A Drunken Friday Post


yup. I are drunk. 🙂

I’ma happy drunk, mind you, full of giggles. And …I really do have a great idea for a story…but I’m too buzzed to write it. I think. I’ma gonna try. (who typo’s “try” as tri? um… a drunk nilla does, that’s who….*laughing*….)

okay, okay, let’s get serious.

Not sober, mind you…just…*giggling*…geeze.


She stood at the door…

wait. Should she be standing AT the door or just inside it? I…um… Okay.

She stood just inside the door. In her hand, a glass of champagne, handed to her as she’d entered the crowded room. The mass of people at the company party were a moving and twisting throng of color. Women bedecked in dazzling evening wear suitable to a company Holiday party. Nobody called it a Christmas party any more, she thought with an inward sigh. Not that she herself did either, but still. The music throbbed in the background, and in one corner, early drunks gyrated hips that were much more accustomed to hiding behind a desk, than wiggling on the dance floor. That Mr. Mackenzie was one of the dancers was more appalling than amusing.  Not that one “shouldn’t” dance when they were 400 pounds..and 70 years old……it just wasn’t something one saw often.

Thank god.

Shrugging her shoulders at her own politically incorrect thinking, she moved along the edges of the crowd, answering an occasional call from associates who managed to see her. With any luck she could make it to the stairs and up the rooftop to hide and read her Kindle, just as she’d done last year. She was half-way through 50 Shades, and she was anxious to find out what happened next. That the damned book kept her in suspense was killing her. She had so little time to read and the holiday party was a good way to get a few hours in. Later, as things wound down, she’d be able to sneak back downstairs and would make a few rounds, so that people would think she’d been there the entire time.

She was, after all, an affirmed anti-schmoozer. Quickly she made it to the far exit, where she knew there was a corridor to the bathrooms, and then the stairwell.

*********   *********

She’d stashed a blanket, some cushions, and a flashlight up on the roof two days ago. One of the benefits of being a go-pher was free run of the building. Prepping her little nest/hideout had been relatively simple. She was snuggled up in her little corner, where the sloped roof met a chimney and a second roof created this little almost hidden nook. The  roof overhung the area, which wouldn’t keep her totally dry if it rained, but that wasn’t an issue tonight. It was unseasonably warm, mid-60’s even now, at 7 p.m. Tucked into the corner, no one would easily find her. Opening her e-reader, she was quickly lost in the words, and world that spun out before her.

She was wrenched out of that sexy world when someone cleared his throat, loudly. She jolted, bobbled her flashlight, then shone it into the face of the ‘intruder’.

“What?!” she asked.

“What?” he replied.

“I asked first.” They spoke simultaneously. She couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“Jinx!” He replied. “You owe me a Coke now!”

“I’ve not done that…since 6th grade,” she replied.

“Well, so?” He looked down at her, then without invitation, sat down next to her. “Nice. Cozy. See? You’re a sixth grader too! Up here hiding in your private tree house while the party rolls on downstairs. Whatcha reading?”

Quick as a snake he snatched the Kindle from her fingers.

“NO!” she yelped, trying to crawl across him to get it back. “Give it back!”

“Make me,” he laughed, holding it out of read and reading it. A long whistle escaped. “Oh, what a naughty girl! Reading porn on your kindle? Tsk tsk!”

He proceeded to read a particularly juicy paragraph aloud. She wrestled and wrangled him, but he held her off easily. In moments they were totally entangled. It was only when she realized that his thigh was pressing hard against her scantily clad pussy, that her tits were heaving out of her low-cut top and pressing against his chest, and that his arm was wrapped tightly around her holding her in place that she began to squirm to get off of him.

“hmmm, I think you’re reading too many naughty stories. Here we are all wrapped up together and I barely know you.” His laugh was sexy and deep. His eyes devoured her cleavage, her lips, then back to her eyes, making no apologies for the tour he took on his way there.

“Pretty, sexy,” his voice dropped, making her strain to hear. His lips brushed hers once, then pressed harder the second time.

The third time was a full scale invasion. He consumed her mouth, tasting texture and the flavor of champagne on her tongue. Her body stiffened against his, then went soft and supple as the kiss deepened. Somehow her shirt slid off her shoulder, her arms were out of the sleeves, and it was rolled down to her waist without her quite knowing how.

“You know that story is half-bullshit. I mean, it’s entertaining as shit, and sure as fuck got the vanilla world talking about kink in something just above a whisper. But the real thing? Oh, it’s so much better.”

He spoke to her as he tasted her flesh, licking along the tops of her tits, then back to her mouth. Her head spun with the delightful combination of sex and alcohol. She tried to clear it, a bit. Wait. Wasn’t sex and alcohol a bad combination? Yet what he was doing to her body was intoxicating. She saw her wineglass still sitting on the ledge where she’d left it when she’d come up here. It was nearly full.

It was he who was the intoxicating one. Not the wine. Her nipples were rock-hard against his palms. His mouth moved against her ear, and his voice drew her focus.

“Daring enough to try?”

“Try? There is no try. Only do—-or do not,” she ad libbed her favorite quote. That Yoda was a hell of a guy.

“Is that a yes?”

“yes…” her response was breathless. His mouth took hers again as his hands slid to her breasts, then move from a gentle touch to a firm grasp. There was some discomfort there. When he grabbed her nipples in his fingertips and squeezed, there was even more pain. And when he rolled them, still pinched tight, then twisted them like volume knobs?

Verrrrry painful.

She moaned, his mouth taking the cries, swallowing them. When his one hand released her tit, and slid between them, fingering aside her panties, and touching her clit, she came undone.

Arching and moaning, she was astonished by the orgasm. She’d never come from kissing, tit play, and a single touch on her clit! She came when she’d been fucked a long time…sometimes…if she were lucky and her lover, considerate enough to try. Trying to rub herself against his hand, she was dismayed to feel it slip away, move back onto her tit. It was wet; sticky, she realized, from her own pussy honey. She could smell it, the scent of herself, on his hand. It was erotic, and embarrassing, at the same time.

“Play with me Claire,” he spoke against her ear again, as he worked his fingers along her tit. “Let me show you what 50 shades missed…”

*********   *********

not bad for a pretty drunken start eh? want more? i need more wine. no. no i don’t. I need my bed. 🙂 *giggling*  g’nite all..I’ll catch you on the other side of today. Which is tomorrow. But is also ‘now’ as you read this. How’s that for a time conunumdrum.? don’t mind my spelling. I’m too drunk to give a fuck. 🙂 (sound of wild cackles, followed by giggles, then zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)

16 thoughts on “A Drunken Friday Post

    1. 🙂 Thank you…i’m so glad you enjoyed it. There will be more to come. The wine part is doubtful, but one never knows, right? The story, however, will continue. 🙂


    1. let us not forget “horny” in there, too. 🙂

      ps…my sister had to whisper to me that she’s reading “that book.” (after a glass of wine)
      “What book?” i ask.
      “you know….*that* book. 50…you know”

      Me; ‘aaahhh’ (grinning)

      her: it’s so…so…

      me: sexy?

      her: it’s just so…so..different…so…

      me: I’m halfway through it.

      in my head I’m thinking…i wonder if she would fall over dead if I handed her one of my tentacle stories…?


    1. I do need to get back to this one too…so many tales, so few fingers. If I only had tentacles….I bet I could type 1,000 words a minute. But then again, I’d spend all my time thinking about fucking.


      I do that anyway. 🙂


  1. For a bit of a tippsy post, this is damn good. Trying to get Mrs. Tip to read 50 shades, just to see if the juices get flowing again. I tried to respond up a camp, but couldn’t keep a signal. Tip

    1. I’m about half way through it and find it an enjoyable read. It’s been panned by a lot of lifestylers, but if it gets someone thinking about D/s as not so “evil” then it’s served it’s purpose, right?


      1. PS, Tip…couldn’t you just run up an extra “antennae”…. *naughty giggle* (picturing a tin-foil tent on a certain Tip appendage….)


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