A Storm Trapped Me and My Seven Friends in a Cabin With Only One Bed

The crunch of gravel under my tires is the only sound for miles. I kill the engine and the silence that rushes in is absolute, broken only by the whisper of wind through the dense pines that wall us in. The cabin is exactly as the pictures showed: a stark, modern cube of glass and dark wood dropped into the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect. Secluded. Anonymous.

My stomach does a slow, heavy roll. It’s the same feeling I’ve had all week, a sickening, thrilling knot of anticipation. I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white. We never spoke about it directly. We didn’t need to. It was in the lingering looks, the conversations that stopped just short of the real topic, the shared understanding that we all wanted something more. Something our normal lives, our normal partners, couldn’t give us. A space to be completely uninhibited, to explore the thoughts we only ever had in the darkest parts of our minds. No judgment. No strings. Just pure, physical honesty.

I take a deep breath, the crisp, cool air doing nothing to calm the heat building low in my belly. This is it. The point of no return. My hand trembles slightly as I push the car door open and step out onto the path. Each footstep toward the front door feels momentous, a final commitment to the weekend, to them.

The door swings open before I can even knock. Aaron stands there, a lazy grin on his face that doesn't quite hide the intensity in his eyes. He’s leaning against the doorframe, all casual confidence in a simple t-shirt that does little to hide the hard lines of his chest and arms.

“Tracey. You made it,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

Behind him, Sofie appears, her bright smile a stark contrast to the charged energy coming off Aaron. She glides forward and wraps me in a hug that lasts a fraction of a second too long, her body warm and soft against mine. “We were starting to worry,” she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear.

I pull back, my own smile feeling tight on my face. “Never.”

Aaron’s eyes rake over me, a quick, appreciative inventory that makes my skin prickle. He steps aside, holding the door open wider. “Come on in. You’re the first one.”

The lie is so easy, so practiced. We both know he and Sofie arrived together an hour ago. The unspoken rules are already in play. As I step over the threshold, the heavy wooden door swinging shut behind me, the sound is like a lock turning. The outside world is gone. There’s only this house, this weekend, and the promises hanging unspoken in the air between us. The knot in my stomach tightens, but now it’s pure, thrilling certainty. This was going to happen.

Before I can answer, headlights slice through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the room in white light. One set of lights, then another. The rest of them. Aaron opens the door again, and the night air rushes in, carrying the scent of rain.

Jariel is the first one through the door. My breath catches. He’s taller than I remember, broader in the shoulders, his dark hair damp from the humid air. His eyes, intense and dark, scan the room and land on me instantly. It’s like a physical touch, that look. He bypasses Aaron and Sofie and comes straight to me.

“Tracey,” he says, his voice a low vibration that I feel in my chest. He doesn't hug me. Instead, he takes my hand, his thumb stroking slowly over my pulse point. His gaze drops to my mouth for a second before meeting my eyes again. “Glad you came.” The words are simple, but the meaning behind them is anything but. The heat from his hand seeps directly into my blood, a slow burn that spreads through my entire body. He releases me and turns to grab a beer from the cooler, but I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Bridie and Jess tumble in next, a whirlwind of laughter and energy. They’re attached at the hip, as always, but in a way that feels inclusive rather than exclusive. Bridie, with her wild red curls, immediately drapes an arm around Aaron’s shoulders, her painted nails tracing a pattern on his collarbone as she talks. Jess watches her, a possessive but amused smile on her face, before her eyes drift over to Sofie, lingering there with open appreciation. Their boundaries aren't just fluid; they're non-existent. They radiate an energy that says everyone is fair game.

Last are Hailey and Helina. They slip in almost unnoticed, quiet and watchful. They are the group's anchors, the silent observers who see everything. Hailey gives a small, shy wave, while Helina offers a tight, knowing smile. They don’t say much, just find a spot on the oversized sofa, their presence a steady, humming counterpoint to the more overt energy filling the room.

We all settle with drinks, the conversation floating on the surface. We talk about the drive, about work, about the ridiculous architecture of the cabin. But no one is listening to the words. I’m acutely aware of every subtle shift in the room. I watch Aaron’s hand rest on the back of the couch, his fingers inches from Sofie’s neck. I see the way Jess’s knee is pressed firmly against Bridie’s, and how Bridie leans into it, her gaze fixed on Jariel as he talks. And I feel Jariel’s eyes on me from across the room, a constant, heavy pressure that makes it hard to breathe. The air is thick with it, the real conversation happening in glances and near-touches, a silent, collective agreement to let the tension build until it has nowhere left to go but to break.

The first crack of thunder is so loud it shakes the glass in the walls. A flash of lightning illuminates the woods in a stark, skeletal white, and a split second later, the sky opens up. Rain doesn't fall; it attacks, hammering against the roof and windows in a deafening, solid sheet. Another thunderclap rolls directly overhead, and the lights flicker once, twice, then die completely.

We’re plunged into absolute blackness.

For a beat, no one moves. The only sounds are the roar of the storm and our collective breathing, suddenly loud in the small space. I can’t see anything, but I can feel the energy in the room shift, condensing into something thick and heavy. The pretense of a normal friendly gathering is gone, stripped away with the electricity. We are eight people, trapped by a storm, in the dark.

“Well, shit,” Jess says, her voice laced with amusement.

A small flame sparks to life near the fireplace. It’s Aaron, holding a lighter to a row of thick pillar candles on the mantel. The warm, flickering light pushes back the oppressive darkness, casting long, dancing shadows that make the room feel both smaller and more intimate. One by one, our faces are revealed in the golden glow. Everyone is watching everyone else.

Aaron straightens up, dusting his hands on his jeans. He lets the silence stretch out, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, I have some news,” he says, his voice casual, but his eyes are burning with intent. He looks around the room, making eye contact with each of us. “There seems to have been a little mix-up with the booking.”

He pauses, letting the words hang in the air. Jariel leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his focus entirely on Aaron.

“The other bedrooms,” Aaron continues, gesturing vaguely towards the back of the cabin, “are apparently having some issues with the new skylights. As in, they’re leaking. A lot.” He lets out a low chuckle. “So, with the storm, they’re basically unusable.”

A heavy silence falls over the room, charged and waiting. This is it. The catalyst. I feel my heart start to beat a hard, fast rhythm against my ribs. My whole body is thrumming.

Aaron’s grin widens. He moves to the center of the room, the candlelight catching the sharp planes of his face. “But,” he says, drawing the word out, “the master suite is fine. And it has one of those ridiculously huge, custom-built beds. The kind that could probably sleep all of us.”

The suggestion lands in the center of the room like a physical object. It’s not a question. It’s an offer. A clear, blatant invitation to finally cross the line we’ve all been toeing for months. My breath catches in my throat. I look at Jariel, and his dark eyes are already on me, pupils blown wide, a raw hunger in them that mirrors the feeling clawing its way up my own throat. I tear my gaze away and look around the circle. Bridie is biting her lower lip, her eyes gleaming as she looks from Jess to Aaron. Sofie has a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her face. Even Hailey and Helina, in the corner, have lost their quiet composure; their faces are flushed, their eyes bright with an unmistakable anticipation.

A jolt of pure, undiluted excitement shoots through me, hot and sharp. The unspoken has been spoken. In the flickering candlelight, I see the shared, knowing smiles pass between all of us. The game has just begun.

We sat in a loose circle, the fire throwing orange across our faces. The storm had settled into a steady drum on the roof, a private metronome. Aaron produced a bottle of tequila and one of those cheap plastic spinners left behind by the rental company; the arrow clicked like a clock hand each time it turned. No one suggested going to bed.

“Rules,” Bridie said, tucking her feet beneath her. “Truth is mandatory, dare is mandatory. Refuse once and you chug.” She tapped the neck of the bottle. “Refuse twice and you leave the circle.”

No one planned to leave.

The first spins were soft, almost polite—childhood crushes, stolen cash, the time Jess fucked her TA for an A-minus. Laughter, easy and hot. When the arrow stopped on Jariel he didn’t wait for the question.

“Dare,” he said at once, eyes on me.

Bridie grinned. “Make Tracey tell us the thing she pictures when she gets herself off. Names included.”

My stomach flipped, then steadied. Eight pairs of eyes, firelight flicking across parted lips. I felt the tequila burn but my voice stayed flat, clinical, the way you describe a memory you’ve replayed too many times to still blush over.

“I’m on my back,” I started, “head hanging off the edge of that bed in there. Jariel’s cock is in my mouth so deep my throat keeps closing around him. I can’t speak, can’t breathe except when he pulls back far enough to let strings of spit break.” I paused, watched his jaw flex. “Bridie straddles me, facing him, grinding her cunt on my tongue. Every time she rocks forward she pushes him deeper. I feel her clit swell against my lip, taste how slick she is. When she comes she clamps my head between her thighs so hard my ears ring. Jariel finishes down my throat while she’s still shaking, and I swallow every drop because that’s the rule I make for myself—no mess, no mercy.”

Silence, thick as the heat now pooling between my legs. Bridie’s tongue touched the corner of her mouth. Jess exhaled a slow whistle. Aaron’s hand had moved to his belt without thinking; the buckle glinted.

Jariel’s voice came rough. “Your turn to spin.”

I flicked the plastic. It whirred, slowed, stopped on Sofie. She didn’t bother choosing.

“Dare,” she whispered, already unbuttoning her shirt.

Sofie’s shirt slipped off her shoulders, the fabric catching on her nipples before falling to the floor. She sat forward on her knees, waiting. Aaron’s eyes flicked to me, a question, then back to her. He moved behind her, palms settling on the tops of her shoulders like he was claiming new territory. His thumbs pressed slow circles down her spine, each rotation pushing her closer to the rug. When he reached the clasp of her bra he paused, then unhooked it with two fingers. The straps slid away and her breasts swung free, small and urgent in the firelight. He didn’t touch them yet; instead he poured tequila into his cupped hand and let it run down her back, chasing the line of liquor with his mouth. Sofie’s head dropped; a low sound escaped her throat.

Across the circle Jess made a noise of approval. “My turn,” she said, not waiting for the spinner. She grabbed Bridie by the nape and kissed her hard, teeth clicking, tongues visible every time they pulled apart for breath. Bridie’s hand went straight between Jess’s legs, denim rasping under pressure. Jess rode the heel of Bridie’s palm while they kissed, hips rolling in tiny, unmistakable jerks. The fire popped; sparks flew up the chimney. No one spoke.

Aaron’s hands had moved lower. He worked Sofie’s jeans open and tugged them halfway down her thighs, exposing the top curve of her arse. Instead of removing them completely he left the fabric bunched there, a makeshift restraint. His fingers traced the seam of her knickers, slow passes that made her lift into him. When he finally slipped beneath the cotton she gasped, the sound thin and desperate. I could see the exact moment he entered her—her back arched, elbows buckling. He kept the rhythm lazy, two fingers sliding in and out while his other hand splayed across her lower back to hold her still. Each thrust made a wet, private sound that cut through the rain and the crackle of logs.

I realised I was rocking slightly, thighs pressed together, the seam of my own jeans creating just enough friction to be cruel. Jariel watched me watching them; his hand rested on his cock, outlined and rigid beneath dark material. He didn’t stroke, just held the shape of it like a promise. My mouth watered.

The spinner lay forgotten. Hailey leaned over and blew out two candles, dropping the room into deeper shadow. In the reduced light bodies became silhouettes and motion—Jess now topless, Bridie’s mouth on her nipple; Sofie shuddering as Aaron added a third finger and curled; Helina unbuttoning her blouse with shaking hands, eyes fixed on me. The air smelled of tequila, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of sex beginning. Someone moaned, the note rising until it broke. I felt the sound between my legs like a touch.

Aaron withdrew his hand slowly, glistening in the fire-glow, and wiped it across Sofie’s lower lip. She licked automatically, dazed. Then he looked straight at me and said, voice rough, “Next dare is yours, Tracey. Make it count.”

I looked at Sofie’s mouth, shiny with herself, then back to Aaron. “Get Hailey on her back,” I said. “Let Helina ride her face while you fuck her. The rest of us watch until we decide we’re bored.”

Hailey’s eyes widened, but she was already sliding down onto the rug, skirt rucked up without hesitation. Helina stood, stepped over her, knees bracketing Hailey’s ears. The first swipe of Hailey’s tongue made Helina’s thighs tremble; Aaron knelt, yanked Hailey’s knickers aside and pushed into her in one slow, deliberate thrust that rocked her upward into Helina’s cunt. The wet sounds layered—licking, fucking, breathing—until they merged into one rhythm.

Jariel moved first. He crossed the circle, knelt behind me, pulled my hips onto his lap so my back pressed to his chest. His cock slid between my legs, still clothed, grinding the seam of my jeans against my clit with each roll of his hips. I could feel how hard he was, how hot even through two layers of denim. My head fell onto his shoulder; he bit the tendon in my neck.

Across from us Bridie had Jess on all fours, two fingers pumping steadily while Jess sucked Sofie’s nipple like she was starving. Sofie’s hand tangled in Jess’s hair, guiding, pulling. Every thrust of Bridie’s hand rocked Jess forward; Sofie’s breast slipped free with a wet pop only to be reclaimed immediately.

Helina came first, a sharp cry that cut off when her thighs clamped around Hailey’s head. Aaron followed, hips stuttering, groan low and guttural. He pulled out and finished across Hailey’s stomach, stripes catching firelight. The smell of semen mixed with woodsmoke, thick enough to taste.

Hailey sat up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looked around at the sprawl of half-naked bodies. “Enough dares,” she said, voice steady. “One bed. No rules. Everyone in.”

No one spoke. Then Jariel’s hands tightened on my hips; he lifted me to my feet. Aaron stood, tucked himself away, extended a hand to Sofie. Bridie and Jess separated with a last, lingering kiss. Helina smoothed her skirt, offered Hailey a hand up.

We moved in a loose knot down the hallway, shadows stretching and folding over bare skin. The storm had eased to a steady drizzle, drumming against the high windows. Behind me someone laughed, breathless; ahead the bedroom door stood open, the massive bed waiting like an altar. I stepped through last, felt Jariel’s palm settle at the small of my back, guiding. The click of the door shutting sounded final, irrevocable. We didn’t bother with lights.