Day 6: Jada (Rebekah Goes Big)

You aren’t sure what to expect. You’ve been to a few girls’ places by now, but Rebekah Flores hasn’t even told you the plan—just sent you an address. The kind of power move that makes sense coming from her. She’s ‘controlling the center line’, always.

The house is modest, single-story, chain-link fence half-falling down. A dusty sedan squats in the front yard. It’s positioned weirdly. Off the driveway itself and on the lawn visible from three different roads, like it’s the stage for a show. You feel the air change the moment you step through the gate. Like you’re crossing into someone else’s game.

She opens the front door before you knock. "Took you long enough," she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s barefoot, wearing a loose white shirt with three buttons undone. It does nothing to hide her shape. Nor does the flowing skirt that sways around her thighs. She’s not wearing a bra, that’s obvious. You wonder if she’s wearing underwear.

You blink. She just looks at you.

"You gonna come in, or stand there eyeing me like I’m a loot drop?"

You step inside. The house is dim and cool. Curtains drawn. The faint smell of mint gum, old books, and skin. Jada’s there too—sitting quietly on the couch in jeans and a tank top, like she’s trying not to exist until called upon. She looks up briefly, meets your gaze, then returns to her phone.

“I remember your challenge cards from when we spoke,” Rebekah announces, already walking toward the kitchen. “We’re going with Public Sex. Max points. Go big or go home, right?”

You trail behind, still processing. “That’s… bold.”

She throws a smirk over her shoulder. “You’re playing College Spread. You think I’m scared of bold?” She opens the fridge, grabs a mango boba, pops the straw. "Besides, after yesterday, I want to make it clear I’m all-in. You get your points. You get your shot at the game. And you get to see if you do stick to our deal, those weeks you beat me will see me COMPLETELY committed to getting you a maximum score the next time.”

Games are everything to her, you realize, even if she herself can’t directly compete in this. And this isn’t just sex. It’s strategy. Competition. Gamesmanship. To a gamer like Rebekah, this is setting up a win condition. She’s built a quest line. She's scripting the final boss fight before you've even entered the arena. And right now, you’re part of her team, which means you have to win too.

She takes a sip, then gestures toward the front door. “I’ll be out front. Warming up. Making sure this IS public. Jada—don’t take too long. He’s no good to me if he’s half-hard.”

Jada doesn't even sigh. She just sets her phone down, stands, and walks over to you like she’s showing a class how it's done. It’s not the first time one of the Ladies of the College Spread deck has treated you like you’re an object to perform with recently. You suspect it won’t be the last.

You glance at her, lowering your voice. “Are you really okay doing this for the game?”

She gives you a look. Steady. Grounded. “I’m not doing it for the game.”

You tilt your head. “Then… why?”

She shrugs. “Rebekah wants it. She’s helped me more times than I can count. Maybe this is just one I can repay.”

You frown slightly. “Still. It’s a hell of a thing to do for a friend.”

That gets a faint smile. “Maybe you’ve never had a real friend. One you can rely on when you actually need them.”

That hits harder than you expect. Your mind turns to the times you’ve asked friends in the past for help and they’ve said no. Sometimes for reasons that make absolute sense. Sometimes because they just didn’t feel like it. In truth, you’ve been the same yourself. Then you think of Kailani. How a sadistic cam girl you only met recently has done more for you than some people you’ve known for years.

She nods at your tablet as her voice draws you back from your thoughts. “Start recording. They have to see it's me.”

You unlock the screen and bring up the College Spread interface. You don’t even flinch anymore at recording your own sex life—it’s become as normal as brushing your teeth. Still, when the red REC icon lights up, it’s a moment.

She kneels down in front of the couch and gives you one last look.

“No close-ups,” she says. “No zoom. No names. If this footage gets out I don’t want anyone outside the game to recognize it’s me.”

“Got it.”

She undoes your jeans slowly. Not seductively. Not awkwardly. Just… carefully. Respectfully, almost. Like it’s a task she intends to complete properly, even if it’s not one she relishes. Your cock is already twitching from Rebekah’s show of confidence and Jada’s quiet resolve. She leans in and wraps her lips around the head, sucking gently. Her hand wraps your shaft. The first few strokes are tentative—testing your reactions.

You shift slightly, adjusting the camera without looking down. But she notices. Adjusts her rhythm to match your breath. She teases your sac, tugging on it slightly, rolling your balls between her fingers. You feel your excitement building under her attention. It’s effective, but mechanical.

And then… she surprises you.

A flick of her tongue along the underside. A sudden dip, taking you deeper than expected. The head of your cock hits the back of her throat, and she pushes deeper, engulfing your entire shaft in her heat. Her gag reflex kicks in, but she holds herself there as she tugs a little harder on your balls. The sensation of her throat pulsing as it tries to repulse your invading shaft makes you gasp.

You glance at her. She’s focused. Intent. Not smiling, but not cold either. Just present. And you realize—this isn’t just charity. She wants to do this well.

Maybe because Rebekah asked.

Maybe because she’s repaying a favor.

Maybe… because she doesn’t hate the way you taste.

Your hips twitch. Her lips tighten. She pulls back so she can breathe and goes back to sucking. Her hand twists just enough to make you hiss. She’s good. Quietly, efficiently, dangerously good.

Then, like a cue from the heavens, Rebekah’s voice cuts through the front window. “Jada! Bring him!”

Jada pulls back, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and stands. No words. No eye contact. You rise, heart pounding. You’re hard as stone, mind spinning. As you follow Jada to the door, music begins to blast loudly from the lawn. You’re not sure who it is, but the lyrics are very sexual.

Outside, the car is waiting. Rebekah leans on it, her shirt unbuttoned to the last one, her hand raising her skirt in front as she works her fingers in slow caresses through her pubic hair.

And the neighbors? With loud sexual music thundering into every house? She wasn’t lying about making this public.