It happened yesterday May 1st, at Helen’s house for the Labour Day party. The sun was blazing, the garden was full of people laughing and drinking, but we girls had taken over her big bedroom upstairs on the second floor. It was just the five of us—me, Helen, Mia, Sophie, and Lena—locked away from the rest of the world with bottles of cheap wine, music thumping low, and the kind of dirty talk that only happens when you’re a little drunk and a lot horny.

We were sprawled across her huge bed and the fluffy rug, skirts riding up, tops unbuttoned, laughing about the worst fucks we’d ever had. Helen kept refilling our glasses. By the third round we were all flushed and giggling, trading stories that got nastier with every sip. Someone confessed she loved being choked. Someone else admitted she’d let a guy cum on her face in a club bathroom. The air felt thick, charged, like something was about to snap.

That’s when Helen got that wicked little smile on her face. She sat up on her knees, wine glass dangling from her fingers, and said, “Okay, bitches. Truth or dare is for babies. Let’s play spin the bottle ... but make it nasty.” She explained the rules slowly, savoring every word. The bottle spins. Whoever it lands on has to go down on one of her little brother’s friends who were hanging out downstairs. Blindfolded. Both of you. You have exactly one minute to make him cum down your throat. If you succeed, you’re done. If you don’t ... he gets to fuck you raw, still blindfolded, and you don’t get to say no. Helen’s eyes sparkled. “And no talking. Not a single word from either of you. Just mouths and bodies.”

We all stared at her, half-shocked, half-thrilled. The wine made it easy to say yes. Mia laughed first, then Sophie, then Lena. I felt my stomach flip, but my clit was already tingling. I nodded too. “Fine. I’m in.”

Helen grabbed an empty wine bottle and spun it hard on the wooden floor. It wobbled, slowed, and stopped dead—pointing straight at me.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The girls whooped and clapped. “Anna! First victim!” Helen teased. I tried to look cool, but my face was on fire. Part of me wanted to chicken out. The bigger part—the soaked, aching part—was already imagining a hard, anonymous cock sliding between my lips.

Helen didn’t give me time to think. She pulled a black silk scarf from her drawer and tied it tight over my eyes. The world went dark. I could hear the girls whispering excitedly, the music still pulsing. Then Helen’s footsteps as she left the room. “Be right back. Don’t touch yourselves yet.”

I knelt there on the rug in the middle of the room, blind, heart racing, thighs pressed together. My short denim skirt felt too tight. My white tank top clung to my breasts. I could hear the girls breathing, giggling softly. Minutes stretched. Then the door clicked open again. Two sets of footsteps. One heavy, male. Helen’s voice, low and commanding: “He knows the rules. He’s game. No talking. You’ve got sixty seconds to make him blow. If you can’t ... well, you know what happens.”

I heard the guy’s breathing—fast, excited. Helen guided him closer until I could smell him: clean skin, a hint of cologne, and that unmistakable warm, masculine scent that makes your mouth water. She tugged my skirt up and yanked my panties down in one smooth motion. Cool air hit my bare, already-wet pussy. I gasped.

Then she took his hand and wrapped my fingers around his cock.

God, he was rock-hard already. Thick, hot, pulsing in my palm. The head was smooth and swollen, a bead of precum slicking my thumb as I squeezed gently. I smiled in the dark, embarrassed and so fucking turned on I could barely breathe. I leaned forward, parted my lips, and took him in.

The first taste—salty, warm, alive—made me moan around him. I sucked him deep right away, tongue swirling under the head, cheeks hollowing. I wanted him to explode fast. I bobbed my head fast and sloppy, taking him to the back of my throat, gagging a little but not caring. My hand stroked what my mouth couldn’t reach, twisting, pumping. I heard a muffled groan above me, like someone had clapped a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. The sound made my pussy clench hard.

I went wild. I sucked harder, faster, slurping noisily, drool running down my chin and dripping onto my tits. I pushed forward until my nose pressed against his stomach, swallowing around his thick shaft, milking him with my throat. His hips twitched like he was fighting not to thrust. I could feel his balls tightening in my other hand. Come on, I thought, come for me, fill my mouth, end this before I lose control.