V Is for Vicky

As I walked inside the party - the heat and the music hit me. It was even warmer and louder than the parties I remembered, as least I had that impression. Maybe it was just me.

Music was blasting to the point that I could hardly hear anything else. The lights were dim and all the youngsters around me were bouncing up and down and dancing. I quickly realised that quite a large proportion of the assemblage were pretty drunk.

I looked around but couldn't see Martina anywhere so I started making my way through the throng. As I was pushing my way in, I felt lots of people - young girls and young guys - pressing against me. At least it was the girls I noticed rather than the guys but then I'm a red-blooded man so I would, wouldn't I? Their young soft breasts and their bums were rubbing against me as I threaded my way towards the kitchen, thinking I might find Martina or maybe the host or a parent there. I couldn't suppress the feeling of excitement - for the first time in a long time I was feeling young breasts pushing against me. Happily married or not, it was exciting. Hell, of course it was!

As I reached the door to the kitchen, one rather inebriated young lady was pushed against me.

"Er – sorry" I muttered.

I don't think she could hear me, above the loud thumping bass music. But she did realise, I think, that I was male and that seemed to be enough for her. She turned and started to grind on my thigh with her leg. She was wearing a very short, tight black dress, exactly the sort of LBD Mary used to wear in her youth. Her very attractively made-up eyes were glazed, she was holding two drinks in her hands and thrust one towards me. Feeling hot, feeling excited, I needed it. I took a large gulp. It was scotch and soda with not much soda. When it hit the back of my throat I just stopped there for a moment, still outside the door to the kitchen.

"Hi, I'm Vicky. Looking for some fun?" she said, looking up at me with semi-glazed eyes.