They parked my fat ass on a stool, and started mixing. I don't recall much about the drinks I was given, except for one called "Rocket Fuel". It taste... like Hawaiian Punch and went down as such. Boy, did I get fucked up. My hair was a mess. I started singing along, loudly, to the jukebox. I still can't hear Etta James "Sunday Kind of Love" without cringing at the thought of me belting it out at the top of my lungs. Apparently, at some point, I decided I didn't want to wear my bra anymore, and. The feel of my breasts, heavy in my hands. My palms sliding across my stomach and down between my legs. My finger tips rolling my clit gently between them. I had just started to feel a tightening begin when I heard the faint sound of the doorbell! I must have lost track of time, it had been so long since I’d had sex. I turned off the water and grabbed the nightshirt that I’d slept in last night, pulling it over my head on the way to the door. It was long enough that I didn’t need any bottoms,. More

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