Setting up some QOL improvements during a party.

You walk out of the bathroom in a daze. Just from the noise seeping into the hallway you could confirm the game night was still in progress. Heather's two-story house made for a more than satisfactory HQ and most of the usual crew had made it.

You see Vanessa, the smoking hispanic babe of the group, standing against the wall. A cup of sprite sways in her hand as she looks around with partial interest.

"Hey."

She sees you walk up and nod. "Hey John. Your stomach okay?"

You take a breath, daring to believe in the impossible. Her figure still looks amazing in her tight, white blouse and knee-length skirt. With a bosom like that, your own secret perversions had enough fuel to run wild all wanking night. But now, now... you could make that all a reality.

Thinking deeply, you clear out your mental cobwebs as neatly as you could.

I want all of my deeds to be universally accepted, no matter what they are. To be treated as if doing whatever I want and having things go my way is an utterly everyday aspect of life, like expecting a waiter when you go into a restaurant, and for all possible long- or short-term repercussions to be given the same treatment.

To be something not even worth making a fuss about.

Then, dismissing all doubt, you go for the kill. In one shaky move, you raise your arm and lightly cup the young woman's breast in your hand. The fabric couldn't hide the glorious heft of her chest, and you feel her nipples through her clothing. She looks down at your arm, and you brace for the worst.

"Feeling handy today, I see."

It hits you as undeniably as the flesh in your hand. You gulp, eyes widening.

Holy shit!

Holy shit!!?

She isn't exactly smiling -- but, miraculously, isn't in a fit of contorted sound and fury either.

She responded as if your casually touching her tit was a pat on the back; a topic to crack some joke on! Not a single snarl furrowed her mouth. You look down and realize you are actually touching Vanessa Garcia's breast. You have a hand on THE Vanessa Garcia's boob, her soft lump firmly nestled under your palm. And she wasn't doing anything or shouting any word of help to apprehend you!

For a second you wonder if she was frozen by shock and preparing the sharpest slap of both of your lives. But she does nothing to stop you as you push harder into her firm, full boob and squeeze it.

"Hello?" she snaps her finger in your face above your squeezing hand. When you look up at her she is no less indifferent as she had been before, though giving what seems like a knowing stare. "John, you in there? Or is a certain bodily asset of mine distracting you?"

Barring the fact that you think you might have just been granted the most ridiculous title in history. This was your ultimate fantasy come true. The hot hispanic didn't seem to consider anything as being awry, or a little bit more intimate than most girls would likely allow.

She just accepted it.

You really had the world at your mercy.

"I really... I really could do whatever I want." You mumble outloud, grabbing Vanessa's other breast and squeezing it. Swallowing, your fingers flit up to her collar and undo her buttons. Meanwhile, she is still engaging with you, head tilted upward to give you easier access.

"Well, yeah," she looked at him strangely. "And vacuums suck. John. Did you fall on your head back there, by any chance? Feel any headaches, or memory gaps?"

"Turn around and let me spank your ass," you say bluntly.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't object to being proverbially hand-waved. "Okay, okay." After setting down her drink she presents her backside to you, planting both hands on the wall, her top now unbuttoned down to a third of her cleavage. "Oh. Should I flip my skirt up or could you?"

With all your energy, you pick your jaw off the floor. Here she was, allowing you to smack her butt just because you told her to. Talking to you like a friendly chump, as if there was nothing morally questionable about what you were going to do...

You look back. The party is still going on just fine without you. Some eyes glance your way, and for a moment you stiffen. But then everyone carries on talking, eating, flirting, playing pool... like it wasn't even happening! Like you weren't about to give Vanessa a public spanking!

Her typically self-assured voice returned you to said butt as you quickly swished around. "Hey, come on John! You going to slap my butt yet or not?" She taps a foot. Her head is now resting on her forearms, her face patiently pivoted towards you as she leans against the wall in wait. "Oh," she pipes up, "and how much spanks do you want to give me again? I kind of want to know how much it will hurt beforehand just, you know, to prepare myself."

"A-freaking-mazing," your head practically shakes itself. You hesitantly poke her butt cheeks, which she says nothing of. Maybe it would be best to end it here, and move on to other people and parts of the house. You've already had your hypothesis proven in pretty much flying colors.