Late-night drinks

Getting drunk in front of someone you're flirting with is a way of hoping they'll take advantage of your vulnerability.
Besides money, alcohol is probably the most versatile thing in the world.
It can embolden you, drown your sorrows, allow you to say things you wouldn't normally dare, and even let you drive things you'd never dared to drive before…
It gives reserved people a reason to let loose, and some stories begin or end because of a drunken night.
That day, he and his friends went to karaoke, and I went too. We played dice in the private room. I drank beer glass after glass, even though he kept stopping me, but I didn't think I had a low tolerance. When I got up to go to the bathroom, I felt lightheaded and realized I'd drunk quite a bit. After leaving the restroom, he helped me to the sofa to rest. I leaned on his shoulder; it felt so comforting that I fell asleep. When I woke up, most people had left. He said I'd catch a cold and wanted to take me home to rest. Although I sensed something was about to happen, seeing his concern touched me, so I agreed.
His eyes were so sharp, his eyebrows so thick, and, most importantly, he had chest hair. But then, my mind started wandering. I liked it; it was a heart-pounding feeling, a limpness all over my body, and then an endless ocean lifting me up…
At that moment, he held me in his arms, and I felt completely weak, all thoughts gone. I don't know why, but I leaned in and kissed him. His response was intense, just like his usual style. Later, his strong masculine scent truly intoxicated me. My desire surged quickly, and we were like lovers in a movie, tearing off each other's clothes piece by piece. He kissed every inch of my body, a long-lost pleasure enveloping me.
I trembled uncontrollably, a warm current surging through my lower abdomen under his vigorous kneading. Under the impact of this heat, I involuntarily thrust my chest forward, raising my arms to make my already swollen breasts stand erect, the nipples clearly defined, especially alluring. My movements seemed to give him a signal; his hand suddenly slipped under the hem of my tank top, roughly kneading my smooth abdomen.
He showered my face with passionate kisses, his lips pressing against mine, making it hard to breathe. His hand on my abdomen grew increasingly rough, sweeping across my breasts, sending shivers down my spine even through my bra. His hand moved downwards again and again, slipping inside my waistband and kneading vigorously below my navel, sending waves of heat rushing between my thighs. Under the impact of this heat, I involuntarily arched my back and thrust my legs forward.
My mouth was blocked, making it hard to breathe, and my whole body felt like it was being electrocuted. His hands squeezed and kneaded my swollen breasts, waves of pain radiating from them, almost unbearable, yet the pain also brought a strangely pleasurable sensation. The more unbearable the pain, the stronger this pleasurable feeling became. My lower abdomen burned like fire, the heat spreading to my inner thighs. The feeling of heaviness in my abdomen turned into a sharp, pulling pain in my lower back, a sensation reminiscent of menstrual cramps.
Under the burning heat, the pain in my lower body seemed to intensify, bringing waves of pleasure. I gasped for breath, the surging heat making me dizzy and my nerves ablaze; I couldn't even register what his hands were doing. My unconscious movements clearly fueled his desire even more intensely. He pressed one leg over mine, his entire body pressing down on me. Beneath him, in complete darkness, I felt utterly crushed, my body as if all my joints had dislocated. I desperately tried to turn my head away, just to catch my breath under his pressure. There was something hard between his legs, pressing against my lower abdomen and thighs, a sharp, aching pain.
His lower hand slipped inside my underwear, while his upper hand explored my bra. I struggled weakly beneath him, finally understanding what it meant to be a weak woman. Under the weight of his body, my struggles seemed utterly futile. I desperately tried to protect my most private parts, one hand desperately resisting his hand's assault on my breasts, the other desperately blocking his hand's assault on my vagina. I twisted my body with all my might, preventing his hands from reaching where he wanted to. I kept pleading, "No, no, don't!" Despite my desperate resistance, he seemed to ignore me, his lower body pounding violently against my genitals again and again.
His hard penis repeatedly thrust into my lower abdomen, thighs, and perineum, causing his entire body to heave wildly on top of me. I felt as if my bones were being crushed and shattered. With each heavy thrust of his, my chest heaved, hot breaths rising and hitting my throat. I involuntarily opened my mouth slightly, letting out these gasps, and unconsciously moaned, "Ah, ah..." With a few more violent thuds of his erect penis, he finally stopped his vigorous movements, his hands ceasing their kneading and squeezing. He slumped down, pinning me firmly beneath him, panting heavily. My whole body felt suddenly drained, as if I had finally found peace after the storm. I lay beneath him, powerless and breathless.
Afterwards, he held me and fell asleep. Looking at his closed eyes, I felt a strange mix of intimacy and estrangement, an indescribable feeling. The next day, we had moved past our desires, and I realized it was just a game, like any offline relationship—we'd come together with attraction and impulse, only to part ways after the passion faded.
[Postscript]
Many times I really wanted to get you drunk and ask you if you really cared about me; people come and go in life, but which one am I to you?

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Late-night drinks

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