A crazy game of truth and dare (2)
Emma stood up confidently, then immediately realized her skirt was too tight. As she tried to part her legs slightly, she gasped. “I’ll rip it!”
Rob, lounging on the sofa with an easy grin, barely looked up. “Just pull it up a bit.” His voice was casual, almost indifferent.
Emma nodded and adjusted the fabric, tugging it higher inch by inch until it was just longer than a mini skirt. Taking a deep breath, she started her star jumps. With every bounce, her skirt rode up slightly, and her firm breasts jiggled under the silk blouse. The smooth fabric clung to her body, accentuating her curves. Rob played it cool, laughing along so it didn’t seem like he was ogling her-though, in truth, he absolutely was.
When she finished, she smoothed her skirt back down and flopped onto the couch. “Okay, truth or dare?”
Rob smirked. “Dare again.”
Emma’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Alright, well, I’m starving. Order a pizza-but in a foreign accent. And no laughing.”
Rob raised an eyebrow, accepting the challenge. He picked up his phone and, after a moment’s thought, adopted a rather questionable Irish accent. “Aye, lad, I’d like to be orderin’ one large pepperoni with a side of cheesy garlic bread, if ye don’t mind.”
Emma clamped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Her eyes were glassy now-she was definitely tipsy. When Rob hung up, he burst out laughing himself, shaking his head.
“Your turn,” he challenged.
Emma grinned. “Dare.”
Rob’s expression turned thoughtful as he leaned forward. “Okay, well, this is more of a favor, but it’s also a dare…”
She tilted her head, intrigued. “Go on.”
He hesitated, as if nervous, then exhaled. “You remember when I said I wanted Sarah to get a boob job? Well, we’ve actually talked about it a few times, and she always says how good yours look.” He rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to be sheepish. “She’s thinking of a D-cup. What size are you?”
Emma blinked at the sudden shift in conversation. “Oh, cool! I’m a D. 34D.”
Rob feigned surprise. “Really? Right, well, you definitely have to help me now, then. Yours always look great in clothes, and of course, I’ve seen you in a bikini, but I tried not to look, obviously.” His smirk told her otherwise. “I just want an actual look, you know? For research purposes. In your bra, of course.” He watched her reaction carefully, testing the waters.
Emma hesitated for only a second. He was asking for help, and he did look kind of embarrassed to bring it up. Besides, he’d already seen her in a bikini, so it wasn’t that different, right? She reasoned with herself, nodding slowly. “Oh, um… yeah, I guess so.”
She set her drink down and unbuttoned her blouse, trusting Rob completely.
Rob’s throat went dry as he watched her fingers undo each button, revealing the soft lace of her white bra. His cock stirred instantly, but he leaned forward to mask it, keeping his expression neutral. “Uh… can you come closer? Too much drink for my eyes to focus from over there.”
Emma chuckled and stepped in front of him. Now that her blouse was fully open, he had an up-close view of her cleavage framed in delicate lace. Her skin was smooth, her curves flawless.
Rob kept his face serious, pretending to analyze her breasts with deep concentration. He reached out and held the edges of her blouse open, his fingertips brushing against the silk.
Emma wobbled slightly in her heels and instinctively placed a hand on Rob’s shoulder for balance. He swallowed hard.
“They look great,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “Really great. But I can’t quite see them from the side. Just take your blouse off for a second so I can get a better look.”
It made perfect sense to Emma in her slightly inebriated state. With a small shrug, she slid the blouse off and, with a cheeky grin, tossed it onto Rob’s head.
The unexpected move made him laugh. “Right, well, you’re not getting that back now.”
She giggled, standing there in just her bra and skirt, clearly comfortable with him.
“Turn to the side a bit,” he directed.
Emma obeyed, twirling slightly so he could take in the full effect. Rob tried to maintain his facade of objectivity, but his brain was short-circuiting. He was supposed to be assessing her body for Sarah’s surgery, but all he could think about was how perfect she was.
After what felt like the longest moment of his life, he forced himself to lean back. “Alright, thanks. Your turn.”
Emma smirked and disappeared from the room, returning moments later holding a pink bra. “For your research!” she announced, tossing it at him. “Put this on, and let me take a picture.”
Rob caught the bra, grinning. Three things hit him at once-one, she had forgotten to put her blouse back on; two, she was comfortable enough with him to toss him a bra; and three, she was clearly quite drunk. None of these helped his growing arousal.
Still, he played along. Shrugging off his shirt, he pulled the pink bra over his head and somehow managed to clasp it. It was ridiculously tight, but he got it on.
“Okay, where do you want me?” he asked.
Emma giggled, her eyes raking over him. “Over by the fire. Let me get my phone.”
Rob struck a pose, hands on his hips, pouting like a model. Emma howled with laughter as she snapped a few pictures.
“Now a selfie, bra sisters!” Rob teased, throwing an arm around her.