I was drunk for most of 2015, and especially that April, so you’ll have to forgive me for not recalling every detail. This happened on or around my birthday, but I turned 22 every day of April that year so it’s really anyone’s guess.
It was one of my many birthdays. I was at Duffy’s, a filthy dive bar right off post, like I was every night. If you came into Duffy’s I knew who you were and you knew who I was, though it’s possible we’d never talked.
Aoife (I’m using fake Irish names because fake Irish pub) and her friends, and occasionally her partner (husband?) were frequent patrons, but strangers to me. But it was my Tuesday birthday and I was the life of the party, so I engaged them in conversation. Aoife and I got flirty. She wanted to step out front to smoke, which I thought was gross, but she touched my cock when she asked if I wanted to join her.
Duffy’s used to be a house. A home. In a neighborhood. Not a lot of traffic. However, it used to be a house next to an army base. They share a fence. The street ends in a secure gate (not that secure: I used to hop it when the turnstile wasn’t working.)