Dared to Watch My Best Friend's Wife Get Fucked

Mark had always prided himself on being the funny one in the group, the guy who could turn a beer run into a comedy routine or deflate Derek’s endless bragging with one perfectly timed quip. But standing in the hallway of Derek’s lake house at 11 p.m. on a Saturday, clutching a half-empty bottle of whiskey like a security blanket, he felt about as witty as a wet sock. Derek’s dare hung in the air between them, thick and ridiculous.

“Come on, man,” Derek said, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth. “It’s just a little game. Lena’s into it. She literally said, and I quote, ‘If Mark’s too chicken to watch me get railed, I’ll never let him live it down.’ You’re not gonna let my wife think you’re a pussy, are you?”

Mark laughed, the sound coming out higher than intended. “Derek, buddy, I love you, but hiding in a closet while you two fuck is peak ‘how did my life get here’ energy. What if I sneeze? What if I drop my phone? What if my dick explodes from pure awkwardness?”

Derek grinned that cocky, white-toothed grin that had somehow landed him a wife who looked like she belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine. Lena was twenty-nine, all long dark hair, sharp green eyes, and a body that made Mark’s brain short-circuit every time she bent over to grab a beer from the cooler. “She’s gonna know you’re there the whole time. That’s the point. Consensual voyeur shit. Kinky dare. You watch, we know, everybody wins. Especially your right hand later.”