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LOL Riuffian!
I'm a touchy freely affectionate drunk. I also turn into the most beautiful person in the room and easily the best dancer the world has ever seen. Not to mention a filthy little minx in bed.
LOL Riuffian!
I'm a touchy freely affectionate drunk. I also turn into the most beautiful person in the room and easily the best dancer the world has ever seen. Not to mention a filthy little minx in bed.
If it weren't for all that sex you've had, sure.
Absolutely! I'm a slutty drunk
Lol. Sort of the same thing isn't it?
LOL Riuffian!
I'm a touchy freely affectionate drunk. I also turn into the most beautiful person in the room and easily the best dancer the world has ever seen. Not to mention a filthy little minx in bed.
Yes, on more than one occasion...alcohol always seems to quiet my inhibitions and stimulate my hormones. What a dangerous combination!
I have, not very often and mostly in my early to mid-twenties, but it has happened.
Some of the posts above remind me of a quick story:
I do remember a girl I dated very briefly - two, maybe three dates - in college though, who had this weird "tipping point" when she drank.
A few drinks in she was happy, touchy-feely, and could be quite affectionate. But if she had that one-too-many, it was like a switch shut off inside her.
Four glasses of wine, fine. A fifth glass.... her filters disappeared, her inhibitions dissolved into nothing. A normally reserved and shy girl became this sex starved minx with no sense of discretion, even out in public. Very freaky, a Jekyll and Hyde sort of thing. Crazy to witness, and all the more strange because it would last only a very short time, and then she would pass out. In the morning she would claim to remember nothing.
Our last date was in some pizza restaurant, a family friendly place where they served the house red in water glasses. She had her one-too-many, and started to play with her tits and asking me (in her loudest drunky-whisper) to take my cock out. She wanted to go under the table and blow me.
Two hours before this she blushed when we kissed, but was now able to tell me (and the six tables in our proximity) just how wet her pussy was, and that she'd love to show me the evidence on her fingers.
She was curled up in the booth and snoring before the bill came and I got to carry / drag her out of there, apologizing to the staff and guests as I went. I still remember the disapproving glances through the restaurant windows as I poured her into the front seat of my car.
I drove her home and her roommate helped me get her in the house. I left, asking the roommate to let her know I would never be calling her again, and that she never call me.