Out For The Count (You Could Delete The O In The Last Word)

We'd been to a Christmas Party and drank far too much. Him more than me. In the taxi home he'd told me all the things he was going to do to me. Drunk, he can't perform. So, I took it all with a pinch of salt.

But, I hardly had time to close the front door when he's all over me. Pinned against the wall. Tongue down my throat. Hand up my skirt. Then, slipping down. On his knees. Skirt up. Knickers down. Tongue out. And for once he hits the spot. I'm aroused. Caught up with the furore. Wanting it. Hands behind his head, pulling in. Crotch pushed out. I was nearly there.....almost …..almost.

Then! he'd gone. Slipping away. A soft bump. On his back. Snoring.

I was mad as hell but desperate. Really desperate! So?! ......I sat on his face. Nose squashed. In the groove. Too and fro. Too and fro. Spluttering, lips trembling an added bonus. And I came. Noisily. Sod the neighbours. With no interruptions. - ''I can't breathe down here!'

And the best part?! He doesn't remember a thing!

And I'm not about to tell him.