Introduction:
Lance – the man of the house
Tiffany – the horny drunk chick
=======================================================
Tiffany called me at work one Friday and told me she was drunk and in the mood. After several minutes of conversation that, luckily, hadn’t erupted into an argument, Tiffany mentioned something that immediately brought me to attention: baby oil and ass-fucking. I’d been waiting for another chance with this girl, especially the chance to fuck her ass, and her current state certainly worked in my favor. In addition, her guy was out of town with their son for the weekend. Damn, I’m one lucky son of a bitch.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” I said.
“Whatever,” Tiffany responded. “You talk a lot of junk, so we’ll see what happens.”
“I’m leaving now.”
I hung up the phone and turned to my co-worker. She’d heard at least my end of the conversation, nothing too revealing, but she was well aware of what I was talking my way into. I asked her if she could handle things if I left, and she told me to go ahead and take care of my booty call.
About thirty minutes later, we met a block from her house, beside an abandoned shipping warehouse, and I got into her car. She drove us to her place, and I was amazed at how much she actually had been drinking. This girl was trashed. Between the seats was a cup of vodka and cranberry juice, which explained why she was so wasted.
We exited the car after she parked it on her front lawn. As we entered the house, I got a good look at the place (I can see rather well in low-light situations).
“Quaint,” I said.
“Quaint? What does that mean?” (See what I meant about arguments?)
“I didn’t mean that in a sarcastic manner. The place is nice, cozy. It wasn’t an insult.”
“Oh, well whatever.”
“Where do you want to sit?” I didn’t really care, but it wasn’t my house, so I asked anyway.
She dropped onto the couch and put her drink on a table at one end. I sat beside her, and for some stupid reason I began to chat about work and other unrelated items; at one point, I did ask her how long her family would be gone. She got up at one point to re-fill her cup, and when she returned her mind was not at all on small talk.
“So,” she began, “are we gonna do this or what?”
Finally, the go-ahead was given. I leaned over and started kissing her neck, pushing her waterfall of thick hair back so I could reach flesh. Being drunk AND horny helped get things going quickly, and I soon had her shirt off and her bra immediately followed.
Tiffany had a set of massive boobs, each nearly twice as large as my head. The magic of the situation is they didn’t sag at all, despite their enormity. I’ve never been a boob-man, but they were so awesome that even I was impressed by them, and once they were freed from their lacy prison I showed my appreciation of what she had to offer.
I kissed down the slope of her left and into the crevasse between them and took a deep breath. She always smelled good, and I could still make out her scent over the smell of alcohol. Reaching up I caressed with both of my hands, each having plenty of space to explore. My mouth joined my left hand when I took her nipple in and my tongue made several circles around the tip before I applied suction and squeezed with each hand simultaneously.
Tiffany gasped and then let out a soft moan. She fell back against the arm of the couch and I followed, my lips still attached to her nipple. She ran her hands through my hair (this was years ago, before I shaved my head), tightened her fingers around the entwined strandes and pressed my face hard into her chest. Without releasing her grip, she motioned me to her other nipple, which I was happy to devote attention to.
As I continued my work, I let a hand drift down, under the waistband of her pants, and inside her thongs. I spread her hairless pussy lips and begain stroking her clit. Her continuing moans and short breaths indicated her heightened arousal, and I kept rubbing with my fingers and sucking with my lips.
“Are you ready for something bigger?” I asked Tiffany without slowing my manual manipulation of her clit.
“Mmmm, yeah,” she replied.
I got up and began removing my clothes. Tiffany stood and slid her pants and thongs down at once, then sat down on the opposite end of the couch and stretched out with her hands above her head.
I crouched on the cushions and began kissing her smooth legs, before lifting them and positioning myself with her legs over my shoulders. My cock entered her slowly and she arched her back and buried her head in a nearby pillow. Her pussy muscles gripping my cock felt great, but our action didn’t last too long before the cushions started slipping underneath us.
After a minute or so, I got annoyed with this.
“This isn’t going to work,” I said in a somewhat irritated tone. “Where’s the baby oil?”
Tiffany looked up at me briefly, her dazed and drunken stare slowly fading, and pointed in the direction of her kitchen. “It’s on the kitchen table,” she said.
“I’ll get it”
“I need another drink anyway,” she said as she reached for her cup.
I almost took offense to the drink comment, as if she needed to be blitzed to fuck me, but I quickly re-assessed the situation and knew it wasn’t me she needed vodka for. She wanted to be drunk so fucking around on Lance didn’t register, and maybe she wouldn’t remember the session with too much clarity.
I returned with the baby oil bottle in my hand and she took it from me after putting down her drink. Tiffany sat on the center cushion and squirted some of the oil in the palm of her hand and put aside the bottle. She rubbed her hands together briefly and began stroking my cock, oiling it from head to base thoroughly. Damn, she was good with her hands.
“Now what?” she asked without looking up from my glistening cock.
“Get on your knees,” I ordered. Something about the tone in my voice struck me as odd, as I am not accustomed to ordering anyone to do anything.
Tiffany climbed onto the cushions and leaned over the back of the couch, and I stepped up behind her with my cock ready for her tightest spot. She reached back and positioned me at the opening of her ass, and waited a moment before releasing me from her slippery grip.
“Go ahead,” she said as she lowered her head.
I slowly pushed into her ass and then reached around to continue what I’d started with my fingers in her pussy. After a few minutes, I stood straight, put both hands on her hips, and began thrusting in and out of her ass at a rapid pace. Tiffany’s breathing got heavier as I repeatedly filled her with cock and pulled back again.
After what seemed like fifteen minutes, she pulled away from me, letting my cock plop out of her ass and dangle in the air, pointing toward her. Most girls I’ve known can only take being buttfucked for five minutes or so, and she’d gone at least three times that already, so I assumed she’d had enough.
She surprised me by turning around, sitting down in front of me, and inhaling half my cock. She sucked me off for a minute or so and then resumed her position over the couch. I proceeded to re-enter her ass and began pounding her hard, my cock going so deep my balls brushed her pussy lips.
We continued our grunting and moaning with me ramming her ass for at least an hour (the clock was at an odd angle) before she again pulled off me.
“How do you want to finish?” she asked.
“Get on the floor.”
Tiffany got on the floor, lying face-down, and I straddled her hips. Again, I slid my cock into her ass until it felt like I might pop out of her mouth. Several more minutes passed, and my breathing began to quicken.
“Don’t come in me,” she said.
I wondered why, considering where I was fucking her (no fear of getting pregnant there), but it was her only request that night, and I was plugging her ass with cock. As my orgasm began, I pulled out of her ass and shot my load over her shoulder, where it splattered across the floor; luckily, it was hard wood and not carpet.
“That was incredible,” Tiffany said between breaths.
We both got up and cleaned ourselves off. I got dressed, and she put on a long night shirt and a pair of jogging pants. We drove around the corner to get my car, and when I pulled into her yard she came over and leaned into my window.
“Don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone.”
Wow! Coming from this girl, that was a major statement. She was hard-nosed and often insensitive, so the vodka definitely had an effect on her. Despite the fact that I’d just worn her ass out (literally), I felt bad about taking advantage of a drunk girl. Okay, it’s a stretch considering I just fucked another man’s wife in their house; hey, at least I didn’t fuck her in their bed.
I told her I couldn’t stay, that I had to get home to my family and be ready for work in the morning. We had a parting kiss, and I raced home.
——————————–
The next morning, at around lunch time, Tiffany called me at work. I asked her how she felt.
“I’m a little sore,” she said.
“You’re not sitting, are you?”
“No, I’m leaning on one hip. What happened last night? I can’t remember it all.”
“We had sex.”
“No, that wasn’t sex. That was FUCKING. Sex isn’t that intense.”
“Okay, we fucked.”
“What did we do?”
I proceeded to describe the events, and once I got to her sucking my cock after it had just been in her ass, she stopped me.
“I don’t want to hear anymore.”
“But that’s not all.”
“I don’t care. You didn’t shoot off in my hair, did you?”
“Hey, I wasn’t aiming for your hair, but you did tell me not to get any in you.”
The rest of my day at work was spent with a smile on my face, as I replayed the entire session and envisioned her shaking her head in disbelief over what she’d let me do to her.

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