Drunk Anime

The office holiday party was in full swing, and Yuki had completely lost track of her drink count. The cheap champagne flowed freely, and her normally reserved demeanor had dissolved into a giggling, uninhibited mess. She stumbled, her heel catching on the edge of the carpet, and would have face-planted if Kenji hadn't shot out a hand to steady her.

"Woah there, Yuki. I think you've had enough," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her.

"Nonsense!" she slurred, leaning heavily against him. "I'm just... just getting started." She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, a lazy, drunken smile on her face. Kenji had always been quiet, the kind of guy who blended into the background of the office. Tonight, though, in the dim lighting of the rented banquet hall, he looked different. Solid. Safe.

"You need the bathroom," he stated, not asked. It was a fact. She could feel the pressure in her bladder, a sudden, urgent need that the alcohol had masked until now. She nodded vigorously, too drunk to be embarrassed.

He guided her through the crowd, his arm firm around her waist. The women's restroom had a line, and Yuki was doing a little dance of desperation. Kenji glanced around, then steered her towards the men's room instead. "No one's in here," he murmured, pushing the door open.

The room was stark and smelled of disinfectant. He led her to a stall, but her hands were fumbling uselessly with the button on her tight pencil skirt. "I... I can't," she whined, frustration welling up.

Without a word, Kenji stepped into the stall with her and closed the door. The click of the lock echoed in the small space. "Let me," he said, his voice thick. His fingers brushed against her stomach as he found the button and slid the zipper down. The touch sent a jolt through her, a spark of heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and her panties, pulling them both down to her ankles in one smooth motion.

Yuki giggled, a mix of shame and a strange, thrilling excitement. She plopped down onto the toilet, the cold porcelain a shock against her warm skin. She let out a long, loud sigh of relief as the sound of her peeing filled the small, tiled room. It was unashamed, primal. She glanced up and saw Kenji standing over her, his eyes fixed on the space between her legs. His breathing was shallow.

And then she saw it. The unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. He was hard. So hard. A flush of power, intoxicating and more potent than the champagne, surged through her drunken haze. He wasn't just helping her; he was watching her. Getting off on this. On her.

The thought was disgusting. It was depraved. And it made her wet instantly.

She finished, the sound trickling to a stop. She made no move to get up, to cover herself. Instead, she leaned back against the tank, spreading her knees slightly, a silent invitation. Her eyes, heavy and dark, met his.

Kenji's hand trembled as he reached down. His fingers were clumsy but determined as they found her slick folds. He wasn't gentle. He was driven by a raw, drunken need. He rubbed her clit in rough circles, the friction sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. Yuki bit her lip to keep from crying out, her hips bucking against his hand. This was wrong, so wrong, but it felt so incredibly good. Her drunk anime fetish was playing out in real life, a scenario she'd only ever dared to fantasize about in the darkest corners of her mind.

She was close, so close, her body tensing as that familiar coil of pleasure tightened in her belly. Kenji's other hand was braced against the stall wall, his knuckles white. His eyes were locked on her face, on the pleasure he was giving her.

The bathroom door creaked open.

"Kenji? Yuki? Are you guys in here?"

It was Aya from accounting. Her voice, sharp and clear, cut through the drunken haze like ice water.

Kenji's hand froze, yanking back as if he'd been burned. Yuki's eyes flew open, the orgasm that had been building shattering into a million pieces of panic. They both stared at each other, wide-eyed and trapped, the sound of Aya's footsteps getting closer. The locked stall door suddenly felt less like a barrier and more like a cage.