The red lingerie was new, the lace scratchy against my skin as I waited on the white sheets in the dark room. I wore it with nothing underneath, sitting on the edge of the mattress, when I heard the knock. When I opened the door to find both of them there—two shadows filling my doorway—I moved back and let them in without speaking.<br><br>They entered quiet, four hands immediately on me, mouths on my throat and collarbone. I gasped when fingers pushed under the red lace, rough and urgent, finding how wet I was. Embarrassingly so. They knew. The red fabric was pulled aside, my body exposed to their hungry eyes as they pushed me onto the white sheets.<br><br>I ended up on my stomach, face down in the pillow, ass up while one drove into me from behind. The other offered himself to my mouth, and I took him because I wanted to be full everywhere. They used me like that, passing me back and forth, my red lingerie torn and twisted around my ribs, my body their shared toy on the white sheets.

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