Even though he was so drunk, he still wanted to f*ck me.
Don't get me wrong, I was drunk too. I wasn't 100% conscious when we down in his bedroom together. I was so tired. Alcohol had made me woozy, clumsy.
He started pulling my clothes off. It was interesting, because he wasn't doing it in a sexy way, nor was he rough. He was doing it in a somewhat functional way. Down comes the tube top. Down goes the jeans. Off comes the bra. I stood there naked and a little cold as he rummaged through my backpack for the pyjamas I had packed for that night. He noticed that I had packed my sexy lingerie - for later.
Ha - what was the point of dressing me if he was only going to take my clothes off again within minutes?
In his twin bed together, his hands started touching me. This part is a little fuzzy for me. With his hand he noticed something.
"You're completely dry!"
I must have mumbled something about it being because of the alcohol. He called it "anticholinergic effects." Good thing he had the strawberry scented lube handy. It was cold. He squirted it on me.
He paused - "You do want to have sex, right?" He sounded just a little vulnerable and insecure at this point. My heart melted. Guys seek sexual reassurance, girls seek emotional reassurance.