While vacationing in LA, it is easy for boredom to set in like vanilla sex. Less street encounters, more driving. Less hustle and bustle, more driving. Less food, and too much anorexia. This combination really wears on a girls’ libido.

I am laying around one lazy afternoon with two girlfriends and I oh-so-gently hint at Abbey that she must get on the phone and call one of her many actor boyfriends. She finds the perfect culprit and within half hour, the four of us are sitting in a circle, sipping beers and indulging in raunchy conversation.

“Now this is more like it,” I think.

The gentleman is a rising actor. He is tan and lean, yet slightly vampiric — probably the gleam in his eye. He proceeds to tell us about his “open relationship,” in which he is permitted to take part in anything but intercourse. I try to feign interest but my tone of voice reflects my belief that this is all a crock of boloney. First of all, that just gives this man permission to be an absolute tease, come home with bluebells, and have his girlfriend finish the job. Wouldn’t this make her sloppy seconds?

When we’re all rucked up enough, we enter the bedroom, proceeding to suck each other’s faces off. Abbey and Jess start laughing like prudish school girls, despite their age, and I can’t help but roll my eyes in bemusement. Poor girls don’t even have their training wheels.

They ask Open Relationship what he wants to do. He would like to touch Jess’ breasts, have Abbey suck his ear, and me on top, kissing his mouth. Since when are we giving all the attention to the male? I re-shift my focus and crawl over to Jess, kissing her mouth and massage her breasts, which are in affect larger than mine.

Despite the beer, I can’t seem to go any further. I love the ladies and all, but these were my good friends and it was too close to home. I decide it is time to have Open Relationship pleasure me for as long as he’s “allowed” to.

I strip down to my skivvies and the two girls insist that he penetrate me in some manner. To respond he slides his fingers his beneath my lace panties and rubs. I try and relax, to close my eyes and sink into it, but I just can’t with everyone watching like live-action pornography. If they were strangers I would thrive. I would even hope that they would touch themselves in response. But these were my dear friends–so I decided to fake my orgasm (a tragedy, really). This time I was the actor, throwing my friends a bone for entertainment’s sake.

To return the favor I jacked the poor guy off. At least he wouldn’t have to go home and give his girlfriend sloppy seconds. Or in fact, he probably would do just that and be thinking of us. It was over and we kicked the poor guy out, only to sit and laugh at the evening’s happenings. Somehow seeing each other in action brought us closer together. He may have gotten more out of it sexually, but us our bonding was the stronger reward.

A chunk of time passes and I am doing my usual cardio at the gym, back home in New York. I glance up at the television, and see none other than Open Relationship himself, on some stupid teeny bopper show. I laugh at the thought of his hard dick in my hands, and wonder how his old lady is doing…