Maybe I should drink next Saturday too… Fuck. Alcohol. Dehydration from my night of drinking can be put off no longer. I slip on a black tank top a...d some sleep shorts and enter the basement living room. I hear someone upstairs as I make my way. When I enter the kitchen, Ethan is there in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, his back to me, making coffee. “Morning,” Ethan chimes in a friendly tone, glancing over his shoulder. “What’s up? Can you make me some of that?” I ask, and by the tone of. His entire being is set on wild erotic fire, yet a tiny subconscious part of his mind still nags him with the impropriety of her action and of his response to it. Just as he is about to pull away in protest at the order of things, he feels her warm soft hands on the sensitive skin of his throbbing erection. He wonders when and how she managed to zip down his fly, but the feel of her hands moving slowly and smoothly from the head of his dick down the shaft and onto to his soft balls, soon puts. More

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