My Friend : My Drunken Night with My Colleague

It was supposed to be just a casual visit — a chance for my colleague (let’s call her Jade) to swing by, catch up, and maybe share a few laughs over wine. She’s a bit younger than me, full of energy and quick to flash that mischievous grin whenever we talk at work. I’ve always found her intriguing in a way I couldn’t quite describe. That night, I realized it was more than just friendly curiosity.

We settled on the couch with a couple of bottles, sipping away while music played softly in the background. The evening wore on, the wine loosening our inhibitions, conversation turning playful, then flirty. At some point, Jade mentioned feeling tired. I suggested we move to the bedroom, where the bed could offer more comfort than my worn-out couch.

I didn’t think much of it — just two colleagues who’d had a bit to drink, wanting to crash somewhere comfortable. But once we got there, things shifted. She collapsed onto the bed, giggling, and I flopped beside her, the wine making my head spin. The faint lamplight cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her lips. We were close — so close, our thighs brushed. I swallowed hard, feeling a jolt of heat pulse between my legs.

Somehow, we both started shedding clothes. My shirt came off, revealing my bra, and she slipped out of her top, leaving her in a thin tank that clung to her small, firm breasts. We didn’t speak about it; it just happened, like an unspoken agreement fueled by intoxication and pent-up tension. Lying there…