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The BMW gave me a feeling of Teutonic rationality for which I was grateful.State Road 23 to Cleaver's Mills followed the line of the Mist River, through its dark hollows and swampy forests. The road was patched concrete, which the BMW took in its stride. I could see the tall mill buildings in the distance as I came to the old Mist River Inn. It was much as I remembered it, a two-story log-faced structure with wide overhanging eaves and a slate roof covered with moss. A dilapidated boathouse sat, or rather leaned, on the bank of the Mist River. I remembered my father telling me what a great place it was, and how his business guests enjoyed being put up there.I was shaking with a nameless fear as I stopped in front of the inn. Nothing new--I had the shakes at intervals ever since Mother died. It was suddenly hard to see anything, so I know I had to stop before the black images completely obscured my vision.The sign out front was faded and almost illegible, but through the jangle of my. After about 4 shots of jack and 2 drinks, it was safe to say that we were both pretty drunk.She's very active when drunk, she gets hyper and likes to move a lot. She got off the couch and was just slowly bobbing her head and dancing in a goofy way while holding her drink that still seemed extremely sexy because of her outfit. I could see her ass bounce every time she turned around and her tits seemed to almost be popping out of her top.Finally, and it must have been the drunk me talking, I laughed and said how cute her small ass was. She got jokingly mad and objected, saying that she had a great ass. She stood in front of me and bent over, grabbed my hand, and placed it on her left ass cheek. I heart froze. She looked at me and asked "You can't tell me that THAT is not a nice ass!"I pulled my hand away and laughed"ok, yea that ass is pretty damn hot"We both laughed, and she took a seat on my lap.Her ass felt so soft on my leg, I really wanted to keep squeezing it, but I was.
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