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A young couple experience sex for the first time...

Turns out we'd popped her alcohol cherry and didn't even know it. Wish her first hadn't been a Smirnoff Ice, but whatever.

To make her feel at ease, I started telling her all my most embarrassing alcohol stories. The time I pissed in my sister's closet, the time I tackled a McDonald's employee because he wouldn't give me thirty Egg McMuffins, ect. I've found out over the last couple years that the best way to alleviate someone's fear of getting drunk is telling them the worst stories you have. Somehow, it always makes them less scared of making fools of themselves.

Now, we finally get to the thing I said at the beginning of the story. When I tell a story, three out of five times I will knock over a drink. So, while Holly sits in her chair, I'm standing up describing how I ended up shaving my junk on a drunken bet. Her face is red, but she is laughing her ass off. And then, in one huge sweeping gesture, I knock what's left of my Cape Cod (a drink, look it up) off the shelf and down her front.

I should give some info here. I had liked Holly a bit back in high school. She was pretty, wore glasses (which I love), and had a sweet, round ass. Not too big, not too small, just round with the right amount of plumpness. Unfortunately, things had never lined up for me to ask her out. When we met again a year later, she looked much the same. Same thick rimmed glasses, same shoulder length dark brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, same great ass. I noticed. The only thing that surprised me was that she was wearing a huge, baggy sweatshirt, which was the opposite of the stylish, body hugging outfits I fondly remembered from high school.

So, having had a thing for the girl, I was pretty mortified when I knocked a third of a glass of vodka and cranberry juice down her front. After a second of stunned silence, she took off like a shot towards the bathroom, dropping the huge book she'd been holding all night. After allowing a few seconds for my alcohol addled brain to realize what I'd done, I followed.

Bursting into the bathroom after her (I was drunk, remember) I started stammering apologies immediately.

"Holly, I'm so sorry. I always do this. Let me help . . ." I trailed off at this point as I realized several things at once. 1- I followed a member of the female sex into a closed bathroom. 2 - She was for sure not going to appreciate the first thing. 3 - Holly had removed her sweatshirt to reveal a form-hugging white spaghetti strap top that barely held some truly impressive breasts at bay. I felt a twitch below my waist.

"Ummm, I have nothing to say in this situation. Help me out here."

"What?! What are you doing in here?!"

I debated with myself, and decided to go with honesty. "Well, I was trying my hardest to apologize so that you didn't hate me, but now I feel like we should address the elephants in the room."

"You mean elephant, singular, right?"

"Nope."

I realize that I should probably be getting slapped at this point, but instead she started laughing, which did some impressive things to her chest.

At a time like that, I know that a lot of guys might try to keep it cool and play coy. I'm not good at that even when I'm sober, so . . .

"Before you stop laughing and realize how pissed you should be, I want to know when those happened." She tried to cover up her cleavage with her hands, but that just made the swell of her boobs bulge out beneath her arms. The last time I had seen her, Holly had possessed some nice tits, perky and everything, but no more than a B-cup for sure. Now I was staring down the barrels of some D or DD guns.

"Oh, geeze, . . . they started growing the summer after senior year. I was surprised, but my mom said that exact same thing happened to her. She said she was smaller to start, but she went from an A-cup to a D in a year." Damn.

"Do you always hide them like that?"

"What makes you think I was hiding?"

"Uh, the huge baggy sweater and the giant book you had a stranglehold on all n

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