My wife Karen and I like to go to concerts when we can. One particular outdoor show seemed like it would be something that Karen's sister Anita would like. Since Anita was recently divorced, she didn't have all that much money, so we decided to buy her a ticket and take her to the concert. She was going to come over to our house early in the evening, and we'd finish packing our little picnic basket and drive to the show together.
By the time Anita came over, she was already fairly buzzed. She had apparently been drinking wine coolers for most of the afternoon, and I could definitely tell that she shouldn't be driving.
Anita was wearing a very short pair tight cutoffs and a white camisole top, which showed off her erect little nipples quite nicely. Even though she was almost 40 years old, she kept herself in great shape. A lot of people thought she was much younger than she actually was, and I once heard someone ask her if she was her daughter's younger sister. Her body was quite slender and very toned, and she had smallish boobs, but very perky. She wore her dark brown hair in a short style, and never used too much makeup. In her current outfit, I could tell that she would be making heads spin the whole way through the concert.
Anita continued drinking throughout the evening, and she was getting a little amorous toward everyone by the end of the show. One of my co-workers stopped and talked to us, and she was flirting with him. "Ooh, you're a good looking one." Stuff along those lines.
I know that Karen was pretty embarrassed by Anita's behaviour, and Anita even went so far as to ask Karen to kiss her. Unfortunately, it seemed that every time Anita had too much to drink, this highly sexual side of her came out. It seemed like she was a calm, businesslike woman when she was sober, and a little slut when she drank. Little did I know what her drinking held in store for me.
The concert finally ended and we helped Anita get back to the car. She was alternately trying to get Karen and I to kiss her, slurring that she loved us both. We finally poured her into the back seat of the car, and she quickly passed out.
Since Karen was tired from the concert and sort of irritated at her sister, I agreed to drive her home. I dropped Karen off at our house, then proceeded to Anita's apartment complex, which was only a couple of miles down the road. The short drive was uneventful.
Once we got to her place, I opened the back door and tried to get Anita up. She had slumped down sideways in the seat, and I leaned over her and shook her shoulder.
"Mmmm, no," she said sloppily. "Stop it."
"C'mon Anita," I said gently, still shaking her shoulder, a little harder now. "Time to go to bed."
"No! I don't wanna," she whined. "Leave me here."
"You're in the back seat of my car," I told her. "I can't leave you. I've got to go home."
