Jess finds me on the soccer field, on my way back from the rec center—damp shirt clinging to my shoulders and chest, hair still dripping down my back, swimsuit and towel sodden in my sports bag. It feels so good, being wet with clean, clear water, without salt drying my skin or sand scratching my privates. But it feels so much better, seeing her again, even if she does make my breath catch.

“Jim!” she calls, and I grin. She runs the last handful of steps and leaps into my arms. I swing her plush weight around a full circle—I can do that now—and plop her on the ground. She swats my arm. “You!” Then she tips her head up slightly and kisses my cheek. Yes, up—I really am taller than her now.

I grin again, and she swats my arm again. “Don’t let it get to your head,” she growls.

I fake a straight face to cover my racing heart. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Come on—into the shade.” The ground beneath the line of oaks in front of the tennis courts is much more comfortable than the open sunlight of the field, if just as muggy.

Our arms go around each other’s back, hands on waists, as we walk over hip against hip, legs in sync as if on instinct. Two weeks apart hasn’t changed that. She’s still my bestest friend. My sister of choice. Even when her braless breast bounces distractingly against my ribs.

“How was the beach?” she asks.

“Sandy. How was camp?”

“Code-y.”

I side-eye Jess, and she giggles until we reach the nearest tree. Sometimes her geekier jokes aren’t as funny as she thinks.

“Seriously, Jim, it was awesome—I learned so much about app development. And—” she swings in front of me, forcing me to stop. With a sly smile, “—I kissed not one, not two, but three girls.” She crosses her arms below those wobbly breasts—only a faded nerd-joke t-shirt between that lusciousness and the world—and leans with studied casualness against the oak trunk. Tennis balls pock the courts behind her.

Dang. I don’t want it to, but my cock stirs at the thought—Jess kissing a girl. Two girls kissing. Someone else kissing my Jess. Dang it, boy, stop that. You know it can’t happen.

My grin is unforced, though—I am happy for her. “Did you like it?”

“Ohhhh, yeahhhh. And no one cared, either. There were so many queers there—not everyone, of course, but even the straightest arrows didn’t mind. Soooo much better than school.”

I grimace at the reminder—Central High’s not known for being kind to queer kids. It’s about time she got to kiss a few girls. “That’s great, Jess.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, and slides down the tree, back against bark.

I plop down criss-cross in front of her and shrug off my sports bag. The dirt beneath my butt is soggy from last night’s thunderstorm, but it’s not like the rest of me will dry off till I find air conditioning. Above us, two cicadas chir in counterpoint, and from the court a tennis ball clashes the chain link fence.

Jess lifts her chin. “What about you?”

This is going to be fun. “Well, I,” and I buff my already impeccable nails against my swim-team t-shirt, “kissed not one, but two girls at...”

She lets the pause draw out till she can’t stand it. “At?”

“At the same time.” My grin escapes, and it’s aimed at her.

“What?! You dog!”

“Okay, technically we all took turns kissing each other,” I admit. False modesty, of course.

“Whoa,” she breathes, leaning forward slightly. “For reals? All three of you?”

“For reals—all three of us. Twice.” Her envy, it feels good. I’ve finally done something before she can.

“Dang, Jim.” Jess bites her lip. “Did you—you know—I mean, how far?”

“Not all the way,” I admit. “We got to heavy petting both times, though.” With all three of us getting off in someone else’s hand. Frankly, finally getting that far with someone was awesome enough. I’ve gotten hard at the memory. Okay, Jess’s nipples hardening against her shirt also helped.

“Still,” Jess says, voice awed.

Agreed.

She shakes her head in wonder. “How long did you guys...?”

I manage not to sigh, or let the twinge of heartache show. “Only two days—then Kaitlyn’s family returned home, and Suri’s the day after.” And she’d not been interested in kissing me without Kait. I’m pretty sure they’d gone all the way together, their last night—without me. I remind myself again I’d been happy enough at the time, just making out with them. It almost works again. This time, a small sigh. “That’s a summer vacation fling for ya.”

Jess nods sympathetically. Yeah, she also now knows about summer flings.

Then her voice gets firmer. “So, only the two girls?”

I blink, then roll my eyes. Seriously—she’s going for quantity over quality?

Yup, she is. She leans back against the oak with a smug smile. “So now that we’ve established that I have numerical superiority when it comes to kissing the girls, what I was actually asking about was, how many boys did you kiss?”

I snort. “Well, the boy who looked like the kind of boy I want to kiss turned out—well, he thought simply seeing a gay couple walk down the beach would give him cooties.”

Jess makes a yuck-face. “Which is kinda a turn-off, yeah.”

“Not kind of,” I correct.

She bleaghs her tongue out. “Wasn’t there anyone else?”

I shake my head. “It was kinda weird, actually—the boys were mostly either little kids or college age, and the other two were jerk-jocks out to impress the chicks with their studliness.”

“Oh barf.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time.” Sincere, because that’s how Jess is. She really cares about me—I’m her brother of choice. Another tennis ball clashes against the fence and a girl’s voice cheers success.

“I had a great time,” I insist with all the sincerity I can muster. “Sun, shells, swimming, body-surfing, a vacation threesome—I loved it. So I only got a couple bits of sexyfuntimes.” I shrug. “I hoped for more, but that’s what the rest of summer is for.”

She thwaps both my knees with her hands, hard enough to sting. “Stop that. You’re good.”

I don’t know whether I’m a bad liar or just a bad liar to her. I take a deep breath, and then nod.

Jess changes the subject. “How was swimming?”

I flex my arms, which still feel fine. “Good. Got to stretch out without watching for waves. Plus Ben was in the office, and confirmed my schedule for the week—afternoons 1-6, tomorrow through Saturday.” I’m finally old enough to work as a life-guard at the rec center pool—I finished training just before heading to the beach.

“Awesome. I gotta call ‘Nita to get mine.” Her own schedule, that is—she also starts tomorrow, as a counselor for a children’s day-camp at the rec center.

A pause. Jess looks into the distance over my shoulder, then down to the grass. She nibbles her lip. Okay, what’s this? She’s worried about telling me something, and if Jess is worried, that worries me. In the end, I’m the one uncomfortable enough to break the silence.

“What is it?” I ask softly.

She sighs and tells the ground between us, “The house two doors down? The new family finally moved in while we were gone. Dad took me over to meet them last night, after I got back.”

Something about her voice, her body language—suddenly my worry twinges a little. And why have her nipples popped out again? “And?”

Jess’s smile curls up. “And, they have a girl our age—she’s hella cute.”

My mouth echoes her smile. “Oh, really?”

The gate at the tennis court clanks. Two people carrying tennis racket bags, a girl and a man, come out and say goodbye.

“Yes, really,” Jess says, pushing herself up. “Come see for yourself.”

What, now? I unfold myself to my feet, snag my sports bag, and follow her.

“Dana!” Jess calls out.

The girl turns to look, and her face brightens. “Hey, Jess!”

My twinge strengthens, almost a clench around my heart—another cutie my best friend had gotten to before me. And she is a cutie—taller than Jess, but with a trim, small-busted body nicely shown off by her white-and-pink tennis top and skirt. Minimal makeup. Plus, hello, a long blonde ponytail worn high. Blue eyes that aren’t pale but a deeper shade. About our age, mid-teens. The sheen of perspiration makes her, if anything, more attractive—tipping hella cute over into sexy. An athletic body that knows how to move.

Jess flaps a loose hand at me. “Dana, meet the missing Jim.”

The new girl takes me in, and if anything her face gets even brighter—the brightness of flushed skin. Hello.

“Hi, uh, Dana.” I say with my usual height of eloquence when faced with a new person. Why why why does that always happen? But then, somehow, the confidence of that guy who actually managed a week ago to approach two girls at the beach takes over, and somehow my mouth becomes one belonging to some smooth speaker. “Sorry to miss you last night—it was a really long drive back from Hatteras.”

Even missed Jess—we didn’t arrive till after midnight.

“Oh—ah, no problem. Hi,” Dana says in an adorkable imitation of my usual self.

I reach into my sport pack and offer her an unopened water bottle.

“Oh, no, I’m—” Dana takes a deep breath, then accepts it. “Thanks.”

Jess and I glance at each other as Dana drinks. I saw what sure looked like attraction to Jess, but now she’s stumbling like a crushing middle-schooler. For me? Really? This—oh man, this might get interesting. Where by ‘interesting’ I mean ‘messy,’ since I already know Jess is also attracted to her. We’re closer than siblings—Jess and I know each other’s likes. And this trim athlete fits right into our intersection of likes.

“Thanks,” Dana says again, holding out the half-empty bottle.

I wave it off. “Heading home?”

Dana nods as she slips the bottle into her tennis bag.

“So are we,” Jess announces. I keep a poker face—our plans, such as they are, are to hang out together. I suppose we could do that at home, with or without Dana, just as well as at the rec center or Joe’s Cuppa. “Or if you want, we can show you around the neighborhood.”

Dana plucks at her tennis top, fanning herself. Pulling it away from her chest somehow highlights her small breasts—her itty-bitty titties. “I need a shower and dry clothes.”

Jess nods and punches my upper arm harder than usual. “Yeah, well, so does this guy.”

“Hey! I rinsed off at the pool.”

“And didn’t dry off—your shirt is a swamp.”

Well, yeah. I glance down at myself. I guess this isn’t the best look for me. “Meh,” I say. Where’s that confident, smooth guy who greeted Dana?

“Take us home, Jeeves,” Jess intones as she starts walking past the tennis courts. “You two can clean up while I make a phone call.”

To ‘Nita, I assume. I sidle up next to Dana, on the other side from Jess, though this means walking on the grass.

“You do know,” Dana says slowly, “that Jeeves wasn’t a chauffeur?”

I nearly chortle. Finally, someone who might be on my side. “Jess’s introduction to Wodehouse was Sunset at Blandings and she hasn’t touched him since.” The master’s last, unfinished, and decidedly weakest book.

“Oh, dear,” Dana says faintly. “Not the best starter volume.”

“Well then, what would be?” Jess asks.

I’m torn between irritation at this blatant attempt at chatting Dana up and delight that maybe, after years of my trying, Dana might open Jess up to the joys of P.G. Wodehouse. Where by ‘delight’ I mean ‘unholy glee.’

“Either The Inimitable Jeeves or The Code of the Woosters.”

“Jess usually prefers novels to short stories,” I put in.

“Then Code,” Dana agrees.

“I’ll bring it over after I clean up,” I say.

“Oh, I can—” Dana catches herself. “Except, doh! I haven’t unpacked the Ws yet.”

“Enough books you need alphabetized boxes?” Jess says, delighted. “Girl, we are so going to get along.”

“Oh really?” Dana says with a small smile.

“Let’s just say,” I say, “neither of us have enough shelves in our rooms.”

“Or enough floor,” Jess adds.

Dana laughs. It’s a lovely, lovely sound.

Fifteen minutes later, cleaned, dried, and redressed, I’m back downstairs and ready to hop over the back fence. Then I notice the thump of disco through the duplex wall. Mom and I live on one side, with Jess, her Dad, and his current boyfriend, Shandy, on the other. Shandy makes a living, such as it is, recording aerobic workout videos (plus the occasional live virtual class) in their living room, and gets Really Pissy about being interrupted. It doesn’t help that his workout music sucks. Yeah, we’re not hanging out at Jess’s place.

So I go out the front door instead.

Jess is sulking under the dogwood tree. I grin.

“That’s enough out of you, young man,” she growls at me. Try as she might, Jess just isn’t as good at it as Mom.

“It just means,” I say easily, “that we’ll show her our neighborhood delights.”

“This neighborhood has delights?” a skeptical voice says behind me.

I jump, startled. Dana grins on the sidewalk, wearing a light-blue sleeveless shirt and loose shorts. Jess cackles so hard at me, she falls over trying to stand.

I flick my paperback of The Code of the Woosters at my former bestest friend. “Laugh it up, fuzzball.”

Dana does an excellent impersonation of an amused wookie growl. Hella cute, athletic, appreciates Wodehouse, and makes geeky jokes. I’m already halfway in love.

I turn to her. “Actually, yes, there’s a few places within walking distance important for teenagers to know.”

“Such as?”

Jess stands up and dusts the dirt off her butt. “Two hangouts, two secret hideouts, and the library.”

Dana knows about the library, it turns out, and already has her card. She’s seen Joe’s Cuppa from the car, driving to the grocery store, but hasn’t been inside. She approves of the cardamom mocha latte. She hadn’t heard of Hanging Out, though. They aren’t open yet, this time Sunday morning, but we walk her past it.

“All-ages club—live music most nights, lots of comfy seating, decent coffee, good smoothies, great vibe,” Jess explains. “And—”

She breaks off. I’ve been letting her do most of the talking, mostly out of habit. But brash, confident Jess is suddenly tongue-tied. Knowing what Dana thinks about Hanging Out is, I realize, important to her. Really important.

It’s important to me, too, though not for exactly the same reasons. This, I can handle, with my new confident, smooth persona. “And it’s queer-friendly. As in, if you see two boys or two girls kissing, don’t get bent out of shape or you’ll get bounced.”

Dana blinks, then makes a small, blasé smile. “Cool.”

Jess manages not to light up like a billboard—but it’s clear Dana gets why queer-friendly is important to Jess. If she hasn’t already. Heck, for all I know, Jess is pinging her gaydar.

As we stroll along, Jess and I jockey for who gets to walk beside Dana. Most sidewalks in the neighborhood are wide enough for three only if they’re comfortable with being close, and we three, well—we aren’t. When I’m next to Dana, even an almost brush makes the hairs on my arm stand up, and my skin tingle all over—and my erection throb even harder. I’m glad I’m in denim, which shows just a bulge, instead of tenting a pair of loose athletic shorts. When Jess is next to Dana, she flushes on her neck and chest, and her nipples are obvious headlights. Obvious enough, it’d set my gaydar off like mad.

I mean, if I was a girl. Which I am not. I once again set that disappointment aside. Especially with Dana right here, apparently enjoying our company and apparently interested in sticking with us.

We loop back past the rec center, where I extoll its virtues, such as they are, before heading to the strip of woods east of the soccer field and tennis courts. Woods threaded with footpaths, some of which lead to hollows, protected by thickets.

This time it’s my turn to get nervous. To not want to explain.

When Dana crawls inside the second one and looks around, all she says is, “Cool.” Again. We sit in a triangle in the arched shelter of green branches woven overhead—this is the larger one, maybe ten feet across. The ground isn’t as damp as on the soccer field.

But then Dana raises one eyebrow at me. Yeah, she can do that. “‘Secret hideout,’ eh?”

Jess giggles, and I give her a Look. She also got her first same-sex kiss in this place. “Wellll,” Jess drawls, with an obvious glance at a couple discarded condoms beneath one bush, “sometimes also a makeout spot.”

I feel my face heat. Okay, heat even more. “Which means,” I manage to get out, “yeah, you need to, yanno, listen a moment before crawling in. For privacy, I mean. That—”

Both girls laugh at me, but then Dana says without teasing, “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever ... need privacy.”

But that’s also teasing—she does not, at this time, need a makeout spot, with either of us, but she might later. That—okay, pressure off, for now, but also a disappointment. A bluejay shrills somewhere overhead.

I think Jess feels the disappointment more than the relief. Then she gives me a sharp look—asking me to leave and give them privacy. I give her a Really? look. A small pout, which turns to a smile. Yeah, she had to try.

Dana looks between us, and her expression sharpens. “Can I—ask you two a personal question?”

My heart thumps. This—

Jess shugs, trying for nonchalant. “Sure.”

“Are you two,” Dana wiggles a finger back and forth between us, “yanno, together?”

Jess snorts before bursting out laughing. A giggle escapes Dana before she can contain it, which sets Jess off even more.

It’s up to me to explain. “We’re more like siblings whose parents don’t happen to have ever been together. We’re best friends who’ve shared a bedroom wall since we were three.”

Dana’s mouth makes an Oh of understanding. After a moment, “And you two have never tried...?”

I expect Jess’s sharp “No way!” and am prepared to ignore the pang.

Her sharpness takes Dana aback, though, and even Jess realizes she needs damage control. “Even aside from growing up together, he—” Jess stops herself. Then she shakes her head, looking at her feet. “Yanno, usually I make a joke about Jim having the wrong plumbing, but really, for the right person, the plumbing really doesn’t matter all that much.”

Wait—what? And why isn’t she looking at me as she says this? I am all confusion. A dog barks twice on the field, and a man’s voice scolds it.

Dana stares at Jess. “Plumbing?”

Jess gathers herself and makes a small smile—and looks directly at Dana.

“I’m gay. Hard gay. Even if Jim wasn’t my brother in all but blood, he’d still be the wrong lover for me.”

I look at Jess, then look at her again. A few pieces click together in my head. “One of those girls you kissed at coding camp,” I say, not making it a question, “she was trans, wasn’t she.”

Jess blinks at me, then shakes her head. “It’s like I’m hanging with a damn psychic,” she mock-complains to Dana.

Dana stares at her, then giggles—the sort that covers shock.

“Just so you know,” Jess says conspiratorially, “Jim’s queer too. Bi, in his case, but somehow he has spectacularly bad luck when it comes to boys.”

The fuck—? I stare at Jess, mouth open. How could she—?! I finally get out, “Jess!”

“What?” She looks baffled, as if she hasn’t a clue why a joke didn’t work. This—argh!

Dana clears her throat. Jess sees she’s scowling too, and sobers up. Dana says carefully, “Did you just out your best friend?”

“But—!”

“Jess,” I say with a carefully level voice, “the answer you’re looking for is ‘Yes’.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s—!”

“Jess,” Dana says firmly. It actually cows her. I need to learn how to do that to Jess. Especially to Jess.

Jess takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and holds up her hands. “Okay, yes, I just outed you. I’m sorry.” She opens her eyes and meets mine. “I am.”

I gaze at her steadily—she is, indeed, sorry. I nod slowly.

Then she shakes a finger at me. “Now look me in the eye and tell me you don’t already know she’s our new best friend.”

And before my brain can engage, I shoot back, “I don’t think ‘friend’ is the word you’re looking for.”

And then it’s my Oh shit moment. I’ve let another cat out of the bag. Both our bags. I mentally wince, and can’t bear to look at Dana, not directly. I shift my legs awkwardly, avoiding the fuzzy brown caterpillar crawling next to my sneaker.

Jess is blushing, but she at least is watching Dana.

Who finally speaks. “Not gonna lie—I find you attractive. Both of you. Like, instant heart flutters, constantly horny, kind of attractive.”

My heart flutters a little. A lot. A hella cute girl, admitting she’s attracted to me. That sounds amazing and also like the start of letting us down gently. Or maybe letting just me down.

After the moment stretches out to two, I say, “There’s a big ol’ silent ‘but’ hanging off the end of that.”

“That—” Dana shakes her head. “Not a ‘but’ exactly—just a—ugh, this is hard.”

Jess holds her hand out to her. “We’re okay,” she says softly, “Take your time.”

I hold out mine as well. Dana bites her lower lip, then takes our hands. Hers is warm, palm damp with sweat. “Thanks. There is ... something you need to know before we go any further.”

My heart skips a flutter, hearing that we, and then slows to a thudding crawl, hearing her nervous. What’s so awful? Me? —Jess? —us? I try to make my expression encouraging, but I think with keeping my worry out I end up with stone.

Dana looks down, at the ground between us, then up, from Jess to me. We both nod. I add, “We keep our secrets well.” Which is a lie, given how Jess just outed me. Thanks again, Jess.

Dana takes a deep breath. “I’m intersex.”

Ah. That explains a few things. I squeeze Dana’s hand but stay silent—this is Jess’s to respond to. And she needs to soon—Dana looks startled at our non-reaction.

“What kind?” Jess asks.

Dana hesitates, then seems to take our cue of taking things in stride. “DSD.”

Difference of Sexual Development—also sometimes called ambiguous genitalia. Formerly, and now insultingly, called hermaphroditism.

Jess nods in understanding. “External genitals developed somewhere between typical male and typical female.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dana says faintly. Her hand grips mine tighter. “Right in between—5 on the Quigley Scale.”

Jess and I both nod.

“You know about the Quigley Scale?” Dana asks, almost disbelieving.

Jess tips her head to Dana. “Well, one private revelation—” she glances at me, and I almost groan at her pun on private parts, “—deserves another. I’m also intersex—CAIS.” Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome.

Dana looks blank. “You—you are?”

“Yup—look like a typical girl on the outside, feel like a girl, but no cervix or uterus, and my internal gonads are testes pumpin’ out T that the rest of my body ignores.”

She has all the genes needed to be male except the one that cells use to respond to testosterone.

“I know what—” Dana takes stock, and then smiles with clear relief. “I mean—that is, this is easier than I expected.”

I tug her hand lightly, trying to be reassuring. “It’s true, not many people know about intersex conditions.”

“And in the interest of full disclosure,” Jess says, giving me a significant look.

I almost pull a face at her, but she’s right—I need to mention my anatomical difference as well, and now. “My anatomy also isn’t quite typical—I lost a testicle when I was eight, in an accident.”

Dana considers me for the time it takes a small orange butterfly to flutter between us across the hollow. A speculative consideration, with interest. “No loss of function?”

In my other ball, I think she means. Or maybe my penis. “Nope.”

She nods, and slowly smiles. And lets go of my hand. Both our hands.

Is she—? But no, instead of leaving, she leans towards me—propped on her arms, face up. And kisses me.

Soft lips. Warm. Nibbly, in a way that makes my slightly softened cock instantly hard again. Deep blue eyes, blurred by closeness into a single orb, looking into mine. I start to open my mouth, but she pulls away.

And leans over to Jess and kisses her.

I swallow, though it hurts, around the lump in my throat. I thought Kait kissing Suri was hot. This—I think tinder would catch fire, seeing this. Green logs would. This is not just two girls kissing. Not just major hottie Dana kissing a girl. Jess, the girl I grew up with, kissing a girl. Jess, who I can never kiss like that.

When they pull apart, Jess looks dazed. And Dana—she’s breathing heavily. Her eyes have deepened from blue to violet. They look at me—hungry.

Dana shifts back towards me, and I lean forward to meet her. And this time, I want more, a longer kiss. As our mouths meet, I cup her cheek with one hand, and then with both of them. Her skin is soft, her jaw works beneath my palms as our lips part and tongues touch—tasting each other, teasing. Dancing. I close my eyes. Dancing deeper.

A soft moan. It’s mine. Another moan answers. Hers, into my mouth. Yet another moan. Jess, beside us.

Dana pulls back, and I shudder. But I don’t hold onto her—her cheeks slip from between my fingers.

I feel like I’ve swum a dozen laps, I’m panting so hard. So is Jess.

Dana kisses Jess again, longer. I feel incandescent. We trade two more rounds of kisses, until Dana sits back and looks at me. At us. Somehow, I have the strength to settle back in my seat. To rest.

Dana licks her soft, already moist lips. “I’ve never done this,” she whispers. “I mean, I’ve kissed before. A boy and a girl, one each. But not, like, right away, right after meeting. And I’ve never done this.” Her hands, holding the hem of her shirt, lift up. In one motion, she pulls it over her head.

She’s not wearing a bra—now naked to the waist. Shaking out her ponytail jiggles her small, firm breasts. Her perfect itty-bitty titties with little pink nipples. Her body is tanned and toned, with the faint outline of a one-piece suit.

Jess and I glance at each other, and agree what to do.

We both lean forward and kiss a strawberry nipple—her head next to mine. I suck it between my lips, flick it with my tongue. The chest before me gasps, and the nipplet slips out of my mouth. I almost fall over, following it, and catch myself with an arm.

I push myself up and back. Dana looks at me, at us, expectantly—then raises an eyebrow.

Jess catches on first. With a wriggle, her t-shirt is off and tossed aside—it catches on a branch of thicket and hangs there. I peel mine off as well, set it aside.

And look at Jess.

I’ve seen her naked before—and not just before puberty. We still do sleepovers, we still get dressed and undressed around each other. Like siblings. But this time, this is different. Jess has uncovered those soft, full puppies to a purpose, and that purpose is making out. Even if it’s not with me.

I’ve never seen those brown nipples so tight and tall.

Her body is soft—not fat, though her belly has padding. Round. Juicy, Mom once described her (which was really unfair at the time—I was still getting my crush under control). A body that matches her round face.

But when Dana leans forward to kiss Jess’s further nipple, I don’t join her. Those tits are not for me.

Somewhere behind me, a mockingbird begins singing his endless variations, repeating each phrase twice.

Jess whines as Dana lips her nip, and seems to be restraining herself from holding the other girl’s head. I can’t look away.

After a long suckle, lasting several heartbeats, Dana switches to the near breast. More whining. More heartbeats. More heavy breathing. I wipe a tickle of sweat from my upper lip.

Dana moves a few feet over to the next nipple—mine. I suck a sharp breath in through my teeth, head thrown back, chest thrust forward. It’s like a hot wire to my cock—it’s a wonder I don’t shoot off in my shorts. A white eternity later, that exquisite mouth and tongue and teeth move to my other nipple. I groan. I am slain.

And then that ecstasy is gone.

Slowly I relax and open my eyes. Dana is sitting back again, watching. Looking at us. Waiting? No, worrying.

“We can go slow as you need to,” Jess says softly.

“But see, we don’t need to,” Dana replies. “You guys already know. And you,” she says to Jess, “are also intersex. I don’t have to go slow. And, oh fuck, I don’t want to. You guys—” She shakes her head. “I’ve never felt this hot before, and not just because I’m from Minnesota.”