There’s only so much time you can spend with your extended family before it starts to drive you nuts. I was home for Christmas from the city a few hundred miles away where I went to college. I’d had just about enough of White Christmas and playing legos with my cousins so I hopped in my truck and drove out to a roadside bar that hadn’t paid too much attention to our fake IDs when I was underage.
It was decently packed, I figured I’d run into some of the old crew so I picked an open seat at the bar, ordered a longneck and took in the room. Seemed like most of the people were in the same boat as me, escaping from too much family time to the noisy confines of a dive bar.
“Oh my god! Hi!” Lilly wrapped her arms around my neck from behind and gave me a squeeze.
“Hey stranger!” I turned to look at her. She still looked amazing. In highschool, Lilly was the bubbly cheerleader with the long string of disappointing white-trash boyfriends. She was probably 5’8″, with a toned athlete’s body, wearing cowboy boots, jeans that accentuated her perky, firm ass and a snap-button western shirt that was unbuttoned enough to show her pert b-cups.