The following story is true to the spirit of the evening, if not the precise sequence of events. But boy, was it fun!
Amy loved her sex toys. Early on in our relationship, she was worried I might get freaked out by how much she masturbated. Boy, was she in for a surprise!
Strangely enough, Amy was otherwise quite demure, especially in public. She loved sex. A lot. And her arsenal of orgasm-related technology could arm an erotic SWAT team. But talking about sex outside of just the two of us made her blush & giggle. She bought all her toys through catalogs
yes children, long before there was the internet, there were these paper things called catalogs
because she couldn't look someone in the eye and say "How much is the that butt-plug?" or "Do those nipple clamps come in red?" I once jokingly called her "Dr. Jekyl & Ms. Hide-the-silicone-cock".
One weekend, we'd returned from going out dancing and I'd gotten a little drunker than I'd thought. By the time we got home, I was in sloppy shape. Amy warned me about that "last shot" of Jaegermeister. Still, I thought I was in luck because she was in sloppy shape as well. As I was soon to find out, Amy expected orgasms and was not going to take "too drunk to fuck" as an excuse.
We were making out big-time in the cab ride home and by the time we pulled up to her apartment, my hand was up her skirt and I'd removed her panties so I could finger her. I could see the cabbie grinning in the rearview. Being drunk, it seemed the thing to do to pull off her panties, drop them on the floor, and "forget" them in the cab when we pulled up to her building. Amy played along with a smile, winking at the cabbie as she exited. Considering her normal shyness, I figured I was in for a treat. Like they say, "Be careful what you wish for."
We stumbled into her apartment and began to paw at each other as we made our way up to her bedroom. She had a large futon on the floor and the moonlight streamed down onto it illuminating the room with a cool, blue glow.
Amy was down to her bra and nothing else before I'd even gotten my shirt unbuttoned. She stood around 5'5", shoulder length brown hair and glasses, generous curves with a soft, womanly belly. Delicious!
But Amy thought her boobs were the sexiest thing about her. They were large and full with big nipples. Amy really got off on somewhat rough nipple play. Often times I'd torment her by twisting and pulling on her nipples and telling her she wasn't allowed to touch herself. I'd kneel in front of her with her legs spread, pulling on her nipples, kneading them, squeezing them until she moaned. This got her VERY hot and bothered and I would watch that for what seemed like hours before pushing her down onto her back and kissing my way up her thigh.
I watched her hips gyrate as her reached around back to unhook her bra, her long, dark brown hair spilling around her shoulders. Amy licked her teeth lasciviously as her bra fell to the floor. Her thighs rubbed together as she cupped her liberated breasts in her hands and gave them a squeeze.
Amy loved anticipation. After getting worked up and getting naked, she liked to spend a few minutes alone before launching into the contact part of the sex. She would knead her breasts, pull her nipples, and feel her pussy start to get slick while she watched me fist my cock to attention. She liked being naked in the same room as her lover, neither touching the other, both growing more and more aroused.
Unfortunately, only one of us was naked. I was standing there gawking, not getting undressed. On top of that, I stumbled on the edge of the futon and fell onto my back. I giggled to myself about that last shot doing me in.
Then the bedspins hit.
I don't drink much and even less now than I did then. But back when I was drinking, I pulled out all the stops. Normally, this wasn't a problem when it came to sex. I usually knew to cut myself off when I was hoping to get laid later that night. But I discovered that night that I'm REALLY turned on by being out with a woman who is both drinking and whispering in my ear how much she's looking forward to my hard cock when we get home. DAMN, but that got me in a good mood.
All night Amy had been making obscene gestures with pool cues, dancing dirty with other guys to get me hot (it worked!), and grabbing my crotch in the darker corners of the bar. This was not the girlfriend I was used to. But I figured I could get used to it. When she kissed me, I could taste the alcohol on her breath as her tongue slipped into my mouth. It was glorious.
And glory evidently turned me into a moron. "Another shot of Jaegermeister, please." All of a sudden I was a callow college student again. Amy even said "Don't get so drunk that you can't get it up later" with a sly smile. I winked and tossed back the shot. And ordered another.
Which is why some time later that night I found myself lying on my back on Amy's futon, fully dressed, eyes closed, the room spinning like a ride at Disneyland. Some people hate the spins. Some people get ill from them. Back then, I loved the ride.
My mind began to wander. I thought of my college professor in my "Celtic Myth and Ritual" class. How the ancient Celts viewed hollow places like caves and hollow trees as sacred because within them, one is surrounded by the goddess. How fog and mist were associated with magic and illusion and how drunkenness was sometimes viewed as being in the embrace of the goddess.
Mmm, pagan goddess. Earth Mother. Soft, full thighs. Healthy breasts.
This is the part of the story where the non-drunk part of my brain FINALLY grabbed a shovel, whacked me upside the head and shouted "STOP DREAMING ABOUT GODDESSES AN OPEN YOUR DAMNED EYES!"
I did so and was treated to one of the most arousing sights ever, even though it was a bit upside down. Amy was masturbating again. Evidently, she decided to go on without me. Not that I could blame her.