Nacre 420 Sleepover

 Nacre is back again. See her here: https://stumblingfillies.blogspot.com/2022/12/nye.html and here: https://stumblingfillies.blogspot.com/2023/04/kitty-nacre-victoire-happy-fourtwenny.html


“Hold ssill Nacre,” the pink haired, bronze beauty slurred to your girlfriend, as she lit a joint. Judging by the smoke in the room, not the first of the night. Once the joint was lit, your girlfriend took a couple long drags, as the pink haired girl took a swig from a bottle of hennessy. 

Once your girlfriend exhaled, you made your presence known by turning on the bedroom light and saying, “Hi Nacre. Who’s this?”

Your girlfriend looked blankly at you, whale the pink haired girl took and smoked the joint, “Babe, thiss'zz my frienn Lily frum worg.  Wee thodded wee wooud havva fourtwenny sleepover.”

“Yah, tomorrow’s saturday ann april twenny ann fore twenny ann saturday sooo were goan t'be zzzrunk ann high fer the whole day,” Lily explained after she exhaled.

As Lily took another hit, Nacre took a quick swig of hennessy before telling you, “Sooo Lily is gonna sleep over tonight ann tomorrow ann tonight.”

“Hence the 420 sleepover. Sounds fun. Am I invited?” you asked.

“'course babe.  Someones godda helb us ssay wayssed, ann Lily is liyke me.  Shhe gess horrnny wenn shhe gess fffucked up, sooo yoo'll haffta cum.  Hehe,” you girlfriend giggled, as she stroked your hard cock. 

“Yer girlfreinn is the bezz, leddin' me ged high ann zzzrunk wiss herr ann leddin' yoo fffuck me,” Lily said, passing the joint back to Nacre.

As you took your cock out, and pulled your girlfreinds’ shorts off to fuck her, you had to agree, as you knew no matter what the weekend would be fun.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dont be silly

Image
  https://girlsgettingwasted.blogspot.com/2023/11/are-you-trying-to-get-me-drunk.html Even as you spoke, she consumed half the glass of wine, and then closed her eyes and playfully stuck her tongue out.  “I c'n be silly (hic) iff i wanna,” she tells you, before drinking the rest of her glass. “That you can be. But don’t say I’m trying to get you drunk.” you say as you refill her glass. “You don’t have to drink that-I'm not making you” you tell her, pointing to her refilled glass. “Bud, iss soo (hic) gooond.  I canned (hic) waizz it,” she says before beginning to drink it. She stops midway and adds, “Yoo may nod (hic) be stryin' t' ged me (hic) zzzrunk, bud i (hic) thing i will be (hic) soon,” and resumes drinking the wine in her glass.  “What makes you say that? I you ask me youre barely tipsy” you ask, as you refill her glass, emptying the bottle. “Thiss'zz (hic) my sevennh glazz (hic) uhf wine?,” she noted as she drank it. “ann (hic)how many cockt(hic)ails did i h...
Read more

Little Sally

Image
  “It ok li'l sally, close yer eyes ann lean on aunn loddi.  Im zzzrunk too, bud i wo'nn led yoo fall.  Stroke uncle frankies hard cock.  He loves it wenn zzzrunk girls ssroke it,” Lottie told her 18 year old, wasted drunk niece. Lottie loved getting drunk, loved getting other girls drunk and loved that her husband loved drunk girls.  A few weeks ago, Lottie had met her sister, Sally's mother for lunch-well a martini lunch. “I caught sally comin' home zzzrunk lazz week,” Dottie slurred. “Whad'd yoo doo?”, Sally asked. “Nothing-i wuz zzzrunk too.” “Welll i guezz the apple didn’t fall too far frum the tree.” “Im sooo proud uhf my li'l girl,” Dottie remarked and drank her martini.  “Still, shes sooo young.  Juzz eighteen,” Lottie remarked. “Oh, i nowe.  Shay, maybe yoo coud give herr summ lessons, liyke aunn fran did us?,” Dottie asked. “Grade idea.  How 'bout shhe ssays wiss me furra weekenn inna few weeks,” and so it was decided. “Yer the cool...
Read more

Brereakfast

Image
Breakfast Under the warm Mediterranean sun, she leaned over the table, her wide-brimmed Louis Vuitton hat casting a playful shadow over her face, as the scent of freshly prepared brunch wafted through the air. The azure sea glistened before her, mirroring the vibrant blue ribbon on her hat. She savored the moment, the gentle breeze carrying whispers of the ocean. She was still drunk from last night, too drunk to care that she was on the balcony in just her skimpy white lace underwear with lavender flowers. The french toast was beautiful, but her muddled brain was trying to decide what to drink. Champaign, Vodka, or orange cocktail.  Under the warm Mediterranean sun, she leaned over the table, her wide-brimmed Louis Vuitton hat casting a playful shadow over her face, as the scent of freshly prepared brunch wafted through the air. The azure sea glistened before her, mirroring the vibrant blue ribbon on her hat. She savored the moment, the gentle breeze carrying whispers of the ocean....
Read more