Chicken Out

Hello, my name is Amanda Melcotte. This story is about a game with my friends that helped us explore our sexuality. I think these experiences helped me become more open-minded and sex positive. It’s partly because I had already been outgoing and body positive going into these experiences, and I was close to the people involved. I do not think that everybody would react the same to these kind of things. At this age, the lines of sexuality are blurred; almost anything can feel sexual. The lines of harassment are even more blurry. During these stories, I never felt I was harassed. This doesn’t mean that if you do the same things to somebody, they won’t feel harassed either. There was never an actual oral consent given, but we were close enough that we didn’t need one. Enjoy your read, and take care of your friends!

The summer after I turned sixteen, I went to a four-day vacation with my friends. I had quite a large circle of friends. There were both girls and boys, which affected our vacation in two ways. One, there were only six of us, three girls and three boys, because my other friends’ parents weren’t comfortable with leaving them unsupervised with the opposite gender. (And there was a boy who would’ve come, but his girlfriends’ parents didn’t let her, so he stayed home, because that way he could at least meet her regularly.) Two, our parents rented two five-bed cabins.
One of the girls, Kate, had a strict mom. Our parents combined effort was enough to convince her to let Kate go with us, but she persisted that boys and girls have enough privacy. (The cabins had one toilet and shower each, so it wasn’t that bad that we had two of them. The only problem with that is that we could’ve managed with one, take turns sleeping on the floor, and cut enough of the budget to stay an extra night.)
I still don’t agree with Kate’s mom. We were six teenage girls and boys on vacation, without an adult in sight. If we wanted to have sex, we would’ve. It just happened to be that none of us was interested in the others in that way. (Though since we had two cabins, girls and boys stayed in different ones, which made using the bathroom way less awkward.) I’m not saying that nothing sexual happened, because it did, that’s what this writing is about. Our cabins were next to a small lake, so naturally we were in our swimsuits all the time, dripping wet, and from day one there had been some looking. When I first changed into my bikini, I saw one guy, Tim looking at my top, and judging by the bump in his swim trunk, he wasn’t admiring the design. (Though it was a quite expensive piece, white and pink striped, very classy, so there was design enough to be admired.)
Our parents bought us everything they thought we’d need, which was in most cases way more than we needed. We had food, water and snacks to last us a week minimum. The only thing we lacked was alcohol. My parents gave me two bottles of wine because they’re the coolest, and Tim managed to smuggle in a half-empty vodka, but we disposed of it the first day before midnight. We got pleasantly tipsy, except Kate, who got extremely drunk. And, come the next morning, there were we: out of booze and desperate for some.
The problem was, none of us was old enough to buy it. We debated who could fool the cashier the most easily. Out of the girls, Kate was the one whose face looked the oldest, but I didn’t think anybody would buy her being over seventeen, and she’d probably get too nervous and raise suspicion. The second girl, Mae had glasses, which might make her older. Still, she had a sense of childish innocence about her (it was just a sense, trust me, she had a filthy mind), which wouldn’t help. As for me… I was probably confident enough to pass as an adult, the question was whether I looked the role. (And of course I’d have been much happier if someone else did the job for me.)
“You have the biggest boobs,” pointed out Mae. It was true, and I thought they looked great (the whole package, not just my boobs), but I wished she hadn’t just pointed that out in front of all the boys, when we were in our swimwear, which provided them with every opportunity they needed to check.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, blushing. As I said, I liked my body. I played water polo, so I was in good form. I shaved before I left home, my legs were still close to baby-bottom smooth, and, again, I had a hella cute bikini. I had my own issues of course, I think every girl does, but I knew I was attractive, and I owned it. So I didn’t mind the idea that boys look at my body, but I did mind knowing exactly when they were looking and at which parts. I’m sure most of you can relate. It’s like wearing a see-through shirt to a party. Sure, when you put it on, you can’t help but think for a second what wild fantasies guys (or girls) will have when they see you, but it still creeps you out if you’re trying to talk to a dude and he keeps staring at your bra.
Anyway, blushing as I was, I quickly suggested we analyse the boys. Matt was out of the question, he was the most skinny and he had no hair on his face. Sam was the most muscular, and he had the deepest voice, though he shaved his face smooth. The only problem was, he got the least out of drinking, he mostly did it because everyone else did, so it seemed unfair that we should send him.
Our second best shot might’ve been Tim. He had some muscles too. He didn’t look like a Greek god (neither did Sam, he was fifteen, but he was closer to the look of the not-bodybuilder-but-still-hot ones, like Apollo), but he didn’t look like a fifteen-year old either. Out of the three of them, he came the closest to growing a stubble. He could even act like he wasn’t secretly praying that the cashier wouldn’t ask for his ID. When I pointed this out to him (which felt good, given that he laughed the loudest when Mae made her comment about my boobs), he wasn’t entirely content.
“Why don’t you go? I already brought a bottle of vodka, and, as we all heard, you have the biggest boobs.” His tone made it clear it clear the boob part was just friendly teasing, and I smiled with the others, but he was dead serious about not wanting to buy booze. Which was understandable, none of us did, but still, I teased him back.
“Oh I see, you chickened out.”
Which give us the idea of the game. In half an hour, we laid down the rules.

We called it “chicken out”. It was like a more competitive version of truth or dare. At any time, any of us could invite someone else to a challenge, and a punishment for the loser. If you didn’t want to take the punishment (or the challenge), you could chicken out, but that meant that at the end of the day, you have to buy alcohol for the whole squad, and pay one beer for everybody. (The rest we would split.) If, after the first one, there are more people who chicken out, they each pay one round, but they don’t have to go to the store. You also chickened out if you couldn’t physically do your punishment. (That’s why on the third day we could listen to Matt moaning for five minutes straight as he tried to do a hundred push-ups.)
As for the punishments, we didn’t set any boundaries, mostly because we didn’t need to. It was a game, we tried to push each other’s limits, but winning was less important than maintaining our friendship. (It also helped that everybody agreed that we would draw a name if no one chickened out until the end of the day.) Tim challenged Sam to an arm-wrestle, and when he lost, Sam made him go to the store and buy candy wearing only his swimming trunk and his boxers – the latter ones on his head. Then Tim got back at Sam, beat him by staying underwater longer than him, and had list all his crushes since first grade. Surprisingly Mae was on the list, though it was in third grade, before they became friends. And like this we played for a while.
At 3 PM, the wildest challenge had probably been the one between Mae and I. We wanted to go for a swim, so we started to change into our swimming suits. Kate and I always changed in front of each other, it was no big deal for us, but Mae was shyer. She always went to the bathroom, which now she had to wait for a bit, because Kate was in there. I didn’t mind, I took of my clothes, put on my bikini, and went outside to wait for her. I thought nothing of it, and she didn’t seem to mind either.
Now I mentioned how smooth my legs were. I didn’t just shave my legs. Of course no woman shaves just her legs, I took care of my armpit and belly and face, the whole deal, but I also removed hair from my less public areas. I didn’t plan on showing it to anybody (except the glimpses the girls got when we changed), I just felt cleaner this way. But Mae didn’t really care who I planned to show it to.
“Guys, Amy has no hair on her pussy,” she exclaimed, as soon as she got out of the cabin. Now, that was embarrassing. I must’ve turned red like a lobster. I could’ve swore all three boys were looking at my crotch.
“Okay, Maria, that’s it. You seem so concerned about my private parts, let’s show them off. I challenge you to a swimming race across the lake. Loser goes back to the cabin, changes, and takes another swim in her knickers and a white t-shirt.”
Mae was aghast. We both were in good shape, but she did yoga, and I did water polo. It was no question who’d win. And modest as she was, we did dress together during PE, and I knew she almost always wore plain white bra and panties, except when she was on her period. And, well, you know what water does to white fabric. But since the alternative was chickening out, she accepted.
We went head to head first. She really tried her best, I have to give her that. Not that it made any difference; we went head to head because she pissed me off, and I wanted to get back at her. She was glancing at me every second, starting to believe that she has a chance. Then I gave it my full speed, and left her behind without really breaking a sweat.
“Time for you to change,” I winked at her.
She didn’t swim back, instead she got out, walked around the lake. I went in after her. Her hand was in her bag.
“What are you looking for?”
“My panties,” answered she.
“Oh, you shouldn’t be. The ones you wore today will do just fine.” They were, as I expected, white. “Here, a shirt.” I gave her mine; a worn-out piece that I only wore to bed. It was a bit small for me, barely covered my bellybutton. Mae was a bit shorter, but it still wouldn’t cover her panties. And, most importantly, it was very thin.
“Alright, let’s swim to the other side.”
She reluctantly did so. This time I didn’t leave her side. When we got there, she wanted to turn back, but I stopped her.
“Nah-ah, we get out here.”

Her clothes were soaking wet. The shirt stuck to her body, outlining her breasts, showing her nipples that were hard from the cold water. The white panties didn’t disappoint me either. I could clearly see that she trimmed too, but a black bush could be seen through the white of her knickers. Of course as soon as she got out, she covered herself, so I didn’t have too much time to gaze at her bits. But I wasn’t the target audience either.
Our friends were on the other side, and there were no other people, which was unfortunate. (She was still very red.) When we got back, I quickly grabbed her arms and put them behind her back. She freed herself almost immediately, but judging by the others’ reactions they must’ve seen something.

At first I was worried that I took things too far, and I went over to Mae to apologise, but she said it was fine.
“I feel strangely free, now that everyone’s seen my nipples. You should try it too.” She winked at me, and I couldn’t decide if that was a threat or a tease.
After a while, the challenges died down. There were still hours till the game ended (the closest store closed at 10 PM, so we wanted to decide who buys the drink by 9), and I managed to convince everyone to play water polo. (Or the closest thing to water polo you can play with six people, no goals and a rubber ball.) We played girls against boys, and since no one else could actually play, we were winning. After half an hour, Matt and the girls started to lose interest.
“Mae promised to go running with me, and I want to get back before we start making dinner,” said Kate. “We should go now.”
“Alright,” I smiled. “Just one last goal. And let’s make it a challenge.”
“A challenge? And what’s the punishment?” asked Tim.
“Dunno, figure that out later. Let’s play.”
I was excited. Tim and Sam both did sports, but they had been just enjoying themselves. Now that it was a challenge, I hoped that they would go harder, and it’d be a real challenge for me.
It was. As I said, Matt, Kate and Mae didn’t really want to play anymore, so basically it was me against the two boys. For a long time none of us scored, but then they started playing together, and won the challenge. (In my defence, I was outnumbered two to one, and was really tired.) So, beaten, I got out of the water.
“Okay, boys, what do you want from us?”
“From us?” objected Kate. “You’re the one who wanted to do a challenge, and we’re going running anyway.”
“Besides you’re the only one who haven’t lost a challenge yet,” added Mae. She was right.
“Alright,” I gave in. “What do you want from me?”
They put their heads together for a bit, whispered something, and then Tim spoke.
“Actually, we want something from Kate and Mae. We want you to come into hour cabin, and tie Amy to the ladder of my bed.”
“What?” said I and Kate almost simultaneously.
“Tie her up, and you can untie her when you get back from your running.”
“What do you want to do to her?” enquired Kate.
Matt poked my side with his finger, which caused me to jump a little.
“Well, she’s ticklish,” he pointed out.
“What? You’re gonna tickle me until they get back?!” I wasn’t sure if I could do that. Maybe my best choice was to chicken out. That way at least I wouldn’t get tickled at all.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we get back as soon as possible,” said Mae, making sure I knew she would stall. “And, of course, you could always chicken out.”
That was it. She had me in a corner. She implied I couldn’t do it, so I had to.

The bed was a bunk bed, taller than me. Matt’s parents packed him some rope, god knows why. It was thick enough, so it wouldn’t cut me. At first Kate and Mae wanted to tie me to one leg of the ladder, arms behind my back, like you’d tie someone to a pole. But Tim objected.
“Tie her arms above her head. We need her armpit free. And leave some place between her legs.”
Shit. I knew I couldn’t cover my belly, and my armpits weren’t that ticklish, but I didn’t know how long I could last once they found out how sensitive my inner thighs are.
The girls left (but not without Mae giving a last wink to me, and wishing me luck), and I felt like I was about to be questioned by the Spanish inquisition. Besides all of their fingers, they brought two other torture equipment, which they placed on a table, where I could clearly see them. One was an electronic toothbrush, the other is a lock of Tim’s hair.
“Just to see what I’m willing to sacrifice to make you laugh,” he jested. Of course I knew he’d been meaning to get a haircut for weeks.
“Amelia, I hope you understand that if you do not answer our questions truthfully, there shall be consequences,” he said in an over-the-top voice. He felt the inquisition vibe too. “So tell me the truth: whither are you the most ticklish, woman?”
That I did not do, but I offered him an alternative.
“Kiss my ass.”
He didn’t. Instead, Matt “kissed” my belly. In quotation marks, because it couldn’t really be called a kiss. He placed his mouth around my belly button (because of course they wouldn’t let me change from my bikini, so I was completely vulnerable), blew air into it, and even used his tongue. I screamed.
“Well, Matthew,” said Tim, “it does seem like her stomach is a good area to start the enquiry. Please proceed.”
Matt started attacking my belly from every direction. He tickled my bellybutton with his fingers, then he switched to poking and tickling my sides, just below my ribcage. I laughed really hard. I’m glad there was nobody else at that lake that they, because they’d surely have heard me.
His hands then slowly wandered back to my bellybutton, switching between tickling and poking. I was also switching between laughing and gasping for air, though the difference wasn’t clear anymore. Then he started moving downwards, to my bikini line, and started working my lower abdomen. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing or screaming. I was definitely pleading for mercy.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“Yees,” I panted.
“Do you chicken out?”
“No!”
And with that, he went back to my sides. I don’t know how long it continued. Sometimes he would stop, and just gently caress my skin with his fingers. Normally it would’ve caused nothing more than a funny feeling, but my belly became sensitive from the tickling, and it resulted in that feeling when it’s intense enough to laugh, but unpleasant enough that you want to move away. Of course I couldn’t; I was tied up. When I started to chuckle, he’d continue for a bit, then attack me with full intensity.
“Samwell, I think it’s time for the hair,” announced Tim. (Sam’s real name was of course Samuel, Tim just used the hobbit’s name from The Lord of the Rings.)
Sam quickly tried his luck with my sides, but the sensation was so minute I barely noticed it. My skin started to become numb. My bellybutton tickled more, I chuckled at that. But really soon he wandered lower, and that was hell. It seems like the lower part of my belly is hella ticklish. I couldn’t keep it together.
“Fffffuccck… yyyouu,” I screamed. Sam didn’t seem moved, but after what I assumed was a couple of minutes he put down Tim’s hair.
“Now for the treat…” he smiled, and picked up the toothbrush. It. Was. Hell.
He kept drawing small circles just above my bikini bottom. I screamed, I wiggled, I cursed, but it didn’t help.
“Enough… please… I…”
“You chicken out?” he lifted the toothbrush.
“Nooo!”
“Fine. Because this is fun.”
He placed it back, and continued torturing me. When I felt like I couldn’t do it more, he put it on my left side. It was better, but not by a lot. After he finished there, he spent some time on my right side.
“Alright, that was fun,” he concluded. “Now, it seems to me, that out of these three places,” he poked me above, inside and below my bellybutton “this one,” he caressed my lower abdomen “is the most sensitive. My theory is, the lower we go, the better it gets. Unfortunately we can’t reach your feet, so I say we continue here.”
He poked my inner thighs with the tip of his fingers. I let out a scream. Then he continued to tickle my thighs for what seemed like hours (and what was probably two minutes tops). The worst was when he groped them and then wiggled his fingers. My reaction was somewhere between screaming and laughing. I pleaded too, some of my screams tried to sound like “please” or “stop”. He didn’t. When he did, I didn’t thank him for it, because Matt already took his place – with the toothbrush. On my thighs, upper was worse, so he concentrated on the most upper part of my upper thigh – which was, I realised, so close to my bikini it was probably considered a “boyfriend zone”. (Though at that point I’d only had one boyfriend, in sixth grade, and he did not touch me anywhere near that point.)
“I… I give up,” I said. “Ask something else.”
“You chicken out?” asked Tim.
“No, just ask something else. This is too much.”
“Well if you don’t chicken out,” said Matt, “I’m gonna ask you if that tickles.” He then placed the toothbrush where it had previously been, only this time on my other thigh. It did. Fucking. Tickle.
“Stop! I’m gonna pee myself.”
I wasn’t lying. It felt like I was moments away. He stopped. They looked at each other, then Tim went out… and got back with two fucking towels!
“Well, I’m not gonna untie you, but take a few quick breaths, and try not to pee yourself. But in case you did…” he placed the towels under my feet.
We waited for like half a minute. I tried to get myself back together. Peeing myself would’ve been really embarrassing. Besides, I’d only brought one bikini.
“Now, Sam, it’s time for her armpit.”
It was a relief. Not that it didn’t tickle, because it did. Especially when he blew into it, though he didn’t use his tongue, as Matt did. But I’m way less ticklish on my armpit, and, though I laughed, I felt like I could keep this up for much longer. Credit where credit is due, Sam tried his best to drive me as crazy as when he was tickling my thighs, but that part of my body just wasn’t that sensitive. I only lost my control when Matt started using the hair, and then the toothbrush, but I didn’t feel like wetting myself anymore. I even managed not to beg for mercy during the process. Then he stopped.
“Well, sir,” he said in his outstandingly bad inquisitor-voice. “We analysed all areas, and the inner thigh seems most ticklish to me.”
“Oh, but there are still some areas left,” replied Tim. I didn’t like his tone.
He stepped in front of me, and started to slide his finger down my left armpit. After all the tickling, I barely felt anything. Then he went down and down, until his finger was caressing the top part of my left boob that wasn’t covered by my bikini. He started slowly tickling it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I gasped.
“Seeing if your boobs are ticklish.” He throw my a sly smile.
“Fuck you,” I suggested.
He quickly grabbed both of my breasts and started to jiggle them. Very. Fast. I started to laugh. If my face hadn’t been burning red already, I would’ve also blushed.
“Let go of my boobs,” I yelled. He looked me in the eye, still holding them.
“Do you chicken out?” He squeezed them a little.
“Fuck you.” I wanted to say something creative, but I was out of insults.
He started wiggling his fingers while still holding my boobs. I screamed. He continued like that, tickling and jiggling my boobs. After a while, he stopped. My sides hurt from the constant laughing, the ropes started to cut, and I wanted to punch Tim for grabbing my tits. Also…
“I really need to pee now.”
“Alright, I we can help you with that.”
He grabbed the toothbrush, and put it inside my top. He put it in my fucking top. He turned it on, right next to my left nipple. It was just for a second, but I screamed loud. It tickled like fuck. Maybe my upper thigh was worse, but not by a lot. I knew I had like twenty seconds before peeing myself if he continued.
He didn’t, but he gave the toothbrush to Matt, who did. He didn’t even move the damn thing, my wiggling did the job for him. Maybe I should’ve been relieved that they stopped groping me, but the agony was worse. And I really couldn’t hold it for much longer.
Meanwhile, Tim crouched in front of me. He pinched my bikini bottom between his fingers, and pulled it to the side. My inarticulate screams turned into one big FUUUUCK. Probably nothing was visible from any other angle, I’m not even sure that Tim saw anything, but still, that was crossing a line. Then I peed. It was on my thighs, on his hands, and the towels, but my bikini remained clean. (Though honestly at that point I didn’t really care about that.) Still, there was a stream of urine coming out of me in front of three of my guy friends, so that was bad enough in itself. I wanted to sink under the ground. Matt stopped the toothbrush and took it out of my top. Tim used the bottom towel to clean his hands and my legs from pee, he even cleaned me between my legs (and I’m sure that time he saw something), and took the towels out from the cabin.
“Alright, now that’s out of the way,” he said. “Now we continue.”
“Don’t you fucking put that toothbrush in my top again!”
“Alright, we’ll just use our fingers for now. There’s just one little inconvenience.”
He stepped behind me. I didn’t know what he meant, then I felt his hands fidgeting with my clasps. I froze. He wouldn’t dare…
He would have. He unclasped my top, took it off, and threw it to the table. There I was, tied up, having peed myself, and now bare-breasted for all to see. Every moment when I thought my situation couldn’t get worse, it did.
Matt stepped to me.
“I wonder if that works.”
He placed his mouth around my left nipple, and blew air into my boob, just like he did with my bellybutton. He even licked my nipple. I’m sure by that time I was crimson with embarrassment. It also tickled a lot. After that, Matt and Sam just tickled my boobs with their fingers for a while. Turns out my boobs are quite ticklish. Meanwhile, just to top it off, I saw that Tim was getting a serious hard-on. (And the other guys were probably too, I just couldn’t see their junks because they were too busy tickling me from my sides. I started to get goosebumps. When they finished tickling me, Tim got up and jiggled my boobs again, only this time they were naked. It surprisingly helped, because that way it tickled less. (It was way more humiliating though.)
Then, after an excruciatingly long time, he finished. And there came the lock of hair. It was torture to my nipples and areolas. The other parts of my boobs weren’t safe either, he tormented them all over with the hair. After the hair came the toothbrush. He really took his time with that. And he didn’t just put it there and let it do his job, no. He held up my boob with one hand, and worked on it with the toothbrush with the other. He even caressed it a little. That umped up the embarrassment factor by a lot, but it only made one thing harder, and that thing was inside his swimming trunk.
“I’m gonna pee again,” I lied. Matt brought two new towels. Tim stopped tickling me for a bit.
“Then I think it’s best if I just take these off,” he said, and started untying my bikini bottom.
It took him some time, which made it feel more awkward, but he managed it, and freed me from the last piece of clothing I’d had. I was completely naked, and they were very clearly turned on by it.
Since the girls had tied my legs a bit apart, they weren’t in the way of Tim having a look at my lady bits from below.
“Mae was right, you are all shaved down there. But I think we should add just a little hair.”
He started touching my pussy with his lock of hair. Well, good news, they found out where I was the most ticklish. I let out one long, high pitched scream, as he moved the hair up and down my labia. I tried to break free, however much I knew it wasn’t possible.
“Sam, hole her hips down so she doesn’t wiggle.”
Sam did, and Tim continued playing with the hair. He then switched to his fingers. He tickled my lips, and then went up, all the way to my pubic area, then down again. I couldn’t stop laughing. I wanted to sink into the ground. Not only was every inch of my body on display for them, Tim’s fingers didn’t leave my pussy for a second, and that made me scream inarticulately, and not beacuse of the pleasure.
“Stoooooooop, stooohp,” I pleaded.
He did, for a moment.
“Do you chicken out?”
“I…”
His fingers attack my labia again, and the urge to laugh and scream prevented me from finishing the sentence. I don’t know what I would’ve said, I might’ve given in, but the constant tickling and humiliation made it impossible for me to think, much less talk.
Tim stayed there for at least five minutes, then it was Sam’s turn. He slowly, which only made me giggle, and I could catch a few breaths, but then Tim’s fingers attack my boobs, and Matt started poking at my hips and sides.
“Eeeeeeeee…”
That was all I could react, especially when Sam got bored of the lock of hair and started using fingers.
I think I would’ve chickened out, but I felt so beaten and humiliated, I felt like there was no lower. I don’t know how much longer it continued, but after what felt like eternity, Mae came in.

“Holy fuck,” she exclaimed. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Kate was also with her, equally taken aback.
“We found out what her most ticklish part is,” answered Tim, disregarding that the question was rhetoric. “It’s her pussy, than her thighs, than her boobs, than her belly, than her armpit. We couldn’t test her feet, but we got really sure about her pussy.”
“So that’s why she screamed so loud!”
“What?” I was shocked. “You heard me?”
“Yeah, we were back like ten minutes ago, I was just curious if you’d chicken out. Also, I wanted to pay you back.”
“Well, fuck you. You flashed your tits through a fucking white shirt, and they’ve been groping me for hours.”
“Yeah, well, sorry,” she looked down. “To be fair, I didn’t know they were gonna strip you. It’s time to untie you.”
She undid my ropes. They bruised my ankles and wrists a little, but nothing serious. I grabbed my bikini, and stormed out, still naked. I took a long, hot shower, then I put on sweatpants and a t-shirt. Nobody came to bother me for a while, and I just sat there, thinking. First of all, fuck Mae. And fuck Tim, and Sam and Matt also, though they’d only been accomplices. My whole face and stomach hurt from the laughter, and my face still reddened if I thought about how everyone has seen me naked. It was not the stuff one’s likely to forget.
After a few minutes, I heard a knock. I shouted a “come in”, and all five of them came in.
“Hey, Amy,” said Tim. “We was talking, and, well… we overstepped some boundaries. It wasn’t cool stripping you, and letting you pee yourself.”
“Wait, you peed yourself?” interjected Kate.
“She did, but that’s not the point. We’re really sorry, we hope we didn’t traumatise you. And since you didn’t chicken out…”
“I’m going to the store,” said Mae. “I’m not buying a beer for everyone, but I’m buying a bottle of vodka for you, and the five of us will split the rest.”
I smiled and nodded. After that, they were extra nice to me throughout the evening. I got hammered, and told them I didn’t mind, which was only half a lie. These guys had been my friends since forever. Having them see me naked was embarrassing, but after I got home, it made us get closer. It also made me less shy; Kate said that after I chugged down my vodka, I lifted up my shirt and jiggled my boobs for everyone. (Though that time I was wearing a bra.)
They had been assholes, yes. But what are friends for, if not to be assholes with each other, and give each other our most humiliating memories? Also, to this day I’m positive that had I said the magic word, they’d have stopped. I just didn’t want to chicken out. And… I couldn’t even say I hated every part. I thought I did, at first, but after everyone went to the store with Mae, I slid some of my fingers to my most sensitive area.