My intruder was at the sink. I moved the bottom step and craned my head to see around the kitchen doorframe… and there he was. Noisy bastard was was...ing his hands… of blood. My blood. He stood nearly as tall as me, and was wearing torn blue jeans and a bloody sweatshirt. I swear– you’ve never quite had the cold chills until you see someone actually wearing about two pints of your own blood. Creepy as hell. Oh, and Mr. Original was wearing a black ski mask to complete his criminal ensemble. I. We didn't say much, just sat staring at each other, all worked up. 'Oh', said Audie. How could I forget, 'I have a bottle of tequila . Shooters anyone?' 'That should warm us up for sure.' I said as I looked at Sammi. As the drinking continued, the conversations became more sexual and suggestive. We all talked more with our hands and friendly gestures became friendlier touches. The fire and tequila had done a good job of warming us up and drying our clothes. And it made each of us even hornier.. My eyes closed; I could only hope that his did also. His lips were soft, exerting no pressure on my mouth. Though my drooling pussy expected a French kiss, he kept his tongue in check. Likewise his hands; they held me close enough so that my breasts pressed on his chest but his hands remained chastely on my back, not yet roaming as with most boys.I stepped back away from him to unbutton the virginal while blouse I had donned that morning for church. Our eyes locked as I fumbled with my buttons. Small talk “how are your daughters? An*** still painting? Ar***** still into science? When is she going to come to Emory to work with me? So you were out swing dancing.” That goes on for a few minutes until we are just looking at each other and we don’t seem to want to talk anymore. “Could you just sort of lean over so that your right boob is pressing against my left arm?” “You mean like this?”It’s a supermarket, but we are lost in each other’s eyes, we have no idea if anyone is.
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