By this point, everyone had left my birthday party. It had been perfect. Dinner, talking, music, some dancing. Mo was the only person lingering, the last one on the couch.
I was at the kitchen counter mixing us another drink. Bourbon with bitters and soda. It was late, but I wanted to keep celebrating. I was feeling good. He told me that he didn’t feel ready to turn in yet either. I had only met Mo a few times, he was a friend of a friend, but we were getting closer.
I was wearing shiny black tights that hugged my best asset – my big, round ass, perfectly shapely, both from athletics and lucky genetics. The tights hugged my tapered waist, and I wore a cropped tank to show off my shoulders. I never wore a bra; my tits weren’t huge, but I knew they looked good and I loved the feeling of my hard nipples brushing up against my shirt.