Big Gulp

 

“I have'nn eeven had a re fill yed,” the girl in the black bikini slurred as she sipped the last of the whiskey from her big gulp mug. 

“Ann were sharin',” the girl in the blue swimsuit added.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Uncle Matty

Image
 Capt. Dunsels is at this link:  Dunsels Work One I really like is this single image, and I was able to extend it some. Before Marty could respond, but who  should  appear. Not Santa, but Aubrey's mother, and in a purple strapless dress. Aubrey, pooh, thass nod wine in yer glass? Nooo mom Audrey said drinking her glass to hide the evidence. You know, Liz, maybe we should let Aubrey drink. Whad? Nooo! Whad? Yezz! Hear me out, Liz. If we let Aubrey drink tonight at the party, she can see what it's like and learn how to drink responsibly, where we know she'll be safe and no one will take advantage of her. Yah, mom.  Liyke uncle Matty says. Heyyyy liz, yoo godda sry thiss mepperpint sshnapps. oh heyyyy aubrey, maddhew.  Yoo shud sry it too! Sammy, nooo, Aubrey is only eighddeen! Sammy had already poured a large measure in Aubrey's glass, her dress green velvet, with a high slit up each side that made underware impossible. Shes ann adult...
Read more

Autumn-Fall Down Drunk

Image
  Autumn is aptly named-her favorite season is fall. She loves the crisp cool mornings, warm afternoons, and vibrant colors. She also loves hard cider, weed, and LSD-getting wasted out in a secluded spot out in the woods is how she likes to spend a Sunday afternoon in November. She was fall down drunk. Please visit this discord for more df content.
Read more

Jules 2.0

Image
 Part 1: https://stumblingfillies.blogspot.com/2024/06/good-night-daddy.html Part 2 (heavily written with Grok AI, and then edited/inhanced by me): As her warm lips worked up and down your shaft, you wondered how she knew that. You thought back to dinner, and how she’d gotten drunk in the first place. The kitchen had smelled like roasted garlic and herbs as you pulled the chicken out of the oven. It was a rare night—no work emergencies, no plans, just you and your stepdaughter, Jules, at home for dinner. She’d been sprawled on the couch all day, scrolling her phone in a pair of sweatpants so old they had holes in the knees. Jules was wearing a faded band tee she’d probably snagged from a thrift store-It was a black Metallica shirt, the logo cracked and peeling from too many washes, the sleeves cut off unevenly like she’d hacked them with kitchen scissors. The hem was likewise hacked, just below her breasts. As it was too small for her, it didn’t leave much to the imagination—especi...
Read more