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The sheets were terrible and there was no open window with a breeze flowing in. There was a half empty bottle of beer next to the bed full of cigarette butts and in the other room, someone was listening to Dolly Parton too loudly. The walls were covered in posters, and the closest thing to art was the fake Chanel purse on the floor.

We hadn’t been drinking martinis. We were wasted on tequila from the bottle with chasers of Schaefer beer. We were drunk, classy, and mostly naked.

She blew me until she nearly threw up, and I spent more time licking her thigh than anything else. Our sixty-nine was desperate and awkward and it felt more like a requirement than a good idea.

“Just fuck me,” she said as we turned around on the bed. I was still wearing boxers and socks, and her jeans were around her ankles. She had giant hoop earrings that were tangled in her hair, and her lipstick was smeared across her face. Presumably my cock too, but I didn’t look.

I tried to tear her jeans off, but I finally gave up and lifted her legs together in front of me. I pushed inside her and she made a sound that was more surprise than ecstasy. I asked if she was okay and she told me not to stop. I slipped out three times as I tried to hold her up, and it was she who managed to pull her jeans off one leg at a time.

By the time her thighs were open and I was moving rhythmically between them, someone pushed the door open with a loud yell followed by a half-hearted apology.

“I think that was my boyfriend’s brother,” she said. “Shit.”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” I said.

“Well, don’t fucking stop. It’s too late now anyway.”

I fucked harder, and nothing was going to last long. I tried to remember her name as I leaned down to kiss her, but she pulled my head into her neck rather than to her lips. I grunted as I got closer, and she pulled me into her with two hands on my ass.

“Come on my tits or something, okay? I don’t want it inside me.”

It was all I could do to balance myself, but I pulled out and sat up as quickly as I could. The first bit landed on her stomach before shooting up her body and into her tangle of hair. I hit her chin and her neck. I hit everything but her tits, and she screamed at me as she pushed me off onto the floor.

I looked down at my cock sticking out from my boxers, and I watched it get soft as she wiped herself off with my tee shirt. I found my jeans in a corner and pulled them on as she fixed her makeup in the mirror.

“Are you in trouble?” I asked.

“He’s an asshole,” was all she said.

“I’m sorry about the hair,” I managed.

“Whatever. It’s better than getting pregnant.”

As she turned and walked out the door I found myself staring at her ass.