It was one of those sun-bleached California mornings when everyone lays around saying I drank too much last night. My hotel suite overlooked the pool and before my alarm even went off, I was stirred awake by the shouts of kids doing cannonballs off the diving board. I had apparently passed out in only my underwear; a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs, the fabric of which was presently being strained by a near-terminal case of morning wood. Across the gray carpet I could see the trail we left; my blue blazer, your crumpled dress, my white shirt, your thigh high stockings, my necktie, your high heeled shoes. I rolled over and there you were. Head on the pillow, hair cascading down your back, wearing nothing but a pair of white lace panties adorned with a little pink bow. I could see the remnants of my dried cum still sticking to your thigh. Your eyes were shut, lost in dreamland.

Yesterday was the wedding of our respective best friends. I knew Max since middle school and I gathered you knew the bride for a similar amount of time. I’m engaged, but my fiancé, who’s ankle deep into a new job, couldn’t join me on this trip. Based on some casual Instagram stalking, it appeared you had a boyfriend of your own back in London. But I couldn’t be sure. I knew we made an effort to be discreet, exchanging drunken champagne kisses in the corners of the dancefloor where no one could see.

With my upper teeth sunk into my bottom lip, I climbed up on my knees on the mattress, doing my best to not disturb you. With no shirt of pants, the tattoos that covered nearly my entire body - including my arms, hands, fingers, and neck - were on full display. In a few hours, I would be on a plane back to the east coast and you’d be crossing the Atlantic back to Britain. I couldn’t tolerate the idea of us separating without fucking again.

I raised the tatted fingers of my left hand high in the air and thundered them down in a resounding SMACK on your ass.

[Thanks for reading! At the risk of revealing too much, this prompt is loosely based on a real bridesmaid I met. But I still want you to exercise creative control over the character. Please respond with a description of what you look like. Feel free to alter any details you want. You can continue from where I left off or ask questions about the scene’s background / direction.

My name is Thatcher. I’m 6’2, with a thin lean build, short but disheveled dark hair, and brown eyes. I have a square jawline and - for the wedding - a clean shaven face. As stated above, I have an excess of tattoos. Despite my lean physique, I’m fit thanks to a daily running regimen.

I’m excited to explore this scene with you!]