Toga! Toga!

Diane leaned back in her worn armchair, the Arizona sun filtering through the blinds of her off-campus apartment like lazy laser beams cutting through dust motes. It was one of those quiet afternoons where the pool outside hummed with the distant splashes of college kids, but her mind wandered far from the present. Thirty. She'd hit that milestone a year ago, fresh off a divorce that left her with a hollow ache and a sudden urge to rewrite her script. Back in school for her French degree, juggling shifts at the hospital as a nurse—life had pivoted hard, landing her in this buzzing complex full of twentysomethings who eyed her like she was the intriguing older sister they secretly wanted to impress. But that birthday? That was the night she shattered her own rules, and the memory still sent a warm flush creeping up her neck.

Her friends had insisted on the toga party, twisting bedsheets into makeshift drapes that barely qualified as clothing. "It's your Roman rebirth," they'd joked, piling into her living room with cases of cheap beer and bottles of tequila that promised oblivion. Diane had laughed it off at first, but as the evening kicked off, she wrapped herself in a white sheet knotted just above her breasts, the fabric thin enough to hint at the curves she'd hidden under scrubs all week. The apartment building's common area by the pool turned into a chaotic forum—bodies twisting to thumping bass, laughter echoing off the stucco walls, the air thick with chlorine and spilled liquor.

Drinks flowed like the Nile in flood season. Diane started with a margarita, its salt rim biting her tongue, then chased it with shots that burned straight to her belly. She was done holding onto the ghost of her ex—fuck that noise. The past year had been a grind, but tonight? She was ready to let loose. The crowd was a mix of her classmates and neighbors, mostly guys in their early twenties with that effortless, sun-kissed swagger. She danced with a few, her hips swaying under the sheet, flirting with easy smiles and teasing brushes of hands. One guy, tall with messy dark hair, pulled her close during a slow beat, his fingers grazing her waist where the toga slipped just a fraction. She felt alive, electric, the alcohol blurring the edges of her inhibitions.

As the night deepened, the pool called like a siren's whisper. Someone cannonballed in, sheets be damned, and Diane, buzzed and bold, kicked off her sandals and waded in. The water was cool against her skin, soaking the sheet instantly, turning it translucent. She didn't care—hell, she reveled in it. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, outlining her nipples and the dip of her hips. Laughter bubbled up as she floated on her back, staring at the stars peeking through the palm fronds.

That's when Julius and Augustus noticed her. They were neighbors from the floor above—Julius with his broad shoulders and easy grin, Augustus leaner, with sharp eyes and a tattoo snaking up his arm. Both in their mid-twenties, they'd waved at her in the laundry room before, but tonight they looked like gods in their haphazard togas. "Mind if we crash your solo swim?" Julius called, already stripping off his sheet and diving in naked, his body slicing the water cleanly. Augustus followed, laughing, his own toga discarded on the poolside lounge. Diane's pulse quickened; she wasn't blind to their appeal, the way their muscles flexed under wet skin.

They swam up to her, playful splashes turning into grabs and twirls. Julius pressed against her from behind, his hands on her waist, steadying her as she kicked. "You're trouble in that getup," he murmured, his breath hot on her ear. Augustus floated in front, his eyes locked on hers, water dripping from his lashes. The flirting ramped up fast—teasing about her "emperor's wife" vibe, their bodies brushing in the current. Then Julius leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted of chlorine and beer. It was hungry, his tongue slipping past her teeth, and Diane kissed back, her hands fisting in his wet hair. Augustus watched for a beat, then joined, his mouth finding the curve of her neck, nipping lightly. The three of them tangled there, kisses traded like secrets, the pool water lapping at their joined forms. Diane's sheet floated away, forgotten, leaving her bare and exposed under the night sky. No one else noticed; the party had thinned, stragglers heading out.

When the music from the speakers finally cut off and the last guests trickled away, Julius surfaced with a grin. "Our place is right upstairs. Come dance some more? We've got better tunes and more drinks." His eyes sparkled with invitation, and Augustus nodded, his hand lingering on her arm. Diane hesitated for half a second, the alcohol singing in her veins, her body still humming from their poolside makeout. Why not? She'd never been one for wild nights like this—her past flings were more candlelit dinners than threesomes—but the divorce had cracked something open in her. She nodded, grabbing a towel but not bothering to dry off fully, her skin glistening as they led her up the stairs.

Their apartment was a typical student mess—pizza boxes on the coffee table, posters of bands she'd never heard of—but the vibe was charged. Augustus queued up a playlist, heavy bass filling the space, while Julius poured shots of whiskey. Diane accepted one, the burn chasing away the pool's chill. They danced in the living room, bodies close, the air thick with unspoken heat. Julius pulled her in first, his hands roaming her towel-draped hips, and soon their mouths met again, deeper this time, tongues exploring as the towel hit the floor. She was naked, pressed against him, feeling his hardness through his own loose sheet.

Augustus didn't stay sidelined long. He stepped up behind her, his chest to her back, lips brushing her shoulder as Julius claimed her mouth. The three of them made out like that, a messy triangle of kisses—Diane turning to taste Augustus, his stubble rough against her chin, then back to Julius, whose hands cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked hard. She moaned into their mouths, the whiskey amplifying every sensation. "Fuck, you two," she whispered, her voice husky, as Augustus's fingers trailed down her spine.

They migrated to the couch, a sagging beast of a thing covered in mismatched cushions. Julius sat back, pulling Diane onto his lap, his toga finally shed to reveal his thick cock standing ready. She ground against him, slick already from the teasing, while Augustus knelt beside them, his mouth finding her neck again. Kisses turned frantic; Diane's hands explored them both, stroking Julius's shaft while Augustus sucked on her tits, his tongue flicking her nipples. She wanted more—needed it. Sliding down, she took Julius in her mouth, savoring the salt of his skin, her lips stretching around him as she bobbed slowly. He groaned, fingers threading through her hair.

Augustus watched, stroking himself, then positioned behind her on the couch. Diane arched her back, an old fantasy flickering to life—the one she'd buried for years, of being taken from both ends by two strong men. Augustus read her body like a book, rubbing his cock along her wet pussy before pushing in, slow and deep. "God, you're tight," he muttered, thrusting steadily as she sucked Julius harder, the rhythm syncing up. The fullness was overwhelming—Augustus filling her pussy, his hips slapping against her ass, while Julius's dick throbbed in her mouth. She hummed around him, the vibrations drawing curses from Julius. It was raw, primal; sweat slicked their skin, the room smelling of sex and spilled whiskey.

They switched it up, insatiable. Diane came first, her body clenching around Augustus as waves crashed through her, muffled cries escaping around Julius's cock. He pulled out, painting her tits with hot spurts of cum, the sticky warmth dripping down her chest. She licked her lips, hungry for more, and turned to Augustus, dropping to her knees to take him in her mouth. He fucked her face gently at first, then harder, until he came too, flooding her mouth with his release. She swallowed most, letting some dribble out, savoring the taste.

But they weren't done. Julius flipped her onto her back on the couch, spreading her legs and diving in with his tongue, lapping at her pussy until she was writhing. Augustus recovered quick, his fingers teasing her ass, slick with her own wetness. "You want this?" he asked, voice low. Diane nodded, breathless—another boundary she'd never crossed, but tonight felt like permission to chase every thrill. He eased in, inch by inch, and she squealed, a sharp, surprised sound that turned to moans as he filled her ass. It burned at first, then bloomed into pleasure, his thrusts careful but insistent. Julius watched, stroking himself back to hardness, then slid into her pussy, the double penetration stretching her to her limits. She was sandwiched between them, bodies slick and moving in tandem, her cries echoing off the walls. "Fuck, yes—harder," she gasped, nails digging into Julius's shoulders.

They took turns after that, rotating positions like a fever dream. Augustus fucked her ass again while she rode Julius, her pussy grinding down on him until she came a second time, squirting a little, soaking his thighs. Julius pulled out and came in her ass, the warmth flooding her as she collapsed forward. Then it was Augustus in her pussy, pounding deep while she sucked Julius clean, tasting herself on him. Cum dripped everywhere—on her tits from a quick handjob, in her mouth when she begged for it, filling her pussy until it leaked down her legs. She was a mess, glorious and spent, but hungry still, urging them on with filthy whispers. "Give it to me— all of it."

Hours blurred—threesomes weren't neat, and this one was a tangle of limbs and gasps. They paused for water, laughing breathlessly, then dove back in. Diane on top of Augustus, riding his cock reverse while Julius fucked her mouth; then bent over the arm of the couch, taking Julius in her pussy as Augustus claimed her ass again, her squeals mixing with their grunts. Orgasms piled up—hers shuddering through her in multiples, theirs marking her body like territory. By the time the first hints of dawn crept through the blinds, they were exhausted, sprawled on the floor in a heap of sweat-soaked sheets and satisfaction.

Diane dressed in the borrowed towel, her body aching in the best way, a dreamy haze settling over her. "That was... insane," she said, kissing them both softly. Julius grinned, pulling her in for one last deep kiss. "Come back anytime." Augustus nodded, his hand squeezing her ass playfully. She slipped out, the hallway cool against her flushed skin, and padded back to her own apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, and she collapsed into bed, the scent of them still on her skin, sleep claiming her instantly.

In the weeks that followed, the apartment complex felt charged with secrets. She'd spot Julius by the pool, hauling lounge chairs, his eyes meeting hers with a wink that made her clit throb. Augustus in the parking lot, loading groceries, would flash that knowing smile, and she'd remember the taste of his cum. They never pushed for more—no awkward repeats—but those looks? Electric, a silent promise of the wild night they'd shared. Diane threw herself into her classes, conjugating French verbs with a secret smile, her nursing shifts less draining now that she carried that fire inside.

Looking back, the shock lingered—she'd never done anything close to that before, not even in her wildest college days pre-marriage. But the excitement? It outweighed everything. That toga party had been her unmooring, a crash course in reclaiming her body on her terms. And as she sipped coffee one morning, watching Julius jog by her window, she thought, hell, maybe thirty was just the start. Who knew what other fantasies waited to uncoil?