I'm writing this just to get it off my chest. I have to tell someone and I might as well tell my computer. Consider this a diary entry for I could never tell anyone else of the things I have been doing.
My name is Donna. I am 39 years old, a few pounds overweight but otherwise in good shape. My husband, Mark, still complements me, especially about my boobs, which are plump and well rounded. We still have sex occasionally but the fire isn't really there, I love Mark but he just doesn't do it for me anymore. But, as with many couples, we find other interests and hobbies and just cruise through life.
Every Independence Day, my husband and I host a party which includes fireworks, a cookout, and, of course, substantial drinking. This year was to be no different. Invited were an assortment of co-workers, friends, and relatives. Entire families attend but generally as the day progresses, those with small children leave so that by a couple of hours after sunset, the party has turned into an adults only affair.
By this time, I was worn out. Most of the party took place outside, with traffic usually only coming inside to use the bathrooms. Mark was outside mixing it up, getting very drunk. I could see him outside, staggering around, from group to group. Always trying to be the good host, I was inside cleaning up in the kitchen. I turned, as the door slammed, to see Reggie walk inside. A dark black man who worked with Mark, he was always acted politely and was quick to smile. Although I didn't know him well, I had seen him off and on during company functions. He paused to talk, commenting on how well the party was going. I knew his wife, Sharon, about as well as I knew him, so I asked where she was tonight. Reggie said that she was out of town, visiting her sister. She doesn't really like parties anyhow, he said, she feels that people start doing foolish things after all that drink. I commented that although sometimes true, I hadn't seen anything like that tonight. "Just you wait, though," he said, "It's bound to happen."
"Do you really think it's such a bad thing to happen?" I replied. "Depends on what it is, I guess." At that, he asked where the bathroom was, to which I pointed in the direction. To be honest, as he moved by, he seemed to be very close and kind of squeezed by me, briefly touching my hips as he passed. Although seemingly innocent, it surprised me and caused me to watch as he walked toward the bathroom and away from me. I couldn't help but notice his well fitting jeans hugging his rear and his obvious muscle tone beneath his loose shirt. Call it crazy, but suddenly I walk to our bedroom check on something, what I don't know!