Page 31 of Drunk Girl

“You could,” she muses, reaching for the button on my shorts. They drop to the floor a second later, followed by my t-shirt and boxer briefs. I pull her shorts and panties down her legs, then lean over and grab my wallet off the counter, pulling out the condom I keep in there, just in case. “Let me,” she says, grabbing the packet from my fingers as I toss my wallet back on the counter.

I watch as she tears the package open and then rolls it down my shaft. The contact of her hand to my cock has me ready to bury myself inside her. Once the condom is in place, she strokes up my cock from the base to the tip.

“That’s enough,” I growl. “I need inside you now.”

I slip my fingers through her wet folds, sinking two fingers inside her pussy to make sure she’s wet and ready for me, then tug her ass to the very edge of the counter, line myself up, and thrust inside her.

“Fuck!” I yell. The heat. The wetness. The all-encompassing feeling I get when I sink inside her. It feels like home. Like this is where I belong. Like she’s my forever.

“Lean back, hold yourself up with your hands, baby,” I tell her as I grab her hips. Once she’s supporting her upper body, I start thrusting. I watch as my cock disappears inside her, only to come out covered in her. The sight has my blood boiling and my orgasm quickly shooting down my spine.

I move one hand from her hip so I can strum her clit with my thumb. “I need you there, babe. I’m not going to last much longer,” I tell her as I speed up my ministrations. I feel her walls start to pulse around my cock as I drive into her, harder and as deep as I can get.

“Yes,” she hums and her legs lock around my hips as I pump faster and faster. I work at hitting her g-spot, all while still strumming her clit. “Ahhh!” she finally cries out a few moments later, and collapses forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and bringing her upper body flush with my own. I thrust through her orgasm until I’m spilling my release into the condom.

I rest my forehead against her shoulder as I suck in large amounts of air. The counter isn’t the greatest height for sex, so I soon slip out. I take care of the condom, then come back to stand in front of Ashley. Her body is still flush from her orgasm. She pulls me back between her legs, wrapping them, along with her hands, around my body.

“That was…” She trails off as I kiss her lightly. “Perfect,” she finishes once our kiss ends.

“It was,” I agree, a dopey smile on my face. “Are you ready to call it a night?”

“It’s only eight thirty. How about we watch something for a little bit? I’ll head to bed closer to ten.”

“Sounds good to me but, babe,” I say, looking down at her still-naked body, “if we’re going toactuallywatch TV, then you need to put some clothes on.”

“I know that,” she says on a laugh. “Same goes for you.”

Ashley pinches my side, then pushes me back so she can hop off the counter. She picks up her clothes that are either on the counter behind her or on the floor with mine. “You coming?” she asks as she turns to head for the bedroom.

I pick up my own clothes and follow like a puppy behind her. We toss our clothes into the basket in the corner, then pull out some lounge clothes. I laugh a little when we both pull on some athletic shorts and a tank top.

“What’s so funny?” she asks as she grabs her toiletry bag from the larger bag she packed earlier.

“Just that we practically match. We already think too much alike,” I muse, pointing back and forth between us.

“We’ve both got good taste, then.” She smiles, then heads down the hall and into the bathroom. I continue down the hall into the living room, making a quick stop in the kitchen to grab us each a glass of water before I plop myself down on the couch and turn on the TV.

I start scanning the guide as I search for something we’ll both like to watch, and see one of the Stanley Cup finals games is on. If I’m not mistaken, the Indianapolis Eagles could win the cup if they beat Columbus tonight. I flip to that channel and find the game is about halfway into the first period and the Eagles are currently winning, one-nothing.

Ashley comes out a few minutes later, her face scrubbed clean and her long blonde hair pulled up in a mess on the top of her head. “Hockey okay with you?” I ask, holding out my hand to her so she can cuddle up next to me on the couch.

“That’s fine. I don’t know much about it, but that’s okay.”

“If the team in white wins tonight, then they win the cup,” I tell her.

“I’m guessing they want to do that, then?” she asks, obviously knowing nothing about hockey.

I laugh at her lack of knowledge about the sport. “Yeah, something like that. The Stanley Cup is said to be the best trophy in team-based sports. It’s the only trophy from the four major sports played in the United States not to be reproduced each year. Instead, it travels from city to city, team to team. Each player from the winning team actually gets a day with the cup during the offseason. They can do whatever they want with it on that day. Many players will take it to local children’s hospitals or just have a day with it and their families.”

“Cool. So, I take it you like to watch?”

“I’m a lover of most sports. Plus, we play the games at the bar, especially if the Preds are playing.”

“Duh.” She smacks her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I forgot that you guys play games at the bar on a regular basis. Wait, what just happened?” she asks, pointing to the screen.

“They just scored.”

“Wow, the crowd really gets into it.”

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