Alone With My Crush


She was passed out cold and I was drunk as a skunk but sober enough to know what I wanted to do was wrong.  She lay there, on the floor in a semi fetal position.  I cuddled up from behind to match her shape.  I’ve never seen someone that was in as rough shape as she was, her hair soaking wet and smelling strongly of whiskey and bile.  I began to run my hands through her matted hair and over her warm body.  And as my fingers traced her soft curves, I began to kiss her head and tell her how much I loved her, something I’ve never been able to bring myself to tell her in person. 

     From the sound of it the party out in the hall and the living room at the end, everyone seemed to be pretty wasted.  I could hear one of my friends bouncing off the walls like a ping-pong ball.  And for several hours, I had lain there, listening to the commotion and holding her in my arms; imagining what it would be like to do this every night.

     I didn’t want to try anything too funny with her since I a) felt it was wrong to take advantage of her.  And b) because even if it had been okay, there were still a lot of people who could potentially barge in at any second to get their coats off the bed or to check in on us. 

     I started to think, “Hey!  What could it hurt to have a quick feel?”  After all, we did have a blanket over us.  I reached over her side and lifted her shirt high enough to expose the bottom of her bra.  My palm came to rest on her smooth, flat stomach and began to stroke her warm skin.  Everything I did was done with the slowest tenderest effort so as to savor every minute, every part of her body.  I knew it would never be likely that I would have a chance to do this with her again.  My hand began to move down to her waistline, my fingers finding their way between cloth and flesh.  I continued to kiss her neck and shoulder as my fingers probed their way to their final destination. My hand slid further and further down her abdomen and still I had not felt even the slightest trace of even a single hair…she shaved.  In all my years I had never expected a girl like her to shave her pussy…but it felt as smooth and bare as the rest of her body did.  I was about to die right there and then when she stirred for the first time in several hours.  All I could think of was how much she would freak out if she found out what I was doing.  I started to pull my hand out of her panties when she suddenly grabbed my wrist and pushed it back down.  I couldn’t believe it!  She seemed to want me to continue.  I was so excited that even a fifth of vodka couldn’t keep my dick soft now.  By this time her pussy lips were really slick and I rubbed them with my index and ring fingers and pushed my middle finger inside her.

     Unfortunately, this is where my story ends, I wish I could continue…. hell I wish I had been able to continue but my stupid friends threw open the door and snapped a photo of us cuddled in a ball under the blanket.  Fortunately, my hand was quick to retreat as they yanked off the quilt for a better photo opportunity.  Thank God the hand is quicker than the drunken shutter finger since nobody seemed to be the wiser as to what I had been up to.

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