Party Girl Has A One Night Stand Part 1
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I rolled over and felt a familiar slimy stickiness between my legs that reminded me I hadn’t spent the night alone. But who the guy had been – or where he was now – I had no idea. Nor did I care.
“Man, I am SO whacked – and it feels SO good . . .” that’s the last thing I remember thinking before I passed out last night. But I just woke up on the bathroom floor. My mouth tastes like the inside of a poodle’s asshole and my head’s pounding faster and louder than a jackhammer .
And where the hell were my panties ? Had I even bothered to wear any ? I had no recollection – it was anyone’s guess . . .
Whoever it had been, it wasn’t Mr. Big . Wow ! What a night THAT had been . . . In spite of the crappy way I felt right now, I had to smile as I remembered all the fun I’d had then. It had been a little more than two months since we’d spent that memorable night together in his hotel suite. He’d told me he had an awesome time with me, and he’d even promised he’d be in touch later – but of course he hadn’t (at least not so far). But then, our encounter had only been two months ago – and he was in the middle of a world tour. So I was sure he’d give me a buzz as soon as his hectic life settled down. I felt myself getting wet between the legs just thinking about it.
Well, back to right now . . . There were two glasses on the floor; one of them with my trademark candy-red lipstick smeared around the rim. That glass was totally empty. The other glass held a couple of inches of something clear – vodka, maybe ? – in the bottom. I gulped it down without thinking or checking what it was.
I stood up and noticed a few new bruises as I stretched. Whoever he was, he must’ve been a little rough last night; I don’t really know – I have absolutely no memory of anything that happened.
I wandered into the kitchen, where nearly a full bottle of gin stood waiting for me on the counter. I splashed some into a glass, grabbed a few ice cubes from the freezer and downed it all in one gulp. Now where the hell were my cigarettes ?
I always had a cigarette after sex, so there was a good chance they were on the bedside table – that is, if we’d fucked in bed. I stumbled in the general direction of the bedroom.
I saw my thick black leather belt laying across the bed; hmmm . . . I walked across the room and checked my ass out in the full-length mirror – and sure enough, there were several new belt-shaped marks across it. Try as I might, I still couldn’t remember anything about last night’s antics . . . The dog collar and handcuffs dangling from the bedpost ought to jog my memory, but they didn’t – man, I must have really been out of it !
My cigarettes ! I sat down on the side of the bed and lit a Marlboro. I definitely needed another drink to go with the cigarette, so I motored back to the kitchen. No ice necessary this time – it just takes up room in the glass. I was starting to notice that my asshole hurt, so I was guessing it got a little action last night. Still couldn’t remember a fucking thing, though . . .
I poured a full glass of gin and took it back to the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. I finished the cigarette and put it out. I downed half the gin, bent my knees and spread my legs wide. I inserted a finger deep into my cum-filled cunt and wiggled it around. Mmmmmm . . . But I wanted something more, something bigger and harder . . .
My favorite vibrating dildo was in the top drawer of the bedside table. I got it out and fired it up. It was a tight fit, but it slid right inside my snatch, no lube needed. I turned on the “slow pulse” function, and moaned as it did its business. I finished the gin and laid my head on my pillow, closed my eyes, and remembered my incredible cum-filled night with Mr. Big. I rubbed my big nipples until they were hard little buttons. I began sliding the big dildo in and out of my cunt, occasionally rubbing it up against my clit. It wasn’t long before I was lost in a flood of pleasant memories and sensations.
Yeah, that had definitely been a night to remember . . .
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