My New Year party

Bridgett looks good enough to ruin a resolution in that see-through black lace that barely covers anything. She climbs in first, already laughing, already tipsy from the champagne we opened in the hallway. The limo smells like new leather and her perfume. I shut the door and the driver pulls away before I can even sit down. She grabs my wrist and drags me onto her lap, her tongue in my mouth before I can catch my breath. The bottle tilts between us and cold bubbles run down her thigh. She just smears them higher with her fingers, pushing the lingerie aside. My hand follows. She’s already wet, already rocking against me like the night can’t start fast enough. The city lights streak across the tinted windows. Bridgett’s big ass is in my hands, soft and heavy, and I spread her open while she rides my fingers. Every bump in the road pushes her deeper onto them. She bites my neck when she comes, loud and sudden, then laughs against my skin like she’s proud of herself. We don’t stop. She kneels on the floor between my legs, pulls my dress up, and buries her face there while the champagne spills across the seat. I hold her hair and watch the buildings slide past. Outside it’s almost midnight. Inside it’s already New Year.