Monday Morning

I awoke the next morning with Chelsea wrapped in my arms and the feeling of her ass rubbing back and forth over my morning wood. My shaft was wedged firmly between her soft buttcheeks as she slid them up and down from tip to balls. I cupped her breast, lightly then grabbed a full handful of her ass.

When my eyes opened, I was greeted with the site of the open bathroom doors. Scenes from the night before flashed through my brain. Unfortunately, Lauren and Liam were not in their bed.

"You're so sexy," I groaned as I grabbed a hold of my cock and pressed it through the outer folds of Chelsea's pussy, lining it up with her entrance. She moaned lightly, encouraging me to continue. I kissed her shoulders, drawing goosebumps over her bare skin, then-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Fuck!' I shouted, nearly jumping out of bed. The bedroom door swung open. It was Chris.

"Hey, uh, sorry," he put his hands up in front of his eyes. "It's mini golf day, sluts. Let's go!" He took off back up the stairs, not even bothering to close the door. Chelsea and I looked at each other, defeated.

I haven't mentioned it before but our group had an affinity for miniature golf, mostly because it was an easy, silly game that we could use to make silly bets. Some of the bets in previous games were: losing team had to buy the winning team's drinks for the night (this was the most common bet), losing team had to drink Smirnoff Ices only for the night (this was a rough one to lose), losing team had to wear a shirt of the winning team's choice for the entirety of the night out (we may have gotten kicked out of a bar because of this one), and losing team had to spend the night handcuffed to their partner.

Chelsea and I quickly got dressed then stumbled upstairs to find everyone already dressed and waiting with coffees in their hands.

"I'm going to need to get coffee," I said, my voice raspy and harsh.

"The Uber is going to drop us off at this coffee shop called Mr. Beans," Lauren said. "Put your order in here." She handed me her phone and Chelsea and I fumbled our way through ordering two coffees and two breakfast sandwiches.

"So what are the stakes?" I asked as we made our way downstairs to wait for the Uber.

"Winners get to decide what we do tonight."

"Perfect," I replied. What proceeded to take place was some of the worst miniature golf that has ever been played in the sport's history. As our hangovers gave way to caffeinated drunkenness, our shots went from falling short to, well, all over the damn place. We were mostly well behaved except for the constant swearing, the handful of balls we hit into the water and had to replace, and the girls who tried to distract the guys by lifting up their shirts and flashing their bra-clad breasts. In the end, Robert, Lauren, Ariel, and Chris defeated me, Chelsea, Lisa and Liam.

After grabbing lunch and a number of beers at the local brewery, we headed back and hit the beach.