Many years ago I worked in Engineering for a large tech company. At the time I was occasionally dating Joanie, who was in grad school in the East Bay. It was the 70s in California, I was young and horny, and neither of us were feeling exclusively committed to each other.
At the was Lisa, who worked in Marketing. We were both involved with the same new product under development. Lisa was dating Michael, a guy in Support, though his presence in the building didn't seem to affect her occasional low-key, appropriately discreet flirting with me.
I was attracted to Lisa's cute face that was pleasantly framed by shoulder-length, very wavy light brown hair. She had round cheeks, a perky upturned nose, and big dark brown eyes. And had what seemed to be a very kissable mouth. Her happy smile and good sense of humor, not to mention her trim body -- short stature, small breasts, narrow hips -- were all bonus factors.
One day things went from low-key to Big Signals when Lisa and one of her Marketing friends wandered into the cluttered, noisy Engineering lab where I spent much of my time. They wanted to see what I was doing, so I showed them. I managed a mere two minutes before Lisa interrupted with a cheery "That's great!" It was clear she'd heard enough to satisfy her curiosity. I wasn't offended.
"I don't fool around!" I replied.
Lisa gave me an odd look and responded, "That's too bad." She maintained eye contact with a wry smile on her face, watching my reaction, and her friend laughed. When they left the lab a few minutes later, I wondered what she really meant by that comment. Should I take it as a come-on? How serious was she?
A week later Lisa told me that she was hosting a party at her apartment that upcoming Friday evening and was inviting both work and non-work friends. She made it clear, twice, that Michael wouldn't be there, telling me he had an overriding family commitment elsewhere. "You can bring someone," she said, again with that smile that might or might not be suggesting something more, "Or just come alone. Then you could stay afterwards for little while and help me clean up." I agreed immediately.
Attending without Joanie wasn't a problem. She had a midterm the following Monday and told me she had no interest in going to my "work party" and instead wanted to nest in her own apartment after her last class for some quiet study time. "I'll call you on Saturday morning to see how your studying is going," I told her. Joanie didn't seem to care.
When I arrived at Lisa's apartment, it was jammed with a couple dozen people milling around, buzzing in conversations, drinking beer and wine and munching on chips, pretzels, and carrot sticks. I recognized several people from work and joined in the mingle. Shortly after midnight everyone else had departed, and Lisa and I were alone amongst the clutter. "My roommate is spending the night at her boyfriend's," she assured me, and I took that as another possible come-on signal.
We made progress on cleaning up the mess, and Lisa suggested we had done enough for the evening and should take a break. A few minutes later we were sitting side by side on the brown shag carpet, leaning against the couch facing a gas fireplace with its flickering fake log. The silence of the moment was calming. We were both feeling the effects of the evening's alcohol. I was buzzed. Lisa seemed even more so.
No time like the present, I thought, and I kissed her. Things progressed quickly from there. Soon we were horizontal on the floor, making out with unbroken wet, sloppy kisses. All I got from her was "Go!" signals. Before long my hands were wandering from her face to her back, then to her breasts and eventually cupping the crotch of her levis.
Lisa was passionately kissing me with an active tongue and frequent moans of pleasure. Several minutes later her jeans and panties were in a heap three feet away and my mouth was between her legs. I dove in. Lisa had a nicely trimmed thatch of soft, black pubic hair surrounding a puffy mound. Her already pouty pink inner labia advertised her arousal, filling my nostrils and smearing across my face.
I licked and slathered until her pussy opened wide, her inner labia inflamed crimson and thick. She was magnificently succulent. Her mildly musky scent and taste got me rock-hard, and her continual little guttural noises got me rev'ed up with a serious need to fuck her, right then and there. I curled two fingers up inside her vagina, and that only ratcheted up her noises and her squirming hips.
And yet I hesitated. It was clear to me that Lisa was drunk. I felt little satisfaction and a lot of downsides to having sex with a drunken woman who might have a change of heart when she sobered up. Besides, even after more than fifteen or twenty minutes of what I thought was effective oral, even though Lisa seemed thoroughly turned on, she still wasn't unable to reach an orgasm. Plus, in the back of my mind was the possibility that Michael might show up at the front door, even at this late hour, and that wouldn't make for a good scene.
It just didn't seem like the right time or place to proceed further.
I eased off on my licking and sucking and fingering -- reluctantly, to be sure -- and told her I thought we should call it a night. "We've both had too much to drink." Lisa sighed and nodded in agreement. "I hope we can get together another time," I suggested hopefully, and Lisa smiled and gave me a hazy affirmative reply. We stood up for a final embrace and one last kiss at the door, and I walked to my parked car as the front door clicked shut behind me.
Okay, I thought, maybe I'll get some points for being a gentleman.
The following Monday morning at work, I poked my head into Lisa's cubicle. She seemed no worse for wear. I thanked her for Friday night, and she thanked me for being there and helping to tidy up. "Maybe you can come over again," she told me with her flirtatious grin.
"I'd love to come," I replied, "Whenever we can work it out." We shared a knowing smile.
We made those arrangements. A couple of weeks later I was back in Lisa's living room on a Saturday morning. I greeted her roommate -- I'd met her only briefly at the party -- who excused herself to disappear into her own bedroom and shut the door. Lisa took me by the hand and led me down the hallway to her bedroom.
It was a girly room, as I'd expected it would be, with a flowered bedspread and dolls perched on the dresser and a white wicker chair in the corner. We stood next to the bed, embraced and kissed, then slowly unbuttoned, unsnapped, and unzipped each other's clothes until we were both standing naked. Naked and a little bit nervous, if truth be told.
Lisa, in her (and my) sober state was a more gentle kisser. Her tongue sought out mine while her hands wandered around my back. My own hands roamed from her hips to her back to her face, and all the while my erection pressed against her tummy. It was clear to both of us why I was there and what we would soon be doing.
I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo and the somewhat stronger scent of a floral cologne she'd dabbed behind her ears and low on her neck. We kissed and nuzzled, separating just enough so that my hands could cup her breasts, feeling her nipples as stiff as my erection that she now softly stroked with her hands. "You're so hard," she whispered, smearing my precum around my glans.
"That's because you turn me on," I responded. My right hand slid down to her pussy. Lisa moved her left foot farther to the left to open her stance, and I cupped her mound. She inhaled a quick breath and gave my cock a squeeze. I could feel her cleft swelling open and her lubrication in my palm. Her clitoral shaft was also as stiff as my erection.
