Drive Home

By on May 2, 2014 in Stories | 0 comments

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“God, I smell like fluids.”

“Yeah – just being in the air of that place is enough to make it soak right through your skin.”

“We’ll take a bath. Would you like that?”

“Obviously. After the makeout train, we’re pretty gross. That was hot as hell, though.”

“God. M was all over you.”

“And then when you were sandwiched between me and that friend of theirs… she had such soft skin. It’s been too long since I’ve been with a girl. Where did you end up after the pileup?”

“Well, you were talking to A, so I went over to F and she introduced me to G.”

“Yeah? What’s she like?”

“She’s French, speaks perfect Spanish though. Cute. Great tits.”

“Yeah? Did she like you?”

“We felt each other up in one of the dark rooms, exchanged numbers to go for a coffee this week.”

“Haha, sweet.”

“You know, it’s like – I can talk about what happened, and I have memories of being there, of doing everything, but it almost feels like a dream.”

“Like an unreality. I know what you mean. It’s amazing, it’s erotic, but it’s like, too much to wrap my head around fully. Like, I did that, and that, and – oh yeah, that too. At a certain point, I just need to leave, to find myself again. And all I want to do is go home and take a bath with you.”

“Let’s do that.”

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