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My best friend has a harem, and I want one too!
This is a standalone mega menage/reverse harem romance. It involves MMMMMFMMMMM situations with a very happy ever after ending. Well, there are ten men involved!
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My name is Danna, and I want a harem.
There! I admitted it. To myself. In the mirror.
I sigh, roughly tugging my fingers through my dark wavy hair, trying to smooth out the effects of eight hours of my pillow and at least one panty wetting dream.
My cheeks pink.
That dream. Five tall, dark men in the restroom of the college bar. They wedged the door shut with the trashcan, lay coats on the floor so they could slide their tongues over my clit until I was wriggling and begging. Five cocks to show me what pleasure really is.
I shiver, remembering what it felt like to be owned so totally. I woke up with the wettest panties ever, wondering where the hell my imagination gets these images from. It’s not like I’ve had an adventurous sex life. Two short term boyfriends don’t exactly count as a sexual awakening.
I know where the ideas come from, though. My bestie, Laura, has a harem of her own. I know how crazy it sounds. Until last year I didn’t realize it was a thing. Then Laura moved in with her new stepbrothers, and within record time, she was shacked up with ten of the most gorgeous men, enjoying a life of love and luxury.
I don’t like being jealous of my friend. It’s a creeping and unpleasant feeling that sits like lead in my stomach. It’s not that I’m wishing bad things on her. I don’t want her to break up with the McGregor brothers and go back to living the same dull, sex-starved life that I’m living. To be honest, I wish her all the happiness in the world. It’s just that I’d love an exact copy of her life.
Maybe not exactly. Ten seems like a lot. I’ve seen those men in various stages of undress, at pool parties and while they’re carrying out physical work around their mansion. I didn’t want to drool over my friend’s boyfriends, but when there’s that much MAN around, it’s tough not to.
I look away from my reflection, feeling ashamed. There are rules when it comes to bestie-relationships, and I feel like I’ve broken some of the more innocent ones.
It’s time I should be leaving for college, but I have zero enthusiasm. Laura has taken some time out to have her first children. Little Hope and Hannah are just the sweetest little things. I don’t blame her in the slightest, but I miss having her to hang out with. It’s not the same without her.
I tug on some jeans and my favorite t-shirt which used to belong to one of my ex’s and has now been modified with a slash neck and tied side. I smooth my hands over my thick thighs and full hips. Maybe, at my size, I should be wearing something a little more concealing, but I love my curves and don’t want to hide for the sake of other peoples judgmental, body-shaming views.
It’s warm out, so I dig for some sandals in my closet, and I’m good to go.
The house is so quiet.
Since mom passed, there just hasn’t been the same feeling at home. Pop tries his best, but the life left our house overnight, and there’s no bringing it back. In some ways, I feel that life has left me too. I used to be filled with sass and sparkle, but sadness has a way of smothering all of that. I miss my mom, and I miss myself too. Maybe that’s why my dreams take me to fantasy places where I can be my confident self without the guilt of feeling like I’m enjoying myself too much.
My car is on its last legs, but I love it’s slightly dented, or as I like to call it, preloved state. Laura and I made many journeys in this vehicle, singing badly to songs on the radio and gossiping like two old women. Those were good days. I wish there were more of them to come, but it’s not likely. Laura has her own car now and a driver whenever she needs one. She’s for all intents and purposes, a married woman, and here I am, still languishing in singlesville, wishing for something different.
The journey to school is quiet too. Somehow, playing my music loud and singing alone just seems like a lame thing to do. As I’m parking up, my phone rings and my day brightens a little.
“Hey!” I say.
“Danna,” Laura squeals. There’s the sound of a fussing baby in the background, and my besties attention is gone already. “Sshhh…” she croons.
“Those babies giving you a hard time?” I ask.
“You have no idea. I thought ten men were demanding, but two baby girls are so much more hard work,” she laughs.
“Did the nanny start yet?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Thank goodness. You know I didn’t like the idea, but I’ve got to say that having an extra pair of hands during the day time is brilliant. I can shower without having to dangle toys and sing nursery rhymes. It’s restored my sanity.”