she going? Logic took over my addled brain and I surmised that she must know someone else that lives here. We walk in silence as my brain refuses to produce any words for me. Where was that restraint for the last three hours fuck nut? We are now side by side although rather than move on, she is keeping in step with me. What is happening here? I have absolutely no idea what to do so just kept walking. It does not help that the crisp winter air is now coursing through me and blending with the alcohol in my system.
I am no longer tipsy but drunk.
It would seem that I have exhausted my word allocation for the day as my brain still refuses to give me anything to say. Now? When I actually need it? I have spouted nothing but utter nonsense all night and yet this is the moment my brain decides to abandon me? Say something. Anything! PLEASE! Now I am completely lost, what should I do? What can I do? Each step is taking us closer to my home. To my sanctuary. I do not like this, not at all. Drunk and confused is not a great combination. I am ambling along, shuffling as slowly as I can, but cannot bring myself to ask Sian what is going on for fear of being…of being….of being what?
Then it occurs to me that I am actually in fear of being rude .
Sian follows as I turn into the entrance of my building so there is no longer any doubt that she is coming up to my place. But why? Even I don’t want to spend another minute with me this evening. It must just be for a coffee. She just wants a coffee and she certainly deserves one. I could certainly use a coffee and try sobering up to get a grip on this situation. It’s only now, whilst fumbling for my keys at the front door, that I realise that still neither of us has uttered a word since the pub. I was nervous before but undoubtedly more so now. My mind is racing trying to make sense of all this. She has hardly said anything all night. Then again, that was mainly my own fault. Whilst they were admittedly limited, she did have some opportunities to speak. Maybe, just maybe, she is so shy that she needs the seclusion of a one on one situation to actually open up. Am I now going to get her life story when all I want to do is curl up in bed and, in a sadistic twist of irony, actually end this living nightmare that I am solely responsible for?
It was as I unlocked and opened the door that I felt a soft but firm hand on my back, pushing me inside from behind. What the fu…? It is a “fight or flight” moment and so I attempt to turn in an effort of availing myself of the situation. Instinctively my hands come up to help defend myself. Yet it is another hand that has found the back of my head and pulls me somewhat aggressively downward where there is a tongue waiting to be plunged deep into my throat.
Why is Sian is kissing me?
Never in my life have I experienced such a bizarre situation. I find myself reciprocating the “kiss” even although I am not entirely certain that this is the best description for it. On my side, it felt like I was being given some sort of medical treatment. She could very well be a paramedic as this is close to mouth-to-mouth and I feel like I’m breathing through my asshole. I move my head back for air and try, for what feels like the hundredth time in the last four minutes, to take stock of the situation. My first thought is to clear us from the door so I can at least close it. Nobody, and I mean nobody, would want nor need to witness such an assault . Mind you, witnesses might help me for what is all but certain to be a police enquiry by the time this , whatever this is, by the time it’s over.
I manage to close the door by falling back against it. Sian relents from the kissing so I tilt my head up and take what seems to be my first breath of clean in minutes. I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my mouth and taste the heady mixture of whisky and lipstick. It’s as I exhale that I realise that she has unzipped me and actually has my cock in her
I am no longer tipsy but drunk.
It would seem that I have exhausted my word allocation for the day as my brain still refuses to give me anything to say. Now? When I actually need it? I have spouted nothing but utter nonsense all night and yet this is the moment my brain decides to abandon me? Say something. Anything! PLEASE! Now I am completely lost, what should I do? What can I do? Each step is taking us closer to my home. To my sanctuary. I do not like this, not at all. Drunk and confused is not a great combination. I am ambling along, shuffling as slowly as I can, but cannot bring myself to ask Sian what is going on for fear of being…of being….of being what?
Then it occurs to me that I am actually in fear of being rude .
Sian follows as I turn into the entrance of my building so there is no longer any doubt that she is coming up to my place. But why? Even I don’t want to spend another minute with me this evening. It must just be for a coffee. She just wants a coffee and she certainly deserves one. I could certainly use a coffee and try sobering up to get a grip on this situation. It’s only now, whilst fumbling for my keys at the front door, that I realise that still neither of us has uttered a word since the pub. I was nervous before but undoubtedly more so now. My mind is racing trying to make sense of all this. She has hardly said anything all night. Then again, that was mainly my own fault. Whilst they were admittedly limited, she did have some opportunities to speak. Maybe, just maybe, she is so shy that she needs the seclusion of a one on one situation to actually open up. Am I now going to get her life story when all I want to do is curl up in bed and, in a sadistic twist of irony, actually end this living nightmare that I am solely responsible for?
It was as I unlocked and opened the door that I felt a soft but firm hand on my back, pushing me inside from behind. What the fu…? It is a “fight or flight” moment and so I attempt to turn in an effort of availing myself of the situation. Instinctively my hands come up to help defend myself. Yet it is another hand that has found the back of my head and pulls me somewhat aggressively downward where there is a tongue waiting to be plunged deep into my throat.
Why is Sian is kissing me?
Never in my life have I experienced such a bizarre situation. I find myself reciprocating the “kiss” even although I am not entirely certain that this is the best description for it. On my side, it felt like I was being given some sort of medical treatment. She could very well be a paramedic as this is close to mouth-to-mouth and I feel like I’m breathing through my asshole. I move my head back for air and try, for what feels like the hundredth time in the last four minutes, to take stock of the situation. My first thought is to clear us from the door so I can at least close it. Nobody, and I mean nobody, would want nor need to witness such an assault . Mind you, witnesses might help me for what is all but certain to be a police enquiry by the time this , whatever this is, by the time it’s over.
I manage to close the door by falling back against it. Sian relents from the kissing so I tilt my head up and take what seems to be my first breath of clean in minutes. I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my mouth and taste the heady mixture of whisky and lipstick. It’s as I exhale that I realise that she has unzipped me and actually has my cock in her
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