I was drunk that afternoon. Not just overly-affectionate-and-possessed-of-poor-judgment drunk and not quite so-hammered-I-couldn't-remember-my-name drunk. The very nice, pleasurable kind of drunk where all you really want to do is kick back with good friends and appreciate their conversation.
Earlier in the day I had been at the overly affectionate stage. I'm generally very reserved physically when I'm sober, and it sometime surprises people how touchy-feely I get. Fortunately, I was drunk enough that I wasn't embarrassed quite yet, and I didn't think, in the back of my mind, that I had done anything horribly embarrassing yet.
The party was small. I had come home from college for spring break, and as luck would have it none of my friends were there. But I was close with my younger sister, who was in her senior year of high school, and I'd been hanging out with some of her friends. The youngest o them, Victoria, had just turned 18, and it wasn't a bad deal, since most of them were fairly attractive girls, filled with a puppyish enthusiasm for life as their graduation date approached.
We were at the home of one of them, Amanda, whose parents were willing to forgive and forget whatever we did in the basement so long as it didn't get too rowdy. As the resident 21-year-old, I had made a booze run and stocked up on Malibu, Fireball, and Mike's Hard Lemonade. I knew my audience, and the party had been roaring earlier.
Now most everyone had trickled away home, including my sister, and I was left alone with Amanda and another of the girls, Victoria. Amanda had been matching me shot for shot earlier and as such was completely wasted. Victoria, however, had spent most of the day as cheerleader, egging on everyone else to greater heights of drunkenness.
Now I was watching, sprawled comfortably on the couch, while Victoria tried to cajole Amanda up and out of her chair and into bed. Amanda was one of those girls who tended to lose clothing as the evening progressed, and at this point she was down to a tight tank top and a pair of borrowed, barely-there workout shorts. I, of course, was duly appreciative of her round, full ass and the smooth expanse of breast that spilled from her top, jiggling interestingly.
I had been an admirer of Amanda's for awhile, and drunk me had made a point of complimenting her choice of brief sheath dress and long, artfully tousled brown hair and casually (I thought) cuddling close to her. If I were true to form, I would be struck low by embarrassment over the next few days, but for now I just rested in a warm glow.
Victoria I didn't know as well. She was a friend of a friend of my sister, who played on the soccer team. I thought at the time that I appreciated lush figures and long hair, and Victoria had a slim runner's build, a little bob haircut, and a devilish smile that when combined with her short height made her more imp than seductress. But I had noticed today that her blue eyes could see straight to your soul... as they did now, giving me a knowing look as I ogled her helpless friend.
Rather than blush and turn away as I would have sober, I smiled back, and she just rolled her eyes and turned to Amanda. It didn't take much longer for her to get the bigger girl moving, and I got the privilege of watching from behind as they made their way upstairs.
After they left, I began to feel tired without anything to occupy my attention, and let my eyes slide closed.
I wasn't sure how long it had been, but it was darker, and I felt noticeably more sober, when I felt something tickle my ear and started abruptly awake. It was Victoria, dressed in the same black jeans and tight, modestly v-necked red t-shirt she had worn all evening, leaning over me, her blond hair falling forward to my face. Those blue eyes stared into my face from inches away, and I felt locked into place by their sharpness. Though that may have been the booze.
Her voice was very serious, and she settled on top of me on the couch, her thighs clamping tightly to my torso, just above my waist.
"Do you think that was appropriate, John?" Her tone was teasing, but her eyes accused. I may have said something, but between the booze and the novel situation I doubt it came out as much more than gibberish. She continued speaking over me anyway.
"Getting that poor girl drunk and touching her like a perv? We all saw it... what would your parents think?" As she spoke she ground down against me, and I realized abruptly that I was wildly aroused, my dick tight and awkwardly angled in my tighty whiteys. I shifted, trying to adjust myself, and realized that my hands were pinned between her thighs and my body.
"What would the cops think?" She emphasized the word cops, getting breathy and eager, and pushing herself down sharply towards my groin again. For the first time, she offered a smile. I was not a nice smile.
"I think if you don't want to get in trouble you should do what I say, don't you?" I started to answer, but serious once again, she didn't let me. One finger covered my mouth, and the other hand tangled in my hair, firm but not unpleasant. "Shut up, and maybe I'll even let you have some fun."
"I'm going to get up, and you're going to get on your knees for me like a good boy, right?" I didn't know how to respond, and I didn't have to. Her hand pulled my hair painfully tight, and she forced my head to nod. That wicked smile was back as she slowly edged back off me, pulling me forward by my hair while she went.
I ended up half falling to the floor at her feet, looking up at her from about knee height with her hand resting gently on my head. From this angle, her legs looked very long, her perky breasts took on a new prominence, and that smile and those sharp eyes acquired a new malevolence.
