Confessions of Naughty School Girls

Face - 5/10
Body - 4/10
Skill - 8/10
Dick - 8/10
Bonus - Didn't kick me out of his house after I cock blocked him?

Alright, so, you can't judge me too much on this. I know that you can relate in SOME way. You begin a sexual act, justifying the act in your mind, but then there is a moment of enlightenment, and you realize that it is terribly, terribly wrong.
This, I am afraid, is what happened to me.

The whole incident was induced by my good friends Jager and Goldschlagger, whose company I enjoy, but often inspire me to indulge in less than lady-like behavior. Subject2 had invited me and a friend over to hang out, and we did just that: guitar hero, chatting, made dinner. Completely innocent. But then we cracked open some of the alcohol he had received for his 21st birthday, and it was all downhill from there.
I sat on his futon, drinking straight from the bottle, feeling myself slip into the warm, familiar buzz. My friend who had come with me got up and announced that she had to leave, because she had work in the morning.
Being that it was late, and I was too drunk to drive, Subject2 invited me to stay the night. Of course there was only his futon to share between the two of us.
So, I crawled into bed with him, slurring my words, and he dimmed the lights, putting a DVD on that was meant to be forgotten. It was just playful flirting, teasing. I knew that he found me sexually attractive; he had made a point to tell me once or twice before. I was wearing a dress, and I suppose that while rolling over in bed, it had ridden up, exposing my thong string. He saw it, and took the opportunity to snap it. Repeatedly.
Again. And again. And again.
Each time his fingers slipping a little bit more under my panty line. Too drunk, and too horny to really resist, I let it happen. He slipped his middle and index fingers under my panties, looked me in the eyes, and asked (yes, he ASKED), "may I?"
You just don't find chivalry like that anymore.
I replied, "Yes you may."
He took the invitation into my pants without a moment's hesitation, and I must say, I was not disappointed. He knew exactly what to do with his hands: what spots to hit, what motions to use, when to kiss me, when to pull my hair, and what to say. While this all sounds well and good, there's a few things you need to remember, readers: he's not a 10 by any means, we have the same circle of friends (and I do not wish for this to reach their ears), and I am only doing this because I am drunk.
It gets a little hot and heavier. I feel him pulling off my panties, and I hear him unzipping his pants. He pulls me closer to him, kissing me, and asks, "do you want to?"
I nod, not saying anything.
He leaves my side in bed, only for a moment, and I see in his hand a condom wrapper.
It was then the magnitude of the situation hit me. He starts to unwrap the package, and I say, "No. No, I can't do this. I don't want to do this."
I stand up, looking for my underwear, and stumble slightly.
"Seriously?" I hear him say from the bed, "Like, are you being completely serious right now?"
"I can't do this," I say again, still unable to find my missing thong.
I hear him sigh, zipping his pants back up, muttering incoherently. He then says, "You can't drive like that, though. You're going to have to stay here anyway?"
"Are you sure," I say in a slurred manner, sitting back down on the bed.
"Yeah, you can. It's fine. It's fucking fine."

So, points for him being pretty cool about the whole situation?

Conclusion: I would have never allowed this to happen if I were sober. I'm not attracted to him by any means. I am glad that he didn't kick me out of his house during the early mornings of the hours, even after I both teased and cock-blocked.
Never. Doing. It. Again.