This is a sexual work of fiction. All characters are above the age of consent.
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I'm not proud of this, but it was so late and I was so drunk.
It had been six weeks since Kelly dumped me, and I was equally horny and depressed. My friends dragged me out against my will, standing in the doorway of my bedroom and demanding I get dressed. I managed to find a clean polo shirt and some khaki shorts, and away we went.
By the time we got to the Bravo, I was more or less a functioning person. I was even looking forward to reconnecting a little, maybe doing some dancing. We got inside, found a corner, and my little group got down to drinking and yell-talking profound things at each other.
Our biggest yell was at the arrival of the one and only Harper Green. Harp was as tall as me, and beautiful. Long black hair and sharp features, shining blue eyes and a quick smile. She had been my best friend since almost the first day we'd met at college. That night she was rocking the ultimate in hot girl comfy shit. Black workout leggings, a goth girl crop top that showed off her tight flat stomach, and these beautiful purple frames for her glasses. She bounded up, giving hugs all around. She gave me a little smile and an arm squeeze, and said she'd buy me a drink. We drank, we cheersed, and we laughed.
Harp and I never dated, never even talked about it. Almost from the start of our friendship we were those weirdos everyone assumed were either married young or literal siblings. For years now, every important event in our lives was shared, every triumph celebrated, every sorrow drunk through. Her being there that night was huge for me.
That did not mean, however, we were not sexual around and with each other. We never fucked. In fact, she was gay as a post. But we were such good friends, had so much in common, eventually the barrier between us on that front dropped and we shared everything. And I mean everything. I knew in detail what her taste in porn was like. We had similar taste in women and she would send me pics she was jilling to, or give me the steamy details of her dates.
A couple of times when we were both single and both drunk we ended up as live jerk buds. She'd sling her long leg over mine and we'd go to town, me stroking to porn while she flicked her bean to scissoring sluts like a crazy woman. It was fucking hot as hell, but even then we never went anywhere close to crossing the line with each other.
The evening wore on and the Bravo filled up. Our cozy corner became first crowded, then slammed. The dancing kicked off too, and it became impossible to hear anyone that wasn't right next to you. I was crammed in with Harp and my close friends as a loose dance floor spring up nearby.
That was when I saw her from across the dance floor. Kelly. My ex. Here with a guy. And not just any guy, a friend I thought would never have gone behind my back. She was dressed in pure club slut wear, showing acres of skin and barely keeping her tits in check as she ground on my supposed friend.
I knew this was possible, had even used it as an excuse not to come tonight. But seeing her live and across the room sent me spiraling. I tried to leave but my group refused to let me go. Harp dragged me to the furthest corner of the club. One of the guys headed off to the bar and returned with an entire bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. I have no idea how many shots from that bottle I took but it was. Say it was a lot.
Have you ever been so drunk that you detach from yourself? Like you're half watching your actions from outside? That's how drunk I was. I'm usually a happy drunk and maybe a bit of a sleepy drunk. This night I was one morose motherfucker. And every drink I got down, I got hornier and hornier.
It wasn't helped that our corner of the club was still right up against the dancers. Hot college girls wearing little more than a whisper and a prayer writhed in front of me. Every time I looked up into the crowd I'd get crazy hard, and then have to drunkenly refocus to let it die down.
As the night wore on all my friends who had dragged me out slipped away, the stiff drink making them brave as they went hunting for tail.
As 1am ticked around, my refuge was just me, Harper, and a mostly empty bottle. We had spent the last 45 minutes with me sitting on a stool my buds had pulled over and Harper protectively talking to me, propping me up, and rubbing my back. With just the two if us in the corner the dancers had pressed in closer and closer until they were practically on top of us. She was exhausted from standing, and I shifted on the stool to try to make room for her to sit or at least lean.
She moved in just as the beat changed, and the dancers surged, completely pressing our space. The literal only place to go was into the far corner of the room. I slipped off to let Harper hop up on the stool, which she did, swinging around so she was facing into the corner. I found myself pressed into her back by the dancers, her tight little ass perfectly positioned against my crotch.
