Where to start? I suppose the beginning of that night would be good, but that wouldn't tell the whole story. No. I have to go back a few years to tell the entire story, but I'm sure nobody wants to read something that's chapters long. I'll just give a brief synopsis starting with who I am.
My name is Michele. I'm 47, I have light brown hair that reaches my shoulder blades, and I wear glasses. I'm sure you're trying to picture me so I'll have to admit I'm a big girl. I'm only five foot one inch tall, but I'm rather wide in the mid section. In other words I have a big gut and ass. My fatness has also endowed me with ample D cup breasts. They tend to jiggle a lot if I don't wear a bra. And before you perverts ask; I keep the jungle trimmed unless I'm trying to impress. Then it's gone, and it's brown hairs down there.
I'm also married with two great kids. Therein lies the issue that made this night possible. A little about my husband quickly. He's two years older than I, and has a pronounced belly. Other than that he's pretty fit. He isn't like most men I've gotten to know though. He's more reserved in many ways. He's always put family first in every way. Even when it comes to our time together. The kids are always a factor in some way. Mostly because he makes them a factor.
This night I'm about to rely to you happened a little over ten years ago. My youngest was just a toddler, and my oldest was still very needy. I had arranged a night out for just the two of us with romantic expectations for the end of the night. My frustrations were at an all time high since we hadn't been together alone in years, and sex was just something that wasn't. He never put an importance on intimacy, and it was straining our marriage.
Well, that night I have reservations for dinner, a movie after, and then a seedy hotel room all lined up. We went to dinner, and the conversation really lacked. I wanted to tell him how frustrated I was, but it wasn't the appropriate time. He didn't like the movie I picked out so we traded the tickets for an action movie he wanted to see, and then when I mentioned the hotel he thought I was insane. I demand him to pull over right as we were passing a bar, and instead of arguing with him I went inside.
He was soon to follow showing his disapproval, but I already had a strong drink in front of me that was going fast. I ignored him for as long as I could trying to not make a scene in the fairly crowded bar. It was a Saturday night at all. I had three drinks gone before he tried to stop me from getting another. Then I couldn't hold back anymore. I laid it all out right there not caring who heard. I told him that I was tired, frustrated, neglected, and that he treated me substandard. He naturally got mad, and just as he started raising his voice a couple of rather large older men asked if he was bothering me.
As soon as I said he was they not so politely escorted him to the door. He left without incident, and the men came back buying me another drink and a couple of shots of what tasted like turpentine. That's a taste I'll never forget either. We talked and drank for a few hours before I admitted that he was my husband, and I told them that I should be going home. They offered me a ride which was good because I could barely stand. I was really regretting drinking so much. I was dressed for a romantic evening. Not drinking.
Alcohol, high heels, and a dress are not appropriate attire for staggering in. As soon as I stood I knew the heels had to come off. Unfortunately the dress I wore was my red one which had short sleeves, plunging neckline, and stopped mid thigh. I chose it to be sexy for my husband since it shows off my cleavage so well that I can't wear a bra with it. I say unfortunately because it fits rather tight in my mid section pushing my breasts up, and making it so I can't really squat while wearing it.
So to remove my heels I either have to jump back up on the stool which is rather high for me, or bend over giving whoever is watching a show. I tried to hop back up on the stool, but one of the men had to catch me from falling face first into the bar. When I steady myself I'm handed another shot which I gulp down before bending down to take off my heels. My head is spinning as soon as I bend over. I lean against the stool to keep from falling, and it takes a bit to unstrap and pull off my shoes.
One man helps me to my feet, and holds me steady as we walk to their car. For this story I'll just call him Jack. He's the older of the two. He's looks like he's in his fifties, thin, over six feet tall, balding, goatee, and muscular. The other man I'll call John. He looks to be in his late forties, black hair, full beard, not as tall as Jack, but still way taller than me. He's not fat either, but not thin. He too is rather strong which I find out as they help me to the door.
I'm led to black SUV with tinted windows. Jack opens the back door while John helps me in. I feel their hands grabbing my ass as they push me in, and I halfheartedly tell them to stop. I remind them I'm married even though I'm liking the attention. When I finally am in I'm laying flat on my stomach, and the passenger door opens. I see Jack hop in sitting right by my face just as the car starts and begins to back out of the lot.
"Where are we going? I never told you my address." I laugh nervously. "Or are you taking me to the hotel I booked for tonight?"
"Where is it?" John asks.
"My house is that way." I slur joking.
"How about that hotel?"
"We can't go there. You'll get the wrong idea, and that wouldn't be good."
"I think you should go there and let your hubby stew for the night. Teach him a lesson."
"I should. That'll teach him good too."
"Which hotel?" John asks.
