Author's note: This series is classified as lesbian sex, because the focus is the female protagonist's relationship with another female. There are some heterosexual components to the story, but I hope you'll let that slide. For this mini-series, I was inspired to go for a drunk dream-like narrative. Enjoy!
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I show up at the house. It's close to midnight, but the party is just starting. After all, we're in college; we're young, dumb and horny as fuck...
A tray of shots passes by me. The carrier stops and offers me some. The drinks all have different colors; I pick the bright green and chase it down with the smoking black one. Person to my left gives me an unlabeled bottle with an intoxicating smell -- no discussion. I take a swig and pass it to my right.
I make it to the kitchen and find my friends. All at different heights of consciousness, most of them still recognize me. We hug, we move to the living room. The headless mannequin stares at me and, my mind state yet unaltered, I don't stare back.
Another round of drinks, as shots and bottles... I'm feeling a bit more fun, a bit more confident in my skin. Alcohol does to that you, makes you feel almost invincible -- I savor that feeling.
Somebody's at the laptop, pretending to spin. The EDM tracks belie his movements. My body picks up a tempo of its own and I'm dancing in the living room, by myself for the moment.
My friends come through the crowd. Do I want to play poker? Yes, I do. We move to one of the bedrooms, because the bed is the only flat surface we can find.
Chips and cards fall on the bed. The guy that's an Econ major takes our real money and gives us chips. There are five of us playing, but more come to watch. One of them lights a cigar. The guys pass it around without offering it to us girls.
Overall, I win 3 pots. I want to cash out. The dealer openly puts my share into his pants with a grin. I have to drag him to the bathroom.
We can't even find the light switch. In the dark, we grope at each other, kissing and biting whatever we can find. His hands go under my shirt. Seconds later, he breaks our kiss to say, "I thought you had a navel piercing."
I shake my head no, "You might wanna try a couple of inches south of the border." I feel him smile as we continue tongue wrestling.
He unzips my jeans and slides them down. I manage to slip it off one of my legs, while I fumble with his zipper. His erection jumps out of its constraints.
We're similar in height. Once I wrap my leg around him in the tight space, he manages to slip my panties to the side and guide himself in.
My orgasm comes on hard and fast from the penetration. I'm happy with an easy orgasm. He slows down for me to recover, then thrusts into me for a few more minutes before he's close and pulls out.
Clumsily, he pushes my head down and I swallow him. He vaguely tastes like smoke, or maybe it's the cigar I smell on his clothes.
On my way up to standing position, my shoulder hits the light switch. We're momentarily blinded by the light. Then pants up, zippers closed; we share another kiss. I find the money I'm owed on the ground and stuff it into my bra before going back out.
Poker game is over. We all do another round of shots and bottles. OK, I'm more than a little tipsy now. What's worse, I'm still wet...
I go into the living room. The TV is on, but it's just static. I stare at it for a little.
A minute later, I'm dragged into a discussion about WWII. What side were we on, which fronts did we fight on? Did the history books we read at school offer us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?
