"Oopsie," Paige giggled as she tripped on the threshold and grabbed for the doorknob, the wall, anything to keep from falling, again. She couldn't remember when she'd had this much to drink and it was hitting her hard. She was trying to be quiet so as not to wake Dale, her husband, but knew she was being WAY too loud.
Something caught her and hauled her upright, holding her as she swayed. Her high heels dangled from one hand and her keys from another as she blinked the haze from her eyes and stared into Dale's. "Uh oh," she muttered as she saw the anger there. "Honey I'm home," she giggled, breaking off when he didn't smile.
She'd only meant to have one drink with the girls. It was Holly's birthday and they were going to stop by the pub for a drink to celebrate and then go home. But one had turned into one dozen, or more, she really couldn't remember now, and she knew it was late, just not how late.
"Where the hell have you been?" Dale asked and even through the alcohol she could hear the anger, and the worry, in his tone. "I've been calling your cell phone for hours. I called the police, the hospitals, everywhere. I thought you'd been in an accident or murdered or something."
"I'm fine," Paige said, trying to stand without leaning on her irate hubby. "We just had a drink or two, what's the big deal?"
"A drink or two?" Dale asked through clenched teeth. "It's two fucking o'clock in the God Damn MORNING!!" Paige blinked rapidly as she tried to process the information she'd just received. "Just how big were those fucking drinks anyway?" he asked sarcastically.
"Huh?" Paige asked, totally missing his sarcasm. "Aww, don't be mad baby, it was Holly's birthday and we wanted to celebrate." She tried to remember what all she'd done but really couldn't, images flashed behind her eyes but the details escaped her. "I'm sorry, I should have called," she tried to whisper in a seductive voice, but it just came out slurred.
Leaning toward Dale she tried to kiss him and his eyes went wide as the smell on her breath hit him. Bewildered by his response she gasped as he jerked away, his eyes narrowing with anger. "You fucking cunt, where the fuck have you been?" Dale shouted. Paige smelled quite strongly of sex and his heart thundered in his chest as his gut began to roil.
"Did you fucking cheat on me?" he asked, stunned, hurt and getting madder by the second.
"W-w-w-what?" Paige asked in a bewildered voice. Her eyes grew misty as she tried to recall the events of the evening. The shock as she recalled some of them showed on her face, along with her guilt. Had she been watching Dale she would have seen his face change also, from one of worry and hurt to anger. Raw unbridled passionate anger that blazed in his eyes at the thought of his wife in another man's arms changed his countenance as his lips thinned and his nostrils flared.
"You fucking cunt!" Dale roared. Turning his back to her he slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall. The pain in his hand was a welcome diversion from the agony of his heart breaking and he pulled back to hit the wall again, harder this time. Paige, realizing she'd fucked up royally, reached for him, desperate to set right whatever it was she'd done, although she didn't really remember what it was.
Dale spun away from her touch and Paige fell, sprawling onto the hardwood floor with a thump. Rolling over she shook her head, trying to clear the alcohol fog from her brain as Dale looked on in horror. He skirt had flown up as she fell and Paige's shaved pussy was on display, glistening with moisture that coated her lips and the insides of her thighs.
Dale believed that a man should never hit a woman but in that moment he understood why some did. His rage was a tangible thing, so strong that he knew if he didn't get out of the room he was going to do something he shouldn't. Wordlessly, hands clenched in rage and teeth grinding to bite back the words that wanted to come, Dale fled the house.
Paige heard the slamming of the door and tried to sit up. She knew something had happened, something really bad, and when her thoughts, slowed by alcohol, finally caught up with events transpiring around her, she called out to him in desperation, even as one part of her mind knew it was too late.
She heard the roar of the exhaust on his diesel pickup and the squeal of the tires on the concrete driveway as he backed out of the drive. Rising up on her elbows she looked past her feet toward the closed door, blinking as she heard his truck drive away. Glancing down at herself and her splayed legs her stomach lurched.
Her panties were gone, where or when she'd lost them she didn't know, and her thighs and pussy glistened with drying moisture. Her heart leaped into her throat at the implications and she suddenly felt sick. Too drunk to stand she crawled, bouncing off walls and chairs, into the hall bathroom and threw herself at the stool. Her stomach heaved again and again as she tried to empty it. She began to sob as the realization of what she'd done hit her.
Paige woke feeling sick to her stomach. The condition she found herself in didn't help matters either. Her hand dangled in a stool filled with vomit, and the smell hit her, causing her stomach to try and empty anything that remained in it on top of the mess she'd already made.
When her heaving subsided and she finally, after three times, got the mess in the bowl to flush she looked around, taking stock of herself. She sat on the cold bathroom tile in a puddle of her own piss, the urine smell cloying and she puked again, barely getting her head over the bowl in time.
Nothing but bile came up as she heaved again and again until her stomach hurt almost as bad as her head. Paige's heart ached the most and she sobbed as she remembered the condition she'd arrived home in. Dale was her world and now she'd destroyed that, ruined it all for some drunken fun she didn't even remember.
Or did she? As she finally made it to her feet and peeled the urine soaked clothes from her body she tried to piece together the fragments of memory from the night before. She remembered, of course, arriving at the pub and having several drinks. She'd meant to stop at one but they were having so much fun she'd had several more.
She vaguely remembered a taxi ride; in one of those minivan taxi's and ... her heart lurched as she clapped a hand that smelled of piss and vomit to her mouth to catch the gasp that tore from her chest. The strip club, she remembered that. It had been ladies night, which meant all the strippers were male. Gagging from the smell of her hand she stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as she could stand it.
She remembered more drinks and guys dancing around naked, and ... struggling to remember more she sobbed as the hot water cascaded over her body. Had she fucked one of the strippers? She honestly couldn't remember but all the evidence said she had. Remembering this she cupped her hand to her pussy, it felt, well, used, like it did the morning after she and Dale had fucked.
Instinct brought her fingers to her nose but she didn't smell the odor of stale semen like she normally did after sex with Dale. Her fingers smelled like pussy, a highly aroused pussy, but she didn't detect the odor of semen there. Sticking her fingers inside herself she shoved them up so far it hurt, but again, she didn't find any traces of semen inside her. "At least he used a condom or pulled out," she told herself, knowing that didn't really make things better.
She scrubbed her hair four times, washed her body five, even shoving soapy fingers into her cunt as she tried to wash away her guilt. When her knuckles brushed her asshole a vivid memory stood out and a cry of anguish tore from her throat.
Someone had licked her there and then shoved fingers into her ass, something she'd never let even Dale, the love of her life, do. Leaning against the shower wall as the hot water turned her skin bright red she cried until she couldn't cry anymore.
The water had long since turned cold by the time she stepped from the shower. Operating on autopilot she dried off and slipped into her robe, the soft one Dale had bought her for their first anniversary. This set off more crying and tears she'd thought had run dry dripped from her face onto the white cloth as she made her way down the hall toward the bedroom.
Paige suddenly remembered her cell phone and taking pictures with it at the strip club. Rushing back to the front of the house she found her purse where she'd dropped it when she fell. The dent in the drywall reminded her of Dale's anger and she sobbed anew as she dug the phone from her purse.
Tears blurred her eyes but the pictures didn't lie. They showed all the girls dancing and cavorting with the strippers. There was even on of Holly jacking a well hung guy off, her tit's pulled out of her top for everyone to see. Caroline was in one, her lips wrapped around a large cock and Paige frantically searched through the rest, hoping that there wasn't any of her.
"Well duh," she told herself a few moments later, "It's your phone, of course there aren't any pictures of you." There were pictures of all the other women though, engaged in playing with or sucking on one of the strippers' cocks. She wondered just what kind of photo's the other girls had on their phones of her.
"I knew I should have just come home last night," Paige lamented. She'd told the others that since she was married she wouldn't stay long but had ended up spending most of the night with them. Now she trembled in fear and shame as she realized her mistake may have cost her the love of the man she adored.
.... There is more of this story ...