It was five minutes before my birthday. After I f****d her a few hours ago, we had a quiet dinner, then somehow wound up back on the kitchen floor. She was drunk off her ass. When she said she wanted to get drunk with me, I understood the implications. Booze was her truth serum. She was finally going to talk to me. No, we were going to talk to each other.
"I don't think anyone has ever loved me," she said, slurring her words as she set the wine glass down between us.
It took a lot of booze to get her this drunk and I definitely wasn't f*****g her again tonight, but it was worth it to have a real conversation with her. I made an effort to not get as drunk as her without her noticing so I could take care of her. I didn't need the booze to tell her my s**t anyway. Long before the drinking
