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Fourty Ounces to Fucking

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“But I used her…”

“You call that using? Gimme’ a fucking break!” Mariah opens her mouth again to speak, then belches a rancid mix of microwave burrito stench and alcohol fumes into the air in front of me, invisible but still deadly. “You’re as worthless as Joe. If you can’t use somebody, how do you show you love them? Coddle somebody because you can’t use them and they’ll think all they’re just a child to you. I don’t use Joe, because he’s fuckin’ worthless, but if I did, then he’d know I love him.” Mariah sniffs the air, wincing at the smell of her own breath.

God, listening to her go off on me, then rant about whatever bullshit is going on in her life fucking sucks. Why did I have to get her going? She smirks at the glower I’m giving her, and I hate her all the more for it.

“What, you wanna shut me up?” Standing over me sitting on her couch, beer bottle in hand, I’m suddenly very worried. What if she’s an angry drunk? I can probably bean her with my own bottle, but… She interrupts my train of thought before I can figure out a better plan. “Yeah, alright, I got a great idea.” She squats down in front of me, leaning her arms on her knees, and finishes her beer. “You and me are gonna have a little wager.”

She holds up a quarter from who knows where in one hand, waggling it at me. “Heads, I do whatever you want for the rest of the night. No limit. Use me in as many fucked up ways as you want. Tails, I get to do the same to you. I’ma teach you how to use somebody, so you can go back to that ditz of yours and really use her like she wants you to. Then you can stop wasting my fucking time and alcohol and go be lovey-dovey somewhere else.”

This is so fucking stupid. What the hell am I supposed to do, make her clean her own RV? Give me all her money? Make her kiss me? Write me a nice poem, maybe. Let me read her journal, that’d be a laugh. ...Shit, why do these sound like okay ideas? How drunk am I?

“Well? I don’t have all fucking night, you gonna do it or am I throwing you out of my house without even having a good time?” I snatch the coin out of her hands, her drunken reflexes moving too late to protect it.

“Only if I get to flip it.” Mariah shrugs, so I flip it, catching it somehow with a clumsy swipe and slapping it on the back of my other hand. Okay, Amber, you better pray it’s not tails. Lord knows what this drunk idiot will try to do. I lift my hand, revealing the eagle on the back of the coin. Fuck. I hiss out a breath as Mariah jumps to her feet, laughing with a seriously demented amount of glee.

“Fucking got you this time! Whew-ee!~” She coughs after hitting that high-note, flopping back down onto the couch next to me. I thought she looked fucking smug most of the time, but this is like, Smug Level 2. “Alright, you’re mine now, fucker, so get over here.” She pats her lap with both hands, like she’s calling a dog. I grimace at her some more, but Mariah’s smugness level just intensifies further in response. “What, you gonna go back on the deal?” I don’t even know why I’m honoring this bullshit, but what the hell. It’s not like I wanna deal with my actual problem right now, so I scoot over onto her lap, sitting sidesaddle on her thighs and trying not to look her in the eye.

“Alright, good girl. Grab the vodka on the table and a shot glass. The night is still young!” I play along, leaning over to grab the bottle and the least filthy looking glassware in the pile, pouring one as she opens her mouth to give the order. It’s not hard to tell what you want to do if you ask for the strongest liquor in the room, dipshit. I go to take the shot, again assuming, but she grabs my arm halfway up, sloshing most of the contents down onto my shirt.

“Hey hey hey, that’s my vodka, who’s using who again? Pour the rest out and gimme another.” She shakes her head to shift her hair and leans back, mouth wide open again. I sigh, dumping the rest of the shot into the wet spot now clinging to my chest and pouring it again, tipping the contents of the glass into her waiting mouth. Mariah swallows, grinning defiantly in spite of the terrifying ABV of this shit; even the small puddle evaporating on me is making my eyes water.

Now do I get one, or do I have to put up with your bullshit some more?”

“Calm your shit, God damn.” She swings both her arms back up onto the back of the couch, thrusting her chest out at me. “Go ahead, enjoy yourself. You know, I could get used to you being my little servant. You sure you wanna waste that body on that ditz?” I slam the shot, eyes watering and fury rising up my throat. The alcohol burns the entire way down, adding fuel to that fire when I speak.

“Fuck you. You don’t know the first thing about her, so shut the fuck up. God damn, you’d think you’d have learned how to not be such a colossal piece of shit somewhere along the line.” I don’t look down at her chest, as much as the parts of my brain currently turning to ethanol want me to. God, do I really want to right now.

“Ooh, touchy. What, got a problem? You know what your real problem is, Amber? You’re so fucking stuck up about whatever bullshit you think matters, that you can’t relax. So just fucking chill out and drink with me, god damn. Gimme another shot.” Mariah pauses, expression going neutral for the first time since I walked in the room. “It was a compliment, by the way.”

“Nice compliment, at the expense of my…” Shit. What do I even call Marina? Girlfriend? Partner? Fuckbuddy? Nothing, now, I guess. “...Whatever.” I tip her shot into her mouth a little more roughly this time, spilling some down the side of her face. I immediately pour myself another and go to down it when Mariah grabs my hand again, spilling yet more alcohol onto my shirt.

“Hey, you think that’s funny? Clean this up.” She indicates the alcohol on her cheek with her free hand, turning it upward to keep the alcohol from sliding further down. “With your tongue.”

I clench my jaw, biting back a line that will probably end in me getting slapped or something. And...I’m a little curious, how far she wants to take this. Flirty is one thing, but this is something else. Maybe that’s the alcohol talking, but I kind of don’t care at this point. Just something, anything, to take my mind off of my actual problems. Just for a little bit.

I steady myself with a hand on her forearm that’s still sprawled out on the back of the couch, turning and leaning my chest against hers like a dare. Letting that sit for a moment, I slowly drag my tongue up far more of her cheek than is necessary to clean up the alcohol. She tastes of dried sweat, metal and astringent, and the little bit of vodka at the end winds up helping me wash it from my mouth before i make a noise she might misinterpret. When I stop and swallow the remnants of the alcohol on my tongue, I stay cheek to cheek with her, another dare for her to make a move.

She moves slowly, her free hand looping around my shoulder and resting the cook against the back of my neck. I guess i’m not going anywhere just yet.

“That’s my good girl.” Her voice is a low rumble directly into my ear, one I’m distinctly not used to after all of our screaming matches, but somehow enticing all the same. Maybe enticing because it’s a different side of her. Maybe enticing because it reminds me of how I talk to girls when they’re in my lap.

“I’m not yours, and I’m sure as hell not good.” It comes out more sullen than I intended, barely a whisper. Mariah reacts by yanking her arm out from under me and pushing me off her lap with both hands. While I just barely catch myself on my feet, she grabs my arm and pulls me back to straddle her, face to face.

Instantly, I’m aware of how warm I feel, whether it’s the alcohol or the mood, and just how hot her thighs are, in every meaning of the word...or how strong her arms are, seeing as how they’re now holding onto me by the hips. The baggy jumpsuit hides it, but she’s definitely put in her fair share of work out there in the desert. Should have known when I saw the faint outline of her abs all those times before, but...

“Oh, you’re definitely not good, but you are mine tonight. Remember the deal?” She pulls me closer, belly to belly. I can feel her breathing start to match mine as she stares me down. “I get anything I want from you. And right now…” One of her hands releases my hip, grabbing the back of my neck. All I focus on is watching her lips move. “I want you.

She kisses me. Hard.

I’d never in my fucking life have guessed that I would ever do anything to Mariah except scream at her. Punch her? Sure, if the opportunity presented itself and I had a good reason. But this? No.

Her mouth is chapped from the dry desert air, her technique unrefined but good anyway. She takes the lead the whole way, and I let her, taking what I can back in what I consider a small form of revenge, but...god damn , it feels good to be used. Just good enough that I restrain a whimper deep in my throat into just the hint of a noise, barely audible over our breath when she releases me. Don’t show her any weakness yet, Amber. You don’t know where this is going.

She grabs the vodka bottle sitting capped next to her thigh where I left it, twisting the cap off with her teeth and taking a swig. When she finishes, she looks down at it, then tilts the neck towards me and gives me a questioning look. I nod, and hold my mouth open, and she pours a too-big shot down my throat with a look of glee. I do get most of it down, but some dribbled out onto my cheeks and chin.

“Oh, I better take care of that.” She pulls me close again before I can protest, tracing my still-open mouth’s edge with her tongue, chasing alcohol across my face until I’m more covered by Mariah’s saliva than I was by the vodka. When she’s done, she smacks her lips. “There. All better.” I must be blushing or something by now, not that I can tell anymore, because she tilts her head and gives me an awful grin. “Or was that not enough for you?”

“Mm.” I want to deny it, fight back, anything, but the wet feeling in my jeans and everything else tells me I’m not gonna be able to put up much of a defense if she pushes me on it. Surrender sounds good right about now, too, with how keyed up and yet tired I feel. “I want more.”

It’s like those were the magic words. Mariah’s wicked smirk goes up another ten notches into something more suitable for a devil, pulling me close again and using that dark voice from before when she speaks into my ear. “Oh, more? What more could you want? Tell me.” I instantly feel on edge, wishing I could just get her to talk to me like that for minutes, hours. I’m drunk, but I’m drunk on her, too.

“I want you t-to make me-” Her hand is in my hair again, fingernails digging into my scalp, and I stop, groaning.

“Keep going. Make you what?” Her voice is a whisper.

“I-I wanna come.”

“Oh, that’s not happening yet. See, we agreed? I’m using you, not the other way around. And the used don’t get to come until after I do.” She releases my hair and shoves me off of her lap again, landing with a thump on my ass in front of her. “Sit still.” She stands up, shrugging her arms out of her jumpsuit and pulling it down far enough for me to see her black shorts, sliding those down around her thighs as well.

I’m definitely drunk and horny, because when I see her pussy, all I can think is that it’s a work of art. Her silver hair is definitely not natural, given the dark brown curls framing it, but that’s not a problem. If anything, the darkness against the white cream of her crotch is better. She sits back down on the edge of the couch, taking a long slug from the vodka bottle in her hand. “So you better work for it.” She upends the vodka bottle over her stomach, the remaining dregs of it pouring down her abs and onto her thighs and her mound, coating everything. “Now clean this up, and maybe I’ll think about letting you come.”


Fuck my dignity, fuck how much I hate her guts, fuck everything. I just want to get off.

That’s the only thing on my mind when my tongue slides between the creases of her abs, alcohol and sweat and that bitter metal taste melding together and filling my mouth and my nose and my heart with new and strange feelings I never expected to have within a mile of this bitch. I start from just above her pelvis and work up until her stomach is a different kind of sticky, wet mess than it was before. Then I move on to her thighs, clutching onto one for dear life while I lavish attention onto the other, then in reverse.

Throughout this, she’s kept a hand on my head, gentle, occasionally a stroke when I make her wait for my touch or after something I do elicits a gasp, like when my tongue flicks through the crease where her leg meets her crotch, or when I leaned up early on to lick a line from her abs to the bottom of her breast.

I try to keep an eye on her reactions out of old habit, but the liquor on my system is making it hard to multitask trying to get her off and trying to watch her to make it easier to get her off. Instead, I’m just going with old classics, threatening her with my teeth near her thigh but never making good on it. That one apparently drives her crazy, because every time I do it her grip tightens and she moans, only to release me with a huff when the promise of pain never comes true. Her cry when I actually do it at the deepest part of her thigh sounds like music despite its guttural nature.

Eventually, I run out of places to go besides down. Vodka beads in her pubes, and I rub my cheek into it instead of getting hair stuck in my mouth, tracing the perimeter of it with my mouth and gentle sucking kisses. By now, Mariah is fully into it, her fingernails back on my scalp to keep me from leaving, but I’m too far gone to try to cut and run.

Before I move to the main event, I wriggle out of my jeans until I have access to my own damp spot, rocking and moaning into the flesh of her thigh as I work to keep myself on edge. Her grip tightens until I return to my task, lavishing her mound with attention, kisses and licking and everything in between. She grinds herself back into the couch, almost pulling away from me until I get a hand behind her and sink my fingers into the meat of her ass, which draws a startled yelp I can’t help but luxuriate in.

I pull her pussy apart one-handed, taking everything as slow as I can bring myself to. My only indication for where to go is her breathing, muffled by how close she’s keeping her thighs to the sides of my head, so I rely on instinct, moving my tongue and the occasional finger deeper with agonizing slowness. With anyone else, I would be taking my time because I want them to enjoy it, but I’m trying to make this as torturous an experience for Mariah as I can, in my own way.

Without warning, her thighs close on my head like a vise, cutting off my air as well as all sound, except the vibration carried through her body from my tongue inside her and my own heavy breathing. Her fingers are digging into my scalp like knives now, and I know she must be close, but I keep taking my time, lavishing every fold with careful attention. The crushing pressure almost feels good now, an indicator of how badly Mariah wants me to finish her. Well, she can fucking wait.

Eventually, though, she amps up the pressure, and drives my face into her harder than she was, until I can’t breathe. Still, I had enough warning to gasp for air before it happened, and I continue my attack on her. Luckily, my fingers are still trapped in there close enough that I can occasionally give her clit a slow rub or a flick, which usually results in her bucking her hips into my face again, smearing me with my own saliva from her thighs and whatever vodka escaped my attention, not to mention her own fluids that are running freely after so much stimulation.

I’m only aware of when she starts coming when the pressure releases and my ears are greeted with the musical quality of her calling out incoherently, her hand falling free of my head. I don’t wait for her to finish completely before prying myself out of her, gulping down air and shuddering with how badly I still need to get off. Going down on somebody for that long is an art, and not one I have any mastery for in the best circumstances, let alone while drunk off my ass. I just feel like Mariah ran me over with her RV, everything aches so badly, and I can’t tell if it’s from the exertion or so prolonged an arousal.

Mariah is collapsed back on the couch, head lolling to the side and clearly still trying to recover. When I move and stand to get my pants the rest of the way off and dump them on the floor at her feet, she blinks and refocuses on me.

“-Hey.” She’s clearly looking down at my white panties, staring at the patch of wetness. “...Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” She slides down the couch onto her side, apparently too uncoordinated in the aftermath of orgasm to resist gravity. I decide to take it as invitation, pulling her so she’s laying flat on her back and climbing on top of her, sitting on her ribs heavily until Mariah reacts again, glaring up at me. She has the reaction time of a tased baboon when she’s this drunk and post-orgasm, apparently. I give her my own glare in return.

“Don’t give me that look. You promised!”

“I didn’t promise shit!” Mariah tries to push her off, but she’s got all the arm strength of a toddler. “Get off me, damn it!”

“Not until you get me off, jackass!” I grab her hand and pin it to the couch, leaning forward and getting my face close to her. “You are such a bitch, but a deal is a deal!”

“Fine, jesus!” I let her arm go as she wrenches it out from under me, rubbing her wrist. “Big talk from the biggest bitch in the room. Who the fuck goes down on somebody for 20 minutes?”

“You never set a time limit, so go fuck yourself.” She rolls her eyes at me, then gestures for me to move up. I guess she doesn’t feel like moving, so I sit up and reposition myself over her, pulling my panties to the side to give her access. “Are you ready?”

“Oh my god, I already said it was fine! Just do it!” Well, if she wants it so bad...I lower myself onto her mouth, steadying myself on the back of the couch. Mariah doesn’t waste any time moving her tongue inside me, arms trapped under me. She’s certainly energetic for how slow and weak she seemed before… I can’t help but give up some moaning almost immediately with how quickly she’s found the right spots to hit.

Well, I can’t just let this be easy for her, can I? After all, she did make it a huge pain for me...I feel one of her hands clinging to my ass for leverage. Well, if she wants a ride...I roll my hips forward, grinding myself against her face, and her other hand joins the other to hang onto me for dear life while I take her for a ride, digging her head into the couch when I start putting my weight more fully onto her.

Still, she doesn’t give up or signal defeat, she just keeps going as best as she can with the new rocking motion, shifting so I’m riding more of her chin so she can get her mouth around my clit. I give her the satisfaction of a shuddering moan when she sucks on it, feeling my legs getting tingly under me from how close I am. Just a little bit longer…

I bite my tongue and try to hold myself back as long as I can, but I can only stay strong for so long before I lose control, doubling over and coming against Mariah’s mouth with an uncharacteristic shriek I’d never heard myself make before. I slide weakly forward off of her, sitting on the edge of the armless couch and trying to collect myself before Mariah decides to extract some insane vengeance upon me for that.

“Hey.” I look over my shoulder at her when she speaks, where she’s still stretched out across the rest of the couch, breathing heavily and wiping spit from her mouth with slow, deliberate movements before smearing it on the couch fabric. “Didja figure it out?”

“Figure out what?”

“Whatever the fuck you think you did to the ditz. It’s not so bad, being used, okay? Give her more credit.”

“Yeah.” I look away from her, down at my jeans on the floor, and the lump of plastic and shredded tape in the pocket. “I know what I have to do, at least.” I pick up my pants from the floor, standing shakily up and fixing my underwear before pulling them back on. By the time I’m dressed, which takes much longer than I care to admit, Mariah’s got another beer in her hand, popping the cap off with a slam against the table.

“Great. Now get the fuck out of my house. If I see you again before I die, it’ll be too soon.” And with that fantastic send-off, she takes a long pull of beer, looking pointedly at the wall. Well, I know when not to overstay my welcome, so I head for the door, one hand in my pocket wrapped around the cassette. As I open the door, Mariah clears her throat again and says, “Hey.” I turn back towards her, eyebrow raised.

“You’re not bad. For an idiot.” I can’t help but laugh, but the look she gives me cuts that short. I shrug back at her.

“Same to you. For a stone-cold bitch.” Mariah’s harsh expression fades into a small smile, gesturing with a nod towards the door. I step out the door, letting it slam behind me as I crunch down onto the desert sand. Pulling the tape out of my pocket and walking further out into the desert, I sigh. It’s gonna be a long night.