Andrew and Emma stand in the living room of their shared apartment, remnants of graduation caps and gowns still scattered like confetti from a week ago. Andrew, bookish and medium-built, adjusts his glasses as he scrolls through his phone. Emma, also medium-built and more outgoing, bounces on her toes with excitement, her calm smile lighting up the room.
They have been close friends since childhood, and have just graduated from the same college. To celebrate, Emma suggests renting a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks for a summer weekend and bringing their respective girlfriends. Andrew agrees, half-jokingly hoping the place has Wi-Fi.
Emma laughs. “Good luck with that. Too bad you might miss your porn fix.” She grins mischievously and adds. “But you’ll have three gorgeous ladies all to yourself for the weekend—and who might bring along their sexiest undies, I might add.”
Andrew rolls his eyes, used to her bold teasing. “Oh, come on. We’re practically brother and sister—don’t make it weird.”
Emma playfully punches his shoulder. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. It’ll be a fun weekend, no matter what we end up doing.”
A few days later, they pitch the idea to their girlfriends, who both eagerly agree.
Planning unfolds over texts and calls. Emma handles the details, booking a cozy two-bedroom cabin nestled deep in the woods, promising seclusion and immersion in nature.
Andrew packs his books and laptop, staying true to his introverted nature. Emma gathers board games and snacks, her enthusiasm infectious. Sophia, Andrew’s girlfriend, packs with her usual efficiency, her Type A personality clear in neatly labeled bags. Lily, Emma’s girlfriend, agrees shyly over the phone, her quiet voice concealing a spark of adventure.
Finally, Sophia and Lily arrive at the apartment for the cabin weekend. Sophia has a medium athletic build, large breasts, and a confident Type A personality (in contrast to Andrew’s laid-back Type B). Lily is slim and quiet, but her deceptively large breasts are noticeable through her top.
They pile into Emma’s car and head to the Adirondacks; the drive filled with lively chatter about college memories, plans, and excitement for the weekend ahead.
They arrive at the secluded cabin mid-afternoon. Nestled among the trees, its weathered logs blend into the forest, with a gravel path leading to a porch lined with Adirondack chairs.
Inside, rustic charm reigns: a stone fireplace anchors the living room with plush couches and a game table, a compact but functional kitchen, and two cozy bedrooms with queen beds in flannel sheets.
Outside is pure serenity—no traffic, no sirens—just sporadic birdsong, rustling leaves, the whisper of wind, and the occasional twig snap. A glassy pond nearby reflects the sky, inviting a swim, while a hiking trail winds through ferns and ancient oaks to misty valley viewpoints.
Andrew confirms there’s no Wi-Fi (or cell service), but the peaceful surroundings ease his disappointment. They stock the fridge with beer and the counter with snacks, then prepare to grill burgers for dinner. Emma mans the grill with flair, Sophia preps veggies, and Andrew and Lily set the table, chatting lightly—Andrew learning of Lily’s love for quiet poetry.
Over dinner, the recent college graduates toast with beer to their degrees, new beginnings, and this getaway, laughing about late-night study sessions and chaotic group projects.
As the sun sets in golden light, the couples retreat to their rooms. Andrew and Sophia share a quiet kiss while unpacking.
Suddenly, delighted laughter erupts from Emma and Lily’s room. Emma bursts over to Andrew and Sophia’s door with a mischievous grin: “Guess who picked tonight’s activity? My girlfriend! She wants to play strip poker!”
A muffled protest—“Don’t listen to her, I do not!”—follows, but Lily’s giggle betrays her.
Andrew is stunned that quiet Lily suggested such a game. Emma whispers something to Sophia, who smiles, glances at Andrew, then gives Emma an enthusiastic “hell yes!” and a thumbs-up. Emma calls back. “See you in an hour!” When Andrew asks what she said, Sophia grins: “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”
The cabin hums with anticipation—Andrew tries (and fails) to read, Sophia freshens up with buzzing energy, and giggles drift from the other room as the evening promises to turn playful and revealing.
An hour later, they sit sprawled around the cabin’s table, each nursing a fresh beer. There are also bowls of chips placed on the table.
Andrew scans the three women slowly—Sophia’s confident smirk, Lily’s shy downward glances, Emma’s easy mischief—then locks eyes with Emma and says. “So, what’s the big secret you didn’t want me to hear?”
Emma smiles sweetly at him and says. “What do you mean? We’re playing strip poker.” Realizing there’s no point in trying to get a straight answer, Andrew sighs and settles in.
“I’ll deal.” Emma says with a smile on her face, already shuffling the deck she’d pulled from a drawer. The rules set: standard five-card draw, person with the worst hand each round strips one item, no folding to save clothes—pure luck and bluffing. Since they can’t use Wi-Fi to look up the official rules, and none of them care about sticking to them anyhow, they just play with simple rules.
The game starts innocently enough, the first few hands going back and forth with light laughter.
Andrew loses the opener, kicking off his socks with a dramatic sigh. “See? And this is why I wear layers.” he quips.
The group chuckles, the atmosphere warm and teasing. Emma wins the next, forcing Sophia to remove her belt—a minor loss, but it sets the tone. “Try not to let Emma get in your pants, babe.” Andrew teases Sophia, who rolls her eyes.
Sophia scoffs. “Have you been saving that line since you were 10 years old?” She smiles. “Still, it’s not the worst I’ve heard.”
As the hands progress, the banter ramps up, especially between Andrew and Emma. They know each other’s tells from years of childhood games—Emma’s slight lip twitch when she has a good hand, Andrew’s overconfident smile when he’s bluffing. Emma loses a hand to Andrew, slipping off her sandals. “Easy come, easy go.” she says.
Then Andrew folded poorly on a bluff, doffing his jeans to reveal plaid boxers—a classic red-and-black pattern. “Alright, laugh it up,” he said as the girls chuckled. “These are comfortable, thank you very much.” He sighs with relief that he doesn’t have an obvious erection.
The others compliment his boxers—Sophia calling them “classic,” Emma teasing they’re “so Andrew,” and Lily murmuring they’re “cute” with a shy smile. Andrew feels heat crawl up his neck and pool lower; his boxers twitch once as blood rushes south.
Emma isn’t far behind. She stands without hesitation, peels her t-shirt over her head, and lets it drop. Black lace bra—a delicate floral pattern, sheer enough in places to hint at dark areolas beneath, underwires lifting and rounding her breasts into perfect, jiggling handfuls.
She strikes a pose in just her bra and denim skirt, flexing her arms, causing her breasts to jiggle inside the cups with her movement. The others gasp and compliment her bra; the lacy material, how the cups lift and support her breasts. “What? You think I can’t rock this look?” She grins.
“Jesus, Em.” Andrew manages, voice rougher than he intends. “Where the hell did you get that bra? It’s really nice to look at.”
Emma sneers at Andrew. “Says the guy who recently got on my case for making things weird between us.”
Sophia bursts out laughing. “Touche, Emma.” She turns to Emma. “But he’s not wrong—your bra is fucking gorgeous. Those cups are working overtime.”
Lily’s eyes glue themselves to the black lace, to the way it frames and lifts Emma’s cleavage. A slow, secret throb starts between her thighs; she presses her legs together and feels the first warm seep of arousal soak into her cotton panties.
Andrew feels his pulse quicken, the sight of his childhood friend’s bra—delicate black lace with intricate patterns, the cups hugging her curves perfectly—stirring something primal. He shifts in his seat, his cock thickens unmistakably against the plaid.
Half an hour into the game, and the beer flows freely, loosening tongues and inhibitions.
Lily has been quiet so far, but she is holding her own, still mostly clothed in her tank and shorts. Sophia, however, starts dominating.
She wins the next hand cleanly, her full house beating everyone’s pairs. With a triumphant grin, she points at Lily. “Sorry, sweetie, but it’s your turn.”
Lily stands on shaky legs, cheeks flaming, and shimmies the denim down. Pale pink cotton panties emerge—tiny white polka dots, a satin bow dead centre, the fabric so soft it looks like it belongs in a candy store. They hug her hips perfectly, innocent yet undeniably alluring.
And the material clings sweetly to her mound, showing her panties already darkening at the gusset from how wet she’s become from watching Emma’s bra reveal. No one notices or acknowledges the growing wet spot.
The room erupts in appreciative whistles.
The others compliment Lily’s panties on how cute they are. Emma coos. “That little bow is killing me.”
Sophia whistles low. “Adorably sexy. Criminal.”
Andrew just nods, eyes lingering on the innocent pink cotton and the faint shadow beneath it. “Yeah… wow.” His boxers tent obviously now; a small wet spot blooms where the head of his cock presses.
Lily’s blush deepens, but she feels a thrill, her body responding with a subtle warmth between her legs.
Andrew, having grown bolder thanks to the beer, leans back with a grin. His boxers shift slightly to hide his growing erection. “Now I know why Em likes you so much.” Emma playfully slaps him in the arm.
Lily, also emboldened by the beer and the playful atmosphere, shoots back without missing a beat, with a mischievous grin. “She likes what’s underneath my undies even more.” She sits down in a manner akin to a mic drop.
Emma snorts with laughter, nearly spitting out her beer. She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes watering as she tries to swallow. “Dammit! Now I can’t take the fifth. I hope you’re happy.” She playfully glares at Lily.
Lily smirks, crossing her arms triumphantly. “Very.”
Sophia laughs at this exchange, and then glances at Lily. “Where has this side of you been hiding all game, Lily? You hardly talk at first, and now you’re making sex jokes like a pro?!”
Lily’s face reddens, suddenly shy again, and sinks back in her chair. “I’m not normally like this. And I don’t normally drink much… but the vibe here is just… really fun.” She smiles demurely. “I guess the beer is doing its job, huh?”
The group dissolves into laughter; the tension breaking into pure joy. But beneath it, arousal simmers—Andrew’s erection now half-hard, pressing against his boxers; Emma feeling a dampness in her thong; Sophia’s nipples hardening under her shirt; Lily’s panties growing slightly moist from the excitement.
Sophia glances around, suddenly aware she remains the only one still fully dressed. She turns her eyes on Andrew. “Babe… would you be a gentleman and help me out of this shirt? I bought a new bra and it would be a crime not to show it off.”
Andrew’s eyes light up, and he obliges without hesitation.
He stands behind her, fingers finding the hem of Sophia’s shirt. Sophia raises her arms like a dancer. The t-shirt slides up and off, revealing a blazing red lace bra—straps thin as threads, cups embroidered with swirling patterns that barely contain the heavy swell of her breasts.
She shakes her hair out and strikes a pose, making her breasts bounce deliciously inside the scarlet lace. “Well? Worth the reveal?”
Andrew’s voice drops an octave. “Fuck, Soph. That red lace looks obscene on your tits. In the best way.” Andrew murmurs, his voice a touch huskier as he sits back down, betraying his arousal. He can’t stop himself from reacting to his girlfriend’s cleavage and bra. The lacy cups wrapping around her breasts. Almost immediately, the air in the room shifts slightly from playful to charged.
Everyone admires the sexy red lace bra and how the cups lift and support her breasts—Emma whistling appreciatively, Lily murmuring “gorgeous,” Andrew’s gaze fixed, his erection now fully clear, a small wet spot forming from pre-cum. Sophia feels her own arousal spike, her panties dampening as she sits, the lace rubbing teasingly against her skin.
The game continues, the stakes feeling higher now. Emma wins the next hand, forcing Andrew to lose his shirt, leaving him in just his boxers. His toned chest, honed from his secret weekend rock climbing, draws appreciative glances. “Okay, okay, no ogling the merchandise.” he jokes, flexing for effect.
By now, Andrew is visibly erect. And there is a clear wet spot on his boxers. The women exchange knowing looks, their own bodies responding—Emma’s thong soaked, Sophia’s panties slick, Lily shifting uncomfortably as her arousal builds.
Sophia loses her jeans next, revealing matching red lace panties that complement her bra. Her crotch is already visibly damp and clinging to her lips. She twirls, laughing. “See? I came prepared.”
The others take turns admiring her matching panties. Compliments fly: Emma calls them “fiery hot,” Lily blushes and agrees they’re “perfect,” Andrew’s breath catches, his erection throbbing visibly. He can’t decide what he enjoys more; Sophia’s underwear, or her cleavage in her gorgeous bra. Or that nothing is separating her pussy from everyone’s eyes except her panties.
Lily, who is down to her tank and those adorable panties, has a weak hand. She sighs and peels her tank top away. A soft pink bra identical in innocence to her panties appears, but the sheer volume inside it shocks everyone. Huge, heavy breasts strain the cups, jiggling free as the fabric comes off. Nipples poke stiffly against the cotton.
The others compliment her bra, as well as her surprisingly enormous chest. Lily blushes at these compliments—Emma whispering “stunning,” Sophia gasping “wow, those are amazing,” Andrew averting his eyes politely but feeling his arousal peak. Lily’s panties are now noticeably damp, and her nipples hard against the soft pink fabric of her bra.
Emma feels herself drool into her panties. Her eyes linger appreciatively, and she leans over to whisper something in Lily’s ear that makes her giggle—a promise of later attention that sends a shiver through Lily.
The beer cans pile up, and the fire dwindles to embers, casting a warm glow over their increasingly bare skin. Emma loses her skirt next, standing to wiggle out of it, revealing black thong panties that match her bra. She curtsies dramatically. “Ta-da! Fashionably late to the panty party.”
The others compliment her panties. Emma’s face reddens as she feels her panties grow damp with her arousal. No one else seems to notice, because they are too drunk to care or they are excited. But the compliments pour in: Sophia calls them “seductive,” Lily smiles shyly, Andrew nods appreciatively, his wet spot growing.
By now the room smells of everyone’s arousal and sweat. Everyone is panting as well.
It’s late in the evening, with the only lights on being the kitchen’s, Emma looks at everyone sitting at the table in just their underwear and laughs. “I think this is as good of a place as any to stop our game for tonight. Considering how drunk or turned on we all are.” She grins sheepishly. “Some more than others.”
Everyone says how much fun they had—Andrew admitting it was “unexpectedly thrilling,” Sophia laughing about the “best game night ever,” Lily shyly agreeing it was “memorable,” Emma beaming with pride.
Lily scratches her arms, then grins sheepishly. “Uh… thanks for a fun game, everyone. I’m glad I agreed to come here this weekend.” She glances down at the wet spot on her panties and giggles. “Oh wow, my undies need to be changed.” She looks back at the others, her face beet red.
Emma smiles at her girlfriend’s awkwardness, and then grins. “You could do that, Lil. But I think now is as good of a time as any to, ahem, relieve all of this tension. Don’t you?” She giggles. “I don’t know about you, but after all of that stripping, I really need a good cum.”
Sophia’s face lights up. “Oh, yes! That sounds like an amazing idea.” She looks at Andrew and Lily with a shit-eating grin. “I’ve been just drooling into my panties all night. What do you say, Andy and Lily?”
Andrew gasps. He’s not opposed to getting relief, after all he’s been hard for most of the night. And his boxers aren’t dry anymore, either, thanks to the ladies and their incredible bodies and underwear. From what it sounds like, Emma and Sophia want to share an orgasm together as a group. But is Lily ready for that? Is he even ready for that?
Lily gives it some thought, before nodding. And, after shrugging his shoulders, Andrew agrees as well.
And so they decide, without taking things too far, they will dry hump in their underwear together.
The four of them exchange quick, slightly nervous glances—half-laughing, half-breathless—before Emma tells them the plan.
“Okay, ground rules so nobody freaks out.” she says, voice low and a little husky from beer and arousal. “Underwear stays on the whole time. No hands inside anyone’s panties or boxers. No mouths on skin below the neck. We’re just… grinding. Rubbing. Getting off together. If anyone says stop, we stop. Deal?”
Three murmured “deal” come back at her, some steadier than others.
Emma stands first, tugging Lily gently up by the hand. “Come here, baby.” She guides Lily toward the thick rug in front of the dying fire, where the embers still throw a soft orange glow across everyone’s skin.
Sophia catches Andrew’s eye, arches one brow in silent question. He swallows hard, nods once, and lets her pull him to his feet.
They arrange themselves almost instinctively: Emma sits cross-legged on the rug and pats the space in front of her. Lily kneels between her thighs, facing her, knees bracketing Emma’s hips. Sophia mirrors the position a couple feet away, pulling Andrew down so he’s kneeling between her spread legs, facing her.
The two couples are close enough that their outer knees nearly brush—close enough to hear every shaky breath, every soft whimper.
For a second, nobody moves. Just the crackle of embers, and four sets of lungs working too fast.
Then Emma leans in and kisses Lily slow and deep, tongues sliding, hands resting lightly on each other’s bare waists. Lily makes a tiny, needy sound into Emma’s mouth and instinctively rolls her hips forward. The damp cotton of her pink panties meets the slick black thong Emma’s wearing, and both of them gasp at the contact.
That sound seems to flip a switch.
Sophia grabs Andrew by the back of the neck and pulls him into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. At the same time she hooks one athletic leg around his waist and drags him closer until his cloth-covered erection presses right against the soaked red lace between her thighs. Andrew groans low in his throat; the heat of her is obscene even through two layers of fabric. He rocks forward experimentally and Sophia’s head tips back on a sharp moan.
“Oh fuck—yeah, like that.”
Beside them, Emma has both hands on Lily’s ass now, guiding her in a slow, deliberate grind. Lily’s huge breasts sway heavily inside the soft pink bra with every roll of her hips; the cotton is clearly drenched at the crotch, clinging transparently to her swollen lips. Emma’s black thong is no better—dark and slick, the thin strip of fabric disappearing between her folds. Every time Lily drags herself forward the lace catches just right against Emma’s clit and Emma’s hips jerk up involuntarily.
“God, you’re so wet.” Emma breathes against Lily’s mouth. “Feel how slippery you made me?”
Lily whimpers, nods frantically, and grinds down harder.
Andrew can’t look away. His childhood best friend—practically his sister—is dry-humping her girlfriend right next to him, both of them flushed and panting, panties ruined. And somehow that image, combined with the steady, rhythmic pressure of Sophia’s soaked lace sliding along the underside of his cock, is pushing him toward the edge faster than he expected.
Sophia notices. She smirks, rocks her hips in tight little circles that make the head of his cock nudge her clit through the fabric again and again.
“You gonna come in your boxers like a teenager, Andy?” she teases, voice wrecked. “Gonna make a mess for me while you watch Emma and Lily hump each other stupid?”
Andrew’s answer is a choked groan and a harder thrust. The wet spot on his plaid boxers has spread; every slide leaves a shiny streak on Sophia’s red lace. He can feel how swollen she is, how her clit throbs against him even through the layers.
Next to them Lily is trembling, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry. Emma has one hand braced on the rug behind her and the other gripping Lily’s hip, pulling her down into every grind.
“Close?” Emma pants.
Lily nods, frantic little “uh-huh uh-huh”s spilling out.
“Me too. Come with me, baby—rub that pretty pussy on me till you soak us both—”
Lily’s whole body locks up. A high, broken whine tears out of her throat as her hips stutter and press down hard. Emma follows a heartbeat later, thighs clamping around Lily’s waist, back arching as she grinds up through her own orgasm with a long, shuddering “fuuuck.”
The sight and sound of the two of them coming undone shoves Andrew over the edge.
He buries his face in Sophia’s neck, hips jerking unevenly as heat explodes through him. Thick pulses soak his boxers, pulse after pulse, the wet heat spreading across Sophia’s lace-covered mound. Sophia moans at the feeling—his come seeping through the fabric, marking her—and rocks herself against the slick mess until she shatters too, nails digging into his shoulders, a sharp cry muffled against his hair.
For long seconds nobody moves except for the rise and fall of chests and the occasional aftershock twitch.
Then Emma laughs—soft, breathless, delighted.
“Holy shit,” she wheezes, still holding Lily against her chest. “We are never playing strip poker with you people again.”
Sophia snorts, still wrapped around Andrew. “Speak for yourself. I’m buying a deck the second we get cell service.”
Lily, flushed crimson and hiding her face in Emma’s shoulder, mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “same.”
Andrew just exhales a shaky laugh and presses a kiss to Sophia’s damp temple.
Eventually they disentangle—slowly, sticky, grinning like idiots. They grab blankets from the couch, wipe themselves down with a couple of spare dish towels (and plenty of giggling complaints about the state of everyone’s underwear), and collapse together onto the big sectional in a sweaty, half-dressed pile.
Emma ends up sprawled across Lily’s lap, head on her thigh. Sophia curls into Andrew’s side, one leg thrown over his. Nobody bothers putting their regular clothes back on; the fire’s embers and body heat are enough.
