It was my twenty first birthday and I was celebrating. I had drunk before, but this was my first time to do it legal. My boyfriend Kyle was out of town visiting his family for summer break, so I was out alone. After awhile it started getting late and I was quite intoxicated. I called for a cab to take me home. It picked me up from the bar and took me home. Kyle opened the cab door and I stumbled out. Fortunately he caught me in his strong arms. I giggled. He carried me into the house.
"My hero." I slurred.
"Damn babe, how much have you had to drink? You reek like a brewery." Kyle said.
He was slurring his words too. I giggled again. His babe sounded like he said piss.
"Umm, one or two?" I said, holding up all my fingers.
He carried me into my bedroom and set me down on the bed. He fiddled with the sheets, pulling them back to let me in. I decided to reward him for his gallantry. I reached over and grabbed him.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Rewarding you." I said, pulling at his pants.
"You can't!" He protested, then said some things I couldn't make sense of so I ignored. I was pretty strong and able to subdue him. I stripped my panties off of me and tossed them aside. Taking his pants and underwear off was a little more difficult, but I managed. I was wearing a frilly skirt, so now nothing stood between my genitalia and his dick.
I held him naked on the bed, and hiked up my skirt. I straddled his struggling form. His cock was rock hard.
"Stop! I'm not Kyle!" He protested.
My room was a little dark, but I knew it was Kyle that carried me in, and his voice was too familiar to be anyone else.
"Kinky. Ok stranger, let me make you feel good." I said.
I covered his mouth with mine, kissing him as I ground my hips against his. His shaft found the space between my folds. I ground against it, coating it generously with the dewy lubrication of my arousal. I worked it a few more times, and then moved to bring it inside me. It easily slid into my cockhungry well. Kyle attempted to protest, really getting into the spirit. I ground and thrust against him, working his shaft. He feigned more resistance, but soon got into it. His hands found my butt and he began to pull me to him. His breathing got heavy. He felt real good. I broke my liplock.
"Your dick feels so good inside me." I told him.
I began to seriously work it, squeezing down, determined to give him an amazing ride. I rhythmically flexed on top of him, rolling my hips and milking his shaft the best I could. The heavy necklace I was wearing tapped against my chest in counter rhythm to my gyrations. The room was silent except for our heavy breathing, the tapping of my necklace against me, and lewd wet scorching as I used Kyle to draw my intimate moisture out into the air. Then he groaned and pulled me on him, holding me tight as he began pumping his essence into my body. I collapsed as he filled me up, passing out on top of him.
***
My head hurt from a massive hangover. I stretched out. I felt a slight pull at my crotch as dried body fluids tugged at my pubic hair. The air smelled a little of aftersex. It was clear that in my drunken stupor I had sex, but I couldn't remember it. I tried to remember. I vaguely recalled seeing Kyle under me as we fucked. But the boy under me had brown hair. Kyle was a redhead. I couldn't remember much more. I sat up and felt a little wetness between my legs. I looked down and saw milky goo had leaked out of my vagina from my movement. Semen. I remembered being at a bar, and taking a cab home. Was I alone in the cab? Someone carried me in and I had sex. Unprotected sex. I looked around. I was in my room, but alone. Kyle wasn't due back in town for another few weeks. My panties were discarded on the ground. I examined them. There was no residue of cum in them that I could tell.
I was pretty sure the sex I had last night happened here, and the panties confirmed it. Given the fluid leaking from me there would have been cum on them otherwise, or they would be missing. My brother was home and would have prevented someone from taking advantage of me, which meant the sex was consensual. I had cheated on my boyfriend. I wiped the cum off my cunny with my hand. It turned instantly sticky. I wiped my hand off with my underwear, then used them to wipe up a bit better. Kyle was always a perfect gentleman, and never forget to wear a condom. A trait my drunken hookup obviously didn't share. My purse was on the nightstand, and both it and the nightstand had condoms in them. I put my face in my hands. I couldn't believe how stupidly irresponsible drunk me had been. I could get pregnant, or worse, catch a disease. I went into my nightstand and pulled out my emergency contraceptive. Kyle was good, but condoms can break. I kept a package just in case.
I opened the package and saw one pill was already missing. I thanked drunk irresponsible me for having at least a little common sense. I put them away. I looked around the the room. There was no sign of the man. Apparently he had his fun and left. I was grateful to avoid that awkward conversation. I opened my drawer and looked at my clothes. I didn't have anywhere to be, and I really didn't feel emotionally ready to face the world. I grabbed my pajama pants and a matching tank top. I selected my most frumpy panties. I wasn't leaving the house today so i eschewed the bra. I went to the bathroom to take a shower and clean myself up. I usually liked the smell of Kyle on me after sex, and sometimes wouldn't shower. But this other man's scent must have faded, because I could only smell cum. I still washed off good, scrubbing until I was raw. None of it belonged on or in me. Kyle was my man. Once I felt clean I got dressed, tossed my clothes in the hamper, and went out to the living room. My brother Brandon was sitting there, refusing to meet my gaze.
"About last night..." He said.
I sighed.
"Last night was an accident. I got way too drunk. Can't we just forget about it?" I said.
"That will be hard to do." He said.
"How about just not telling Kyle?" I asked.
I was worried. Was he about to blackmail me? Did I leave a public trace of my indiscretion?
"As long as you don't tell Emily." He replied.
I felt relieved. Apparently I caught him cheating too. I wondered if it encouraged me to be so reckless last night.
"It's a deal." I told him.
I sat down and watched tv next to him. Neither of us looked at each other. I liked his girlfriend Emily. She had a good heart. I imagine he probably liked Kyle.
A few hours later I started to feel peckish. I decided to order pizza, but I couldn't find my wallet. I searched all over until I asked my brother.
"It's probably still in my car." He replied.
I went out to his car and got it. It was there. He must have driven me home with the boy I was with. And probably the woman he slept with as well. I wonder how they got home. They must have been friends. I remembered the brown hair. I made a mental list of all my brother's friends who shared his hair color. It wasn't a long list, I was sure I would figure it out eventually.
We had pizza, but things remained awkward between us. Several days later I finally figured out why. Brandon came out of the laundry room. He looked at me.
"Put your own damn clothes away." He said and stormed off.
In the past we had folded each other's clothing. He did one week, me the next. I went into the laundry room and saw he started folding some of my clothes. Where he stopped made me curious. On top of the unfolded pile was a pair of my panties. There were two other pairs already folded. I recognized the unfolded pair as the ones I was wearing a few days ago on my birthday. I wondered why he freaked out about them. They were clean and stain free. Then it hit me. He had probably seen them before, as they were taken off. He had brown hair, and it explained where our other partners went. He had been awkwardly avoiding me, and hadn't been able to meet my eyes. I left the laundry room and knocked on his door.
"Go away." He said.
