"Aren't you too young to be drinking?"

"Does this look like the kind of place to check ID?" she laughs, taking a sip of her drink. You can smell the **** on her breath as she speaks. Clearly, she's already been here a while. She seems to be able to hold her liquor pretty well, but judging from the mass of empty glasses in front of you she has an immense amount to drink. She's definitely drunk, her eyes are glazed and she's swaying slightly. You take a seat in the booth next to her, maintaining a reasonable distance between the two of you for now.

But she's having none of that. She climbs into your lap, guiding your hands onto her hips as she grinds her body against yours, her pillowy soft breasts pushed up hard against your chest. Your lips lock as she practically slides her entire tongue down your throat, devouring you with hard, wet kisses. You can taste her strawberry-scented lip gloss, mixed with the hint of booze that lingers on her breath. Every so often she pulls away to catch her breath - thin, glistening strands of saliva still connecting your lips - only to dive back in with renewed hunger. No one in the bar seems to be paying the two of you any attention - not that you would have noticed anyway.

Finally, out of breath, she pulls her face away from yours, placing a hand on your rock-hard erection.

“I want you,” she breathes drunkenly, wiping the saliva from her face. “Now.”