Drunk Wife’s Night Out

Actually what happened was all my own fault.

We were only in our second year of marriage, so Trish
and I were still practically newlyweds.

Trish was twenty-two, and she never failed to turn heads
whenever we were out on the town. I liked 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 nights. 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 mini-dress 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. She was flattered, but 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. 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 she 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 my wife 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 practically up to her waist, and in her
drunken state 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
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 her to the office and laid her down on
the sofa before she just zonked right out. I thanked the
waitress, on my wife’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 needed to
go 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 the night 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 $40 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 cum was oozing out of it.

Obviously, somebody had fucked her while we were at the
club, but who, and 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
had fucked her, there was just no way to be sure. But I
was sure from the amount of cum it had been more than
one man.

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 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 had 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…

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