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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
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I'll Give It A Try
by Jessica (address withheld)

***

A teenage girl gets into drinking various alcoholic 
beverages at her parent's party and ends up seeing 
something she shouldn't while drunk as a skunk. (f-
teen, voy, solo-mast, alcohol)

***

Hi, my name is Jessica Greenfield. You don't believe 
me? Well, you're right, I'm not going to tell you my 
real name. Maybe you've met me before or maybe you 
might meet me some day. And I really am quite shy - 
even though you probably won't believe that after 
you've read my stories. Still, it won't be easy for me 
to find the right 'balance' between telling you enough 
so you can enjoy my story and not revealing too much so 
everybody recognises me like a famous film star. So 
where should I start? 

I was born in the nice city of Brisbane, Queensland, 
Australia, some twenty-three years ago. If you don't 
know much about the country 'down under', you have to 
come and visit us some day. I've seen quite a few 
places on our lovely planet, but I still think 
Australia has the nicest people. I also love our 
climate, accent, just everything. I'm a real Aussie 
girl. 

But I'm probably telling you a lot of stuff you don't 
really want to hear: I've been following this newsgroup 
for quite some time now and I should write things like: 
"I am 5'5", have a perfectly slimmed and trimmed body, 
long blonde hair and nice blue eyes, and I was just 
fingering my hot little pussy when suddenly... No, 
thank you very much. If you want that sort of stuff, 
then I'm afraid you have to read a different article - 
or fast forward a few lines. Still, I think there might 
be some people out there who are interested in what I 
have to say. 

***

My parents sure knew how to party! 

I was about thirteen or fourteen and back then my body 
didn't have all the things it has now: My breasts were 
growing (quite a painful thing at times, I can tell 
you), but they were still quite small and I didn't see 
the point of wearing a bra.

Thinking back, my body wasn't really well developed at 
all. I still looked like a kid - short blondish hair 
that refused to stay in any kind of shape, wearing t-
shirts and shorts, quite boring, nothing special. Also, 
my old photos show that I always had a bruised elbow or 
knee from playing hockey or riding my bike. And 
unfortunately they show quite a lot of 'baby fat' - I 
have never been overweight, I just want to say that I 
didn't really have a very feminine figure. You get the 
picture. 

My parents were (and still are, fortunately) very 
successful investment bankers, and we always had people 
coming around to our house, most of them talking about 
lots of money. No, I didn't really grow up to be a 
spoiled little brat, my parents managed to prevent 
that. They always were very careful how much pocket 
money they gave me, and even when I was older they made 
sure I never had more money available than anybody 
else. Then again, it IS nice to live in a large air-
conditioned house, to be able to jump into the swimming 
pool if you feel like it, well, I guess I am only a 
little spoiled. 

Anyway, sometimes all the people didn't come only to 
talk about business stuff, a few times each year my 
parents would throw one of their famous parties. Really 
posh stuff, lots of interesting thins to eat and drink, 
nice music, perfect atmosphere, the whole lot. I was 
too old to be put to bed, but I was also too young to 
really enjoy all the mindless talk that was going on 
around me. None of the others brought their kids, and 
while I was the star of the party for the first half 
hour or so, I was getting bored quickly. I didn't have 
anyone to talk to, and I didn't know what to do. In 
fact, my dad was is responsible for everything that 
happened afterwards - he helped me to find something to 
do. 

It was quite late and well beyond my normal bed-time 
when he walked up to me, holding two glasses of 
champagne. 

"Well, Jess, you better get used to this stuff. After 
all, you're almost an adult and should learn what sort 
of stupid things we do." He handed me one of the 
glasses. 

"You want me to drink this?" I asked. 

"Of course, you can't taste it just from looking at 
it." I had a quick look around. Everybody was talking, 
laughing and drinking, so nobody really seemed to care 
about me. 

"Did you ask mom if it's okay?" 

"She probably wouldn't approve, Jess, so this will have 
to be our little secret. Enough talking - Bottoms up!" 

We clinked our glasses and drank. I still remember the 
taste - I didn't like the bubbles and I was convinced 
that champagne tasted like sweaty socks. I must have 
made quite a face, because my dad laughed and said: 
"Glad you don't like it - but please try to enjoy the 
party!" 

He wandered off to talk to some people I didn't know, 
which left me standing there with a half-empty 
champagne glass in my hand. I thought to myself 'might 
as well finish it' and emptied it. It still tasted like 
old sports shoes. This was the moment when I began to 
think: 'So champagne is bad. But what about all the 
other stuff? Maybe it tastes differently?' The only 
problem was that neither of my parents would have liked 
to see their daughter running around and drinking all 
kinds of alcohol. 

What could I do? My plan was easy: I started playing 
the 'helpful little hostess', collecting empty (and 
half-empty) glasses and bottles on a tray and bringing 
them into the kitchen. I was quite excited when I 
walked into the kitchen holding the tray. This would be 
fun... 

The first glass had some red wine in it. Not too bad. 
The second one contained white wine. Too sour for my 
liking (probably of the very dry and very good French 
kind). The next one was an almost full glass of water - 
or so I thought. 

I wanted to get rid of the 'sour' taste from the wine 
and I took a healthy gulp - and thought I would choke 
to death. This was hard stuff, probably vodka. It took 
some time to recover from coughing and sputtering, and 
I awarded a definite 'Fail' to this drink. 

Damn. My dad was right after all: Adults are stupid, 
how could anybody voluntarily drink this stuff? Still, 
I was eager to go on. The last glass contained some 
fruity punch - really nice. Not too strong, 
refreshingly sweet and just - well - nice. And this 
last drink was reconciliation enough to make me want to 
look for more. 

While I was collecting the glasses for my second tray, 
I noticed how the alcohol was beginning to affect me. I 
felt very warm all of a sudden. Well, warmer than 
before at least. I was used to heat and warm nights, 
but this time the heat came from inside. My belly was 
all warm and sort of bubbly, and my face was very hot. 
But it was quite dark by then, so none of the adults 
noticed my glowing cheeks and slightly glassy eyes. 

My whole body felt funny. I got the feeling that the 
world was spinning around me slightly, and my vision 
had become a little blurred at the edges. My balance 
was also affected, but I wasn't stumbling around - I 
felt loose and carefree, and discovered a new style of 
walking. I started to sway my hips a little and tried 
to walk 'properly' at the same time. One could probably 
say that I discovered how to walk like a woman then. 

While I enjoyed my tipsiness, I was also scared: 'My 
parents are going to kill me if they see what's going 
on!', I thought. But there was nothing I could do. I 
knew I was beginning to get drunk, and there was no way 
that would change soon. So I thought 'what the fuck 
(hey! a dirty word!), I might as well get on with it 
now, it's too late anyway.' So I continued to look for 
half-empty glasses... 

I was just about to return to the kitchen with my tray 
of treasures when I heard some muffled sounds coming 
from the doorway. 

A woman said, "Baby, when we get home tonight, I'm 
going to fuck my brains out." 

My face became even redder. This was heavy stuff. I 
really shouldn't be listening. Then again... The door 
was open just a little bit, but with my courage fuelled 
by alcohol, I didn't take long to decide to have a 
peek. 

A couple was kissing passionately. SHE - a slim 
brunette in a tight brown dress - was sitting on the 
kitchen table, her fishnet stocking clad legs firmly 
wrapped around his waist. HE was tall, dark and really 
handsome. And they were Mr. and Mrs. Miller. I knew 
them, they came to visit my parents all the time. I 
couldn't believe a normal couple like the Millers would 
even think about words like 'bottom', and there was 
little Mrs. Miller asking her husband to fuck her. 

I needed a stiff drink to steady myself, so I just took 
one from the tray and drained it in one go. Champagne 
again, but it didn't taste as bad as the first glass. I 
put the tray down and continued to peek through the 
door. 

WOW! He had his hands all over her by now, and I 
couldn't help but wish that I was in her place. It just 
wasn't fair. She had a nice husband stroking her hair, 
kissing her neck and lips, slightly biting her ear and 
softly cupping her breasts... this was getting too much 
for me. 

I felt myself getting excited, sexually aroused even. I 
had goose-bumps all over, and while my little nipples 
became hard and pushed against my t-shirt, other 
regions of my body became very soft and sensitive. The 
feeling of doing something that was a complete 'no-no' 
increased my excitement even more. 

I had to stop. Do something else to take my mind off 
sex. Maybe another drink would help me to steady my 
nerves and regain my composure. There was something 
mixed with coke which didn't look or smell too bad, and 
it tasted quite nice as well. Now I could go and... 

"Darling, if you go on like that I'm going to cum in my 
pants (pant, pant)." That was him this time. My eyes 
flew back to the door. 

A brief thought of hallucinations entered my mind, but 
the sight before my eyes didn't change even after I had 
blinked a few times. They were still sucking each 
other's tongues, but their hands weren't moving over 
their partner's body any more. They were concentrating 
on more important spots: His fly was clearly open, her 
right hand was inside his trousers. 

She was him rubbing quite furiously, and he was 
obviously enjoying it. His eyes were closed, his head 
thrown back and he was panting and moaning. She had 
spread her legs a little wider, and his fingers were 
right in the middle of them. Her panties still dangled 
on her ankle, but she didn't seem to notice - I 
wouldn't have, either. 

"Your pussy is so wet..." 

"Hmmmmm..."

"Do you want a little more?"

"Hmmmmmm..." 

My throat was dry again. I needed a drink. Didn't care 
what it was this time, but it was quite strong as far 
as I can remember. When I returned to the door, they 
were still going at it. I steadied myself on the wall 
with one hand (for some reason, the world was spinning 
a little more by now), and attempted to readjust my 
panties which felt a little uncomfortable. Okay, I have 
to admit that my fingers remained 'down there' a little 
longer than necessary. 

She had his penis out now. I had never seen an erect 
dick and was quite impressed. No, I won't tell you the 
size, I was never good at estimating and still refuse 
to measure anything sexual in sheer numbers. Anyway, I 
was very impressed at the time. I started to rub myself 
through the fabric of my pants. 

Waves of pleasure started to hit me harder and harder. 
I imagined that I was Mrs. Miller, I could almost feel 
his hands on my body. My heart started beating even 
faster, and my legs began to feel wobbly. I stopped 
fingering myself for a little while - but only to 
return to spying on the couple on the kitchen table. 

He was going to do it! He had placed his hard manhood 
just in front of the entrance to her vagina. 'Come on, 
put it in!' I almost cheered out loud. 

"Wait!" he said. "What if somebody sees us, or what if 
somebody comes into the kitchen?" 

"I don't care, I really don't fucking care. I need it 
now, want to feel you inside me right now, so stop that 
silly talk and do it!" 

And that was just what he did. Soon they were going at 
it like animals, moaning, grunting, whispering 
obscenities I didn't understand. And enjoying 
themselves to the fullest, apparently. But I wasn't 
complaining. I had finished the last two drinks on my 
tray (for a moment I thought 'What if one of those 
people has some strange disease? I have drunk from so 
many different glasses tonight..." but that moment was 
a very short moment indeed)

I had managed to slip my hand not only inside my 
trousers, but also under the waistband of my panties. 
This was beginning to feel pretty good. I enjoyed 
feeling my slippery wetness, and loved the multitude of 
feelings that was coursing through my body. 

I was trying to decide whether to close my eyes and 
concentrate on my need for sexual release or to keep 
them open to watch this live porno film a few feet away 
when they started cumming. Both grunted even louder, 
especially Mrs. Miller - she was almost screaming. At 
the same time, Mr. Miller's penis was pistoning 
blindingly fast in and out of her pussy. I really 
wished to be in her place and imagined how nice it must 
feel to have that 'thing' inside my body. 

It was my turn now. My orgasm started right under my 
toenails, then slowly crept up the inside of my legs 
until it reached the 'magic spot'. Then I exploded, I 
swear, I really did. I still don't know how I survived 
that one, and I am still wondering how I managed to 
remain standing. This was beyond heaven, too good to be 
true, it felt pink and smelled of flowers.

When I came to, it took me a little while to realise 
that they were cleaning and tidying themselves up and 
getting dressed. They were getting ready to leave the 
kitchen! And I was still standing there, one hand on 
the wall, the other one in my pants. Shit, they were 
going to catch me. Unless... 

I jumped and started to run towards the stairs. My mind 
was clear and my eyes focused all of a sudden, and I 
started to run up the stairs. Now my eyes weren't that 
focused anymore, and my brain was going muddy again. 
But I made it: Just as I reached the top of the stairs, 
the kitchen door opened and through my blurry eyes I 
could see Mr. and Mrs. Wilson leaving the kitchen and 
walking arm in arm towards the living room. That was 
the moment when the abundance of liquor I had consumed 
started to hit me like a ton of bricks. 

The world was spinning like crazy, I felt like being in 
a jet plane that was tumbling from the sky. I fell 
over, and for some reason found that very funny, so I 
started to giggle. And giggle a little more after that. 
I was completely pissed (for you Americans out there: 
Australians and English people use 'pissed' as a 
synonym for 'drunk' - some cultural background 
knowledge for you here), absolutely wasted, drunk of my 
sweet little arse (ass for Yankees and the like). And I 
loved the feeling. 

Somehow I decided I needed a shower to 'cool down' a 
little, and after barely ten minutes, I had managed to 
pull myself up into an almost-standing position. I 
cursed my dad for not installing hand-rails on the 
walls, it was hard to find a decent grip on the smooth 
surface. Fortunately, however, I still knew my way 
around the house in my drunken state, so I found the 
bathroom without too many problems. 

My clothes seemed to fall from my body without my 
assistance, only my shoes and socks proved problematic. 
I slipped and almost knocked myself out on the toilet 
bowl. Fortunately for me, I was really 'feeling no 
pain', so instead of passing out and being rushed to 
hospital because of a possibly fractured skull, I just 
started giggling again. I found the whole situation 
very funny: 

Here I was, a kid, a teenager, bumping my head on the 
toilet because I was too pissed to stand up. I was 
still laughing when I fumbled with the tap. 

The water was too cold, but that helped to cool me down 
a bit. Then I turned it up just a little too hot and 
jumped, which almost made me fall over again. My next 
attempt was almost okay, just a tad on the cold side 
this time. This wasn't going to work out. I was just 
getting pretty frustrated when a new idea appeared from 
somewhere: Why not try a bath instead of a shower? This 
way, I would be able to sit down and relax, and slight 
imperfections in the water temperature would be 
cancelled out. 

The water turned out to be just right in the end. It 
felt so nice, just being able to lie down and 'chill 
out' in the warm water. My befuddled mind started to 
replay the scenes I had just witnessed. I still 
couldn't see straight, but my memory was very clear. I 
could almost see the little beads of sweat on their 
writhing bodies, could almost smell the steamy scent of 
sex, and almost without realising it I had started to 
lightly cup my breasts, even squeeze and stroke them a 
little bit. 

I closed my eyes and let my hands wander freely over my 
naked body. I lost my sense of reality, pictures from 
my imagination mingled with the feelings my roaming 
hands produced all over my body, and led me to places I 
had never been to before. Before I knew what was going 
on, I was very much aroused again. I couldn't believe 
it! Could 'a few too many' really turn me into a 
nymphomaniac that needed 'it' once every few minutes? I 
had to stop this before things would get completely out 
of hand. 

I pulled myself up into a nearly standing position 
(okay, I was still leaning on the wall, but at least my 
knees didn't give), half-heartedly dried myself (the 
towel's rough softness felt too good to be true, but I 
managed to stop early enough before anything 'serious' 
happened. I then proceeded to 'brush' my teeth 
(basically I filled my mouth with toothpaste and water 
and fumbled around with my toothbrush for a minute or 
two) and my hair (which turned out to be too painful, 
so I didn't brush my hair at all). I then drew a deep 
breath, tried to regain my composure a little and 
prepared myself for the long way (at least twenty 
steps) to my room. 

The trip proved uneventful. No slips, no fatal falls, 
no dangerous staircases or skillfully hidden traps in 
the carpet. After I had closed my bedroom door behind 
me, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was okay now. I had 
survived. I was finished for the night. More or less. 

I fell into my bed. The soft silkiness of the sheets 
felt too nice on my radiant skin. Also, lying down 
probably wasn't the best idea. The world was still 
rotating like mad, but now it was going up and down as 
well. 

Closing my eyes didn't help much. 

Rearranging my position wasn't successful either. 

But rocking my hips up and down and imagining Mr. 
Miller between my thighs was a step in the right 
direction. Simulating the sensations his body would 
produce if it was pressed against mine was another 
step. My feelings were boiling over. I pressed my 
blanket between my thighs, threw my arms and legs 
around it and kissed the fabric passionately. Loud 
moans of approaching ecstasy escaped from my mouth, I 
was again lost in my own little world. 

I wanted to get off again, but soon realised I 
couldn't. I was almost there, when my position shifted 
slightly and I lost the correct amount of pressure in 
the correct bodily zones. On my next attempt, I rubbed 
myself so furiously that I got really sore. Frustration 
was starting to hit me: I was on the right track, but 
there seemed to be an impenetrable wall blocking my way 
to freedom. I even tried inserting my finger into 
orifices where nothing had been before, but the initial 
tingling sensations were soon replaced by pain. 

These unsatisfying experiments went on for at least 
three quarters of an hour. I had already decided it 
just wasn't going to work at all when it finally did. I 
was still thinking about having sex with sweet Mr. 
Miller for the umpteenth time that night when I decided 
not to stop 'him' from cumming inside me. All this 
wasn't real and he wasn't really inside, so I couldn't 
get pregnant either. Sounds stupid, I know, but that 
was my drunken logic at the time. So 'we' went on. I 
could feel his spasms approaching, and when he finally 
began to groan and spurt, that was all I needed. 

I don't remember the exact feelings, but it was really 
good. Everything was white, the brightness blinded me, 
the feeling of 100% pure bliss didn't seem to subside 
for ages...then everything went dark and I passed out 
to a dreamless sleep. 

*** 

I woke up very early the following Saturday morning, at 
about 6:30. My head didn't hurt, it was killing me. My 
limbs ached. I still felt very drunk. My tongue felt 
like a furry mouse inside my mouth. My ears were 
ringing. I wanted to pass into darkness again, but that 
didn't work. Instead I got up, ran towards the 
bathroom, locked the door and threw up. Then I barfed. 

After I had done that, I vomited. Then I started again. 
Oh yeah, I got my period as well. 

I told my parents that I had probably caught some 
strange stomach bug, and they were really worried. They 
made me stay in bed for the rest of the weekend, 
brought me lots of tea and dry biscuits and gave all 
kinds of advice. They even called my grandma and asked 
for ancient household remedies for upset tummies. 

I only had one thought, which I probably shared with 
thousands of drinkers around the planet at the time: 
'Never again'. And like thousands, even millions of 
drinkers I changed my mind not very long after this 
statement. 

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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