I wake to a warm ray of sun filtering through the dusty window blinds onto my face and within an instant am struck by the fact that maybe those last couple shots from the previous night were not a good idea. A need for water and aspirin is immediately apparent, but hasty movements are out of the question as well. Better to ease into a hangover. I stretch my body out and that's when I become aware that I'm not alone in bed, as my foot finds skin behind me. Dammit. Drew.
Quickly replaying the end of the previous night through my head: did I do anything stupid? He walked me home, a quick and relatively tame makeout session before we tumbled into bed and then we both crashed out. This is now the third time I'd woken up with him in my bed, each of them something of a surprise. I genuinely like the guy, but he's not the type of guy I normally go in for: quiet, sort of dorky, ineffectual, entirely average. But he clearly likes me, even if he's too shy to make any big bold moves. And yet, still, here I am in bed with him. Again.
I roll over from my right shoulder to my left to face him, now reminded that I'm down to little more than a skimpy pair of cotton panties. He's still asleep, peaceful, breathing slowly in and out, eyes shuttered, hair tousled, stubble another day closer to the beard he has no trouble growing. His unimpressive chest rises and falls slowly.
I recall getting ready to leave the party at Leanne's house last night, ready to stumble the couple blocks to my bed, already out the front door and on the way home when Drew catches up to me with "Maddie, where you going?" As I turn around to face him, he's already up to me and I lean into him and give him a hug as I mutter that it is time for me to turn in. After half-heartedly trying to change my mind, he offers to walk me home and I agree; it is always better to have a companion, especially at this time of night. I see myself as an independent girl capable of taking care of myself, but I ain't no dummy.
The walk home was mostly drunken chit-chat, recounting the drinks we had, the people we talked to, and other such nonsense, until we quickly arrived at the entrance to my dorm. Drew sputtered and stumbled a while, hoping to extend the night, and I took pity on him and moved in for a kiss. His touch was soft and sweet - I always like kissing him - and the distant kiss soon turned into a little heat and I pulled away and invited him in. Once in we tumbled onto the couch in my darkened front room, continuing to drunkenly kiss. Once Drew eventually got up the nerve to move on to grabbing my butt, and then getting a hand up my shirt, I put an end to it and told him I needed to get some sleep, then led him into my bedroom and let him watch me undress in the dim light of the streetlight shining through those same raggedy blinds.
Which brings me back to this moment, watching Drew sleep. I don't feel an all-out attraction to him, but he's easy. So many of the other guys I find myself physically attracted to are either childish buffoons or over-privileged assholes who get off on treating other people like shit. Drew's none of that. He's nice to me. He's nice to other people. He's mature. He's steady. He's easy to be around. And I just feel like he worships the ground I walk on. And he's sleeping just inches from me in this uncomfortable little twin bed. Sure, he probably just wants to get in my pants, the way all of those other guys do, but he's respectful.
Well, enough laying here staring at him for now. That need for water and aspirin, and a new need to go to the bathroom, are taking over, so I roll over, find the floor with my feet and bid a hasty retreat to the bathroom just outside my bedroom door. A quick splash of lukewarm tap water into the glass on the counter, a couple - better make it three - aspirin popped into the mouth and a quick seat on the toilet. There we go, now we're getting things done. After a quick wipe, I stop to examine myself in the mirror briefly. I look only slightly better than I feel but if this aspirin does the trick, I'm still hoping to avoid the worst of the hangover. I'm actually feeling better now than I expected to feel when I woke up just a few minutes ago - a good sign.
Back out of the bathroom and immediately back to the bedroom - not real interested in interacting with either of my two suitemates that share the other bedroom. As I sneak in my bedroom door, I notice immediately that my movement woke Drew up, as I see his big blue eyes take me in as I enter. He smiles and gives me a "good morning, beautiful" that makes me feel so good as I slip back under the covers with him.
In a burst of self-confidence, I press my bare chest up against his and give him a good, long, deep kiss to bring him the rest of the way out of his slumber, and he responds in kind. I wiggle the rest of my little body up against his and feel a bulge in his shorts, a bulge I've become only slightly acquainted with in our previous encounters. But, I know it is pretty big. And with that burst of confidence continuing, my hand slides down his stomach, slips inside his boxers, and in mere moments I've got his cock in my hand. I pull away from our kiss to see his expression and find a mixture of surprise, uncertainty and ecstasy in his face, a look that only makes me want to resume our kiss. As our lips and tongue mingle, my right hand begins to assess the monster in its hand. I'm no virginal schoolgirl, but I've certainly never encountered something the size of what Drew has been hiding in his pants. Morning wood has him rock hard and he is enormous. And the dirty thoughts in my head turn even dirtier as we continue to kiss.
Quickly, I pull away from our embrace and throw back the covers, then I slowly slide down his body, keeping my eyes on his face as I creep lower and lower down the bed. With every inch, the expression on his face turns more expectant, until I find a spot for myself between his legs. I'm certainly not comfortable, with my ankles and feet hanging over the edge of the bed and my butt practically squished up against those blinds in the window, but there I am between his legs, my hands reaching to open the fly on his boxers that barely contains his cock. With a slight movement of the fabric, it flops out towards me and catches me even more by surprise as it stands up to greet me. "Wow" is the only thing that comes to my mind and my lips.
