The best drunk sex I ever had was with the Maid of Honour

This one goes back a few years, to the Spring post first lockdown, when we all emerged from our apartments with newfound lust for life and a mild drinking problem. It was Warsaw, 2020, the pink blossoms and green shoots on the trees were bringing life to a brutalist concrete city emerging from the long Winter. I was dating Zofia, a local in a similar stage of life to me, both battling through a masters degree at the university, both looking for something a little more serious than casual but not ready to settle down and most importantly both looking for someone that matched our particular freak.

We’d met on Tinder, back when that was still slightly usable and had been been dating (with a minor pandemic interruption) for approximately 3 months when she told me that her best friend was getting married and her planned plus one, a cousin or somesuch had pulled out and she needed an emergency date. Ever the gentleman, and genuinely interested in seeing the madness of a Polish wedding, I agreed on the spot.

So the date was set, I dusted off my tux, attempted to salvage my style after several bad homemade covid haircuts and prepared to jumpstart my social battery. After sitting through a fairly dull wedding ceremony, not helped by my lack of Polish comprehension and general hatred of the Church, we bundled into a small car with her friends and drove just out of the city to the party venue.

We arrived and stepped out with the swagger only afforded to people who haven’t seen more than 3 people in a room together for four months. Myself, tall, dark haired and wearing a black tux that was just a little tighter than it had been before lockdown, Zofia, with her long brown hair falling over her long terracotta dress, she matched me in height with only modest heels. We made quite the cute couple as we mixed up the evening between cute flirting and her attending to her duties as Maid of Honour, and I did my best to come across as suitably charming to her lovely friends. What we knew and what they didn't of course, was that behind our cute exterior was there was a different pairing; a sadistic dom with plenty of frustrations to vent and an extremely willing submissive who absolutely needed to be used.

But all of that was yet to come, as I was led to the high table, introduced to the lucky couple, and more intimidatingly, introduced to Polish drinking culture, or even more specifically, Polish wedding drinking culture. Now as a proud Gael who had entertained myself through Covid with Malbec and Whiskey I had felt this wouldn't be an issue, after all if there’s one thing you can say about my homeland, it's that we have a strong drinking culture.

Dear reader, I didn’t stand a fucking chance.

Colleagues had warned me that I would need a strategy: eat a little, drink a little and dance a little, they said, don’t drink any extra drinks apart from the toasts, they said and at all costs, they pressed me,  stay away from the “homemade” section of the drinks table. I sat down at the high table, noticed that 4 bottles of vodka had been set aside just for me and my date and began to rethink my optimism. Immediately the first of the other tables raised a toast to the bride and groom, we all took up our glasses and downed a shot of vodka with them. This would be the pattern of the evening, a table of guests would stand up and offer a toast, and we would be expected to stand up with them and match them, a new table standing up every ten minutes or so. There were 8 other tables in attendance.

Despite the warnings of my Polish friends I was eager to cut loose and after taking a beer to sip on in between the waves of vodka I started to do tasting sessions with her friends. As they fed me different vintages of clear and brown liquor, I have to say, my national honour was somewhat kept as they marvelled at my ability to keep up with them and still maintain a somewhat coherent conversation.

What followed was eight hours of drinking, eating and dancing, strange Polish party games, which seemed mostly to revolve around setting up the next batch of weddings, taking silly photos at the photo booth, and indulging in perhaps a little more PDA then was appropriate.

After what felt like a blur of an evening we all bundled into a taxi, myself and Zofia completely hammered, still upright and standing, but definitely swaying. A brisk walk back to our airbnb at 4am sobered us up slightly and we stumbled through the hallway and into the small studio apartment we had rented, one of those ones where the kitchen counter is situated around 50cm away from the double bed. We were exhausted and ready to collapse into bed together to sleep off our excess, we were stripping off our clothes and looking for toothbrushes when we paused for a moment, stared at each other naked, and a switch flipped in our heads.

She was standing there naked, the streetlight coming in from the open window and showing off her wide hips, her C cup breasts and soft pink nipples, now stiff from either the cool breeze or the anticipation of what was about to happen. I moved towards her half in a rush, like an animal closing in, my cock already getting hard as we furiously began making out.

Soon I had my hand between her legs, and she grinded determinedly on it, this was her favourite kind of foreplay, and within a minute of two she was moaning loudly in my ear, short  breaths, followed by sharp cries as she orgasmed, literally in the palm of my hand. Then it was my turn, I pushed her to her knees and she enthusiastically began to gag on my cock, she could only take it about two thirds of the way, but she made up for it with enthusiasm, pausing only to lick my balls and look up at me with her big brown eyes. The alcohol had too effects, one she was much more sloppy than usual, and two, I had hit the Goldilocks zone of drunk sex, I was rock hard but I knew I would be able to fuck all night without cumming ahead of schedule.

Knowing this I decided it was time to bend her over the bed, her pale round arse facing me as she excitedly got on her hands and knees. I took my belt from the pile of clothes where I had left my trousers and wrapped it around my hands for a moment. I knew that I wanted to test her limits and I knew that she wanted me to give her some marks to remember. The belt cracked in the cool air as it impacted on her plump arse, her moans echoing throughout the street. One stroke after another followed, until her arse was red with welts, and she was begging me to fuck her. Knowing I had her well trained, and knowing I didn’t want to let her off too easily, I grabbed some lube and pressed my cock deep into her arse, as she moaned appreciatively. Two more interesting facts for you all: of all the women I’ve ever done anal with, Zofia took it the easiest, and because she had had the coil implanted we had gotten into the habit of not using condoms, so I went in raw. What followed was a blur of hairpulling, spanking, arse fucking, her sharp moans moans mixed with my long deep ones, sometimes quieter as I slowed down to savour the sight of my cock moving in and out of her arse and then suddenly louder as I fucked her hard and fast, our drunk bodies allowing us to push the limits of what we would normally engage in. Some time had passed, I would guess around ten to twenty minutes of this, although for the life of me I couldn't tell you exactly how long, and my cock was feeling a mix of bruised and overstimulated from the rough anal fucking I had been giving Zofia. She on the other hand was still as willing as ever, her arms spread above her head clutching onto the sheets, her mouth literally biting the pillow as I continued to fuck her.

I was ready to finish or so I thought, so I told her to get on her knees on the floor again, which she dutifully did, not even pausing for a moment as she hoovered up my cock that had just been raw inside her arse(luckily very clean!) and allowed me to subject her to another facefucking as I attempted to bring myself to orgasm. After a few minutes of this, I thought that I had a chance of finishing and I knew I wanted to do it all over her heart shaped face. I pulled out her mouth, buried her tongue in my balls and started to stroke myself, trying to will the orgasm out of my body, desperate to cover her pretty face in my cum. Alas the alcohol had decided to have one final revenge, I was unable to cum!

With a wry apology, I gave her a kiss on the forehead, and her still holding onto my cock like it was a source of comfort, we fell into the bed together and snuggled up, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

I woke up, six hours later, my cock rock hard and ready, the rest of me bleary eyed and aching, but overall not too worse for wear considering the abuse I had put my body through the night before. My spirits were soon lifted, by the sight of Zofia, naked, her back to me, her pale arse covered in welts, evidence of our debauchery the night before. As she chopped up some apples at the kitchen counter, I sprang up, full of unfinished business, and moved up behind her, gently taking her hand and moving the knife to one side, clearing the counter immediately in front of her. She grinded approvingly against my cock for a few moments before I pushed her down ove the counter, her tits against the cool surface of the kitchen tiles, as I quickly entered her pussy and fucked her gently against the counter. Once again her moans filled the room, and this time the alcohol had given up its grip on me, soon I felt my orgasm overtaking me. Tempted as I was to fill up her pussy, I knew exactly the situation called for. Softly I instructed her to get on her knees, and she looked up at me with total submission as I released my pent up cock over her face. I watched in self satisfaction as the mix of her big doe eyes, her ruined mascara from the night before and a considerable amount of cum made her the portrait of the perfect plaything.

Standing over her, now sated, exulting in the feeling of us, I grabbed some wet wipes from the counter and helped her clean up the mess we made together.  It was only as I turned to look for my clothes to dress, that I noticed, much to her mortification and my amusement, that as I had stumbled into the apartment the night before, I had left the door wide open, for all the world to see.