Blacout

Just a note about the following story-this is my first attempt at writing here so while I hope to hear your honest thoughts please keep any criticisms constructive and respectful.

I have read erotica for many years and decided to try my hand at it. I wasn't sure where to start and people say to go with what you know so thats kinda it...more of a personal memoir, something to get off my chest, so this piece is really less of an example of how imaginative I can be but rather the ability to tell a story with decent enough detail and style that it evokes a feeling and response from the reader.

This is the beginning of the story...it isnt super racy but if people seem interested I will continue.

This took place many years ago now. I am not the same person. Thank you for reading.

*****

Back in my very early twenties I used to work as a server at a local steak house. It was a fun easy job that I could work around my college schedule but still helped me pull in enough money to afford for the small but pretty kick ass efficiency apartment that I rented. Young people in the restaurant scene tend to party and I was no exception, though I would occasionally have a weird side effect when I got too drunk that no one else I knew seemed to have...I could, from time to time, just blackout. I don't know if my body chemistry has changed or, more probable, that I am just more aware and making better decisions these days, but thankfully I don't blackout anymore.

Now you have to understand when I say "blackout" I don't mean pass out. What I mean is that every now and again when I got pretty drunk my mind would sort of short out on the memory side of things. I would keep functioning, well as much as a drunk person can, but no one would know the difference and then typically a short while after I would pass out. When I would wake up I could only recall events that happened before the blackout period. I learned this after some friends and I got drunk on a sleepover at their house once my junior year of high school. I woke up the next morning with a headache and my girlfriends were telling me how fucked up I was. I agreed with them of course, I was fucked up, but then they mentioned me walking on this tiny rail next to their pool and I thought they were making it up. They had pictures, it was real, apparently I walked the length of this thing for some stupid reason and while on one side was the pool, the other was concrete and I could have seriously fucked myself up.

So I learned then that if I didn't watch it and got too messed up that I could find myself in the same place again. Seems simple enough to avoid right? But I was young and I liked to party and drink and I did a good job of convincing myself that I could keep it in check. For the most part I was right, or at least that's what I tell myself.

More often than not I was lucky is more likely the real truth.

This is a story about a time I wasn't so lucky and how the events that followed altered my life for a year and a half after and in other ways altered me forever.

I will begin by telling you what I remember about that first night that started everything and I emphasize remember because there are parts that to this day I don't recall and it's likely I never will.

I remember it was late February because it was cold, frigidly cold, and valentine's had recently passed by and I had no boyfriend. I hate valentine's day for the way it can make you feel when you are young and single...like an outcast or a loser.

I never really gave up that hatred of that made up hallmark holiday.

It was a Saturday night and at our work if you worked the Saturday night shift you were probably off the next day, and for those of us in school there was no school the next day, and that meant if there was any night of the week to get wrecked...it was Saturday night. We would hang out after work at several of the cooks and servers places on any given night of the week to unwind and have a few drinks, but on this Saturday we really let go and this Saturday we were at my place.

My efficiency wasn't large, the name alone tells you that, but it really was pretty cool. My main room/bedroom was large enough to have several areas so I could have a sitting around the couch with the TV area, a desk and study area, and a bed and clothing area. I also had a separate room for a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small deck that came off the main room. So even though there were probably around ten people there that night, we all had space. In truth we were a pretty close crowd to begin with so a smaller place to us just meant you could be part of three conversations at once.

Rather than inventing a lot of new names, let's just say there were a pretty equal number of girls and guys there all pretty young ranging from 19 to late 20's. There was of course the typical work place on again off again romance dramas that plague every work environment and some of the repeat offenders were there that night reliving their same fights and make up make out sessions as you might imagine. I partied with these people for over a year by this point but I hadn't made it into that sort of drama and was content to keep it that way.

Don't get me wrong, there were guys I worked with that I had the hots for. One guy at the time, Ian, I figured to be a bit above my league but none the less I enjoyed flirting with him. To be honest I was a flirt, still am in many ways I guess, but all of us-the girls and guys there-we flirted all the time, and we were all used to it and comfortable with it so it was just accepted. It did make it hard to tell if someone really had an interest in you and if you didn't want to look like a fool you had to get the other person to make a move first so you would know for sure.

So we were having a good night, everyone was already several drinks in, some of the guys were out on the porch smoking a joint, some of them were crowded around the TV watching Jackass reruns on MTV and hollering at the screen, and some of us were in the kitchen taking shots while mixing in shots for jello shooters we were poorly attempting to make. I was doing my best to always be around Ian while not looking like I was trying to hang around him, and at the same time look cute and act like I didn't care who I was casually flirting with.

I did look pretty cute too, not that I'm bad looking now, but I was 21 then and while I would still consider myself average on a scale of hotness, I knew guys were attracted to me and I had a good sense of self confidence. I'm only 5'4" but back then I averaged around 140 lbs and to be fair at least 5 lbs of that was carried in my D size breasts and at least 10 lbs in my butt which was to my own credit round, tight, and firm. I kept my hair long back then just about mid back and I had some fun blonde accents that really looked nice contrasting against my darker chestnut hair and hazel eyes.

The rest of the group was still in their all black work clothes, but as it was my place and I arrived first before they showed up I got to strip down and take a shower so I at least didn't smell like the restaurant. I had changed into some cute black stretchy pajama bottoms that hugged my butt great and a hot pink spaghetti strapped shirt made out of like stretchy towel material. I still miss that shirt. It was comfy, gave just a hint of the bra underneath it allowing for a decent amount of cleavage exposure and it clung to my body like saran wrap. My belly was pretty tight back then so all it did was draw attention to my breasts while still being simple and innocent enough to not make it obvious I was seeking attention.

So I flirted with Ian and some of the other guys and girls, and the night went on pretty much the way it typically did. After a couple hours some of the "on again off again" couples left to go do their own thing, and few others were spacing out and in general the night was winding down. At this point Ian had already headed out and it was just me, Mike, Carol, and Aimee sitting around the couch finishing up drinks and watching TV. Carol and Aimee were both servers like me and close to my age and Mike was a cook in his late 20's. I flirted with Mike too, we were pretty close as far as work friends go and he was a well built guy...tall, short unkempt black hair, a decently toned body, and a typical devil may care attitude about life. But he was someone I always considered past my age interest so we were friends and I never really entertained other ideas about him. So it was no big deal at this point that I was cuddled up next to him on the couch while the girls were discussing who was more drunk and who should drive as they came together.

I remember just before they were heading out Mike headed to the kitchen and grabbed another beer, which was fine. The girls headed home while he was out on the deck smoking a cigarette so I grabbed a jacket and headed out to join him and wave goodbye to the girls below.

"They're heading out already?" he asked watching the two giggling figures disappear down the alleyway.

"Yeah, I think they were already past that point awhile back honestly, I hope they will be ok," I chimed in.

"Don't mind if I hang out and finish this one do ya? Just opened her up."

"Nah, it's cool, now I can have you all to myself," I giggled flirting with him as I jabbed him playfully in the ribs.

"Oh yeah?" he poked me back just under my boob.

"Yeah," I played back poking him again. And so this started off a poke war. We went on discussing other topics but each time we ended our sentence we would poke the other in jest. Then he took the opportunity to poke my boob. "Hey!" I shouted at him with a smile.

"What? Too rough for you? I guess I win then." he smirked locking eyes with mine.

"Never!" I played back and poked him again.

I remember this kept up for a bit, but his poking spots became almost all either on my breasts or my ass. I remember it dawning on me at some point that maybe this way more than just flirting...this guys likes me. And as I said Mike was cute, if older, and while I wasn't looking for the type of drama some people had at work, I found myself kissing him and not really acting or feeling like it was any big deal.

At some point we must have headed back in, I don't recall going in but I remember being on the couch with him for awhile kissing while his hands explored over top of my clothing. I know at one point his hand made it between my thighs because I have the vaguest recollection of embarrassment and what he could probably feel. I can get pretty wet when turned on and he was likely feeling that through the thin cotton panties and those tight pajama bottoms I had on. I don't remember much other than that aside from the fact that his fingers were pushing so hard through the fabric that my underwear had the feeling of being wedged up tight between my lips and I was half concerned he was going to poke a hole right through my pajamas just to feel my flesh. I really didn't want him to mess up my pajama bottoms, they were my favorite pair, and at that point I would have happily removed them so he could touch me there unencumbered.

Apparently at some point I did take them off, though I have no memory of it whatsoever. The very last memory I have of that night we were both still clothed and on the couch. When I woke up the next morning I was lying naked on my bed and my head was swimming in a sea of pain.

To be honest the naked part didn't faze me much at first, just the headache. I have slept in the nude since before I was 13 so my brain had to take in other clues slowly that alerted me that something was off. Of course, I laid there for a few minutes trying not to focus in too hard on the stucco ceiling that looked like someone had shot a thousand spitballs on the ceiling...it tended to move and swirl when I felt like this and I didn't want to begin my morning vomiting on my bed. So I would close my eyes and open them again as I tried to recall the events of the night before. I began remembering making out with Mike and smiled since it had been awhile since I had received any sexual attention.

I did notice however that I was on top of my covers and not under them...a bit odd but sometimes when I get hot I throw them off in the middle of the night. Still...they weren't balled up the side, they were still underneath me and as I peered down the length of naked body I discovered I wasn't naked...well, not fully. My feet were purple...which funny as it is was shocking to me.

It took a moment to realize that my socks were still on and of course they were purple...not my feet. I never leave my socks on, my feet get hot and I hate that sweaty feeling so this was unusual. I slowly attempted to sit up some in bed to and as I did and reached down and removed my socks I noticed an odd sensation around my pussy and inner thighs. My pussy was squishy and oddly sticky, like sticking together, sticking to my inner thigh, sticking to the covers I laid on and it was a sensation I was familiar with. It made me freeze still bent over holding the socks I had just removed.

I shower pretty much every time after sex but there have been rare occasions where I wouldn't, either due to being too tired, too fucked up, or knowing I would be having sex again shortly after. But on those rare occasions when I would wait this was the sensation I would be left with between my legs.

Crap.

Last I remembered we were just making out, did I really just have sex with a cook from work? I was ashamed of myself but still too groggy to really put my head together. I decided to get up and make it to the bathroom where there was Advil and I could soak under a hot shower and try to dampen the drums beating behind my eyes.

With each step to the bathroom my pussy was confirming what I already knew but I held my judgment until I got in the bathroom. There I could pee and really assess myself on the toilet. I gathered some Advil and a cup I kept in the medicine cabinet and avoided my own reflection in the mirror. I made quick work of two cups of water with the hopes that might help me rehydrate a bit. Shuffling over to the toilet as I sat and began spreading my legs the stickiness was even more apparent. I closed my eyes and sighed.

Forcing myself to open my eyes again I looked down to focus on the site of the stickiness and reached a hand down to investigate. My lips were practically sealed shut and I had to part them with my fingers or my pee was going to shoot out in any number of directions looking for a place to escape. Well, I was wet no doubt...but I get wet, maybe he fingered me and I got off so good I passed out or maybe I...

A few seconds that's all I got before a small bead of cum appeared at the entrance of my hole. My body twitched just seeing it form and with that I flexed just a bit and then the small bead began a thin trickle that just got thicker as it continued. That didn't come from me...that was male cum, semen, gooey sticky salty sperm and of course...my answer. I peed and allowed what cum I could flex out to sink down into the toilet's watery abyss. I got in the shower, scrubbed, and cleaned myself outside and inside making sure it was all gone and then I sat and let the hot water rain over my head and back bringing me some much needed comfort.

As my head started to level out I began to relax and rationalize the situation. So we had sex, it happens. We were already making out so it's not completely surprising something like that would happen. I just started to feel pissed that I couldn't even recall it. I never would have planned on having sex with Mike and it really wasn't even in my head to ever do it again, but if I was going to do the deed I should have at least been able to enjoy the moment let alone the memory.

Getting out of the shower I decided I would shoot him a text and see if I could get some idea how he felt about everything and more information in what I missed out on. As I started to put my clothes on I had made up my mind I didn't want him to know I blacked out and I was pretty sure I could get what I wanted out of him without trying too hard.

I reached for my comfy black pajamas and quickly tossed them in the hamper. The crotch was no longer wet but left every sign that it had been so I found my lime green pair of puma exercise shorts and slid them up over my thighs and ass. The jersey cotton always feels so good against bare skin and I was going to leave the panties off for a while and enjoy feeling clean and airy. After tossing on a comfy clean sweatshirt I was ready to sit down and decide just how to approach the situation with him.

Time to take the plunge. I pulled out my phone and clicked Mike under contacts. Here goes.

-Hey, sorry I crashed on you last night. It was fun hanging out.-

I didn't want to appear weirded out or flakey so I went for the chill approach. I was ignoring any thoughts of STDS for the moment, but planned to have that discussion next time we were alone. I had just ended my period days prior so even though I was less than thrilled that he came in me, I wasn't too worried about the baby equation.

Time ticked away and I tried to clean up the place as a distraction but my eyes kept finding their way back to my phone sitting on the desk staring at it just long enough each time to see if it blinked that a message was waiting.

It wasn't until I was back in the bathroom brushing my teeth that I heard the familiar sound of plastic vibrating on wood and damn near broke my neck making my way over to it. Toothbrush still wedged between my teeth and gums I flipped open my phone and there it was.

-Sorry had to work the lunch shift today to cover for Pete so I had to head back home last night. Glad to hear you had a fun time. Anything fun enough you care to repeat sometime soon?-

At this point i was getting impatient and I wanted to flat out say..."Give the juicy details Mike because you were so amazing I forgot all about it!"

I chuckled with myself for that thought and decided on a slightly less rude approach.

-I had fun, I really did but to be honest I was pretty fucked up and there are parts I'm pretty blurry on. Would you be a sweet boy and jog my memory?-

That would do it. I hated admitting I couldn't remember everything, but I wasn't specific and plenty of people have had blurry memories after a drunken night. I could tell he was still interested and what guy doesn't want to rehash sexual conquest especially when the girl eggs him on.

My headache was going away, I was getting to the root of what happened, about to learn about my own sexual exploits in 3rd person, and I decided to head into the kitchen and throw a bagel in the toaster. Some food to help soak up the rest of the badness would help get rid of my headache for good. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter and flipping it open the text message was still downloading. It finished and I saw he had attached a file along with the words -Does this jog your memory?-

I hit the file attachment and what popped up next made me weak in the knees. Literally I had to go sit down. I was looking down at my phone and on my phone screen there was me looking back at myself...with a cock in my mouth.

Seriously, I was in shock. The bagel burned in the kitchen but it just as well could have been my brain burning. It sure felt like it was. I couldn't believe he took a picture of me like that and if there was one there was probably more.

If I didn't do something quick this stuff could be all over the restaurant and I liked my job and didn't want to have to quit over something like this but I knew I couldn't live with how things would be once they all knew.

I could have found another job. I should have just quit and walked away from this. I wasn't thinking like that though. I needed to keep my job. I needed to handle this. I could totally handle this.