Tonight when I get off work I am going to go home, fix dinner, open a bottle of wine and after dinner is over I am going to tell Harry that I am divorcing him. It will be a shock since he is totally unaware that our marriage has been in trouble.
I love him. I love him to death, but he is a good man and he deserves much better than me. He has been a good husband and for the most part our marriage has been great. He is affectionate and he is damned good in bed so he is not going to understand it at all. The one thing he won't know because I won't tell him is that he is the one mostly to blame for it happening. Then again maybe I will tell Harry why he is to blame. It might help him with his next wife.
Harry is a stupid drunk!
He is not an alcoholic and he doesn't get drunk with any great degree of regularity. He is just a stupid drunk and by that I mean when he gets drunk he gets stupid. He doesn't get mean or sick, he just gets stupid. I've known it since I met him at a fraternity kegger, but it didn't seem all that big of a deal at the time.
I was at the kegger with the guy who was my boyfriend at the time. Jared was a cute and well built jock and we had been keeping company for about four months, but he wasn't going to be 'the one' I was going to live my life with and we both knew it. I wasn't supposed to know it, but he was already sounding out a few other girls looking for my replacement. He didn't mind the hand jobs and blow jobs, but he wasn't happy that I wouldn't let him go all the way.
Anyway, we were at the kegger and I noticed a bunch of guys near the keg in a 'chugging' contest. The gut who won raised his arms in victory and shouted out "woohoo" and before the shout had faded two guys stepped up and said they could beat him. They didn't and he did his victory shout again. He beat several different challengers, but in the process got blind, stinking drunk. Then somebody said something to him and he laughed and took off all of his clothes — all of his clothes — and then stumbled around the room naked and with a beer in his hands and socialized.
I couldn't help but notice that he was nicely put together. Nice, tight buns and a better than averaged sized cock and I did know a nice cock when I saw one. I was still a virgin, but my hands and mouth were not strangers to man meat. Not that I was indiscriminate. I had to like the guy a lot to do it and it never happened until after I had dated the guy for a while. We could start making out around the third date. He could get his hands under my bra about the sixth, his fingers in my honey pot on the ninth and I would have him in my hand on the tenth. In four years of high school and three years of college less than ten guys had made it past the fifth date.
It was three weeks before I saw Mr. Chug-a Lug again. I had just come through the serving line at the school cafeteria and I was looking around for a place to sit. The place was packed, but I didn't see anyone that I knew that I could join and then I spotted him sitting at a table alone. I walked over to the table and asked him if I could join him and he said yes. I sat down and said:
"My name is Jana and should I call you "cute buns" or do you have a name?"
"I was at the Delt kegger when you stripped and then walked around socializing. I noticed that you had cute buns."
"Oh. I guess I got pretty stupid that night. My name is Harry."
"I think I like cute buns better."
"If you are going to call me that I think you should get to know me better and I think that the best way to do that is to go out with me."
"I can do that. When?"
"Tonight would work for me."
"It would for me also."
That was the start of a relationship that led to me saying, "I Jana take thee Harry to be my lawful wedded husband" four months after we graduated. Almost from the start I knew that Harry was "The One" and Harry beat all of the time line items. With Harry it was make out on the second date, hands in the bra on the third, fingers in the honey pot on the fifth and I was deep throating him on the sixth. On the tenth, when most of my previous dates were just getting their first hand job, Harry popped my cherry and from that point on we made love four or five times a week and usually twice each time.
We were your typical college couple and we hit the frat parties and other parties on the weekend and at maybe one out of every five Harry would get drunk and get stupid. I didn't think much of it because it was what college kids did right? Harry's thing might have been getting stupid when he got drunk, but mine was that I got a little flirty when I'd been drinking. Some guys would take my flirting as a come on and try to hustle me and I always shut them down, but I did flirt enough that some guys came to think of it as just being a matter of time before they would score with me. No one ever did, but a lot thought that someday they might — just might — break through. My big mistake — although it would be a couple of years before it bit me on the ass — was in not making absolutely sure that they knew that it was never going to happen and that flirting is all that it ever was and ever would be.
Harry and I graduated, were married and started our life together. We decided that we didn't want children, at least not until we were a little older and more established, and I didn't care for the feel of condoms so I was on the pill and had a diaphragm for back up just to make doubly sure.
We found jobs in our chosen fields and began working our way up the corporate ladder. We did well, saved our money and eventually bought a home in a nice neighborhood. We accumulated friends and neighbors and there were parties and social events to go to. Frat parties and keggers were a thing of the past, but there was drinking at parties, barbecues and other social events.
It didn't happen often, maybe once every four or five months, but Harry did occasionally get drunk and get stupid. Most of what he did got people laughing like the time he got drunk and because of something someone said he stripped to his underwear and took some ones motorcycle (this was in mid-January and it was three below outside) and rode it twice around the block. I of course drank at the same parties and I flirted. I got kissed and felt up a lot, but I laughed it off as 'adult fun' and didn't think anything about it.
And then Harry got drunk and got stupid and changed our (or at least my) life.
It was our fifth wedding anniversary and our next door neighbors threw us a party. Only having twenty feet to walk to go home and not having to worry about driving I over did it a little on my alcohol intake. I was my usual flirty self and I did get kissed several times and felt up more than a little. When I have more to drink than I should I usually just get tired so about three ours into the party I went home and lay down on the bed.
I don't know how long it was that I laid there, fading in and out of sleep, when I heard Harry. It sounded like he was drunk, but still coherent enough to be giving some of the neighbors a tour of the house. I heard him tell about tearing out the carpet on the stairs and replacing it with wood. He mumbled some other things — either mumbled or I faded out for a bit — and I heard "replaced the tub with a tub with water jets and tore out..." and I faded out again. The bedroom door opened and I heard " ... master bedroom fully equipped with the best cocksucker and piece of ass in the state. Moving on we co..." and he (or I) faded out again.
I came partially awake when Harry came to bed. I felt his hands on my hips and I lifted them so he could pull my panties off and then I spread my legs. I felt his breath just before his tongue went to work on me. I moaned and pulled my knees back to open myself up more for him.
"Oh yes" I moaned, "Like that baby, just like that. I love it."
He started licking and sucking my clit and I cried out and pushed my pussy at his face. I was hot and I was ready and I cried out:
"Now, I need you in me now. Fuck me honey, fuck me."
He moved up and buried himself in me and I locked my legs around him and moaned:
"Fuck me, fuck me hard and make me come."
Harry slammed into me and my orgasm hit and I cried out and dug my nails in his back and pulled him to me. He kept slamming into me and then he grunted and I felt the hot wetness of his discharge. He pulled away from me and I tried to pull him back. I felt him get off the bed and I cried out "Don't go, please don't go." He got back on the bed and pushed into me. He started driving into me and after several minutes I felt another climax building.
"Stay with me baby, stay with me, I'm almost there, get me there baby, get me there."
.... There is more of this story ...