'Thanks to the inspiration for this story: the 'Which Hole Would You Pick?' thread. Somehow, what should have been at most a six-or-seven word response became a roughly 6,500 word story. Hope you enjoy it. - NN' We had discussed orgasms, feelings, male frailty, porn, cumshots, and all the ways in which a woman can be violated, impaled, probed, poked, or otherwise filled with man. It was surprising that we hadn’t touched on snuggling. My dinner companions, A and E, and I had been split off from a larger group and sent to a different corner of the restaurant, the tables not being ready to seat everyone when we arrived. That had given us just enough privacy for A to ask about an offer of oral sex she’d made to her boyfriend, which he had perplexingly rejected. That had led to a very intimate discussion, one of the best I’d had for quite some time. Now, however, the dishes had been cleared and the bill had been paid. We had run out of excuses to stay. At that point, the few remaining members of our original group announced that they were departing for points elsewhere and asked if we wanted to come along. A gorgeous, all-too-brief instant passed between the three of us. In that scintillating second, I saw myself whisking both women back to my squalid bachelor’s quarters and spending the remainder of the evening and the entirety of the weekend exchanging techniques, stories, and bodily fluids. A remembered herself first. Our whole, sumptuous interlude had been prompted by the boyfriend presumably waiting for her somewhere. Clear chagrin crystallizing on her features, she shook her head. “I should get home.” She said. E followed that lead, saying “We’re going the same way, we can grab a cab together.” “We have also kept this booth for a terrifically long time.” I allowed. “Time to go, I think.” Both ladies lived in the fashionable NorthWest quadrant of the town. My place was south and east. I recognized that this was the finale of our rather splendid exchange, and could do no more than sigh and shrug silently. A gentleman does not presume on a lady’s intentions. He refrains from any possessive or controlling actions, and most importantly, does what he can to see that she is safe and comfortable. That’s the whole reason we’re here. Providing a few drops of sperm every now and again does not justify a male’s existence and nor does a bit of highly charged verbal banter. It seemed that I was a resource, but not a prospect. Tish tish. I shrugged into my coat and moved out with them into the street, pausing to grab one of those chalk-and-chocolate mints from the little silver tray by the door. Autumn had begun in earnest. The twinkle of street lights mingled with cars’ headlamps and the neon glow of ‘open’ signs beginning to wink out. A was already rosy-cheeked in the sharp, cold, dark air. Her white scarf nestled around her neck softly. E had her hands deep inside the pockets of her down coat. She bounced slightly, her breath visible and vanishing in the same moment. A raised her hand and almost at once a cab had pulled up to the curb. They gave me perfunctory, matter of fact a-frame hugs and air kisses as though we hadn’t just spent an entire meal discussing la crise qu’apporte le petit mort. The door slammed, they merged into the stream of traffic, and were gone. It was a two block walk to the subway. Just before I started down the steps, a message chimed on my phone. E: I would like another story please. Me: Impossible. Can’t even say hello in only 140 characters. Excruciating to contemplate. E: That’s why I had the cab go back. We’re in the drop-off lane at the station. Come on! Sure enough, they were waiting right there. I walked over and saw E smiling up at me. I opened the door, and slid inside. Easy as that. The rest is another story.