Taylor
I remember that 18-year-old me arrived at the sandbar with Chris, my guy at the time.
It was a typically warm late summer evening. As the level of beer in the keg lowered, Chris grew louder and mouthier. By eleven, he could barely walk. Chris yelled my name across the bonfire. While slurring his words, he summoned me to bring him a beer.
I hesitantly approached with the beer, and he tightly grabbed my wrist. I struggled to pull away. His strength, though drunk, out powered me. In front of a crowd of over thirty high school and college acquaintances, he loudly demanded I suck his c**k right where he sat. When I told him to go f**k himself, he drew back his hand and punched me on the left side of my face. It happened so fast I had no time to protect myself. Drunken mayhem ensued.
