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She slipped the shoulder straps of her uniform - what was left of it - off her shoulders and pushed the bodice down, as if she were suddenly too hot in it. Pretty soon she was standing there, stark naked, in the forecourt of the Bavarian smorgasbord restaurant she'd just been given the sack from. I’m not sure who had let her have alcohol, but it hadn’t been a good idea...

Submitted:May 26, 2011    Reads: 1,550    Comments: 1    Likes: 4   

It was pretty obvious that she was a little bit drunk.

'Fuckin' Nazi cunts...'

'Astrid? Come on. You know they're not Nazis...'

'They are,' she insisted, lifting her leg onto the wall and letting me into a little secret about her underwear, 'Fucking. Nazi. Cunts.'

I may have just been cuntstruck (i was, indeed, cuntstruck), but there was just something irresistibly cute about her drunken drawl...

'Make me fucken... steins! Fucken steins! "Fill mein stein, fraulein!!" Fucken cunts.'

Cute as she was, i was beginning to get worried that she'd fall off the wall and split her head open, spilling high-alcohol-content blood and brain fluid all over the charming Bavarian cobbled driveway.

'Come on, Astrid. Hop down off of the wall and i'll take you home. We can sort this out later...'

'Fuck later. Fucken Nazis. Fuck their fuck...'

She slipped the shoulder straps of her uniform - what was left of it - off her shoulders and pushed the bodice down, as if she were suddenly too hot in it. I wondered where the apron and little hat and all the other Munchen Beer Hall paraphernalia that went over the simple base dress had ended up.

'People will see your tits, Astrid...'

'Fuck them. Fuck them all. They spend the whole fucken morning trying to see my fucken tits. Pensioners and grinning fucking pervert cunts all looking at my tits the whole fucken... whole fucken time...'

She looked like she might throw up. She swooned a bit, put her hand up to her forehead, as if she were checking where her brain was in relation to the rest of her.

'Let me get you home before you...'

She leant forward and threw up. She'd had a lot of whatever it was she was throwing up. Possibly chips. Possibly rosti. Hard to tell.

Inside, a beer barrel polka was starting up, and the sound of stomping feet shuddered through the walls.

'Time to go, Astrid.'

She climbed down off the wall, stepping into the fringes of her own vomit with her bare feet. She kept picking at the dress until, finally, she had it loose enough to drop to the ground - straight into the pile of vomit - and step out of it.

She was standing there, stark naked, in the forecourt of the smorgasbord restaurant where she had worked for months up until (presumably) some time in the last few hours.

I'm not sure who had let her have alcohol, but it hadn't been a good idea.

'Old fucken cunt bitch Gilda... "let zem touch ze tooshy"... fuck that...' She looked me full in the eye. 'What the fuck am i? A fucken prostitute?'

The question might have retained more of its gravitas had she not been standing naked in a pile of vomit. Not that prostitutes do that, of course, unless they've been paid to...

She flapped her arms in the air. 'I'm fucken goin' home. Drive me.'

Much as i wanted her sitting in my car naked and drunk (she was quite funny when she was drunk, when all the rage and swearing had evaporated), i wasn't so keen on having her stomach contents sitting in my car. Not unaccompanied, anyway.

'How about we get you a blanket or something and sit you down for a while?'

She frowned at me like i'd suggested something to do with a cat and electrical tape.

'How 'bout we fucken go the fuck home? Fucken now?'

The drive home was fraught, but only, i suspect, for me. I kept waiting for a stream of vomit or shit or urine to pour out into the velour upholstery of my car, but, somehow, she held it all together.

The novelty of driving through mid afternoon traffic with a naked girl in my car almost made it worth it. It was hilarious to watch the reactions of Sunday drivers glancing over casually, doing their double takes, and then - depending on who was in the car with them - responding to her quite impressive and quite bare breasts.

After the second set of lights i hit the power lock switch on the doors. A group of lads in a Nissan "supercar" were onto the fact that there was a naked chick on offer, and they were looking like they might raid us, drag her out, Mad Max style, and rape her in the middle of the road, before firing a cross bow bolt into her sternum.

Or maybe i was a little panicky.

Panicked though i was, i did have the good sense to take her not to her place, but back to crash at mine. She lived with her parents still, like most second year uni students, and delivering her to mater and pater naked and drunk at two in the afternoon didn't seem like a good idea.

So i got her back to my place, herded her upstairs, and allowed her to plop into bed.

I figured i could change the sheets later.

She rolled around for a while, eyes closed.

'Fuck me.'

'You're drunk.'

'Fuck. Me.'

I pulled off my shoes and socks, pulled my t-shirt over my head, and dropped my shorts. I left my undies on and climbed into the bed. I hoped she'd be content and fall asleep if we just spooned.

She reached for my cock straight away.

'Take your fucking underpants off, superman.'

I took them off. It didn't seem wise to upset her.

She backed onto me. I was half set, but getting harder by the second. I didn't think it proper to fuck her while she was drunk, especially since we'd not had sex before.

We were, after all, just friends. Book club, actually. We'd struck up a one-on-one conversation over post-meeting tea and Tim Tams after she'd expressed some scintillating opinions on Slaughterhouse 5.

That had been only a month ago, and i was pretty surprised to get the rescue summons to come and pick her up from her former employer's carpark. Up until now, with her guiding my erect penis towards her pink bits, i'd considered her a purely platonic acquaintance.

It's funny, though, how a girl willingly thrusting her cunt at you sort of alters your relationship status.

She was wiggling about a bit, and her sense of direction was shot because of the alcohol, so she nearly slid me into her arse, but i corrected at the last moment and sent it home. She was lovely and snug inside. I only lasted a minute, if that.

'Quick show. Let me fucken suck you now.'

'I'd rather just rest...'

'When a girl offers to suck your fucken cock,' she drawled, 'you don't fucken come up with excuses.'

To tell the truth, i didn't want her to see my cock. I was a bit embarrassed to have her see me naked. Fucking her was a different matter: she didn't have to see me for me to fuck her. But now, i had to display for her my fluffy pubes, my hairy balls, my uncut prick.

I wasn't sure she'd like it.

But she had her eyes closed anyway, once she'd latched on.

My family took me to a petting zoo once, and i got to feed a baby lamb. I had this bottle of milk with a rubber teat on the end. I held it up to the baby lamb, and it snatched that teat with its mouth like there was no tomorrow, and milk was being banned across the universe. The strength with which it sucked that bottle dry was a little disturbing. Frightening.

You know why i told you that story, right?

I couldn't come again, but it felt both scary and wonderful to have her sucking on my cock. It went hard and all, but there was nothing to end the act, nothing to bring the curtain down.

In the end, she got tired of sucking on me. After fifteen minutes or so.

'And that's fucken that,' she said, and leant over the edge of my bed and threw up onto my wooden floor and half of my CD collection.

She wiped her mouth on my sheet, and fell asleep.

I felt her arse a bit while she was out to it, and, once i was sure she was staying out to it, slid my finger into her slit.

It was still wet from me.

I picked my phone up off the bedside table and turned on the camera. I pulled the sheet down off of her boobs and held the phone up above us.

She never mentioned that after-sacking fuck again. It was like it never happened.

But i had the photo to prove it to myself.

And the vomit-mildewed Fleetwood Mac CDs.

If you've gotten all the way to here, you might as well click the Like button, don't you think? And if you'd like to see the rather explicit photo that inspired this story (NSFW), click here...


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