What price, curiosity. Part 2 Oblivion - Sex Stories

What price, curiosity. Part 2 Oblivion

... her own ridiculous fantasies. For a brief moment she toyed with the idea of elbowing him in the gut and leaving him to freeze on her front doorstep. “If I didn’t know that you’re going to be so hung over tomorrow that you wish you could die, I’d make you pay for that.” With a final angry twist of her key, Paris got her door open and managed to guide a stumbling Tom into her study, where he collapsed onto the bed and immediately commenced snoring. Feeling a smidgen of pity, Paris dumped a glass of water and a pain killer on the bed side table, “You’re going to need this in the morning,” she smirked, satisfaction curving her lips into a smug smile. ::~:::~:: A shaft of sunlight bore through his eyelids and into his skull like a laser beam; the excruciating pain exploded into a fiery ball as he cracked one eye open. “Jesus.” He slammed the offending lid shut again. Tom groaned and the sound reverberated through his brain like a banshee on crack. “Oh, fuckkk.” His voice cracked on a horse whisper and his hands gripped the sides of his skull in the vain hope that it would prevent his head imploding with every breath; to no avail, his head throbbed like a bitch. Prizing one eye open again he almost whimpered like a little girl when he saw the glass of water and little white pill. Paris. He’d kiss her feet for this. Collapsing back into the pillows, his mouth foul, Tom wondered what the hell had happened. Little flashes of the evening began to filter through the haze as the drugs ...

... slowly did their job. Paris laughing as they’d sat at the bar. Her face radiant as she spoke of Jason; the fucking wanker. Beer. Fuck, lots and lots of beer. Tom’s stomach revolted and bile seared the back of his throat. With a valiant effort he swallowed and lay perfectly still, praying to a nameless god that his stomach would stop heaving. Flashes came quicker now… Paris, her face covered in BBQ sauce as she worked her way through a pile of chicken wings. The both of them laughing uncontrollably when she’d dropped a wing and it landed in the crevice of her breasts. Jesus her breasts! When the Hell had those appeared? If he was a betting man, and he was, he’d say the perfect handful. Tom snorted as his cock twitched. Nothing, not even a raging, mother of all hangovers could wipe the image of Paris giggling; sticky fingertips smearing sauce over pale flesh as she fished out the offending chicken wing, her face flushed with laughter as she’d hurriedly used her fingers to swipe clean the sauce left behind. Shots…of something clear and strong, when Jason - the fucking wanker, arrived. Who’d invited that arsehole anyway? Tom thankfully let his eyes close as his mind drifted and he began to recall more of the previous evening… Tom felt his lip curl as he watched, ‘The Wanker’ stroll through the bar. A supercilious smile was etched upon the man’s narrow lips and Tom couldn’t help but imagine the size of the stick shoved up his arse that made him walk so pompously. Taking a healthy ...