Truth Dare or Drin

I drew a card from the black pile and flipped it over. We silently read

Dare

. I could feel her gaze burning into me as I drew a card from the white pile.

Embarrassing.

"This should be fun," Brooke said. She looked at the ceiling as she considered what kind of embarrassing dare she'd give me.

The two of us sat on the carpet, her leaning against a chair, me against her couch. A soft, warm lamp was the only light, not counting a few candles burning. Her living room smelled of coconut and vanilla.

"Take my socks off," she said.

"That doesn't sound too embarrassing," I said as she interjected, "-with your teeth."

"Are you serious?" I asked.

She nodded with a laugh. "Do we need to go over the rules again?"

I leaned forward, got on my hands and knees, and grabbed her sock with my teeth. It didn't stink, but the cottony dryness wasn't appetizing. I pulled each sock off in turn.

Whatever my expression was when I finished, she laughed at it. I laughed with her, but it felt a bit forced. I was beyond anxious, though I tried my best to hide it. I needed to know if we had a chance together, or if I was already in the friend zone. And maybe had been for a while.

Brooke drew a black card and laid it on the carpeting between us.

Drink.

"Well, that's an easy one," she said. She reached for the tequila bottle, poured herself a half-shot, then knocked it back.

"You're getting off too easy, if you ask me," I said.

"Good thing I didn't ask you." She stuck her tongue out at me.

I had a plan to reveal whether or not I was in the friendzone: a plan that would come across as initiating only if she had romantic thoughts toward me. I was pretty proud of it. But it required her to draw two specific pairs of cards in the right order.

I drew a black card.

Truth.

I followed it up with a white card.

Harmless.

"Interesting..." she said. After a pause, she asked, "What's your secret talent?"

I thought for a moment, then said, "I'm a pretty good writer."

"Hmm. I don't think I've ever read something you've written. Beyond texts."

"And my texts weren't enough to make you swoon?"

"Hey now. Who said I wasn't swooning," she teased with the subtlest of winks. "But seriously, what kind of things do you write?"

"I've recently been writing erotica," I said, as a gentle way to work sexuality into our evening. "Makes me feel creative, productive, and just a little bit kinky."

"Really," she said with genuine surprise. "I would never have guessed. Do you share it with anyone?"

"I share my stories on Literotica. It's just for fun."

"You should link me."

"I may be brave enough to publish for the world to see, but I'm definitely not brave enough to share with anyone I know."

"Please?"

"Your turn," I suggested.

She drew a black card, then a white one.

Truth, Embarrassing.

I looked around her dimly lit living room for inspiration, then saw her empty shot glass. "What kind of drunk are you?"

"Definitely a horny drunk," she said with some embarrassment. Then she added quickly, "Your turn."

"

Really...

" I said studiously, eyes wide with pretend shock.

"

Your turn

," she said, a little more insistent than before.

My black card read

Drink;

no need to draw a white one. I poured myself a half-shot and sipped at it. She watched with interest.

"What about you? Are you also a horny drunk?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's not how this game works," I chastised.

She drew

Truth

, then

Sexual.

This was getting interesting.

I asked, "Have you ever been caught having sex?"

"My college roommate once walked in on me giving oral. I was super embarrassed. She probably was too, because she never again entered our bedroom without knocking first."

"Wow," I laughed. "Was the recipient a boyfriend at the time?"

"Who said it was a he?" she said with a mischievous smile.

"Well,

was it?

"

"That's not how this game works," she said in a sing-song tone, playfully throwing my earlier words back at me.

"Fair enough," I said and drew

Drink

again. I downed another half shot. I set the glass down on the tray a little harder than I intended.

She also drew

Drink.

I watched her bring the shot glass to her lips, sip it, then set it back on the tray beside us on the carpet.

I picked up a black card.

Truth

. Then a white card.

Embarrassing.

She looked thoughtful, then asked, "What ended your last relationship?"

"Wow. It's a bit messy," I said. "You're sure the answer is worth your turn?"

"I'm sure."

I took a few moments to sort my thoughts, then said "My ex was a pretty open book with her mom, her sister, and a couple of her cousins. Not just about her, but her frustrations with me, our sex life, our arguments. After I found out, I felt judged every time I was around them, picking up on passive-aggressive cues that may or may not have been real. It led to a few shouting matches between me and my ex. She said that she never cast me in an unfair light; that she was sharing with the people closest to her the truth of her life and that I had to trust that they'd accept me for who I am. But she also said I had shouted too much and trusted too little. A couple of days later she called it off."

My face burned. I felt judged for my mistakes, that my ex broke up with me and not the other way around, and how Brooke might be reacting to this. I didn't know if that was being too honest or vulnerable for a flirty game. But I was certainly truthful.

She digested my story for a long moment, then drew a card.

Dare

, followed by

Harmless.

"Sing me the chorus of a song, any song," I said. My head felt like a blur each time I turned my neck.

She poured herself an extra shot for courage, then squeaked out in a soft, high voice, "I kissed a girl and I liked it, The taste of her cherry chapstick."

I laughed, but she continued, "I kissed a girl just to try it, I hope my boyfriend don't mind it." I laughed harder.

Her soft voice squeaked on the high notes. "It felt so wrong, it felt so right, Don't mean I'm in love tonight. I kissed a girl and I-" She couldn't hold back from laughing any longer. Her laughter was contagious.

I wondered:

Was her choice of song a message? That she liked being flirty and trying new things? Or that she's not very interested in men?

I drew cards for my turn.

Truth, Sexual.

"Hmm..." she said with a playful smile. She paused to think. Eventually, she simply said, "Describe your type."

I didn't have the courage to be honest, so I covered with humor. "Oh, easy. I'm really into people with hair, several eyes, enough skin to go all the way around. And having an internal skeleton - vertebrates are a big turn-on for me."

She didn't laugh. Rather, with a look of mock concern, Brooke asked, "What did you say happens when a player breaks the rules? Something terrifically embarrassing, I'm sure?"

"In that case..." I started again, "I like arctic eyes, cute feet, ashy blonde hair. And a bit on the busty side, if I'm being fully honest," I said, looking into the blue-gray eyes of a rather busty woman with an ash-gray balayage, a great smile, and perfect feet. She held my gaze a beat longer than I was comfortable with. I felt nervous, emboldened, clever, and like an idiot all at once.

"Good to know," she said, I think with a wink, but I wasn't sure.

She drew

Drink

and poured herself a drink. A little tequila spilled on the tray. She wasn't quite as coordinated as she had been earlier.

I drew

Dare, Clothing.

"Give me your socks," she said. I removed my socks and tossed them next to her. I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling the texture of the carpet under my toes and on the soles of my feet. I couldn't tell if she'd just introduced stripping into the game, but the thought of it caused me to stiffen where it counts.

Brooke drew a black card,

Truth,

then a white card,

Clothing.

Jackpot number one.

I paused and looked at the ceiling, pretending to come up with a question. I said, "Describe in detail your sexiest pair of underwear."

Her lips curled in a subtle smile, though she also seemed a bit nervous. She looked away as she searched for the right words.

"Well," she started, "The bra is a white balconette-"

"A what?"

"It's a style of bra," she said, laughing at my expression. "It's very low-cut, has widely placed straps, it lifts, and it shows a lot of skin. You'd like it," she said playfully. I did my best to imagine.

She continued, "A sheer white balconette. There's a bit of white floral embroidery across the cups with a little flower covering... covering my nipples." She blushed.

"Sheer like translucent?"

"Very," she said, still blushing. "And a sheer white thong with matching floral embroidery."

"Wow, that's... Wow."

I wanted,

needed

, to know if we could share an intimate connection. But the last thing I wanted was to push away my friend out of misplaced boldness, or worse, come across as a perv. Hence the little trap I set for Brooke. The first stage was behind us; I just had to wait for her to draw a specific pair of cards, give her my dare, and I'd have my answer.

"Hurry up and draw," she said.

I drew

Drink,

and I drank. The room was starting to feel a little fuzzy. I wasn't sure how long we'd been playing. Couldn't remember.

She drew

Dare, Harmless.

I started, "Hmm... how about... I'm at a loss. Maybe... get on all fours like a wolf and howl at the moon for me?"

She repositioned and howled. It felt like the funniest thing in the world, and I laughed and laughed. She laughed too, trying to howl again, but she couldn't keep a straight enough face to do it.

I drew

Truth,

then

Sexual.

I was mentally nervous and physically excited.

Brooke pondered, then asked, "What's your kink?"

"My kink?" I asked, feigning naivete.

"A scenario you'd fantasize about. Like a porn category you'd click on.

"I like games of chance," I offered.

"Games? Like, what happens in a porn video for games of chance?"

"Two or more people. People that don't know what each other looks like naked. And they could play strip poker, or watch a sports game and take off something every time the other team scores. Or someone loses a bet and has to kiss someone else with tongue or get naked for the rest of the party. That kind of stuff. Could be any game, really, like Canasta or Yahtzee, Simon Says, Pass the Pigs."

She snorted at Simon Says and laughed out loud at Pass the Pigs. "I'm pretty sure no one has ever played a game of strip Pass the Pigs!" She could barely get the words out, and I couldn't help but laugh at that too. It was a pretty ridiculous image.

"Hey! No kink-shaming!" I said, still laughing but feeling a bit exposed.

She laughed more, then said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to shame. But you made it sound so funny!"

"No, it's alright. Really."

"What gives it that wow factor for you?" she asked as her laughter dried up.

"Hmm," I paused. "Part of it is that people have to expose themselves to someone new or do something sexy with someone new. Maybe my kink is pushing boundaries. And part of it is the element of chance, that no one knows which way the bet or game will go."

"Interesting."

"What's your kink?" I asked with a little trepidation.

"That's not how this game works," she said again, imitating how I said it earlier in a sing-song voice. We both laughed at that.

This time she drew

Drink.

Her hand-eye coordination was poor and a splash of tequila made it to the carpet.

I drew a black card that read

Dare

, then a white card that read

Embarrassing

.

"Ooo," she said. "Gimmie your best turkey gobble." I did, and it wasn't very good. We both laughed.

She drew

Dare,

then

Clothing.

Perfect. I had her exactly where I wanted her, and I already knew exactly what to say. If I could just get the words out in the right order.

"You mentioned your sexiest bra and panties are white and sheer, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Wherever they are - in a drawer, a dirty laundry pile, hanging to dry above your washer - I dare you to show me them."

Brooke froze. She looked at me but didn't speak. I knew right then my trap had worked.

I innocently asked, "Is there a problem?"

"Well," she started, then paused. "I'm kinda wearing them right now."

"I see the predicament," I said. She looked away, then at me, and then away again.

I continued, "You're wearing your sexiest underwear for our game night. Fascinating. Why is that?" I felt almost cruel, needling her. But, delightfully, she had walked straight into my trap without an excuse.

I waited five seconds, then ten, but she didn't answer. Maybe she had expected to get intimate with me but later in the evening or in the dark. Maybe she had expected to initiate, and I caught her intentions early. Maybe she hadn't completely overcome her shyness, the very shyness that I adored in her and our little flirtatious game. The same shyness I felt myself every time I was with her.

I threw her a rope: "I'm more than flattered that you wore your best the night I was coming over. Were you considering the possibility that I might see your lingerie tonight?"

She nodded. A bashful smile formed on her lips.

"Considering that possibility, is my dare still valid? For you to show me your sexiest underwear no matter where it happens to be at this particular moment?"

She nodded again. A little confidence returned to her when I hinted that she wore them for a reason.

Brooke slowly, deliberately pulled her tight black knit sweater up over her stomach, her breasts, her shoulders, her head. She tossed the sweater onto my lap. I was relieved to see she was taking it well and continuing to play the game.

Her jeans were next. She lifted herself to slide them down over her ass. The jeans were snug and took some work to get off her legs. When she finished, she tossed those into my lap too.

Just wearing her sexiest lingerie and nothing else, she leaned back against the chair behind her and waited for me to drink in her appearance.

She looked incredible. Her bra, a balconette as she had called it, was very low-cut, very white, and very sheer. Her breasts looked tan through the thin, sheer fabric. And just as she had described, two white embroidered flower stems ran from the underwire, up across each of her breasts with little embroidered leaves, ending in two flower blossoms, one covering each nipple - though not perfectly: I could see just a hint of darker areola around each flower.

And her thong was equally sheer in front, with just a few embroidered petals for design. The fabric hung low, barely covering her pubic mound. Only a white strap ran across her hips to the back.

I was struck by her appearance and at a loss for words. I was struck by her shyness turned into boldness, the exquisite next step in the game of intimacy we were playing, had been playing for weeks beyond the cards we drew that night for

Truth, Dare, or Drink.

She grabbed both draw piles for the game and went through them until she found

Dare

and

Clothing

for me this time. "It's your turn," she said. "Down to your underwear."

I unbuttoned a couple more buttons on my shirt, then pulled it over my head. I remembered halfway through the motion to slow down, to tease her, just as she had done with me. With my shirt off and in my arms, I tossed it into her lap. She set it aside.

I undid the button-fly of my jeans; worked them over my ass and down my legs. I tossed them into her lap too.

I sat in only my black boxers: thin, silky, stretchy, and borderline too small even without an erection. The thin fabric stretched over my cock, tight enough to see through my boxers where the head separated from the shaft. The silk stretched from both sides to meet at the button, revealing the skin of my cock above and below the single straining button.

As she had done for me, I leaned back against the couch behind me and waited for her to drink me in with her eyes. I was exhilarated and terrified. I was practically naked and so was she. I didn't know if the game would even get this far, but instead, she left the game behind.

Without a word, she stood and extended her hand to me. I took it. She lead me to her bedroom, lit by a warm lamp barely brighter than a nightlight. She pushed me down onto her bed. I sunk into the pillowy duvet covering her mattress.

"Part of me wants sex," she said, "and another part of me wants to save it for another day, to build that anticipation. Both parts are really fucking strong right now." I nodded and swallowed, unsure what, if anything, would happen next. "But I'll give you a massage tonight. Roll over onto your stomach." I did, feeling the hardness of my cock press into the bedding beneath me.

She started standing next to her bed, working on my upper back, pressing her hands into my skin as she pushed down toward my lower back. I heard the pump of a lotion bottle, then waited as she warmed the lotion in her hands. Her hands were back, stretching and smoothing my skin over and over. It felt incredible, though I wished I could see her instead of the far wall where my face pointed.

She started speaking softly, guiding me through something of a relaxation meditation. Her voice was calm and sweet and sensual. "Take a deep breath in, then slowly breathe out... to the count of three. That's it. Another slow breath. Let your body and your limbs sink deeper into the bed."

She pushed from my shoulders down to my lower back in long, neat, alternating strokes. "Relax your jaw. Relax your face. Relax the little muscles around your eyes," she cooed in a sleepy voice. I was in bliss, though no amount of relaxation could subside my erection.

Next, she massaged my legs, starting with my calves and gently squeezing pressure down to my feet. A few lingering moments on my feet, then back up to my calves for the squeezing pressure to return, pushing down again.

After several of these motions, she began to creep a few inches higher, above the backs of my knees, before squeezing the skin down my legs with lotion. And with each repetition, she started higher and higher up my hamstrings. I let out a quiet gasp as she started essentially at my buttcheeks.

She looped a finger under my boxers and stretched them up. She asked, "Do you mind?"

"Anything you want," I answered in my dreamy state. And with that, she tugged my boxers down my thighs. I lifted and used my hand to guide the silky boxers over my cock. She tugged and they were gone. I was completely naked, lying chest-down on her bed.

She climbed over me, facing my feet, straddling my lower back with her legs. I could feel the warmth of her pussy and it was exquisite. She leaned forward, reaching to my lower calves, and gradually worked herself back upright as she massaged my calves, my hamstrings, and my butt cheeks. With repeated motions, she ended her strokes closer and closer to my butt crack, then my perineum, and eventually, her hands ended each pass in a light brush across my scrotum. I gasped, and she let out a sympathetic moan. Her hands started each new pass higher and higher on my legs, each stroke gently ending between my legs.

I was dismayed when she climbed off, fearing our fun was done. But she said, "Roll over onto your back." I was naked and erect. Very erect. I lifted my head and looked into her eyes. She looked calm, confident, and clearly happy. I did as she asked - I rolled onto my back, centered on her bed. My cock, as hard as I've ever been, pointed straight toward my chin. I could feel my cock throb in time with my heartbeat. I waited, vulnerable, extremely turned on.