The world takes on a different texture when you are stoned. Alcohol or weed, they have their differences but they alter your perception and for most people a few parties in their earlier life have been experienced through a chemical induced filter. Be it TCH or ethanol the molecular moderator makes the experience what it is. While removing inhibitions and sometimes the clarity of recollection that would otherwise allow us to recall details of events the day after it is the combination of time, place, those around us, the music and the hit that come together to form the event.
There were three of us. We had all just left school at 18, none of us destined for university. Kevin would later wind up in a factory on a production line despite a mind that I suspected of having a 150 IQ. Daren’s dreams of working on the stage and eventually being the next big thing in stand-up comedy found expression at the local pub talent nights. And as for me, well I’m writing this now so you know what became of me.
I always found there’s a point in every evening when the self-consciousness of youth evaporated and I became more at ease with myself. Although the intoxication from the pints of cider we were drinking was a gradual process the moment at which this change in my mood occurred was always palpable and signalled the real start of the night out.
This particular night we were in a pub that I still pass irregularly and each time I do the memories flood over me like a warm and familiar wave. The night started when I took the first pull from the first cider I bought there, the third pint of the night. We grew a little louder and more convivial, our jokes and banter seemed suddenly funnier and the patrons outside our circle of three friends a little further away.
We decided to play pool, a game that I loved despite being appallingly bad at it. Playing winner-stays-on we managed three or four games until the dark shapes of other customers made themselves felt outside the cocoon of illumination created by the table lights. I played Kevin on our last game and was about to leave the table when a voice said “Winner stays on isn’t it?”
“If you like.” I replied, peering into the dark.
She walked into the pool of light revealing herself to be one of a group of girls who I had vaguely noticed while we were at the bar. I racked up while she chalked a cue. She had a striking figure, dressed in a dark skirt and slightly theatrical silk blouse that was right on fashion. The sort of thing that is so trendy it would look dated next week. Her hair was freshly highlighted, I imagined I could smell the peroxide from the far end of the table and that turned me on. I’ve always loved the smells associated with women getting ready for a night out. I hate the chemical smell of hair products themselves but love the association with the preparatory rituals. Mix the aroma of hair dyes with smell of makeup and a few glasses of alcohol and you have olfactory dynamite as far as I’m concerned.
Her first shot sent balls careering all over the table and left me with one shot to a corner pocket. I sank it but was left to play safe. We traded shots for ten minutes or so, neither of us about to win any tournaments for our skill and both of us more interested in watching each other than playing the game of our lives. The sight of her leaning towards me over the table with the front of her blouse opening to reveal her cleavage would have distracted anyone and the fabric of her skirt stretched over a round ass made highly conscious of the increasingly heavy weight between my legs.
Eventually with only the black on the table I played the winning shot. She smiled and shrugged, slipping off into the gloom leaving me to play one of her companions. I thrust my cue into Daren’s hand, “You play her mate …” I told him before following my vanquished opponent to the bar. Leaning on the shiny, wet Formica I said simply “Alex”.
“Dawn” she replied flashing sparkling blue-green eyes at me.
I bought us both a drink before we made our way to the back of the bar and out into small the beer garden. We were alone for a while and exchanged a few words. Her hand strayed up to her neck and toyed with the thin gold chain that hung around it, then she reached across to me and touched the arm of my jacket in a way that seemed to indicate I should reciprocate. I did, pulling her gently towards me, her face turning upwards as I did so offering a pair of red painted lips. I had to kiss them.
She slid her arms around me, inside my jacket, wanting to share my warmth as the cool night air suddenly cut through the insulating layer of alcohol we were both wearing. Her lips were soft and yielding, alive and flavoured with lipstick. I slid my tongue inside her mouth and explored this virgin territory. We had only exchanged a few words but now we were exchanging bodily fluids and it seemed so natural. With our hands sliding over each others backs we were locked in a fluid embrace for several minutes until our racing hearts seemed to suddenly skip a beat together as the excitement peaked and we stared, gasping at each other.
I inclined my head to one side and raised an eyebrow. In that small sequence of gestures she understood and echoed my desire. Her smile and tongue dancing across her lips was our queue to leave.
I was in the zone where I was drunk enough to be slightly disassociated with reality and yet alive with a racing heart at the thought of what was to come. In one breath we were outside, in the next we were in the bar and I was gesturing to Darren and Kevin that I was leaving. Then we were in the cab on the way home oblivious to the driver, who on reflection was probably watching in his rear view mirror as my hand slid up dawn’s skirt and discovered a damp pair or knickers at the top.
My investigation of her damp panties was only interrupted by the cabbies request for “Fifteen quid mate.”
Inside my flat the bed beckoned but the sofa was nearer the bundle of arms and legs that we had become rolled onto the creaking ancient piece of furniture stopping only to loosen my trousers and yank them down. Who undid my belt and unzipped me was unclear even as it happened, as was why I found myself sliding past the wet gusset of her underwear to the sound of the side seam of her skirt tearing.
The hot, warm cavern of her snatch enveloped me and gripped me tight. She grasped the upholstery of the sofa and closed her eyes, head rolling from side to side and mouth emitting increasingly louder moans of enjoyment. My thrusting was insistent and vigorous though I found myself at first unable to drive myself fully inside her.
The first intense moments of our coupling became minutes and with each second that passed I felt he stretch to accommodate me. Her eyes opened wide and mouth framed into an “O” when she realised how much her pussy was being filled and had stretched to accommodate me. Our pubic hair finally entwined she pulled me close to her as I ground into her.
Dawn began to spasm, the muscles of her vagina gripping and rippling in orgasmic spasms. I felt her shudder and press her face into my chest. I released the orgasm I had been holding in check and was rewarded for my self-control with a shattering climax that l left me light-headed. Each jet of cum with which I filled her left me feeling as if I had given up a little of my life force until as the involuntary contractions came to an end it was all I could do to collapse across her chest.