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Message-ID: <38571asstr$1033499404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: nonono69@hotmail.com (Tim)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 1 Oct 2002 15:11:31 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Story: Drunk Wifes night out
Date: Tue,  1 Oct 2002 15:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Drunk Wife's Night Out
by nonono69
edited by Lori-ru

Actually it was all my own fault.  We were only in our second year of
marriage, so Trish and I were still practically newlyweds.  She and I
often made sexy little bets with each other to keep things interesting
and to spice up our love life.  Trish was twenty-two, and she never
failed to turn heads whenever we were out on the town.  I liked for her
to wear short skirts and high heels, and for some reason it made me
extra-horny to see other guys checking her out.

One of our favorite things to do was going out to this great little
dance club on Saturday night.  Trish loved to drink and she loved to
dance, and usually she'd be so drunk by the end of the night that
sometimes she'd just nod off or pass out altogether by the time I got
her home.  More often than not I literally ended up carrying her into
the house and putting her to bed.  I was young and horny back then, and,
passed out or not, a fuck was still a fuck, so, after I put her to bed,
I'd usually just go ahead and fuck Trish anyway.  She didn't really
mind.  In those days, all she cared about was making me happy.

Like I said, we were still practically newlyweds, and we often made sexy
little bets with each other.  I remember that on this one particular
Saturday night, Trish had lost a bet, so she had to pay up.  Since Trish
was already dressed to go out, wearing an especially short and sexy
black minidress and black patent leather pumps, I decided to have a
little fun with her, so I told her she couldn't wear any panties or
pantyhose to the club that night.

Poor Trish seemed a bit uptight about it at first, but a bet's a bet,
and after a few drinks she started to loosen up and everything was fine.
We had already danced several dances when two guys joined us at the
table.  They seemed nice enough, and one of them introduced himself as
Jim and said he was a professional photographer.  He wanted to know if
Trish had ever modeled professionally.  Trish was flattered, but she
pretty much took it all in stride, reminding him she was a bit too short
to ever be a model.

Jim persisted, though, and, as it turned out, the four of us really hit
it off, and I ended up inviting Jim and his friend to join us for a
drink.  So, there we were, and the four of us spent the next hour or so
drinking and talking. Trish and I managed to squeeze in a few more
dances, and, between the drinks, the dancing and the spirited
conversation with our two new friends, Trish and I were really having a
terrific time.

Trish, as usual, was pretty tipsy after a few drinks, and when the band
finished its first set, she excused herself to go to the restroom. When
Trish returned, however, she whispered to me that she wasn't feeling
very well.  I told her I'd better take her home, but she said she
thought she'd be all right in a few minutes.

A short time later, the waitress came to check on us, and our two new
friends ordered us all another round of drinks.  I guess the waitress
could tell that Trish wasn't doing too well, and asked me if she was
okay.  I assured her that Trish was just feeling a little woozy, but
she'd be fine.  The waitress offered to have me take Trish back to the
office.  She said they had a sofa there, and maybe it would help if
Trish stretched out and rested for a little while.

I started to decline her offer, but then I noticed that Trish was
actually starting to doze off, so I decided maybe I should take the
waitress up on her offer after all.  I got up to help Trish to the
office, and it was then that I realized my wife's dress had somehow
hitched up. I mean, it was all the way to her waist, and in her drunken
stupor and with her legs open like they were, Jim, who was sitting next
her, must've been treated to quite an eyeful.

If Jim had been checking out Trish's crotch, though, he sure played it
cool, and he never let on that he'd even noticed.  In fact, he was a
perfect gentleman, and he and his buddy offered to help me take Trish
back to the office so she could lay down.  Trish was pretty much out of
it by then, and the three of us barely got Trish to the office and laid
her down on the sofa before she just zonked right out.  I thanked the
waitress, on Trish's behalf, for the use of the sofa. Then, Jim, his
buddy and I returned to our table to finish our drinks.

The three of us listened to the band and chatted for ten or fifteen
minutes.  Then, Jim's buddy said he was headed to the john, and added
that the next round was on him.  I guess he was gone for maybe ten
minutes or so.  True to his word, though, he sent the waitress over with
another round of drinks on his way to the restroom, and Jim and I
entertained ourselves with conversation about photography, sports and
music until his buddy finally rejoined us at the table.

Jim's buddy leaned in and whispered something to the him, but I couldn't
hear what it was he said.  Then Jim's buddy leaned in and told me he had
a joke to tell me, and about halfway through the joke Jim said he'd
already heard that one, and he was heading to the restroom.

Well, it turned out that this guy must have had at least a half dozen
other jokes, and he just kept telling one after another until Jim
finally got back from his trip to the john.  A few minutes later, I
announced that it was my turn, and I was off to the restroom, too.  They
said it was time to call it a night anyway, but thanked me for making
tonight so much fun and that they hoped we could do it again sometime.

On my way back from the john I stopped off and looked in on Trish.  She
was laying there just as I'd left her, still dead to the world.  I went
back out and flagged down my waitress, paid my bar tab and thanked her
again for her hospitality concerning Trish slipping her a $20 in
appreciation.  The waitress smiled approvingly, and then followed up by
asking the bouncer to assist me in helping Trish out to the car. We got
her up and out to the car without any problem, but, needless to say,
Trish was still pretty much out of it and she just dozed the whole way
home.

My plan was to put my wife to bed and then treat myself to my customary
Saturday night marathon fuckfest, but while I was undressing her I
noticed something unusual.  There was something wet and glistening
leaking out of my wife's cunt.  I turned on the overhead light and
examined her pussy, and I was shocked beyond belief.  It was semen, and
there was a lot of it, too.  Her pussy was red and swollen, and a steady
trickle semen was oozing out of it.

Obviously, somebody had fucked her while we were at the club, but who,
how many, and did she wake up at all while she was getting fucked, or
was she passed out the whole time?  Well, knowing how Trish is after a
few drinks, I was pretty sure she must've been passed out cold and
totally unaware that anyone even fucked her.  But, as far as trying to
figure out who and how many men fucked her, there was just no way to be
sure.

I got some towels and cleaned her up as best I could.  Then I just kept
running the events of the evening through my mind over and over again,
trying to remember how long I'd left my wife alone in that back office,
how long Jim and his buddy had been gone to the restroom, and what Jim's
buddy might have whispered to him after he returned from his trip to the
john.  I also tried to remember if I had noticed any other men wander
past me toward the restroom and how long they might have been
"indisposed."  Unfortunately, I didn't have much luck piecing it all
together.  I'd had so much to drink myself, I couldn't really recall the
timeline or the sequence of events with any degree of certainty.

The next morning Trish woke up with a nasty hangover. I brought her an
aspirin and a glass of water, and then asked her if she could remember
anything from the night before.  Trish thought for a moment, shook her
head and told me she remembered things pretty clearly up till when she
started feeling woozy.  She vaguely remembered being helped to the
office, but nothing at all after that.

I was afraid to tell her she'd been raped.  I mean, after all, I was the
one who left her there in the office in the first place.  Besides, what
could I have told her?  I wasn't even sure who or how many guys raped
her, so I wouldn't have known what to tell her anyway.

Trish and I continued our Saturday night routine of going out to the
club, but I never again saw the two guys we'd met that night.  However,
I'm pretty sure it was them who teamed up and fucked my wife.  If anyone
else fucked her too, I don't really know.  In any case, I have never
told Trish about the incident and probably never will.  I was just
relieved when her next period came, right on schedule.

This story happened fifteen years ago, and Trish and I divorced five
years ago.  Oh, but I sure have a lot of fond memories . . .

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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