I wake up, my head still dizzy and a typical, soaring headache pulsing in my frontal lobe. Even the gentle shrieking of my bed as I roll over feels like stings right through my eardrums into my brain.

'It has it's good aspects, though,' I think. 'This way, at least I know I'm still alive.'

Yet as a shard of a memory of last night paired with the shame it drags along flashes through my mind, leaving a trail of migraine-like, stinging pain in my head, a part of me wishes to have choked on my own vomit while sleeping. It would have been the easy way out. Instead, I know I get to face the most sadistic and mischievous grin on your face. There's still the off chance I only dreamed of bragging to you about my last night's adventure.

Still halfway drunk and ashamed of my most recent exploits, I slowly stagger the few steps from my bed to the small table in the middle of the dorm room where you, my roommate, await me, a dirty, spiteful smirk in your face. You have already prepared a bowl of broth and two aspirins. You know the drill from years of sharing our apartment and you know I would do the same for you.

“Yo dude! You really look like ass today,” you amusedly greet me with a mouthful of cereal, spitting some of it halfway over the table.

I want a firm fuck you to leave my lips but can't manage to let out more than a hungover grunt. You laugh at me and suggest I first swallow the overdue pills and clear my throat with the salty broth.

While I do so you start asking the unpleasant questions right away, rubbing salt into the wound and savoring every moment of it: “The face you made staggering here looked like the expression of true regret. Was that your little walk of shame? It better be, if what you boasted about last night is true.”

Your words hurt both my strained ears and my feelings. 'Why, oh why, do you have to rub in the guilt even more? Revenge for the last time I did it to you? From this point of view, yes, I deserve it.'

I painfully swallow the two pills and, to your delight, burn my mouth trying to flush them down with a large sip of the soup. Tears shoot in my eyes from the pain on my tongue and I feel the pulsations in my brain grow more intense for a few seconds. You are not even trying to hide your amusement. In your defense, I did wake you up last night.

I sigh in relief as the pain weakens.

“So,” you start your sentence, obnoxiously stretching the conjunction, “will I get to hear a raunchy story about what exactly happened with your... ex, last night? I mean, I know the gross plot, but I wanna hear it all in detail.”

For the first time, I can manage a smile. It's not really a smile, though; rather an ugly crooking of the corners of my mouth, showing my resignation to your demand as well as a reaction to the way you stressed the word ex.

“Since you're just waiting for me to talk, I might as well just tell you the whole story.”

Although I'd much rather punch that grin off your face, I take a deep breath before beginning my narration.

*****

As you know, I halfway accidentally bumped into Michelle last night. It was a pleasant encounter altogether, although not exactly the smartest thing to do as you already may have guessed from my mood. Walk of shame? Oh yes, it would be more than appropriate to call it that way.

Oh, just wipe that damn smirk off your face, already!

As you know, I wanted to go to that frat party yesterday, right? In the beginning, I wasn't even sure if I should really go. All my homies had come up with lame excuses. They were probably busy screwing their girls for all I know. I don't care. Fact is, I hadn't found anyone who I considered decent enough company for the night so far.

Never – I repeat: never – would I have expected to get a text from Michelle asking me what I was up to the exact moment I was about to give up any plans whatsoever, order a pizza and settle for a nightlong round of Battlefield.

I just thought, 'what the hell?' Let's just go out with her, right? I mean, what could possibly happen? We split up, like, four years ago. On good terms, that is. No need to tell you. You already know this. She and I had come to realize we weren't meant to be together. 'So what,' I thought? We're old enough to remember why we split up, right?

Dumbest. Mistake. Ever!

So, yeah, I told her I'd planned to go to that party but was about to reconsider since all my buddies had bailed.

Okay, she replied, how about Netflix and chill at her place? I know, it's a corny old joke, but I hadn't done that in a while and it sounded like an actual plan, I thought. Both of us were too aware that hooking up was out of the question anyway – or supposed to be, at least.

Hell yeah! Let's totally do this!

Not wanting to appear like a bad guest, I asked her if I could bring anything. Looking back, I should have listened to that faint, little alarm bell that I thought I heard ringing in the very back of my head while I was typing. It wasn't loud enough to seem like an actual warning from threatening danger, though. Add a mild dose of frustration from everyone canceling and you stop questioning the situation.

As a reply, she, well, reminded me of how she'd always loved my martini sour, adding a few wink-emojis.

Fine. Let's go then.

When I knocked on her door, I sure wasn't expecting her greeting me wearing just some simple, yet sexy cotton panties and a skin-tight t-shirt. I could feel her heavy breasts were bare underneath when she hugged me. On top of that she wore her hair in two pigtails like you can see in all these perverted porn flicks tagged “teen” – usually my great weakness, I shamefully admit.

I don't know what kind of dirty obsession I've always had with barely legal girls. You really shouldn't check my browser history, man. You really... oh man, your fucking grin means you did, right?

Oh, come on, man! What did I do to deserve this? Luckily I'm not in the state to punch you. Lucky bastard. So where was I?

The best sight I got was after she had taken the bottles of gin and vermouth I had brought along, turned around and was walking to across her dorm room to stuff them in the little freezer she and her roomie had installed. Oh man, her shapely, round butt clad in these panties. You know what I'm talking about, right? How many times have I caught you ogling her ass?

Interestingly, I still didn't feel her posing a threat for my libido. It's not that surprising, actually, since we considered each other just friends and were used to keep things comfortable around each other – very comfortable; despite our history, that is. It was just nothing out of the usual, you see? So none of my alarms really went off. Thinking back, well, they should have. All of them. Big time.

While the drinks were cooling, we cracked open some beers and threw ourselves on her bed to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones both of us had missed and have some pizza from Alfredo's. Nothing really happened between us and after that, we shuffled through some recent movie trailers until we agreed to stream Dr. Strange.

Before we started the movie, I fixed two forty-ounce-pitchers with my best martini sour, added a generous amount of ice cubes to both of them as well as one thick straw each. Michelle's eyes were huge when she saw them. She was still lying on her bed.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you have something else in mind with me tonight,” she teased, taking her first sip, “delicious! But not as delicious as if you had served it naked.”

The sultry glance she threw me made me choke on my drink. She burst out in laughter, making it clear she had been joking.

Stop nodding, will you?

We were pretty buzzed halfway through the movie when both our pitchers were empty and we had ourselves some more beers. I couldn't even tell you what really happened in the second part of the movie. We were just too busy commenting it and exchanging bad jokes. Oh boy, her puns are so bad she'd make a perfect dad.

Now don't ask me how, but at the end of the movie, we were lying on our sides, looking at each other and our legs entwined. Our faces were so close to each other we could feel each other breathe and her tits... I know you love the feeling of them on your chest when you hug her, right? Well, I felt those nipples of hers poking through her thin t-shirt and brushing my chest whenever she was breathing.

The tension was incredible, but given the amount of empty bottles on her bedroom floor, we were both way past the point where we would notice these subtleties. Okay, I can't deny it: it wasn't subtle at all. Who am I kidding? It still didn't set off my alarm, though, even if we were practically eating each other up.

At one point, well, I had to take a leak, right? I mean, my bladder was about to burst from the sheer amounts we had drunk and I was starting to feel tired, so I went to the bathroom down the hall. I almost fell asleep, man. Not even the girl in the next stall moaning about how she loved it in her ass kept me from slowly drifting into a deep, drunk slumber.

It was Michelle who came knocking at the door to my stall, laughing, yelling she was about to pee in her panties who woke me up again. She was shameless enough to take advantage of my forgetting to lock the door and burst in while I was just zipping my fly again. Washing my hands, I threw a glance through the mirror at her sitting on the shitter. No, she hadn't closed the door. Yes, she was sitting on a shitter in the guy's restroom with the door open while the dude in the stall next to her was buttfucking some slut he had picked up.

She stuck her tongue out at me and asked: “Like what you see, pervo?”

What was I supposed to look at?

Well, once we had both eased from our natural needs, I decided I'd hit the road, so just picked my stuff from her dorm. Our usual goodbye-hug, however, felt too intimate to just be a social gesture between friends. Suddenly, I realized how hard she pressed her heaving breasts against my chest. Our embrace seemed too close and sure too long to be just friendly, yet we both were drunk as fuck and – who knows – this could have just been an impression, right? And then...

I have absolutely no idea what came over me when I knelt in front of her, almost ripped her panties off and dug my face into her crotch. Oh boy. I was almost too drunk to even find her clit with my tongue, but she kept encouraging me with her luscious moans and her hands pulling my head into her patch of pubic hair. None of us could resist the temptation anymore. I too started moaning as the scent of her juices filled my nostrils.

With one hand I reached to grope her shapely ass. Her knees became week when my finger gently brushed her tight butthole. She may be a strict anal no-goer, but feeling a finger circling her brown star has, nonetheless, always been her weak spot. She shivered and barely mustered the strength to keep on her feet.

She suddenly grabbed my hair and yanked my head away from her pussy to push me away. Confused, I fell on my back and she almost threw herself on my pants. Her drunken clumsiness with my belt buckle and my fly only turned me on even more.

After a minute or two, she had pulled both my jeans and boxers down to my ankles and she held my dick in her hand.

She stroked it, saying: “Let's just fuck already!”

As she straddled over me and adjusted my cock to her entrance, I tried telling her we shouldn't be doing this. But as it is in these kind of moments, both of us were too drunk with both booze and lust to think straight.

We were just there, I lying on my back, basically still dressed, she humping me like there was no tomorrow right behind her unlocked open front door. Now just imagine the scene if her roomie had walked right in? It's just so surreal.

A few minutes later, well, I filled her with a creamy load, as requested. I would have loved to fuck her some more, but she came herself too and her cunt was just, like, milking the cum out of my balls.

Then, I just got dressed and went home. Oh man, how could this just happen?

*****

I look at my half-empty bowl of soup. I feel sick and guilty. 'Fuck, what was I just thinking?'

You simply won't wipe that ugly, dirty smirk of yours.

“Thanks man,” you say, “that went a lot easier than expected.”

I don't understand your remark, but find it hard to form a confused expression.

Your phone rings.

“Oh it's her,” you say, looking at your phone's screen, before picking it up, “Yes, Mitch my bitch? Yeah... nah... okay... Of course he did. It's all recorded! Right here one my phone! Wanna come over and hand me my prize?”

Now you read the confusion in my face. Happily you announce that your plan worked.

I look at you even more confusedly.

“Don't act so dumb, dude. Why on earth did you think all your friends bailed on you yesterday? That was a carefully worked out plan, dude. You just won me a double bet!”

My lips mouth a silent what the fuck.

“Look, man. You know how I've always had the hots for Michelle, right? Especially for her tight little ass. We had ourselves a bet the other day. I told her a friendship with an ex-lover was a bad idea and that you wouldn't be able to resist her under given circumstances.”

You pause to savor my incredulous face, before resuming the story: “Getting you drunk first was her idea. She was absolutely sure you wouldn't fall for it. Just for the record, though: she didn't think she'd be that easy to get laid once drunk either, or she just underestimated your martini sours. Any ideas what the wager was?”

“I don't like where this is going,” I moan.

“If I had lost the bet, she could have strapped me to my bed and spanked me with a wooden paddle for all the times I've made inappropriate remarks about her ass and how I want to fuck her little puckered hole. If she had lost, she'd let me fuck her, not in the ass, though. That's why I insisted on doubling the bet.”

I hit my forehead on our dining table a few times, asking myself, 'what I was thinking?' You just laugh at me.

“Yo, dude. Don't take it so bad, man. The second part of the bet was that you'd spill the beans all by yourself and tell me the whole story in your little shame. I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your trap shut about it. If I had lost both bets, Michelle would have gotten the pleasure to punish me for my bad mouth by fucking my ass with a strap-on. Too bad she didn't win either of the bets. Maybe I would have liked it, who knows?”

I try to lift my head to look at you through my swollen eyes. The crackling voice of shame leaves my throat, although the question is of rather rethorical nature: “And what did you win now?”

“Wow, you really are slow today, aren't you? I get to fuck her ass, Smarty McSmartface. I bet she's gonna love it. Guess who's gonna be my cum bucket from now on.”

I close my eyes as if your words were hurting me. What I hear is pure poison to my eardrums. Shame and guilt fills my belly with a nauseous feeling.

“Woah, don't take it so hard, bro. I'm sure she'll want us to double team her once I loosened her ass a bit. By the way, I don't think she would have agreed to such a bet with more than predictable outcome if she hadn't wanted me to fuck her ass from the very beginning.”