When you sat on the edge of Kentucky Lake with your girlfriend and your best friend, and you knew this was ending—maybe it had already ended, the details are fuzzy, but the only thing that remains is you and this woman and this man and you, and this woman is getting into the water, her body is submerged and she’s removing her swimsuit, and your best friend is on the shore with you rubbing your thigh, and she emerges wet and glistening in that evening sun and sits next to you, leans her head on your shoulder, and sighs, and you feel perhaps more desired, more interesting than you will ever again feel with these two people surrounding you, and the three of you go back to the car in the woods by the lake and get in the backseat together and remove all of your clothes, and you know they both desire you, they both move upon you, devouring you with gulps and slurps, and you cower. You fear both of them, the two people closer to you than anyone has ever been and perhaps ever will be, who want only to ingest you from the cock upward, and this makes you tremble from the center of your thorax, makes your member flaccid, and your two lovers look at each other in confusion until you invite them to devour each other while you curl up into the floorboards.

What are the Sneaky Feels?

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AuthorJohn Proctor