You again

Matt hisses through his teeth.

“He drew you again, John.”

Tom laughs. It's an ugly sound, like the crowing of a buzzard. Miranda lies on her side, her legs curled together, her lustrous brown hair fanned out beneath her. Tom's unbuttoned shirt flaps with every thrust. He pretends to think of a suitable dare, forcing you to watch him dominate your crush.

You make the mistake of thinking, At least he can't do anything worse.

“I dare you to ask Miranda out on a date.”

Miranda tries to hide her face. Nicole and Matt are too stunned to voice their clear disgust. Even Sarah's jaw drops open. Everyone thinks this is a dare too far, but you know none of them will intervene. No one wants to skip a dare and shut the game down.

“Miranda...” You croak. Swallow. Try again. “Miranda. Would you like to go out with me?”

She moans into her hands, refusing to look at you. Tom seems to expect more.

“...On a date?”

Now Tom seems disgusted.

“...Next Friday?”

Tom pulls Miranda's hands off of her face. He pins them to the floor.

“You still don't have the balls to do it. Ask her so she knows how much you want her to say yes.”

Face tilted sideways, her mouth o's in surprise. You want to think it's because now she understands what you've tried to say for so long.

“I think you're... you're great, Miranda. You're funny, and gorgeous, and we get along so well. Talking to you is always the best part of my day. And I'd..." You breathe deeply, steeling yourself. "...like to show you that you'd be as happy with me as I am with you.”

Her eyes are huge. Unbelieving. She rasps, “Yes.”

And then her eyes scrunch shut. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes yes yes yes yeeeeeunh!” Words fail her at the end, the last yes dissolving into a wail as Tom hammers her body into orgasmic oblivion. His belabored gasps and grunts confirm the even-worse, and he empties his balls into Miranda's squelching, well-used pussy.

Tom pulls out, shivering as his big dick comes free in a gush of their combined juices. He smirks and flashes you a thumbs-up. Then he returns to the closet.

Miranda is having more difficulty with her aftershocks. They're so intense she can't get her feet beneath her, and Sarah has to support her while she stands and pulls her pants up. The stains on them are unmistakeable.

When she retakes her seat, Miranda's face clearly says she doesn't want to talk about it. At the same time, she doesn't seem ashamed or humiliated, and you don't know what to make of it. How did Tom convince her? Was it just his cock rubbing her in the close quarters? How long were they at it?

Could it have been her idea?

“Pick a name, John.”