Memory Loss, Memory Found

It’s late afternoon and we are napping. Outside it’s about 10 degrees, in here it is warm and smells of cinnamon and the kind of odd electrical odor my heating blanket gives off.  I roll over and snuggle into Ad’s side, knowing it’s time to get up but not quite ready to do so.

He gets out of the bed suddenly and sheds his underwear, then stands there looking at me.  I open my eyes and blink up at him.  His cock is standing at half-mast, like he is pointing at me with it.  Which, in essence, he is.

“You’ve got a job to finish,” he says.

I grin and scoot over in the bed, inviting him in.  As I take him in my mouth I think about when I started this unfinished “job.”

Another warm bed, this time at W’s, only…yesterday, was it? Late morning, my head muzzy from the alcohol consumed the night before.  Thoughts and memories muzzier.  I rolled over between his legs and took him deep into my mouth–

“My head hurts!” (pout)

W gets up to get me pain killer, I lay back and plead an inability to function until my head stops hurting.  Ad allows me to stop, although later, I will pretend it is he that has kept me from finishing the job: “You didn’t let me finish you!” and he will raise an eyebrow.  “Oh, you will,” he’ll say.  And so I am, now.

As I begin to stroke him with one hand, long strokes from his testicles up to the tip and back down again, following the motion with my mouth, I am beginning to remember more and more from the night before.  Flashes, images, words, of all that we did.

I’m a bad drinker.  A couple drinks and I am gone, high and silly, with a voracious sexual appetite and a willingness to do anything…and then, in the morning I only remember things in flashes.

Oh wait, the guys think that makes me a good drinker.  They like to get me drunk.  They tease me, play with me, pin me down and fuck me.  I giggle and yelp and plead with them, say the things I never say when I am sober (“yes, fuck me, fuck my ass, do it, yes!”)

I remember laughter and teasing and flirting and playing.  I remember W’s weight on me, pinning me down while Ad smacked me, I remember thrashing and licking and sucking…I remember W’s cock in my mouth and Ad behind me, but I don’t recall him fucking me with “Bright Blue,” as my new blue dildo has been dubbed, as they both claim that he did. I do recall pushing Ad back and pulling my rings apart, my new, tender piercings, and sliding down on him until I felt the sharp, keen pain of the piercings biting me, and in that pain, I came, hard, crying out.  Later the guys told me I came in perfect timing with the New Year’s fireworks exploding outside.  I couldn’t hear it over the fireworks of my own body.

And I remember waking at some point very late, nestled between their warm bodies, their arms around me, my legs tangled in theirs, and loving them, these two amazing, beautiful, brave, sexy men, with a fierceness that even now brings tears to my eyes.

I may not have a perfect memory when I drink, but I remember the important things, and I know no matter what this new year brings, I will remember this past one as one of the best years of my life.  And it’s all because of them.

2 Comments

  1. Michelle says:

    I’m like that too. Drinking makes me a porn star for sure :)

    1. piecesofjade says:

      Hehe, love that–“Jade the Porn Star” only when I’m tipsy though. (grin)

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