Reassembling the night - Sex Stories

Reassembling the night

... little squeal from the bathroom. "Oh God my hair." She reappeared in the doorway. "You didn't tell me Meryl Streep had lent me hers." Sitting propped up on the bed, Ryan's eyes were drawn to the centre of her body where an untamed nest of light-brown hair sprouted, disappearing into the deep vee between her legs. It still fascinated him that very few blondes had the same colour hair there. "Yeah, I can see the resemblance." She tutted and shook her head. "One track mind," but Ryan noticed her once again glance down at his cock. "Says you. I can cover up if you're vegetarian." Imogen laughed. "Omnivore all the way." "An om-nom-nom-nivore, I'll bet." She flashed him a mischievous grin before disappearing into the bathroom. Ryan imagined her kneeling, looking up at him with those big blue eyes bulging, lips split around his fat tool, slurping his meat as he grabbed her head and made her take more. He jacked his shaft at the imagery. Started working out how to manipulate her to make that happen, but his hangover got in the way. Figured he'd have to wing it. Her voice again echoed from the bathroom. "Oh. My. God. I'm so sorry." "What?" She came back to the door, hanging onto the frame for support. "I think I was sick and mopped it up with your towel." "Ahh, the orange." "Yes, the orange. Want me to wash it?" Ryan dismissed her with a wave. "I'll sort it later. Or burn it." "You don't mind?" "I always let strange girls yack on my towels. Adds to the allure." "Don't! You sure ...

... about this?" He nodded as she turned and he watched her tattoo wiggle away from him once more. "Nice ink, by the way," he called after her. "What's the story with that?" "My middle name." "You middle name's 'flower'? Bit unusual." Her laugh echoed off the bathroom tiles. "Rose." "Is that so you can remember your name when you drink too much?" "Something like that." "And how's that working out for you?" "Not so good. Maybe I need to go full Memento ." Imogen Rose returned and slithered under the covers, pulling them up to her chin. "Hey, Becky might remember something." "Becky?" "My bestie. She never drinks as hard as me." "So call Becky the bestie. The suspense is killing." Imogen grabbed her phone, scrolled, tapped and put it to her ear. The mechanical purr of the ringing tone spilled into the room, shortly followed by the cheery voice of Becky, tinny yet clearly audible in the comparative silence of the room. "Hey Immy, where the fuck are you, biatch?" Ryan rolled his eyes and mouthed, "Immy?" Imogen shoved him. "Hey Becks. Lost you last night. I know we were at Mint early on. Having memory trouble after that." "We hooked up with the IT crowd who plied us with drinks. A lot of drinks. I think Fran copped off with one of them, but she wouldn’t spill. And one of the guys was totally into Zara, but she wasn't interested and he was too pissed to notice. Pretty funny actually." "Brown hair, brown eyes, about six-one and a big-" she fleetingly dropped her eyes to his crotch again, ...