“Time to go, Summer,” I told her softly.“Yeah?” she said in a faraway voice. I could just make out a smile on her face.“Yeah?”She slept wi...h me for the second time, protesting softly when I went to put her in her own bed. I helped her out of her sweater first, pulling the covers back, letting her get in first. She lay on her side and I lay behind her, an arm around her, both our heads on my pillow as I molded myself against her and kissed the back of her head.“Good night, Summer,” I said. So there I was – drunk, very horny and sat with my two favourite men – a recipe for disaster perhaps? Or satisfaction, depending on how you look at it. We were all very giggly by this point and the air of sexual tension was almost unbearable. I lifted myself from the sofa and almost fell, one too many glasses, perhaps. I steadied myself by grabbing Rob’s knee. He was obviously passed caring by this point and grabbed my arse. I can’t say I objected. What I hadn’t expected was the sly smile from. She steps back her legs week from the pleasure he had just given her with his lips. She makes her way to the bathrooms finding an empty stall she enters and locks it behind her. She is already wet between her legs, her mind in a fog from his tender kisses. Lifting up her short skirt she slides the thin material down her hipsand her legs. As she holds them in her hands she sees the evidence of her passion on the thin cotton. Smiling she reaches down with her other hand and feels the soft. You know, "I'm getting old. I'm not desirable anymore, yadda, yadda, yadda." I think a little booze and a determined effort by someone who tells her how sexy and desirable she is will do the trick."To make a long story a little shorter I agreed to try and get Brenda in the sack on the night of her fortieth.Now this was going to make for an interesting situation. Two years ago I did what can probably be considered a bad thing - I screwed Harry's eighteen-year-old daughter. Granted, I'd had a lot.