Andrew worked his mouth over my neck and down to my collarbone, before dragging a torturously slow trail down the center of my chest, down to my navel, dipping lower and lower with each soft press of his lips.
His fingers found the waist band of my boxers, nudging them down slowly as he moved over to my hip bones. I was practically shaking with want, hard as a rock, and desperate for him to stop teasing.
He had just started to finally pull my boxers over my hard length when a flash of guilt raced through me. I placed my hands on his head and went to pull him off of me.
"Stop, stop." I muttered. He looked up at me in confusion, but I had to stand strong. "You're drunk. I can't do this."
"You had no problem letting me last week." He pointed out, hands still on my waistband. He knew I
