A drunk college girl, a horny older man, and nowhere to run.

So, it was only after I accepted that I noticed that the guy was like fifteen years older than me - way too old to be hanging out in a college bar, I thought. I'd stupidly and naively assumed that there was some kind of rule that no one over twenty-five would be allowed in, or would want to. Like I said, I was hopelessly naïve. But in fairness, it was my first time being at a bar, and everything about the experience was new. My freshman year roommate, Jess, who I'd just met the night before, had heard that the bar we were at, called the Dublin, just off campus, never checked girls for ids as long as you were a seven or higher. I figured it was worth a shot, since I was definitely at least that, if I do say so myself: blond, short and petite, but with a nice bubble butt and long legs toned from years of cheerleading and volleyball, as well as a great set of nice, perky tits, of course. And, lo and below, even though we were just eighteen, got in without needing ids.