Bottel Flip

The three of them came in.

Bold, because there were three of them. The door slammed shut. Laughter—too loud for the intern office. Silke was still kneeling on her heels, naked except for her boots and garter belt, and she started to get scared. Three men. Three cocks under their pants. The camera on the table. Peter somewhere behind the lens. What does he expect, she thought. Her asshole again. Three men, three holes. Was that the punishment? She pulled herself together because he was watching. She wouldn’t disappoint him. He’d written, “Play around with them.” But how?

The three of them paused for a moment. None of them voiced their desire. It had been easy as a trio until the door closed. Now a naked woman lay before them, waiting for a phrase that no one had. One grinned. One cleared his throat. One looked at the camera as if someone there were directing the scene.

The answer came in the chat. Manfred was typing as Peter. He’d figured the three of them had no clue. He’d quickly searched for porn and laid down strict rules.

Peter: The game is called Bottle Flip. Two holes are always occupied. Mouth and pussy in the first round. The third one flips a bottle.

If the bottle stands upright: The flip guy goes to the mouth. The one who slips out of the mouth goes into the pussy. The one from the pussy becomes the new flip guy. No pulling out for long. A wet pop. One step. Full again immediately. A hole must never be empty for more than two seconds. You can come but you can’t go limp. Don’t say “wait.”

Whoever cums in her pussy first stays in the game, has to get hard again, and gets to fuck her ass starting in the second round. The other two stick to the mouth, pussy, and flipping.

In the worst-case scenario, two guys cum in your ass one after the other before the third one has even cum once. Then you’ve lost, and the third guy gets to fuck you until he cums in your pussy and ass. Lube is whatever runs out of the pussy. Whoever cums in her mouth is out. Cum only in the ass or pussy. This is your chance to suck her hard. Time limit: 60 minutes.

Silke read every sentence. She realized what was about to happen here. The rule about sucking was especially cruel. If she manages to make him come in her mouth, that person is out. But if she switches just before he comes, he’ll only need a few more thrusts and will come in her pussy. Then it would be her ass’s turn.

The LED made the letters stand out sharply. She felt hot and cold at the same time. Three holes. Rotation. Bottle. No waiting. Her ass as the prize for whoever came first. She’d asked Peter what would happen if someone walked in. This was the consequence. In her mind, it was still him. Punishment for the party. Peak performance. Her body grew wet while her mind counted: mouth. Pussy. Flip. Ass later. She nodded at the camera because nodding was the sound he wanted.

The three guys were reading along.

On the monitor. Over her shoulder. One said, “What?” One laughed, this time more weakly. One who’d still been strong in the hallway turned pale around the mouth. They hadn’t known any of this. In, wish, done—that’s what they’d thought. Not a game with a bottle and two seconds and ass as the second round. “Who’s going to freak out first?” “I don’t want to come in my mouth.” “Dude, that’s really what it says.” They looked at each other like guys reading a set of porn rules aloud for the first time and realizing that a real woman is kneeling right behind them and has already read it.

At the real Peter’s place, the monitor remained silent.

He read the same text and couldn’t delete anything. That wasn’t his idea. That wasn’t his punishment. He’d wanted a camera under the table, fingers, three hours of filing. Now three men were standing in an office he hadn’t entered, and a stolen name told Silke she wasn’t allowed to say “wait.” Anger at first. Then the image: Silke naked, her nipples hard, her pussy already glistening as she nodded. His cock was hard. His hands trembled over a keyboard that no longer sent anything. Damn it. She’d play along because she thought he was proud. He wasn’t. He watched and jerked off anyway.

One of the three found a bottle.

Water. Half-full. Plastic. He twirled it in his hand as if it were a joke and stopped grinning when Silke moved down onto all fours. Back arched. Ass up. Tits pointing down. She said aloud, for the mic, for the radio play, for Peter: “Mouth and pussy. Flip. I get it.”

The three of them unbuttoned their pants and took them off.

Not quite as bold anymore. Hard nonetheless. The first one knelt behind her. The second in front of her mouth. The third beside them with the bottle, unsure which spot would be easier. The camera zoomed in, remotely controlled by someone who was no longer Peter. Silke exhaled. The fear was still there. So was the lust. Peter’s watching, she thought. Peter’s keeping an eye on things. Peter sent the game.

The glans pressed against her from behind.

Up front, her lips touched a second shaft.

The bottle rose.

The game hadn’t changed yet.

It had only just been given permission to begin.