STORY SYNOPSIS: Our hero's mother is CEO of a corporation hosting a New Year's Eve party and her latest hire, a man named Latimer, is staying the night with them. And when Mom and Latimer are both wasted, it's up to our hero to get Latimer to bed (they have to share our hero's bed as there is no guest room), but Latimer is more interested in sex than sleeping, all the while protesting he is not as drunk as our hero thinks he is.
I AIN'T THAT DRUNK!
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
"I ain't that drunk!" Latimer said to me when I got to him. I'd been fetched by one of the servers at the party, it was shortly after midnight and it had gotten pretty beery in the place, I could see. Two women were crashed on the couch, clearly out for the night. I went to the other couch which held Latimer and my mother, dodging people dancing dangerously, people drinking even more dangerously, people yelling and laughing and yelling at each other. I was just as glad at that moment that I was nineteen and too young to drink. Oh, I could have gotten hold of alcohol, but Mom had promised me that if I held off drinking until I was twenty-one, she'd buy me a brand new car of my choice. I could have lied about it, maybe, but somehow I never felt right about a lie, and would feel worse about taking a car based on fulfilling a promise I broke. I'd get that car fair and square, it'd come in handy when I finished college and had to find a job.
But this was New Year's Day (barely) and the party was wrapping up. Time for me to help Mom get the partiers out of here, the sober ones by coaxing them to take off, the drunk ones (all of them, far as I could see) into cabs (two servers were busily summoning them right this minute.)
Latimer, however, was different. He'd just gotten into town, delays had kept him from checking into a hotel in time and they'd canceled on him. He'd arrived at the party and Mom had promised him he could stay here. Ergo, my job was to get him out of the party and into a bed. My bed, actually, for we didn't have a guest room. I had a king-sized bed in my room, and it wouldn't be the first time I had an unexpected bed-mate for the night, or even a person who worked for my mother as my bed-mate. First time the guy would be totally drunk, though.
So I'd been summoned and I regarded him with loathing. Vomit was splattered all over his front. I'd made the comment about getting him to bed, for he'd been drinking too much and he'd looked up at me, his head weaving about, his eyes unfocused until they managed to lock onto me. "I ain't that drunk!" he said.
"So what have you got all over yourself?" I asked him. "It doesn't look like daffodils, and it don't smell like them, either!"
He looked down. "I didn't do that. Y' Mom did." Mom was indeed wasted, she was lolling about on the other end of the couch, but I saw no other evidence she had barfed all over her newest hire at the corporation!
"Yeah, right." I said. "Come on, party's over anyway, let's get you to bed. Everyone's leaving already, see?"
He looked about, the servers were leading partiers out to the waiting cabs. "Huh!" he scoffed. "Bunch'a damned party-poppers. Poopers. Par-pee, poo-pers." he enunciated slowly and carefully. "Damn!" he finished in self disgust.
"You've had enough to drink, Mr. Latimer." I said kindly as I could. "Let's get you to bed."
"I ain't drunk!" Mr. Latimer attempted to prove it by standing up. He made it, though he waved about on his feet when he got there. "I'll get there by myself." I'm tall, five foot eleven, but he was a good four inches taller! And broad and strong-looking, wide shoulders and slim hips, all covered in an elegant tuxedo. This was a dress party.
He set out to go toward the hallway to my bedroom (our house was awfully small, Mom's room was all the way over on the other side of the room and the kitchen was out a third door, only the living room where we were was large and took up some two-thirds of the house's square footage) and crashed into a coffee table. I had figured as much and got over in time to keep him from falling and scooped up one arm and parked my head and shoulders under it, held him bodily stable. "Come on, Mr. Latimer. I'll help you stay upright."
"I ain't that drunk, damn it!"
"I know, I know. Come on." I said.
I let him go to get undressed and he nearly fell face down on the bed. I caught him in time and managed to roll him over and he ended up on his back on the bed instead, feet still on the floor, both arms out to his sides and hands above his head. Out like a light.
Great! I got to undress the dumb lug!
Ugh, the vomit was still wet! I found when I set out to undo his shirt buttons. He was supposed to be a new high mug-a-mug at Mom's corporation (she'd inherited it from her father, and Mr. Latimer had been hired by her to run the place, I forget the title he'd be taking on), and he started off by getting hammered at her party. Of course, Mom was drunk, too. Maybe he'd started things out right, after all; how can you fire someone you got drunk with?
I got the tuxedo jacket and shirt off and used a clear area of it to wipe my fingers clean. He was only wearing a t-shirt stained somewhat with the vomit that had seeped through, and regarded him. Damn, he was a good-looking stud! The other "bed partners" I'd ended up with had all been older guys, usually out of shape. One had developed wandering hands and I had fought him off with loathing. But this guy...tonight I might want to do a little wandering.
Enough of that! I got his shoes and socks off (nice feet, regular and not bent weird by shoes like most people's feet), then his pants (God, he had a warm basket there!), and I pulled them down. He only had some boxers left to go, and the vomit had seeped onto a bit of them, too, like the t-shirt. Enough excuse to strip them off him, wasn't it? So they could be washed tomorrow morning, in time for him to go to work?
So I did, peeled him bare as any banana, and stepped back to enjoy the view. God, yeah, a blond-haired Adonis is what he was, the kind that artists love to paint onto their canvas, his hair cut short but conservatively, blue eyes (closed now), smooth jawed, slim neck, broad shoulders with the muscles of the chest sleekly regular, no weight-lifter bulges of corded muscle and veins popped out to mar the smooth flow of the skin, all of this was clean and looked like he shaved his body regularly. The only body hair I saw was a thin string, blond as his head hair, that began at the navel, widening out in a swooping flare to form the only untrimmed hair on his body, the pubic region. In this nest of a deeper-yellow-colored hairs, his cock was a beautifully regular oval of flaccid dong, paler than the rest of his body, a pinkish-beige. Man, I had to come up with an excuse to feel that thing, see if I could get it hard while he slept....
"Like what you see?" he asked me.
"Huh?" I looked up to see him looking at me. "You're awake?"
"I told you I ain't that drunk." he told me. "You thinking of getting funny with me while I'm passed out?"
"No, no!" I protested. "I had to get your clothes off because you were covered with vomit!" I scooped up the shirt and hung it out for him to see. "You couldn't go to bed with...."
"Oh, God!" his eyes rolled at the sight of his shirt coated in puke, he turned his head and nearly threw up. I hastily moved my wastebasket over to him in time and he surrendered to his reflexes and hurled into that. "Oh, man!" he coughed when he was done. I'd fetched him a glass of water and he used it to rinse out his mouth, then drank the rest. "Thanks, kid!" He pulled my covers up over his body, swathing him from toes to tonsils.
"Yeah." I groused. My chance to scope him out further was gone.
"Where's your Mom?" he asked me.
"Still at the party. It's about over, though." The caterers were men we'd used before, they knew to see my Mom safe into her room, clean up, and leave, locking the door after them, I could forget about them.
"Good. She'll be in here soon, I guess. So run off to your room, kid, and I'll give your mother back to you in the morning."
While I stood open-mouthed at that, he reached for the bedside lamp's light switch. My lamp could be turned off at the wall switch next to the door, or what he did, reach up to the switch next to the bulb and turn the knob. Click! We were in darkness!
I felt my way over to the bed and got the light back on, nearly burning my fingers on the bulb in the process. Looked at Mr. Latimer, he was out cold again. I shook him, and he didn't wake up. Now he was out cold. Fine!
I got out of my own clothes and crawled in the far side of the bed. We'd straighten all this out in the morning. I'd tell Mom that he was trying to get into her pants as well as the corporation. She'd have to fire him and get another exec to run the business for her. She needed one, she couldn't run a big business and it was getting in trouble. She'd need someone smart, and Latimer had seemed perfect for her... I slept.
I awoke with a beer-smeared breath in my face. "Hello, baby." Mr. Latimer breathed huskily at me. "Decide to join me at last?"
"It's me, Mr. Latimer. Dave." I supplied.
"Yeah, baby, I knew when you interviewed me what you really wanted." he hadn't heard me, I guess. "Sending your son out to bring me into your room and strip me bare. Thought I was drunk, did you? Well, I wasn't that drunk then and I ain't that drunk now." He breathed sour alcohol stench at me as he chuckled.
"Mr. Latimer, I..."
"Call me Tim."
"Tim, you've got the wrong room for this...."
"I'm in the right place, baby." Mr. Latimer said. "Especially if you want a ride on this." He had found one of my hands and he placed it on his cock.
His hard as a rock, thick, smooth cock! God, it was warm and firm and felt damned wonderful.
"You like that, baby?"
I made a sound he could take any way he wanted. "Grunt!"
"Yeah, you want it, don't you? So go ahead, take a good taste of it. Suck me a while, then I'll plug you like you've never been plugged before."
Okay, it's a low thing, taking advantage of a drunk man like this, but you have to admit, it couldn't happen to a nicer guy. Worse guy? You know what I mean. He deserved to be taken advantage of somehow. I'd have some fun with him while he figured out his mistake, it ought to be fun when he did! Meanwhile, I had carte blanche to swing on his love muscle!
So I didn't struggle when he clambered on top of me to sit on my chest and shove his dick at my face. I fished his cock away from my left eye socket (where it had jabbed itself) into my mouth. Mmmmh! Damn, he tasted good! He'd bathed just before the party started at ten o'clock, I had a nice, sanitized hunk of man-meat to slurp on and I went to town on the dumb bastard!
He moaned and grunted and loved every bit of it. I gave that luscious chunk of hot sausage all the lust I'd saved up since I'd broken up with my last lover some four months before. I could have played the field, but not right away, it takes time to heal after a relationship. A tough course of studies had kept me out of the game, I'd think about some casual sex when I went back to school when it started again next week. Actually, I'd already thought about it, hadn't I? Starting here, tonight, right now.
"Oh, uh, uh!" Mr. Latimer grabbed hold of my head and pulled me bodily off. "Enough of that, now your lips ready and give me some sugar. Time for me to give you a ride on my love-train."
"Sure you're up to it?" I asked as he climbed off me to lie beside me. "You were pretty wasted at the party."
"I ain't that drunk, baby, and you're worth staying sober for." He kissed me and I didn't try to stop him. He was a good kisser, though the taste on his mouth was still pretty nasty with alcohol and barf. He'd rinsed his mouth but I could still taste it. A little. Not enough to pull away.
He was a damned good kisser.
"Now it's time for me to plow your warm pussy but good, Maggie." he said. My mother was "Margaret" and nobody called her "Maggie" or "Meg" or "Marge." Ever.
"You sure about this?" I said as I got on my back and he climbed on top of me.
"I ain't that drunk." he said as he fumbled at my body. He got to my cock and got hold of it and I expected that to be it, I'd yell "surprise" and he could get sick all over again. He'd had another guy suck his cock! And loved it!
But it didn't faze him, he let go of it and then his finger found my butthole. "Ahh, there it is, that warm, wet pussy. Nice and tight, baby. Mph! I'm going to love plowing this cunt!"
I had fished out a tube of lubricant from my nightstand when he started fingering my asshole. If he was still in a state of drunken dissociation, I'd let him stay in it. Any man who had grab hold of a cock and not recognize it is much too drunk to finish sex, I'd see how far he could get, I was betting on him not being able to finish and rolling off with an apology, at most.
"Here, rub this on." I told him. He took the tube, and fumbled it. I found it and opened it, handed it to him again. He wavered about trying to get it squeezed into his hand. "You are drunk." I said.
"Not that drunk." He assured me. "Help me with this, will you?"
Why not? I did, squirted the lube on my palm and worked his pud. Damn, he had a nice dick. Why does God bless the biggest jerks with the best cocks? Is it some cosmic joke of His? I'd have to ask my philosophy teacher about this. I'd seen him at a gay bar, he'd get the joke and maybe have some insights.
"Okay, baby, guide me in for a landing." He sighed. "The world's spinning on me, I want to give you some fun before the lights go out."
"I thought you weren't that drunk."
"I'll hold on until you get off. Promise." he said.
"All right." I said and I pulled his pud, he scooted forward and I brought to my asshole and touched the glans to the sphincter. "Okay, there you go. Full speed ahead, captain!"
"Yeah." Mr. Latimer shoved his hips and my ass, well-trained by my last lover to take a cock whenever and wherever (God, I still missed him!), took it easily. "Mmmh, yeah, nice warm pussy, Maggie. Nice pussy."
"So fuck my pussy." I said. "Then we've both got to get some sleep."
He began to hump me and damned but the guy had some talent! If he could do this while drunk, what could he do when sober? I was going to regret losing him in the morning. Throw him out of the house on New Year's Day, he'd be stuck in the plane terminal until who knows when? And nobody here would come get him!
Meanwhile, he was delivering on his promise to give me the ride of my life. I loved the feel of that satin-steel rod plugging my butt and he worked it like a pro. The darkness of the room was near total, but I could feel the hard, muscled body of this young proud executive, full of virile energy that would make people trust him, a damned shame he was a fortune hunter. If his financial savvy matched his sexual savvy, he'd be the perfect match for my mother. And he could always get drunk for me again one day, if he did marry her.
"Mmh, uh, uh, yeah, oh!" I groaned. "If you can fuck me like this when you're drunk, I got to get a ride when you're sober!"
"I ain't that drunk." An intoxicated man kept a few phrases ready to use and this was his. I didn't care, he wasn't too drunk to fuck me hard and well!
My orgasm was rising in me and I saw no reason to hold back. "Oh, oh, Tim, I'm going to come!" I told him. "Oh, oh, oh!"
"Yeah, baby, good, yeah, uh, uh, uhh!"
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!"
"Uh, uh, uh, uh!"
"Oh, oh! Oh! Oh! OH-OH-OH-OHHHHHHHHHH!" I sprayed the two of us with a lusty load of salty spunk and I don't think he even noticed. Mr. Latimer was coming, too, and I felt him grunting and wriggling above me, keeping his speed up, but losing control, fast.
"Uh-UH-HHHUHUHHH!" he keened and he fell on me, hard as he ejaculated, I felt his cock pulsing in my butt as my own orgasm ceased, his breath heaving in my ear as he wormed over me. And passed out.
Really, he finished coming and was out like a light. I guess it had been too much for him.
"You were drunk after all, Mr. Latimer." I told him. "I just wonder if you're going to remember any of this in the morning."
I didn't much care, either way. Mom already knew I was gay, I'd come out to her the day after my high-school graduation. She'd be glad to find out the man wanted to seduce her without having to fend off his advances, and I'd done that and had a hell of a good time doing so.
I got his dead weight off of me and moved over to a dryer spot on the bed and lay there, thinking. Maybe Mom should think about marrying this guy. If he was an honest crook, that is, if he stayed bought, she could do a lot worse. The corporation's shares were in a trust fund that she administered, she had shares of her own, but I'd be okay no matter what happened to her, and she could live with me if he cleaned her out. And I could maybe do this again with him some day, somehow....
I fell asleep in all this thinking and woke up to find myself alone in the room. Mr. Latimer had already awakened and dressed, I figured he'd woke up early, barfed up the last three days of his meals, and gone in search of medicinal comfort.
But I found him sitting at the breakfast table with my Mom, talking quite amiably. He was, that is, Mom was hung over and hurting, sipping a glass of tomato juice. "So you can just move into Dave's room for the next few months. He's at college anyhow, he's only home on weekends, and you can share his room a few nights each week, can't you?"
"Of course, Dave's a great kid." Mr. Latimer answered. "We'll get along like gangbusters, you'll see."
"How are you doing this morning, hon?" Mom asked me as I joined them.
"I'm fine. How are you, Mr. Latimer?" I asked.
"Fit as a fiddle." Mr. Latimer replied. "Never slept better."
"I'm surprised. You were pretty wasted last night."
Mom and Mr. Latimer both laughed. "Mr. Latimer doesn't drink that much, dear." Mom explained. "He had two little drinks all night long, I saw."
"But he had puke all over his...." I trailed off.
"That was mine." Mom admitted. "I was sick on him, the poor man."
"And your showing it to me last night did make me sick." Mr. Latimer explained further.
Mom got up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go visit the bathroom again before I do it again."
She left rather rapidly and I sat down to breakfast. Looked my question at Mr. Latimer. "You said you thought I was Mom last night." was all I said.
"I told you," he smirked, "I wasn't that drunk."
[This story is a sample from my book "Hard Living, Hard Loving Men" which is available for sale only at my website, the URL is below, as well as Amazon and Barnes & Noble, with twenty all-new stories. My website book contains as well twenty sexually explicit illustrations including the one for this story.]
THE END
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WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM