I entered my apartment and made a bee line to the shower. The semen of two strangers running down both legs. My newly purchased panties gone and probably hanging on someone's rear view mirror. Semen all over my white top and dress. Drunk and disgraced I knew I couldn't wash this night off of me.
Oh fuck what have I done now?
Let's start from the beginning.
When I first began dating my husband, I knew he was special. He was not only a gentleman, but he was always very patient and easygoing. He was good to both his and my family. My family adored him (a bit too much, I later found out; other stories to follow).
I have to admit that I have always been a handful, as I can be very emotional and impulsive. When I met my husband, things were calm and just easy with him. We never fought, which was a nice change from previous relationships. He was kind and he had a very calming effect on me. He knew how to handle my temperament.
I had a terrible history with men before I met my husband. I was very feisty and volatile, so relationships were always short-lived. I have cheated on pretty much all my past boyfriends.
I was different than all the other girls in that I was very independent and never wanted to get married. I had a history of poor experiences with boys and men. How I lost my virginity, how I was used and manipulated in my early years It all took a toll on me, and I never wanted to rely on, depend on, or even trust men. I didn't need a husband. I was fiercely independent.
When dating my husband, I treated him the same as past boyfriends. Although he was good for me, I just couldn't let go of my past behaviour. Because he was always so cool and calm, I intentionally did or said things in order to provoke a fight. I was constantly trying to get a reaction out of him, but he never took the bait. It sounds crazy, but I was scared that things were too good--does that make any sense?
He travelled on business and left me to my own vices. I found myself bored and tempted when he was away. I had never dated a guy that travelled on business before, but I adapted well and began to live a secret life when he was out of town. I enjoyed our frequent short breaks. I began cheating with old boyfriends and even had the occasional one-nighter when he was away.
It was like getting week-long hall passes once or even twice a month when he was traveling. I justified my actions by assuming he did the same when away, although I had no proof or reason to suspect him.
He often joked that he knew there was a long list of men just waiting for him to mess up. He had no idea that some of those men had cut the line and were only waiting for his next business trip.
There were a few times when he suspected something, but I was always elusive and coy. I was careful to never admit anything. I was testing him, seeing how much he would put up with, how far I could push him, how much I could get away with.
Sometimes I think I was trying to destroy the relationship. I had a dark side to me that I hid very well. Subconsciously, I felt I didn't deserve him. The more I was drawn to him, the more I rebelled. I was scared. Things were getting serious, and I was terrified of commitment.
The night he proposed to me was a complete train wreck. To say that I did not handle it very well is a huge understatement.
We had been dating for almost two years when he took me to a nice restaurant and ordered a bottle of champagne with our meal. We were supposedly celebrating a job promotion. I had no idea he was planning to propose marriage. It was a complete surprise when he asked me to marry him, as it had never come up in conversation before.
I was shocked and couldn't give him an answer. I suppose any answer other than "yes" means "no."
Shock quickly turned to anger for ambushing me like that (I told you I was temperamental). I had repeatedly told him that I never wanted to marry, and here he was with a ring in hand.
I completely lost it and began scolding him. I suppose I was making quite a scene in the restaurant. I could see in his eyes that my reaction caught him off guard. He looked devastated, but I continued to lash out at him. I know when I am behaving badly, but it's something that I can't control. It just happens, and it has to run its ugly course.
He stayed calm and wanted to go back to his place to discuss it, but I refused to go. I had a few too many drinks and continued to behave badly--very badly. He calmly got up from the table and left the restaurant, hoping that I would come to my senses and meet him back at his place, which was a short walk away.
Instead of following him, I finished drinking the bottle of champagne. I knew if I went back to his place I would end up with a ring on my finger that night, so instead I moved to the bar area and continued to drink. I was beside myself... Oh, fuck, what just happened?
It wasn't long before I was carrying on with a couple of guys named John and Rick at the bar. The drinks flowed, and I was acting promiscuously. I was rebelling.
I could have easily left the bar area and walked back to my boyfriend's place, but I didn't. I continued to drink and flirt with my two new friends. I wanted to forget this evening.
Before long, I was being escorted to their car with me drunkenly hanging on to both men.
The back door opened and I fell onto the seat, followed by John. Our lips locked, and his hands were all over me. My white strap top was easily pulled down and he was mauling my exposed breasts. I immediately went for his cock.
Sex has always been an escape for me, and I needed to forget about what happened earlier that evening. Besides, this just proved I wasn't wife material. I was damaged goods, a slut at heart. Why would he ask me to marry him?
Intoxicated and upset with my boyfriend, I willingly gave this new acquaintance oral sex. By having another man's cock in my mouth, I was just proving to myself I was not worthy of being any man's wife. I stroked and sucked away my guilt and anger. My inner slut had taken charge of the situation.
I was then pushed back onto the seat and he reached for my panties. I immediately arched my back to facilitate their removal. It wasn't because I wanted them off, but because these were the most expensive panties I had owned up until then. I had bought them for this evening's special occasion. They were tiny high-cut, white-laced panties, silky and very delicate. I didn't want my new friend to yank on them or rip them. So off they came.
John dropped to his knees and lifted my skirt to go down on me. I pulled my long flowing skirt over his head so I couldn't see him. There I was in the back seat with my white top pulled down to my waist and a man between my legs with my skirt covering his head.
I could see his friend Rick was standing guard outside of the car through the partly open window. He occasionally glanced in to see what was happening. As hot as being watched was, I was still not fully engaged. Despite the alcohol, a man slurping away between my legs, and another man watching me as I lay there half naked, the thought of my boyfriend continued to linger in my mind.
What if he came back looking for me? He knows I need a ride home. He has always looked after me. It wouldn't be like him to just leave me stranded. I began to have second thoughts about my choices that evening.
I began moaning and thrashing in frustration as I pushed down on this stranger's head through my skirt. He wasn't scratching my sexual itch, and I continued to grind my clit harder into his mouth. He continued to finger and lick me. This wasn't working for me as my frustration and guilt were growing.
I finally faked an orgasm as I could sense I was too upset to have one. Maybe I should go back to my boyfriend's place. How could I have lashed out at him like that? I hate it when I behave so irrationally.
John popped his head out from under my dress, his lips all red and glossy. My legs still spread, he continued to finger me from his kneeling position. He then grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to his erect cock. His cock was resting at the entrance of my lips. I knew what was coming next, and I half-heartedly tried to stop things before they progressed further. I put up a short lame struggle, but my new friend was having none of it. He persisted, and I eventually gave in. I have never been good at rejecting men, especially with alcohol on board.
With one quick jab, he slid the head of his cock between my wet lips. I tried to pull away and mumbled the obligatory something about a condom. He responded with a sharp, quick thrust of his hips. He took my breath away as his hard cock penetrated deep inside of me in one motion. I was wet and moist and had no problem engulfing his member. I gasped at how nice it felt to have a cock inside me.
He wasted no time and began fucking me hard and fast. I could feel the car's suspension bouncing with each thrust. I couldn't help but see his friend looking in through the partly open window. The thought of my boyfriend was momentarily gone, and I was finally starting to enjoy myself. This was just what I needed. A good hard fucking.
"Fuck me hard...PLEASE," I begged. I could tell by his breathing and the sounds that this wasn't going to take long.
