Can Sam pull through?

Sam’s fingers hovered above the trembling Jenga tower. His cock throbbed, angry red and slick, buried deep in Alex’s mouth. She was working him like a professional, cheeks hollowing, tongue circling his shaft in slow, devastating spirals.

Rachel watched like a deity, stark naked, legs parted just enough to tease, thumb resting idle on the vibe remote. Her expression? Somewhere between queen and predator.

Block one slid free.

Cheers erupted. Sam barely heard it.

Block two, his hand slipped. Alex sank deeper. Sam almost fell forward, gasped, gutted by the pleasure. He steadied himself. Still standing.

Then—the final block.

Rachel clicked the remote.

Alex moaned around his cock.

Sam’s fingers closed. He pulled. As the block eased free, the tower tilted. Alex swallowed him just right—

Sam came.

Hard.

He gutted himself down her throat, hips twitching helplessly, face twisted in orgasmic agony. Alex swallowed everything, lips wet and perfect. Sam's knees buckled—but the block dropped clean onto the table.

The tower stood.

Victory.

For one stunned second, the rooftop was silent.

Then—

“FORFEIT! FORFEIT! FORFEIT!”

The crowd went feral.

Rachel’s GT chimed:

You have heard the word “forfeit.” Remain naked and uncovered for +1 hour.

Another chime.

Another.

Each “FORFEIT!” chanted by the crowd stacked the timer higher. But Rachel? She didn’t flinch. She didn’t cover up.

She smiled.

Her thighs gleamed, wet with heat. Her nipples were rock hard.

Each shout seemed to fuel her. Like the chant wasn’t a punishment—it was a worship ritual.