Drunk girl’s friend. Reward for the do-gooder. [MF]

So I sometimes hang out in Chicago between jobs. I work contract work all over the country and have / had a relationship with two college friends who both moved out there after graduation. In fact they were roommates there at one point. I’d love to tell you the story you’re hoping for but it’s not really sexy or adventurous. Just an easy friends with benefits thing we all kind of Adulted our way into. The arrangement was sorted out as dispassionately as a corporate merger. I mean we scheduled little 3 person talks from time to time, when one of them was in a relationship and I switched to staying with the other one when I was in town. To, you know, make sure we were all still emotional detached and shit.

They were not into the 3 way thing and I could respect it and never brought it up. It actually got worse when they became roommates because when I visited I had to stay on the couch unless one of them was out of town / in a relationship.

Anyway, the point is, I was in Chicago when I could be. This was during the crashing on the couch at their place hanging out ex-boyfriend / high school guy friend style. A bit of light flirting, sushi, board games, book discussions, political ranting, and movie watching.

We were all in the holding pattern between college and real life, focusing on careers and ignoring the dating-for-spouses scene for the most part.

I’m not going to say they were bitches, because they are both complex people, as complex as you or me, but that night they got bitchy – with good reason and left me to fend for myself.

We were somewhere in Wrigglyville. I’m not from there and I don’t remember where it was, except there was a dude in the bathroom with gum and cologne and busts of peoples heads on the walls in the place we were drinking. A bit fancy for me, I make money six figures, but I don’t live the life, but par for the course for them. I was used to places like this. They would have fun, the women’s eyes would come to me like magnets (I’m very tall and well built) then slide off the jeans and tennis shoes to someone in a suit. That stuff didn’t bother me. For the most part I convinced myself I didn’t like these types of women anyway / it was rude to try to get laid when out with these particular friends / even if I was crashing on the sofa it felt like spitting in their faces if I hooked up with someone else.

So I never really tried more than talking to a few of the women. Polite conversation and all that. We pretty much stuff to ourselves.

I’ve dated one girl that was a solid 10. Literally she was a model for Sears. She was also… not bright. The three of us had five four year b.s. degrees between us; two math degrees, one chemical engineering, one computer science, and one physics. I, the man, didn’t have the physics degree or chemical engineering – no this isn’t turning into a word problem about who has what. I’m just trying to make the point that we have some heads on our shoulders. We also tended to be attracted to people with something rattling around in there.

Don’t get me wrong, animal attraction is a very big thing, but after you burn through the orgasms, you want someone who knows if you drop the toast in the morning, it’s more likely to lad butter side down. And why.

Anyway.

That night we end up sharing our table with the group next to us. It started out as a few guys. The kind eyeing my women – I’m human after all and though I’d never say it, that’s how I felt at some points even without the sex. They were doing shots, bought us a round which we returned. Then they had some friends show up. From the distance between hips with the hugs none of the women that showed up were sleeping with any of the guys. About the time we are getting ready to track the check down another new arrival knows one of my girls. She pulls up a chair and in half an hour we’re one big happy family.

More drinking ensues.

There are a few more late night joiners. The 28-but-I’m-still-a-sorority-party-girl among them. I’m no white knight out there to cock block anyone but these ass holes are already eye-locked on her ample cleavage and and tossing the not-so-subtle “I’m gonna fuck that,” look between them.

One of my girls is displeased. I don’t know what happened with her, not sure the other one knows for certain either, but something happened to her, or her close friend. She was always mamma bear at college making sure people didn’t take advantage of the young ladies who might have had too much to drink.

The bar is now packed, literally standing room only, she gives up her seat to get the girl down, has water in front of her, literally standing near her to block the first approach of one of the guys.

Me and the other girl are amused.

Until the majority of the group bolts in a fifteen second span. These guys are on a mission and the only ones left are; a drunk girl damn near passed out, my two girls, and a single other female who as soon as they set to focus on her makes her self scarce.

We make plans to leave, quickly. She doesn’t have to say anything because we all know she’s going to help, and because we aren’t horrible people we’re going to help too.

We decide to get some food into her. It’s maybe midnight, we’ve been out since six ish, had a bit of food and a slow start but we’re all feeling it when we are up and walking.

Drunk girl is all over me. And if I didn’t mention it outright above, she’s a ten. Talks like a fucking teenager, but body like a supermodel. Now that I think of it, maybe they all talk that way, I have no frame of reference there.

There is a period of accusation from the drunk as I’m leading her, my arm around her, but the girls are there thank god, because this is happening on the street. Then she is convinced I’m there to get her home safely, that we all are. But she stops thinking of them at all and is spouting off about how she never get’s the good guys. I’m so nice – and TALL! every time she notices I can hear her pussy getting wetter. And she’s noticing every two minutes now.

The two girls are not happy. She is a bag of trouble and annoyance and we don’t even know her. The girl whose into making sure she is okay and makes it home sans rape is of course helping her drink from a tiny water bottle she has. I’m standing two feet away wondering where she got the bottle or if it came from her tiny purse, when the puking starts.

Perfect shot onto mamma bear. Down the cleavage, side of the jaw, front of the dress. Shoes. It got on the shoes ladies. On shoes it should not have gotten on.

She would not have left her to the guys in that bar but we were on the street, in public, and that was her line. A few stunned moments of silence and frozen people and she was cursing like a sailor while the drunk did her best to apologize and tried to tell her she would pay for the dry cleaning.

I’m busy keeping the drunk upright and moving. It’s not going to do anyone any good to deal with the Chicago police. Other friend has sped up to deal with the puked on friend who is now almost racing through the once crowded street.

We end up in what I think is a fast food joint’s bathroom but I couldn’t tell you for sure. Ladies bath room, mamma bear is out of her dress completely shoes on the counter near a pile of used paper towels when I get in. I hand off the drunk to other girl who tries to see if she’s got anything left in a stall.

We leave there with an address for drunk girl, her unlocked phone, a text put in to the roommate and two girls with no patience.

We get her home.

“I’m stealing this fucking jacket.” Mamma bear says to the jacket she finds inside. She doesn’t swear, or steal. Then disappears into the bathroom to clean up more. (she ends up stealing a shirt too I think.)

Roommate’s on the way (via text.) My girls want to go. I’m not cool with that. Drunk Girl is actually passed out on the sofa, a towel under her head and another on the floor in case she decides to make another mess. I’m not going to be the only person there, the only male person. I played collage spots. I’m a big guy. The first thing they told us at college, during our athletic orientation, was HORROR stories of rape or rape accusations, even the ones who could PROVE they weren’t physically there had to deal with the people that think the college or team is covering something up.

We get into an argument. I tell them if they leave I’m leaving with them. Mama bear knows someone should stay. Other girl flat out says no she’s not staying, she already has stuff to do in the morning. They fucking hate this chick by now but aren’t going to leave her passed out on the couch. They want to go. But we all wait.

We sit there in silence for a good ten minutes, but with pissed off lady friends it feels like two hours.

Drunk Girl’s phone gets a text. No one can remember the code at first, not gets to it quick enough to see it on the screen. Another argument.

Roommate can’t come home because so-and-so is refusing to drive. (when we get the code right.)

Fuck it they’re gonna leave her. Like a god damn movie, as soon as the decision is made, Drunk Girl pushes herself up off the edge of the sofa to lay on her back, tries to sit up once, then promptly pukes mid sit up damn near vertically. We all go into, don’t-asphyxiate-on-your-own-vomit-mode.

But that is the last straw. The girls are leaving. They are tired, puked on (again,) and though it’s not yet 3am they do have stuff to do before noon the next day.

I say. Imagining all the horrible shit that I’ll be accused of, and for about ten minutes imagining all the horribly stuff I’d make her do the next day to pay me back for my chivalry. Cause I mean what’s the point of being chivalrous if you can’t use it to guilt a woman into laying you. That’s a joke. Mostly.

Her friend shows up out of the blue. Has a key. I’m standing there when she walks in cause I didn’t know if I should help get the door or, not hide, but maybe not be visible from the doorway maybe? Like is she just going to scream that there is a giant dude in her apartment (at this time I think she is the roommate whom I’m unsure if we told we were still there or implied we’d left her alone.)

She kind of freezes when she gets the door open. I put my hands up. Like a cartoon guy would in front of the cops. She giggles at that at least.

I’m trying real hard to explain away the awkwardness as well as make it damn-fucking-clear I didn’t touch her. I must have said the phrase “Me and my two lady friends” about seventy times.

“I get it. You’re not a rapist.” She says while we are in the bathroom. I’m holding the drunk under the arms, she’s naked at this point from the waist up and the friend (roommate texted her,) is getting her pants off. No panties.

I don’t care that she is drunk she still has a rocking body. I get her into the tub when then leave as the other girl rolls her sleeves up and gets the shower on. If I didn’t mention it we did not bother to clean her up after her last bit of puking. Just made sure she wasn’t going to die because of it.

There was a practicality in helping. This new girl had taken charge quickly and when she made the argument of “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before” I took it in a general, these are breasts, this is a vagina, seventh-grade sex-ed sort of way. I learned later, to her very cute embarrassment she thought I was a boy friend / possible hook up friend who had slept with Drunk Girl before.

“Oh you’re still here.” That is a direct quote. Burned into my memory. All I could think was – fuck – I should have left. I spent the time sitting wondering if I should wait or go, but not wanting to make a fuss while she was in there de-puke-afying her buddy.

I’ve never carried a dead body but I imagine this was a good estimation of that. We got her into bed, naked, on her stomach, head near the edge, blankets tucked in tight so she couldn’t move too easily.

We wound up back in that messy bedroom (the living room reeked of acidic vomit), I sat on the floor with the coffee cup of tea she made me, she was on a chair near the bed.

It wasn’t a fast thing. I never saw her eyes switch to fuck me mode, but we talked and she eventually said something along the lines of, “I actually hate her a bit, we used to be friends, but now. She drives everyone away and has no one there for her except her current boy toy.” Indicating me.

This is where I carefully laid the situation out. Making sure to again mentioned the girls that were there only moments before she arrived – you must have walked past them or missed them at the elevator.

– seriously that speech about rape accusations fucked me up. I don’t mess with too-drunk chicks.

“Cute and a gentleman.” I think she said at one point. If there was a change it was there.

We talked more. I’m sure I got all bright eyed and nerdy when we switched to books. She had read ever Terry Pratchett book as well. Most of the rest she loved I hadn’t read, but to be honest, that was enough. I was paying attention now.

I had finished my third or forth mug of tea and was making the, “Well it was nice meeting you but I have to go type speech.”

I asked for her number.

“I’m kind of in a thing.” She said. I nodded I was kind of in a thing myself.

“Well I have to admit the night didn’t turn out horrible. It was nice meeting you.” I stuck my hand out cause I’m retarded like that. She did that half laugh she did that was growing on me. It was the kind of laugh you could look forward to hearing even if you were the butt of the joke.

She came in for a hug which turned into a violent hair pulling (my hair) kiss. She jumped up, but I wasn’t expecting it and I am a big dude, we laughed, she kissed me again and this time when she jumped I pulled her up. She straddled me (we’re both clothed still.) and proceeded to grind on me.

When I think back it was the panting that put me over the edge. She pulled me off her mouth and had her mouth near my ear.

“Fuck me.” Or some variation of the phrase. Escaped through panting breaths. This was a need thing on her part that was quickly boiling into a need on my part. I headed for the door.

“No. Fuck her. Here.” (I understood what she meant even though as I proofread this it reads ambiguously.) I dumped her on the bed. She bounced, that half laugh, and we did the race to naked.

I had not noticed before (she had a sweater type shirt on,) but she had massive tits for her small frame, a trimmed bush, one nipple pierced and a unbelievable core. Honestly, that is the hottest thing for me.

She made it to the night stand and damn near dumped the drawer out looking for a rubber. (as I said before I started the night just drinking with some friends and was not prepared.)

We found them eventually but she didn’t let me put it on right away. A quick, “You’re clean?” type question I’m not sure she heard an answer too before she pulled my hips toward the bed and inhaled me.

I’d been drinking but I was up for the task, still I knew I could stand there all night while her jaw got sore. I ate her pussy til she came, gave her ass a lick before she grabbed my hair and slowly pulled me up her body. Kissing and nibbling where she directed. I was already hard, but as she made a game of it she let out that half laugh thing again and I was over the edge. I think she saw that in my look and that made the little waiting game she was doing that much more for her.

By the time I was kissing her I had the rubber on. She reached down and led me in.

I’m not in the best shape anymore – let me say not to the shape I was when I played collegiate sports. But at this time I’m in better than average shape. And like a said, she had a body of a runner or gymnast. We made pools of sweat on this girl’s comforter and she is anything but quiet.

Some time to time she looks over at her friend and gets some weird level of excitement from banging near her. The Drunk girl is a piece of furniture to me at this point but it’s clearly doing something for her.

When I cum, I’m buried deep inside her and exhausted. She scoots out form under me and down taking the condom off and cleaning me up with her mouth. I’ve never had that before. I’ve had the clean up, but if I’m wearing a condom it’s all on me.

That is hot. She stays down there, eye contact the whole time, doing a bit of tease with her lips and tongue.

She drops down at one point trying to lift my giant legs with her tiny arms. I give her a warning, as quickly as it comes to me, that while I shave my ass and appreciate a good rim job, I have been out drinking all night with no shower she might want to steer clear.

This is burned in the old memory banks too:

She does not respond. Gives me a half smirk, a nod of understanding then drops down and buries her tongue in my ass. This is about the upper level of the kinkiness I’ve ever experienced. It was so fucking dirty (not my ass, though it probably wasn’t minty) but the idea of it. The no-hesitation.

I was hard again. We fucked this time until she came while on top then I kind of rolled / pushed her off and took a breather.

She was a touch-er. Running the pads of her fingers over my face and chest. Teasing as she pulled her fingers through the drying mess of fluids of my pubic hair (I don’t really do much man-scaping.)

“I really wish you didn’t have a thing.” I said at one point, instantly regretting it thinking that might be the end of it. She nodded then went down on me again. Didn’t say a word.

I’d love to tell you I pounded her all night, but that was about it for me. I let her try for a bit, returned the favor until she came, caught my breath then kind of looked over at her. She still had a hand resting on my chest. Eyes still on me, that slight smile they get when they are well and truly fucked.

“There is no chance?” I asked doing the whole her and me thing with my hand.

“Nope.” She said. No hesitation again, but this time not so good.

Simple. Adult. Real world.

I got up and got dressed. She laid there on the top of the covers, still naked and well fucked watching me, her drunk ass friend passed out less than a foot away tucked under the covers.

I wrote my number down in the kitchen anyway and walked it back into her.

I like to say I said nothing and sat it down all cool-dude like, but I remember saying something stupid like, “well if things change, I’d love to do this again,” or something close.

I never got the phone call.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/66fa4n/drunk_girls_friend_reward_for_the_dogooder_mf