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.

The room was darker than I expected, the fire in the stone hearth having burned low, casting long, uncertain shadows across the wide wooden floor. No one spoke. The silence felt deliberate, like we were all holding our breath, waiting for someone else to make the first move. I stepped out of my jeans, the denim catching at my ankles before I kicked it aside. My shirt followed, then my bra. I didn’t fold anything. I didn’t look down. I just stood there, naked, feeling the cool air brush over my skin like a question.

Jariel was already bare-chested, his trousers unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. He didn’t take them off right away. He watched me, eyes locked on mine, and when I met his gaze, it was like something snapped tight between us. Not tender. Not soft. Just raw, mutual recognition. He pushed the fabric down slowly, deliberately, and stepped out of it. His cock was already hard, jutting forward, thick and uncut, the head flushed dark. He didn’t touch it. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at me was enough.

Around us, the others were undressing too, but it didn’t feel performative. No one posed. No one joked. It was just skin, the sound of fabric sliding off bodies, the occasional catch of breath. Sofie’s back was to me, her spine curved as she bent to peel off her knickers. Hailey was already on the bed, kneeling, her knees parted just enough to reveal the slick shine between her legs. Bridie and Jess moved together, hands brushing as they undressed each other, mouths meeting briefly, then pulling away, like they were saving it for later.

I walked to the bed. The sheets were cool against my back as I lay down, the fabric soft but unfamiliar. I didn’t spread my legs right away. I just let myself settle, let the moment stretch. Jariel followed. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He knelt beside me, one hand sliding behind my neck, the other brushing my breast, thumb dragging over my nipple until it stiffened under his touch. I arched into it, just slightly, enough to let him know I was done waiting.

Aaron appeared on my other side, his hand already on my thigh, fingers trailing upward, slow and sure. He didn’t look at Jariel. No one was claiming territory. It was just touch, layered and overlapping, the way heat builds when you’re not thinking anymore. I turned my head and Jariel’s mouth was there, his tongue pushing past my lips, not gentle, not testing. Just taking. I kissed him back the same way, my hand reaching for his chest, fingers scraping over his skin until I found his nipple and pinched it hard. He grunted into my mouth and I felt it in my cunt like a pulse.

Aaron’s fingers had reached the crease of my thigh. He didn’t tease. He slid two inside me, no hesitation, curling them upward until I gasped into Jariel’s mouth. I was already wet, embarrassingly so, but no one cared. I rocked against Aaron’s hand, my hips lifting off the bed, and when I reached down I found Jariel’s cock, hot and heavy in my grip. I stroked him once, twice, feeling the skin shift under my palm, the way his breath caught when I tightened my grip.

Above us, the others had started moving too. I heard the wet sound of kissing, the low moan that meant someone had been touched just right. Bodies shifted on the mattress, limbs tangling, the bed dipping under new weight. I didn’t look. I didn’t need to. I had Jariel’s tongue in my mouth and Aaron’s fingers inside me and the taste of tequila still burning in my throat. My body was already ahead of me, moving without permission, chasing the friction, the pressure, the heat.

Jariel pulled back just enough to speak, his voice low and rough. “Turn over.”

I did.

I rolled onto my stomach, the sheet cool against my breasts, my hips already lifting without being asked. Jariel’s hand settled between my shoulder blades, pressing me down just enough to let me know he wanted me still. Aaron’s fingers slipped out of me, leaving a slick trail across my inner thigh. I felt the loss like a kick.

Behind me, the mattress shifted. Sofie’s knee brushed my ankle as she crawled forward, her hair falling across my calf like silk. She wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were on Hailey, who had lain back against the pillows, legs open, one hand lazily stroking her own stomach. Sofie moved like she’d done this before—slow, deliberate, her mouth finding Hailey’s collarbone first, then the slope of her breast. Hailey’s head fell back, her throat exposed, a low sound escaping as Sofie’s tongue circled her nipple.

I felt it in my spine.

Aaron’s hand returned, this time on my arse, palm flat, fingers spread. He didn’t squeeze. He just held it, like he was claiming space. Then he moved lower, thumb brushing the crease where thigh met hip, teasing the edge of where I was still wet from his fingers. I pushed back against him, not subtle. He chuckled, breath hot against my shoulder blade, and finally—finally—slid two fingers inside me again, slower this time, like he was learning me. I clenched around him involuntarily, and he made a sound that wasn’t quite a moan, more like approval.

Jariel had moved up beside my head. His cock was right there, heavy against my cheek. I turned my face and took him in my mouth without asking, without thinking. The angle was awkward, but I didn’t care. I wanted the weight of him, the taste—salty, faintly bitter, real. He threaded his fingers into my hair and held me there, not forcing, just guiding. I swallowed around the head and felt his thighs tense.

Beside us, Hailey had shifted. Her hand was in Sofie’s hair, holding her mouth to her breast, but her other hand had moved lower—between Sofie’s legs, fingers moving in tight, slow circles. Sofie’s hips rocked into it, her breath coming in short bursts. I could hear how wet she was. The sound made my own body clench again, and Aaron answered by adding a third finger, pushing deeper, curling just right. I moaned around Jariel’s cock, the vibration making his grip tighten.

The room was full of small sounds now—breath, skin, the soft shift of bodies. No one spoke. No one needed to. I reached out blindly and found Bridie’s wrist, pulled her hand to my breast. She squeezed once, hard, then rolled my nipple between her fingers until I arched into it. My body was a map of other people’s hands, and I was losing the edges of where I ended and they began.

Jariel pulled out of my mouth slowly, a string of saliva breaking. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, then down at Aaron, who was still fucking me with his fingers, steady and unhurried. Jariel nodded once, and Aaron withdrew his hand. I made a sound I didn’t recognise.

Then Jariel said, quiet, “Flip her.”

Aaron’s hands hooked under my hips and rolled me over like I weighed nothing. My back hit the sheet, breath rushing out. Jariel was already there, knees bracketing my ribs, cock dragging across my stomach as he leaned down. His mouth covered mine before I could inhale, tongue pushing past my teeth, tasting of smoke and something metallic. I kissed him back hard, teeth clacking, my hands flying to his chest, nails scraping through the hair until I found his nipples again and pinched. He grunted into me and the sound went straight to my clit.

Aaron spread my knees wider, palms sliding up the insides of my thighs until thumbs met at my centre. He parted me, cool air hitting wet flesh, then his mouth was there—no preamble, just the flat of his tongue licking up the length of me, stopping to circle my clit until my hips bucked. Jariel broke the kiss long enough to watch, eyes black in the low light, then lowered his head to my breast, sucking the nipple so deep I felt it in my throat. I arched, trapped between suction and licking, every nerve narrowing to those two points.

I reached back, found Aaron’s hair, twisted hard enough to sting. He answered by sliding two fingers inside again, curling, scissoring, fucking me with them while his tongue kept steady pressure on my clit. The wet sounds were obscene; I could smell myself on his face and it made me wild. I grabbed Jariel’s cock, angled it down, rubbed the head against my other nipple, smearing pre-come over the stiff peak. He hissed, pushed forward, and suddenly my mouth was full again, salty skin dragging across my tongue.

Someone else’s hand—Bridie’s, I thought—found my wrist and guided it sideways; I realised Sofie was kneeling there, thighs open, fingers already working herself. She pressed my hand between her legs and I took over without thinking, two fingers slipping into slick heat while my thumb found her clit. She rocked onto my hand, moaning low, the sound vibrating through the mattress. I felt Jess behind her, mouth on Sofie’s neck, one hand cupping her breast, the other reaching past to brush my knuckles each time I thrust.

Jariel started moving his hips, shallow thrusts between my lips, timing them with Aaron’s fingers inside me. Every push drove me back onto Aaron’s tongue, every withdrawal left me empty until Jariel filled my mouth again. I was a hinge, swinging between them, spit and juice mixing on my chin, my own noises muffled. The room narrowed to skin and rhythm and the rising coil in my belly.

Aaron lifted his mouth just long enough to growl, “Condom,” and Helina’s arm appeared from the edge of the bed, foil packet glinting. She tore it open with her teeth, rolled it down Aaron’s length while he stayed between my legs, never breaking eye contact with me. Then he leaned forward, hands under my arse, and slid inside in one slow, relentless push. I cried out around Jariel’s cock, the sound vibrating up his shaft; his fingers tightened in my hair and he thrust deeper, hitting the back of my throat.

I gagged, swallowed, adjusted, and started sucking in earnest, matching Aaron’s pace. Each time he drove into me, Jariel’s cock pushed further; when Aaron pulled back, I hollowed my cheeks and dragged suction along Jariel’s length. My free hand clawed down Aaron’s back, nails leaving raised lines he answered with a harder snap of hips that rocked the whole bed. Sofie clamped around my fingers, coming with a sharp gasp that sprayed hot across my palm.

Jariel pulled out suddenly, strings of saliva bridging his cock to my lips. He shifted lower, mouth crashing back onto mine, tasting himself, while Aaron hooked my knees over his shoulders and fucked me faster, the slap of skin loud and wet. I broke the kiss long enough to drag air, then bit Jariel’s lower lip, hard. He snarled, pleasure or pain—didn’t matter—and reached between us, thumb finding my clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles.

The coil snapped. I came clenching around Aaron, back bowing off the mattress, a raw sound tearing out of me that didn’t sound human. Aaron groaned, buried himself deep and stayed there, pulsing inside the condom. Jariel kept rubbing until I twitched, oversensitive, then eased off, hand slick with me. I collapsed, lungs burning, skin humming, every limb heavy and borrowed.

Aaron pulled out carefully, tied the condom, dropped it somewhere. Jariel stretched beside me, cock still hard against my hip. I turned my head, met his eyes, and without thinking licked his thumb clean. He smiled—feral, satisfied—and leaned in to kiss me again, slower this time, tasting everything we’d made.