We’d lost touch after graduation, but a little over a year later, Kimmie, my roommate and best friend from college, found me on Facebook. It turned out we both lived in the city. We decided we definitely had to get together.

Over lunch we talked a little about our boyfriends and our work. She was the same complicated Kim as ever, bubbly yet reserved, vivacious yet demure, beautiful yet–well just plain beautiful. She told me she had a great job at an art gallery. “Right now it’s mostly fund raising and stuff, but I’m practicing to be a full-fledged exhibitionist.” I had to laugh. “No, seriously,” she said. I smiled and shook my head. “I’ll show you,” she said. “Bring your boyfriend to the gallery next Saturday at closing.”

John and I met Kim at her gallery, where Kim introduced us to Hector, a black guy whose beauty matched Kim’s. I felt John and I were a little underdressed in our jeans and tee-shirts; Hector had on a suit and Kimmie was wearing a bright silk kimono, which stopped about six miles above her knees. “You like?” she said, giving us the full twirl. The kimono’s skirt rose up. “Oh my God, Kimmie,” I exclaimed, “you’re not even wearing...” Blushing, Kimmie said, “Don’t worry, I was. I took them off just for you. Now if you guys will just sign these forms we can get started.”

The gallery was small, three rooms, the first two filled with very modern paintings, which we dutifully admired. Then Kim opened the door to the final room. It was dark. “I don’t see anything,” John said. Kim said, “Don’t worry, you will.” She led John and me to a wooden bench and had us sit. The bench had a shallow scallop along the center which made it very comfortable. We sat in the silence for a while. “What’s happening?” John whispered. The acoustics were extraordinary. His voice was mellow and full. It made me shiver. “I don’t know,” I answered. My own voice made me shiver, too.

Then the lights came on, dim at first. There was Kim, kneeling in the center of the exhibition room. There was Hector standing several feet behind her. As the light came up all the way, we could see they were both completely naked. I was more than a little shocked. I took John’s hand.

Kim glanced at us briefly, offering us a strange smile, both beguilingly innocent and utterly lewd, and then she looked back over her shoulder at Hector and her hand went to her bottom.

“Oooh,” Kim cooed. “My asshole so tight and hot, my pussy so wet and wanting.” We couldn’t see precisely what her hand was doing at her bottom, but Hector surely could, and we could imagine. We could hear the sounds, the juicy suck and squelch as she fingered herself. I shivered. John’s hand squeezed mine and a moment later my hand was upon his groin, my palm pressing against the strong pulse of his cloth-covered erection. Kim continued fingering herself. Hector had his cock in hand. It was large. He was stroking it slowly, the circle of his thumb and forefinger moving the skin up to the head and back, up and back. Maybe it was the squeak of Kim’s fingers in her cunt that made me think of a seesaw. John’s hand released mine and made for my jeans. It didn’t take him long to have me unbuttoned and unzipped. His hand delved beneath my panties. His middle finger found my erect clit. The first touch brought a sharp spasm, not quite an orgasm, but the prelude to one. My hand fumbled open John’s pants and drew out his erection, wrapped around it, and pumped to the pace of Hector’s masturbation. My cunt mimicked the escalation of his rhythm. I hoped he would come soon. I wanted to see his white stuff spurt even more than I wanted to feel John’s cock seize and lurch into orgasm. More than anything, I wanted my own. My thighs trembled uncontrollably. I almost cried out. Mid-moan, my breath caught. I couldn’t quite get over. I needed to be filled and fucked so bad. More than anything I wanted to shuck down my pants and impale myself on John’s cock.