Getting up you leave the room and come back with a bottle of baby oil. With a naughty grin on your face you inform me that this will make things a lot easier. I happen to be leaning on the mat facing you when you dump the oil on me and there is a lot of it. The smell of the oil is strong at first but I don't mind. It's a good, clean smell, and if I hadn't already been hard, the smell of the oil would've turned me to granite. I feel like Jennifer Beals from that 80s movie, Flashdance, only I'm dripping with baby oil, and when I tell you this, it brings the drunk giggles on again. Kneeling beside me you begin rubbing the oil into my chest, working your way down my torso, and I'm so yours. All I can do is kneel there, panting, quivering, dripping, while your hands touch every part of me and coat me with the smooth, slick oil. I concentrate like mad on the Twister mat, on those bright primary colors as you massage my arms, my thighs, my cock and balls. Red, yellow, oh my god, green, blue, touch me more, red, blue, yes, there, make sure you oil me there, green, green, yes, yes now!
But you're just laughing at my squirming, and you give me one last drink while you stand over me and admire the shine of the oil accenting my body's curves and contours. You tell me to spin, that it's my turn, and I dutifully spin. I end up with my feet spread wide and my right hand behind me, my hard cock pointing straight up at the ceiling like a missile. You are bent over me, and when you try to spin for your turn, it's all over. One of us hit a pool of oil on the mat and like a pair of dancing hippos, we tumble to the mat, a sprawling pile of drunk, giggling flesh again.
I notice, lying there, that your cock is trapped between my thighs. You seem to notice this at about the same time, and wrapping your arm around me, you start a slow, sinuous pumping. I know you hear it when I hiss out a Yes! but I don't care; I've waited all fucking night for this. I played goddamned Twister for this. Your cock is getting harder and harder and the angle you're at is rubbing up behind my balls as you move your hips. I can feel the head of your cock pushing against my balls over and over - ah it feels so good - and you, so generous, reach around to my cock and give it a few strokes. I'm drunk and dazed, but I know I want more than this; I know you want more than this, and as your cock slides out of the warm haven of my thighs and up between my cheeks, I know we're both going to get exactly what we want tonight.
The plastic Twister mat crinkles under us, and the breeze from the open window is warm blowing in on me, but not as warm as your whiskey-laden breath, which is hot on my neck, and so, so sweet as I feel the head of your cock press against my hole. I am so drunk, so horny and relaxed, I let out a little moan and with no effort at all, you're in. I feel the ridge of your head slide past my ring, stretching me apart. I can feel every vein and contour of your cock widening me out and then wrapping around you.
Oh.
