Yes, with Dylan’s turn

“Alright, Dylan,” Chloe announced with a sharp little smile, turning the full attention of the room onto you. “Truth or dare?”

You hesitated. Brian’s hand was still moving slowly between Katie’s legs, her jeans half-open, her face flushed and turned toward his. Every few seconds a soft, unwilling sound escaped her throat.

“Dare,” you said, hoping it would at least get the focus off her for a minute.

Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. We’re running low on beer. I dare you to go on a beer run. Right now. Take your car, get a couple cases, and don’t come back until you have them. The game keeps going while you’re gone.”

A chorus of agreement rose around the room. Brian finally pulled his mouth from Katie’s long enough to smirk at you.

“You heard her, dorky Dylan. Go be useful. We’ll keep your wife company.”

You started to protest, but the pressure in the room was already crushing. Katie’s hazel eyes met yours for half a second—wide, conflicted—before Brian’s hand moved more deliberately and she sucked in a sharp breath. You were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. With a tight jaw you grabbed your keys and left.

The night air felt cold after the heat of the living room. You started the car and pulled away from the curb harder than you meant to. The streetlights blurred. Your phone buzzed almost immediately on the passenger seat.

You ignored it at first, focused on the road, until the flash of blue and red filled your rearview mirror. You pulled over, heart hammering for an entirely new reason.

The officer was polite but firm. Speeding. Fifteen over. He ran your license, gave you a long look, and decided on a warning instead of a ticket. “Slow it down,” he said, handing the license back. “Have a good night.”

You waited until the cruiser pulled away before you let out a shaky breath and checked your phone.

Three messages. Two photos. One short video.

The first photo showed Brian’s hand still inside Katie’s open jeans, fingers clearly working between her legs while she sat half in his lap. Her top had been pulled up enough that one bra cup was visible, the pale curve of her breast exposed to the room. Her eyes were closed, lips parted.

The second photo was closer. Brian’s other hand had tugged the bra cup down completely. His thumb was circling her nipple while he kissed her neck. Katie’s head was tilted back, one hand weakly resting on his thigh instead of pushing him away.

The video was only eight seconds long. You could hear the wet sounds of their kissing and the soft, broken noises Katie was making. Brian’s voice, low and amused, came through clearly: “She’s getting so wet for me, boys. Look at her trying not to grind on my hand.” Someone off-camera laughed. Katie’s muffled protest was cut short when Brian claimed her mouth again.

You threw the phone face-down on the seat and drove the rest of the way to the store with both hands locked on the wheel.

The place was busier than it should have been at this hour. A long line snaked from the registers. You grabbed two cases of whatever was closest and joined the queue, phone still buzzing in your pocket every thirty seconds.

New photo: Katie’s jeans pushed further down her hips. Brian’s hand was fully inside her panties now, the fabric stretched around his wrist. Her expression was a mix of shame and something else she clearly didn’t want to feel.

Another message from an unknown number (probably Mark):

She’s not even pretending to fight it anymore. Brian just dared her to take her top and bra off for the next two rounds. Guess who said yes.

You were almost at the front of the line when the cashier shook her head. “Cash only tonight. Card machine’s down.”

You stared at her. “You’re serious?”

She shrugged. “There’s an ATM outside.”

You left the beer on the counter, walked out to the ATM, withdrew the cash, and came back to find three more people had joined the queue in front of you. The line felt endless.

Your phone lit up again.

A new video, longer this time. Katie was now naked from the waist up, arms crossed over her chest in a last attempt at modesty that Brian simply pulled away. He had her straddling one of his thighs while his hand continued its work between her legs. The room was cheering softly every time her hips twitched. Chloe’s voice cut through: “Dare’s still going, Katie. Hands down. Let him play.”

Katie’s voice was shaky, almost pleading, but the words that came out were, “O-okay…”

Brian looked straight at the camera, grinned, and mouthed the words hurry back, dorky Dylan.

You finally paid, loaded the beer into the car, and sat there for a long moment with the engine running, staring at the glowing screen. Another photo arrived. Katie’s jeans were around her thighs now. Brian’s fingers were visibly shiny. Her head was dropped forward against his shoulder, face hidden, but the way her body moved made it obvious she was no longer only enduring it.

You put the phone away, shifted into drive, and headed back toward the house that no longer felt like it belonged to anyone but Brian for the night.

The game was still going.

And every mile closer only made the messages come faster.