Drunken reactions

Arron didn't know how he managed to stumble back into the house but when he did, he briefly looked around to see if Sarah was home. Her car wasn't in the driveway and the light upstairs was out, telling him that she was still not home even though the time appeared to be 2:30...or was it 1:30...hard to tell when the hands kept skipping all over the place. "Time to get a gorram digital..." he slurred, his feet shifting uncomfortably as he tried to kick off the heels he was wearing. Finally giving up, he just waited until his legs gave way and he splayed out in the hallway for a few moments.

"I look absolutely ridiculous..." he muttered, laughing at how stupid he looked as he caught his reflection in the hall mirror. His hair was loose and hanging while his makeup, still looking rather good for a night-time look, was a bit caked and powdery in places. A bit lower, his top was unbuttoned halfway down and those that were still fastened were about to give up the ghost.

His jeans were sticky and a bit damp still, making his thighs and legs feel uncomfortably cold. With a grunt, he managed to kick off the right heel and then somehow, he got the left one off too. A few more moments of laughing at how stupid he felt, Arron slowly grasped the side table and ungracefully managed to pull himself back up. Undoing the button, he slipped out of the jeans with as much dignity as his drunken state would allow before casually kicking it behind him.

"One foot in front of the other..." he muttered, every sound coming from his head seemed to be amplified times a thousand, every step was a mastery class in seeing how much pressure one could put on unbalanced feet no longer prone to listening to the mind's commands to keep them upright. Arron stumbled once, then twice, and the third time had him seriously contemplating sleeping on the steps leading upstairs.

Somehow, though, he made his way to his bedroom where he opened the door, by sheer **** of will pulling his body inside, and then closing it behind him again. He paused to collect his breath and then managed to fall/walk onto his bed. "God, I'm such a slouch..." he whispered before he looked to his right at the mirror by his bed. Even though he was four sheets to the wind drunk, the woman in the reflection was still very much an attractive eye-candy. Her breasts were rising and falling rhythmically and the pair of pink brief panties emphasized the shapeliness of her figure. If it weren't for the big massive tent underneath them, the picture would've been one of a very sexy, if not ****, middle-aged woman.

William somehow managed to close the door behind him to his bedroom and stumbled his way to his bed. Derek was already asleep upstairs when he got back and it took all of his remaining mental power to keep as quiet as possible. It still didn't really help that he bumped into one or two or ten things when he got there to his bedroom.

Figuring out how he managed to remain upright would be a task for tomorrow. Right at that moment, though, he quickly took off his jacket and plopped down on top of the bedsheet, feeling both the comforting embrace of the mattress and cool sheets beneath him, but his mind was elsewhere completely. He was 45 years old, a widowed husband of 22 years, and a father of a young man. He wasn't supposed to be feeling such infatuation over a person he just met and got to know briefly. He shouldn't be tongue-tied when it came to expressing things that he was thinking or even that he should be picturing such things in his mind. Hell, he was already 45, he shouldn't be lusting after a woman like a drunken frat boy.

So why did he suddenly find himself getting incredibly hard thinking about Erin?

It made no sense. She was new to the town, he had met her only a few days before when she dropped off Derek, so why on Earth would he be head over heels infatuated with her? What did he really know about her?

He had fought the urge to really do much and that had caused him to turn his attention to drinking. His usual limit was two or three tops but tonight, after they were talking, he had gone past 6 beers. He wasn't a lightweight but at 45, after years of only one or two drinks a year, 6 felt like a stone was dropping on his head every two or three seconds. It also caused him to lose any real sense of control and the more he tried to mentally rationalize his feelings and to address them as a logical human being, the male in him awoke up and pushed back hard. He pictured in his mind her face, the curve and fullness of her lips, how moist she kept them as they talked. He closed his eyes and he could hear her laughter, the way her voice carried into his ears. He even could smell the perfume she was wearing.

This is crazy, he tried to stop himself but once he reached down to take off his shirt, the moment he pulled it over his nose, he caught immediately the scent of her perfume and his mind flashed back to how, when he had turned to say goodbye, she had leaned against him, pressing her breasts against his arm until it was wedged inbetween them, and her lips pressed against his cheek.

William's hand immediately undid his pants button and unzipped before sliding it down at his feet. He didn't even bother to take off his briefs, sliding his hand underneath the band and wrapped around himself, stroking with his right while keeping the smell to his nose with his left. His eyes still closed, he imagined that the hand stroking him was not his own but hers, her fingers running up and down the length of his cock, pumping and stroking him in time with her kisses. He felt weak in the knees, uncertain how much longer he could remain standing, but it ended quickly. He shot his load, then second, and even a third rope of white cum shooting out into his hand and coating his fingers.

Oh my fucking god...

Arron continued caressing his "tits", watching with barely opened eyes at the woman who was equally turned on, her face and body flushed from a mixture of heat, passion, and a little too much hops. He felt his mouth forming "Os" and "Aahs" but not a word came out of them as one hand snaked down and slipped underneath the band of his cotton panties, wrapping around the tip of his cock and stroking it like he always did. He felt it coming to life, engorging and getting harder and harder as he continued to stroke it.

It was an unusual sensation, his hands were a bit softer than before given all the lotion and creme he was applying all over his body on the daily. He never imagined that the next delicate hands belonging to a woman who touched and stroked him would be his very own. Still, he closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillow, continuing to stroke himself and silently moan and groan.

In his mind's eye, he found himself back in the parking lot of the grill, by his SUV, but there was no one else around. No one except for William, who was busily pressing his larger, muscular frame against him. Arron found himself pressed against the door of the SUV but instead of feeling trapped, his body felt restrained and that got his pulse racing. He pressed his lips against the man's, feeling no pressure or hesitation to open his mouth and press his tongue against Williams, to taste him as much as feel the warmth of another person's kiss. It was both perverse and intoxicating to be held so strongly, firmly, and to be engulfed in a sense of being weaker than his partner. For 41 years, he was always the boy and never once had any such desires or thoughts. Now, after 2 weeks, he was suddenly enraptured with it.

William continued to kiss him deeply and Arron ran a hand along William's chest, feeling his torso and muscles that were well-defined and not at all different than what he was in real life. His scent was strong and Arron hesitated only for a moment before he pulled his top off and inhaled where he had been leaning against William, his cologne and smell filling his nose and causing him to feel his cock beginning to strain from the stroking and the tension with his hands picking up their pace. He unknowingly began to buck his hips up off the bed, not really caring what he may have looked like, all his mind's eye was focused on was the sensation of him pressed against the older man, feeling their lips and tongues together, his hands roaming and holding onto his hips. Arron placed his hands down and grabbed onto William's firm ass and pulled the man into him, grinding their crotches together, and the sensation of a tight, large, and hard bulge pressed against him caused Arron to instantly cum. A shout, a very feminine shout, filled the room at the same time his cock spewed several large globs of cum all over the bra he was wearing and even landing on his open mouth. Panting, he laid there for a few moments just watching the woman looking back at him, her face filled with contentment and happiness, before she dipped her finger in the lukewarm puddle of semen on her right breast and brought it up to her mouth where she proceeded to suck on it.

I wonder if he tastes like this...maybe I can find out sometime... he thought before the exhaustion from the day washed over him.