I put an arm behind her on her shloulders and kissed her, licking her lips gently. Her tongue found mine. Meanwhile my other hand was stroking the bulge that arose underneath the cotton. A little tent arose. I kept stroking till my hand felt more than just cotton, but some solid human tissue while my ear was overpoured with a hissing sound.She wasn't the only one fighting a loss of breathcontrol."Maybe we should go to the bar,"she whispered.There were some seats vacant at the corner.A mixed bunch of patrons, hunched over their phones or drinks, an atmos[here you find in any hotelbar at 3 PM in San FranciscoI ordered two sake that come in those cute flasks. The ultimate hangover cure, if she wasn't one.We didn't care to toast, just poured are warm drink in the porcelain cup and were silent.I had positoned myself against the wall so had the 45 degrees advantage. I took it. Slid my hand underneath the skirt till my hands found the still erect devil that reared its head immediately.. I remember the first night we hooked up clearly. It was after grad, we were both wasted, eighteen and high on life. We had gone to the school’s safe grad together, gotten fairly drunk under adult supervision, then headed to an after grad party, which left us so smashed we could barely stand up, and clung to each other laughing. There was a boy Kirsten was interested in, and she wanted to take him to a back room, but he was drinking too much to notice. As twins, we had no lack of boys trying to get with us, usual together of course, and neither of us were virgins, but Kirsten had a thing for this one, and was put out by his rejection. To help her out I tried to work him too, kissing one side of his face, asking if he’d ever done twins. It took a while to get through to him, but once he figured out what I was implying he was more than happy to stumble to his feet and lurch with us to an unoccupied bedroom. Unfortunately, that’s as far as we got. Kirsten’s boy was flaccid as empty.
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