber and moan and groan. I hold my eyes shut and try to block out the thrusts of Carol’s ass into mine.

10. They both moan, lips locked, during a kiss.

9. Brent mumbles something about her tits.

8. Carol lets out a clear and audible gasp of pleasure.

7. Then I hear Brent slide his pants off.


I skip from 6 to 1 and pull away to stand up. I fake a yawn as I get up, maybe hoping to fool them into thinking I’m half awake and don’t realize what they’re doing. However, the instant my back leaves Carols I hear her make a whiney noise amidst her kissing, and she reaches behind herself and grabs me. Carol pulls me back towards her and wraps her arm around my waist.

I’m about to say something, or at least pull away again when something happens; something, unexpected and shocking. Something that I never, in a thousand years, would ever have believed would occur. Carol reaches her hand out, places it over my groin, and starts to fondle me.

My reaction is to let out an amazed gasp.

Immediately, any thoughts of leaving fade away into a mist confusion. I suddenly have no recourse. I’m in complete and total shock.


Brent is still making out with her and kissing her naked body, while she fondles me behind her back.

My fears of being around when they have sex now fade into fantasies of fucking Carol. With each rub and grope, I get harder and harder.

I try to process everything that’s going on but I just can’t. She’s my friend, she’s like a sister. She’s fondling my crotch. She’s making out with her boyfriend. They’re stripping. They’re engaged in foreplay. She’s fondling my crotch! Fuck! She’s cheating on Brent!

She’s cheating on Brent, while she’s getting ready to fuck Brent!

Millions of thoughts are running through my head at that one moment. Sex. Friends. Cheating. Threesomes. Hand jobs. Blow jobs. Fucking. Carol. Brent.

My only response, I’m sorry to say, is to lay there getting an over-the-pants hand job, and enjoy every drunken grope and massage.

I’m too drunk, too tired. This isn’t happening.

She clenches my dick and gives it a hard rub.

Oh fuck! This definitely is happening!

I lay there, shocked and amazed, listening to two of my friends passionately strip each other and make out, as my friend’s girlfriend rubs my penis through my pyjama pants.

It doesn’t take her long to work my dick into a fully rigid state. When she does she quickly jams her hand into my pants and begins to gently stroke it.

Her warm, soft, hand skilfully massages my penis.


Part of me is just amazed that I’m getting a behind the back hand job. Part of me is shocked that I’m getting a behind the back hand job. Part of me feels like I’m betraying Brent by getting a behind the back hand job.

Too many voices in my head are shouting at me to stop her. But I’m also getting a hand job, and so, I’m a little conflicted at the moment.

Should I stop this? What would I say? “Brent, I’m getting a hand job man, are you?”

Despite my attempts to keep the hand job a secret, I let out an uncontrollable moan as she continues to jack me.

I don’t even know if it’s supposed to be a secret.

Then Carol speaks, “JD you’re so fucking hard.”

My heart sinks for a moment, expecting some kind of brutal retaliation from Brent at the realization that his girlfriend is jacking me off as he nibbles her tits. I prepare to defend myself as an innocent victim. Only, the attack never comes. In fact, the opposite response comes out instead.

“She gives great hand jobs, eh buddy?” he asks between slurps of her breasts.

“Uh,” is all I can mutter, caught between ecstasy and bewilderment.

All I can think about is how, at that moment, my life had become a porno movie. I realize at that point, that I was being recruited into a threesome. And not the cool kind!

It happened so smooth... how the fuck did I get into a threesome?!


Carol rolls over and pulls my pants down. She flips me around and tears off my shirt.

I lay there now, completely naked, for the first time, staring at her, completely naked. Or rather, I stare at her tits, completely naked.

Hey, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen my friend’s naked tits. In this one instance, don’t judge me.

As I stare at her erect nipples and her seductive eyes, any thoughts I had about her being just a platonic friend have now completely vanished. I no longer see a sister-like friend in front of me, I see a fucking sexpot.

“Relax,” she murmurs to me as she strokes my ear.

I can’t even nod. I still can’t process everything that’s going on. I feel like I’m in one of those dreams where you go to school naked, or in your underwear. Except in my particular situation, I think I’m supposed to fuck the teacher in front of the class.

She’s still holding my cock. Her hand slowly moves down my shaft and she takes my balls in her hand. I gasp. Our eyes lock. She smiles. I smile back. Then Brent pushes her face into mine. She wraps her free hand around my head and she shoves her tongue into my mouth.

“That’s hot!” I hear Brent exclaim behind us.

I’m making out with my friend’s girlfriend.

When did my life become a porn?!

She kisses and sucks and plays with my tongue. She bites my lip and pulls at my hair. She moans as we make out.

Behind her, Brent is grinding into her, kissing her neck.

Normally when I make out with a girl, I’m running my hands through her hair and over her body and enjoying all the tactile stimulation I can. But in this instance, I lay there, completely passive, unsure of what exactly to do. Unsure of whether there’s anything that I want to do. I wonder if I’m going to be expected to fuck my friend Brent before the night’s out.

God, I seriously hope I’m not going to be expected to fuck Brent before the night’s out!

Half my brain is screaming for me to run. It’s yelling at me that this is too much. It’s pleading for me to go. It’s telling me how badly we’re all going to regret this. How will you be able to stay friends with these people?! These people are your friends! You can’t fuck them! Get out! Go! This is too much!!!

But the other half—the penis half—is screaming for me to stay, ordering me to continue. You can’t leave! You can’t! She’s naked! She’s ready! She wants you to do! He wants you to do! Fuck logic! Fuck regrets! Fuck consequences! And fuck her! You have to see this through! You fucking have to! You have to fuck Carol!!!

I decide to stay. It’s scary how much power sex has over a mind.

Brent is grinding harder and harder. I can feel his force through Carol. Every time he presses into her, she presses into me. Her groin grinds into my leg harder and harder. I’m being dry humped vicariously by Brent through his girlfriend!

“Baby, I want you so bad,” Brent moans.

For a second I mistakenly think he’s talking to me.

Finally, Carol pulls back and breaks our embrace.

“This is fucked up!” I gasp.

“Do you want a blow job?” she asks.

“Fuck yeah!” I reply, almost immediately.


We all get up, and reposition ourselves.

Carol gets me to kneel in front of her. She gets down on all fours and takes my penis in her mouth. Behind her, Brent tosses her pants away and inserts himself into her, doggy style. I feel her moan onto my dick as he enters her.

Carol begins to suck my erect member, as Brent starts to fuck her at a steady pace.

I watch it all, still unable to fully believe what’s happening. It feels... surreal.

In my head, I imagine all those porns I ever saw where the girl was double teamed. I remember watching buff and sweaty men double team innocent blond girls while everyone moaned in ecstasy. I never thought it would happen to me. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing!

Carol sucks me off expertly. Each move and motion with her lips and tongue is meticulous. Her mouth urges me in exactly the right way. With each motion, I pant. The sensations are amazing.

Yet as she does, Brent’s background groans continually draw my attention to the ambiguous sexual nature of this threesome. Despite the amazing blow job I’m receiving, my attention begins to fade more and more from the pleasure I’m receiving and focus more and more on the naked man in the room with me.

I find myself staring at Brent, watching him fuck his girlfriend while she goes down on me.

This is my friend. I play video games with Brent. We watch movies together. I play baseball with him and we talk about Star Wars and Seinfeld! This is a guy I’ve known for years! And now I’m staring at his naked body as he rams his dick into his girlfriend’s aching pussy.

I can’t bear to look at him, but I can’t look away!

Each time he pulls back to ram it in her again, I see part of his dick. I can’t help but look, despite the fact that every fibre inside me does not want to be looking at his dick right now.

“Oh god!” I exclaim, more in uncertainty than anything else.

“Yeah!” Brent shouts with a big grin, mistaking my cry of confusion for an admission of ecstasy.

I fake smile back.

“This is awesome!” he tells me.

“Yeah...” I nod grudgingly, with a counterfeit tone.

“High five,” he shouts, as he lifts up his hand.

Below us, Carol is moaning from the fucking and sucking she’s enduring, her face buried in my groin as Brent’s dick is buried in her from behind.

“Don’t leave me hanging bro,” Brent adds.

I reluctantly reach up and high five him over his girlfriend’s back. He slaps my hand hard. I’m suddenly drawn to the realization that with each thrust of his pelvis he’s forcing his girlfriend to take my dick deeper into her mouth. In a way, he’s fucking me through Carol’s lips

“Yeah!” he exclaims.

“Yeah...” I reply timidly.

The longer it continues, the worse I start to feel. I start to regret going along with this.

Why the hell didn’t I listen to the other half of my brain?! The half that told me to run?!

Carol sucks and gags on my dick while she groans at the pleasure of being fucked from behind.

God! I can’t go through with this! What happens when I cum? What if she swallows? Fuck! What if I can’t cum?! I have to get out of this.

Then Carol rams her face on my dick quickly, too quickly in fact. I feel a quick jab of pain. Then another, then another. Carol’s blow job suddenly becomes very rough and painful. She bends my dick and jerks it around. I feel the graze of her teeth, and my eyes beam open.

“Oh god!” I cry out.

Brent is forcefully fucking her from behind. Her entire body shakes with each thrust. And me, on the receiving end, am forced to endure his thrusts in the form of a sloppy, painful blow job.

“Yeah!” Brent exclaims in confidently, again mistaking my pain for pleasure.

“No no!” I beg. “Slower! Slower! Ow! My dick! Slower Brent!”

But my pleas fall on deaf ears.


Brent’s thrusts become harder, slower, and more methodical. He starts to moan and Carol and I both know what’s about to happen. Carol groans in response and pulls my dick out of her mouth.

“Yeah baby!” she shouts. “Give it to me!”

“God I’m cumming!” Brent howls.

“OH GOD!” I scream, more in revulsion than anything else. I never thought I’d hear a man shout out those words while my dick was hard.

I’ve got to get the hell out of here!

Then, my worst fears are realized.

Brent pushes one last time into Carol, so hard that she head butts me in the groin. I grunt in pain and fall forward. My hands land her back and break my fall. I’m now leaning over her.

In one smooth motion Brent pulls his dick out, slaps it down on her ass like slab of purple penis ham, and proceeds to cum. He proceeds to cum not on Carol’s ass, or on her back, or even on her face. In fact, he doesn’t cum on Carol at all. He cums on me!

It fucking shoots like a rocket. I’ve never seen semen cover distance like that, or that quickly.

Brent and Carol are both moaning as he cums, and I’m screaming in horror.

Leaning forward as I am, I’m the perfect distances to receive every last shot of cum. He moans and groans and spurt after spurt of jizz lands all over my stomach and chest.

As if in harmony, we’re all blaring at once, just not all for the same reason.


As it ends, I hover over Carol, wanting to yell or scream or run or explode or something!

Brent shakes out the last of his orgasm and slowly opens his eyes. As he does, any look of pleasure he had suddenly fades into that of shock as he realizes what he’s just done.

Carol looks up too and covers her mouth.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims under her breath.

“Shiiiiiiiit...” Brent gasps.

All the energy in the room has disappeared.

No one is thrusting or pumping anymore. There’s no more fucking or sucking or rubbing or licking.

Brent is catching his breath, Carol stops rubbing my dick and just looks up at me speechless.

Little drips of ejaculate fall off me onto her back as I hold the pose over her, too stunned to unfreeze myself.

Never in my whole life did I expect to get cummed on; especially not by a friend.

We all trade embarrassed looks with one another, no one knowing what to say or do next.

And there I am, just kneeling there, chest dripping in semen, jaw hanging open, in complete and utter shock and awe. This is the worst possible way a threesome could have ended.

Finally, Brent gasps in a shaken and apologetic tone, “Dude, I’m so sorry... I wasn’t... I mean I was aiming for Carol and-”

“SILENCE!” I scream.

I’m literally shaking.

Suddenly, from upstairs a light clicks on, and our hosts call out: “What are you guys doing down there?”

Then we hear the inevitable footsteps of our hosts coming down into the basement.

Fuck my life.

According to guys, there are two types of threesomes: the good kind and the bad kind. The good kind is two girls-one guy. The bad kind, is two guys-one girl. Now, there’s a reason guys consider two guys-one girl to be the bad kind of threesome. Girls think it’s because we’re overly sensitive—because we’re too homophobic about seeing another guy’s junk or because we’re too grossed out by the thought of accidentally touching another guy. Well that’s true. I won’t deny that. But there’s a bigger, more important issue that divides the good and the bad kind of threesome, and it has to do with the odds of getting cummed on.

Life is not a porno, no matter how much you may want it to be. In the same way that being a cop is nothing like cop movies, having sex is nothing like you see in skin flicks. Sure the motions are the same, but it’s never as smooth and carefree as the producers would have you believe. And trust me, when you experiment, hope for the best, but expect the worst. Expect that absolute, frigging, worst case scenario you can possibly envision!

That night, we all made a pact to never speak to each other of the threesome again. And more importantly, the three of us decided to never, ever try it again. For the sake of our friendships, we’ve all tried to put it behind us. But like a hand job you give behind your back, sometimes it just pops up now and then. At least it makes for a rousing story when it does.

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