One Drink

The restaurant buzzes with conversation and clinking glasses, the soft glow of wall sconces making everyone look better than they actually do.

Not Wonyoung, she always looks good.

Wonyoung sits across from you in a booth, her tight white top hugging her curves, dark hair swept up in a messy bun with strands framing her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the "just one drink after dinner" she promised – the one that's already empty. Now she's holding up her second drink – a margarita with salt-rimmed glass and lemon wedge – posing with this slightly exaggerated smile, sunglasses tucked into the neckline of her top. She winks as you take a quick photo, that mischievous look in her eyes that always means trouble.

"Babe," you sigh, eyeing the drink warily. "You're about to be fucked up."

She giggles, already tipsy, her free hand reaching across the table to brush against yours. "Noooooo," she protests, wagging a finger at you with an exaggerated pout, her voice light and teasing, though her eyelids are already a little heavy. "I'm totally fine."

She takes a slow sip, ice clinking as she swirls the drink, her tongue flicking out to catch a stray droplet at the corner of her lips. The way she shifts in her seat, stretching her long limbs, the delicate dip of her waist leading into toned curves, makes your throat go dry. She's effortless, glowing under the restaurant lights, the teasing way she leans forward making it impossible to look anywhere else.

You know better. You know her. One drink is enough to get her warm, giggly—two, and she's draping herself over you as you leave the restaurant, her long fingers toying with the hem of your shirt, her lips at your ear, whispering filth in a breathy voice. By the time you make it to the car, her grip on your arm is tight, and she's already stumbling into the backseat, tugging at your belt before you can even shut the door.

The air in the car is thick, humid with heat and the faint scent of her perfume mixing with something more raw. Her pants are gone, panties pushed aside, shirt shoved up, leaving her sprawled beneath you, her long, creamy legs spread wide, trembling as she struggles to keep up. Every inch of her feels impossibly soft under your hands—smooth skin, the taut curve of her waist arching under your touch, her thighs trembling as her pussy stretches around your cock, snug and dripping, molding to you perfectly. Her bare skin glistens under the dim car light, completely shaved, puffy, and glistening as you watch her take you inch by fucking inch. The obscene stretch has her eyes rolling back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream before a sob chokes out, overwhelmed by the way you're filling her up.

"Fuuuuck, s'too big," she babbles, clawing at your shoulders, nails digging in as her body trembles beneath you. "Oh my god, baby, love you—love your cock—feels sooo fucking good—" Her words slur together, her drunk mind barely able to form coherent thoughts as pleasure crashes through her.

Her hands are everywhere, sloppy and desperate as they paw at your body. She shoves your shirt up, nails raking across your abs, grabbing at your flesh like she's starving for it. You feel her grip on your biceps, her fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, feeling you flex with each brutal thrust.

"So... so fucking hot," she slurs, eyes unfocused and glassy as her palms slide across your chest, grabbing and squeezing at random. "Been thinkin' 'bout your cock all night."

Every savage thrust makes her tits bounce, forcing these fucked-out little whimpers from her throat. You grab one breast roughly, pinching her nipple between your fingers until she squeals. Your other hand finds her throbbing clit, rubbing it in tight, mean circles that have her whole body jerking like she's being electrocuted.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she gasps, hips bucking wildly, completely out of rhythm. Her hand fumbles between your bodies, groping clumsily for your balls, squeezing them as you slam into her. Her movements are uncoordinated, drunk and dick-stupid, but the sloppy eagerness just makes it hotter.

She's a complete wreck, head thrashing against the seat, eyes unfocused, mascara running down her flushed cheeks. Drool glistens at the corner of her mouth as she tries to speak, but all that comes out are these broken, animal sounds. "Can't—hnnng—s'deep—too much—" she whines, her words melting into incoherent babble.

The car reeks of sex, windows completely fogged, the wet, obscene sounds of your cock pounding her cunt echoing in the small space. Every thrust has her walls clenching around you, sucking you back in, her body desperate for more even as she sobs from the intensity. Her nails leave angry red trails down your back, breaking skin, marking you as hers.

You grab both her wrists, pinning them above her head against the foggy window. She's completely at your mercy, helpless and spread open. You lower your head to her exposed armpit, dragging your tongue along the sensitive skin, tasting salt and the raw scent of her.

"Wha—what the fuuuck," she gasps, body jolting from the unexpected sensation. Her cunt clenches violently around you, her surprise turning to something primal and needy.

You bite down on the tender flesh, feeling her squirm beneath you, trapped and loving it. Your tongue laps at her armpit, occasionally scraping your teeth against the delicate skin. She's fucking losing it, the new sensation short-circuiting her alcohol-soaked brain.

"Holyshitholyshit," she sobs, her free hand yanking at your hair, pulling you harder against her most vulnerable spots. "Don't stop—feels so—fuck—"

Your cock jackhammers into her relentlessly, your thumb rubbing her swollen clit raw, your mouth attacking this new sensitive spot—she's completely overstimulated, brain and body drowning in sensation. You can actually feel her getting wetter around you, her cunt practically gushing as you work her over.

You let go of her wrists to grab her thigh, hooking it over your shoulder, folding her nearly in half. The new angle lets your cock hit places that have her eyes crossing, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Her freed hands paw at you desperately—one grabbing your ass, nails digging in hard enough to leave half-moon marks, the other running up your sweat-slick back.

"Mine," she slurs, barely conscious, just running on pure instinct. "Fucking mine."

You grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. She whimpers, completely surrendered, eyes glazed and vacant. You bite down on her neck, marking her, and she moans like a bitch in heat.

You shove your fingers into her mouth, feeling her suck them eagerly, tongue swirling sloppily around them. Drool leaks from the corner of her lips as she gags slightly. "That's it," you growl, grabbing your phone to snap a picture of her completely fucked-out face. "Look at you, fucking brain-dead on my cock."

She nods frantically, too far gone to even speak, just making these pathetic little whimpering noises with each brutal thrust. You angle your phone to capture the way your cock stretches her cunt, the way her whole body shakes every time you bottom out inside her. She loves this shit—begs for it, gets off on watching herself get absolutely ruined later when she's sober.

Your hand moves from her clit to grab her tit, twisting her nipple just hard enough to make her yelp, her back arching into the pain. Her walls clamp down around you, her body betraying how much she loves that sharp edge.

"Look at this sloppy cunt," you growl, grabbing her chin, forcing her glazed eyes to meet yours. "Fucking dripping for me. Taking every inch like you were made for it."

You grind your hips in a cruel circle, digging your cock into her deepest spots. Her eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent scream. Her hands are everywhere at once—scratching your chest, groping your shoulders, sliding down to feel where your bodies connect, like she can't believe how full she is.

"Gonna watch this tomorrow," you grunt against her ear, your voice harsh and low. "Just like you always want. Gonna see yourself like this—drunk off your ass, drunk on my cock, completely fucking mindless." You bite her earlobe hard enough to make her gasp. "See how that greedy cunt swallows me up. See how fucking desperate you are to be stuffed full."

You spread her legs wider, holding her down as you pound into her without mercy. Your fingers find her clit again, rubbing it ruthlessly, the stimulation so intense it borders on painful. Her hands scrabble uselessly at the seat, at your arms, at anything she can reach, completely overwhelmed.

"Can't—can't—oh fuck—there—right fucking there—" she babbles, words slurring into nonsense. Her eyes aren't even focused anymore, just staring blankly at nothing as pleasure consumes her.

She lets out this broken, animal sound as her whole body seizes up, her cunt clamping down so tight it's almost painful. She's coming so hard she's practically convulsing, back arched impossibly, nails drawing blood as they rake down your back. Her pussy spasms wildly around your cock, milking you as she falls completely apart beneath you.

You don't let up, fucking her through it, prolonging her orgasm until she's sobbing incoherently, not even forming words anymore. Her hands push weakly at your chest before grabbing at you to pull you closer, her body not knowing what it wants except more.

"Too much—can't—fuck—don't stop—please—" The contradictions spill from her lips, her hips still grinding against yours even as tears stream down her face. She's ruined, absolutely wrecked, and still begging for more, her body addicted to the feeling of you inside her.

She's completely yours like this, drunk on booze and your cock, mindless with pleasure, nothing in her head but the need for more, harder, deeper. Her hands cling to you desperately, her legs locked around your waist, her whole body surrendered to the raw, animal sensation of being completely, thoroughly fucked stupid.

...

Morning light streams through the blinds of your apartment, coffee brewing in the kitchen. You glance over at Wonyoung curled up in the armchair, legs folded up beneath her, wearing nothing but your oversized t-shirt. Her hair is a mess, makeup from last night still smudged around her eyes despite her attempts to clean up. She's staring at her phone, teeth sinking into her lower lip, cheeks flushed pink.

The tinny sound of her own voice filters through the phone speakers: Oh my god, baby, love you—love your cock—feels sooo fucking good—

She gasps, free hand flying up to cover her face, peeking through her fingers as the video continues. You can hear your own voice now: Look at this sloppy cunt. Fucking dripping for me. Taking every inch like you were made for it.

"Oh my god," she whispers, legs pressing tighter together. "Did I really say all that?" But despite her embarrassed tone, you notice how she's squirming in the chair, how her breathing has quickened, how she keeps rewinding to certain parts.

You shake your head, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing smile. "You always act shocked."

She looks up at you, still covering half her face. "I was so drunk! So embarrassing!"

But you both know the truth. By tonight, she'll be asking if you want to make another video. She always does.