Pregabalin back order ~ erotica ~
I dropped her off at the front, swung around the back, and parked the car. In my rear view, before I made my turn, I could see her stumbling up our front stairs.
She was drunk. I was her ride. And, well, her roommate.
Once parked, I gingerly walked to the front and hiked the short flight of stairs to the second floor. She’d left the door to our apartment wide open. I closed and locked it behind me.
I didn’t hear her, but I saw her wake: an errant converse sneaker here, a white tank top there. I hoped she’d at least made it to her bed.
I picked up her things as I walked, slowly bending down to grab each item, trying not to topple over.
As I stepped through the hallway, I found her jeans on the floor by the bathroom, and her other chuck somehow thrown into the tub. I dropped her things with her jeans and carefully stepped into our only restroom.
Bending over, I used the tub wall to find purchase as I picked up her misplaced shoe. As I prepared myself to stand back up, I felt hands on my waist and a crotch by my ass.
“Those heels make your ass look amazing.”
She, apparently, was not in bed.
I tensed my legs and engaged my abs to lift myself, but her hand on my back kept me down.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you, those heels make your ass look hot. They make you look hot. When did you get hot?”
Ah, drunk Jen. The joy.
“You need to go to bed and sleep it off.”
“No, what I need is for you to tell me why we haven’t fucked yet.”
Honesty, Jen’s first drunk quality.
“Jen, do you really want to have this conversation now? You won’t remember it in the morning.”
“Which is why we should have it. You can say whatever you want and it won’t matter.”
I stood up and turned around. I, for once, was eye-to-eye with her, my new heels giving me equal height with her tall stature.
“You like skinny stupid women.”
“Kelly, who ate you out everyday so you would write all her term papers Sophomore year.”
“She was a red head. You know how much I love red heads.”
“Kara, who thought you were a guy for the month you dated her junior year.”
“I was in my extreme butch phase. I packed everyday, bound my chest. Who wouldn’t get confused?”
“Kourtney, senior year, who for the love of sanity spelled her name with a K and thought she could give you a yeast infection if she ate you out.”
“Okay, she was stupid. What’s that have to do with you?”
“I am smart. I am brilliant. I refuse to make myself seem dumb so someone will want to date me.”
“You don’t have to be dumb to fuck me. The dumb ones just like me.”
“Right. The dumb, skinny, size four and below ones.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Name one woman you fucked who was larger than a size eight.”
“Ah… Um… Ha! There was that MILF, the year after we graduated. My bosses wife. Size twelve. I know because I tore off her dress. She made me buy her a new one.”
“Yeah, I’m three dress sizes larger than her. Jen, go to bed.”
I tried to hobble my way out of the bathroom, but Jen braced her arm on the wall in front of me, pinning me in.
Jen’s second drunk quality, persistence.
“Eliza, you’re hot.”
“And it took you til now to notice. Great job. But I’m tired and have shit to do tomorrow. Go to bed, Jen.”
Her hands were on face, her lips to mine before I knew what was happening.
Jen’s third drunk quality, intense sexual cravings.
I broke her embrace long enough to gasp, “Jen, what are you…” before again her lips graced mine.
I felt her hand between my legs, slowly spreading my thighs apart, an awkward motion in my newly-broken-in heels. I kept my balance as she slipped her fingers against my clit. I moaned into her mouth.
Instinctively my hips rose up to her hand. I could feel the smile on her lips as my body betrayed my desire to have her that night.
Her mouth moved to my neck, nibbling my flesh. My moans and gasps now filled the bathroom.
“You won’t remember this tomorrow, right?”
“Nope, not at all,” she whispered into my ear, her teeth teasing my lobes. “Now, bend over.”
My hands firmly planted on the tub, Jen hooked her finger into the bottom of my dress and slipped it up above my waist. Her hands massaged my ass before gripping firmly.
I’d already seen she was packing tonight. I could feel her cock through her boxers now against my ass.
In the morning, when I made coffee, Jen labored out from her room, shielding her eyes from the Sun. I poured her a cup, slid it across our breakfast bar, and asked her how her night was.
“Fun, I think. There are these bite marks on my arm, but I can’t remember who gave me them. And my cock’s been used, so I’m pretty sure I got some.”
Jen’s final drunk quality: the clean slate.
“Sounds like you had a good time.”
“Yeah. And you? How was your night?”
“Fun, too, actually. Everyone loved my new heels.
Comments are disabled on this post