Doing my best to ignore the pulse that had begun to beat between my legs and telling myself not to be so ridiculous, I tried to compose myself. Then I sat back down at the table and helped myself to another glass of red wine. You're drunk, I said to myself. I shook my head and looked up to grin at my boys.
"Fabulous breasts," said Sam, making me blush. "I never really saw the point of tits until I met you, my darling. But now when I look at those puppies sitting up and begging for attention, I'd almost like to play with them."
Whoa! So maybe I'm not the only one thinking about sex! I mean, Rick and I had always enjoyed exchanging campy, witty banter, but tonight the chat was moving beyond that into definite flirtation.
"Oh, no you don't," countered Rick. "I've been friends with those tits for years. If they're going to be ineptly groped by any gay man, I think by rights it ought to be me."
The three of us were giggling madly by this point, but there was something deadly serious about the way Sam looked at me. He really was checking out my breasts. To my embarrassment, but also my secret delight, I felt my tits harden under my top. I hadn't worn a bra, and my nipples began to poke through my slinky silver tank top. Sam licked his lips, quickly and subtly. Rick watched Sam with a hungry look on his face. I blushed; this sexually charged atmosphere with Rick was brand-new territory. I was turned on, but somehow it felt wrong. Or did it feel right, but I wouldn't allow myself to feel it?