I awoke and felt so relaxed and the world a good place, the feeling lasted for perhaps a second or two, then I remembered...
I’m not a bad man, really I’m not. But recently I did something which unsettled me greatly. I sort of had non-consensual sex with my wife’s best friend. I guess it could be called rape in a lot of people’s eyes. Oh, I wasn’t violent; though I sort of forced her (possibly, at first), but it wasn’t with her verbal consent and I did it when she (and I) were under the influence of alcohol. It also revealed to me a slightly darker side to my sexuality and if I was being honest ... and here is the one place I can be honest, it was the most thrilling sex I’ve had in a long while.
Perhaps I’d better start at the beginning...
You can call me Pete, and I’ve been married to Jess for seventeen years. We have two pretty much grown-up teenagers for our time together. I work as a mechanical engineer at a small print works. For all we’ve had our problems, the marriage has been a good one. We still have a lot of common interests as well as a few that are singular to each of us, which get us out and about away from each other.
I’m 6’ tall, fairly fit with blue eyes and a generally happy countenance; Jess is about 5’ 4” and the term most guys would use is buxom. She’s a bundle of curves, slightly, though not grossly, overweight with large 36 DD boobs and often gets admiring glances from men of all ages. Our sex life is pretty good too if a little samey these days. Jess orgasms easily and generally enjoys the experience, save only for her monthlies which are generally distressing emotionally for both of us because she turns into a bad tempered bitch for the day or two before they arrive.
Not that I’m making any excuses for my behaviour. It’s just the way things are and some months are better than others.
Still, it was the night of her friend Claire’s birthday and we were all off down the pub for a few drinks along with Claire’s husband, Andy.
Both Claire and Andy are partially sighted. Andy is a lot worse than Claire and moves about with the use of a white fold-up stick to make sure he doesn’t trip over anything. Claire has reasonable peripheral vision but poor central vision; she’s also extremely night blind and doesn’t like to go out in the dark by herself.
As it is we were having a pretty good night when Andy felt a little ill, nothing serious, just a little queasy in the stomach. A quick call to his daughter to pick him up and take him home was arranged, although he urged Claire to remain and enjoy her night. Unusually enough, Claire agreed, especially after Jess and I agreed to escort her home safely.
Claire herself is no great beauty. When you can barely make out your face to put make-up on, your complexion as a woman suffers. She was also slightly buck-toothed with unevenly spaced teeth in a thin-lipped mouth. Her figure isn’t too bad, although she doesn’t dress to do herself any favours. She was wearing a beaded top that clearly hadn’t been ironed and baggy shapeless jeans covering a pear-shaped figure of narrow shoulders, small slightly droopy boobs, as she doesn’t wear the correct bras according to Jess, and wide hips. Her hair was long if slightly wild and frizzy and compared to Jess, she did not attract male glances at all when next to Jess, looking a bit older than her years if the truth be told. Still, I thought she wasn’t too bad and always complimented her when we were out together.
She’s also, unfortunately, a bit of a moaner in that she tends to see everything that happens to her in life as some sort of personal affront or insult. Normally Jess, Andy and I laugh this off; it’s just Claire being Claire, we say. Tonight though I could have kicked myself for not noticing the warning signs from Jess in the tightening of lines around her lips and the ominous silences from the time Andy left. This, coupled with the amount of alcohol she was putting away, meant she was like a volcano getting ready to go off. Normally it would be me getting it in the neck when we got home or on the way home, but tonight it was something small that Claire said about the way we let our daughter go to a friend’s party that made Jess explode. A furious, mostly one-sided, tirade was let loose on both Claire and myself when I tried to intervene to calm Jess down. Finally Jess just upped and left the pub whilst I, telling Claire to wait a moment, hurried after her in embarrassed silence as the whole pub was a witness to the scene.
“Where are you going, Jess?” I asked when I caught up with her outside.
“Home! I want nothing to do with that stupid woman anymore,” Jess said angrily.
“It’s just the drink, she doesn’t mean anything by it,” I said, trying to calm her.
“I don’t care; I’m getting a taxi from the rank. You coming too?” Jess said.
“We can’t leave her there, she couldn’t get home alone and I’m pretty sure Andy took their phone when he went,” I said.
“Well, you fucking well take her home, cos I’m not,” said Jess, stomping off to the local rank to get a cab to drive her the few miles to home as it was now raining heavily.
Back inside I apologised to Claire and offered to escort her up the hill from the pub to her home.
“You do have keys, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m so sorry, Pete. I didn’t mean to set her off. I’ll ring her and apologise when I get home,” Claire said.
“I’d wait a couple of days, Claire. She’ll be fine by then and probably a bit ashamed of herself,” I said.
“But I feel so awful about what happened. I know I sometimes go a bit far,” she replied as I escorted her out of the pub and into the rain.
“She’ll calm down, don’t worry,” I said as I hooked my arm through hers to lead her up the hill to the estate where she lived.
The rain, which had been pretty bad, looked set to get worse and I silently cursed Jess. The money she’d taken in her handbag was to cover my way home as well. It was also very dark despite the street lights and not much in the way of traffic either as the local bus service had stopped at least an hour earlier.
It was then that the heavens opened and the hard rain became almost torrential, soaking us even through our light coats, and so, seeing a bus shelter I more or less dragged Claire into it to protect us from the rain.
“Just wait a while till it stops, Claire, and I’ll get you home,” I said.
“I’ll be all right, Pete. You just get yourself home,” she replied miserably, shivering slightly.
“No way am I letting you go home on your own, not in this, Claire,” I said as she just burst into tears. I have to admit I’m a sucker for women in tears. I feel the need to do something about them, so I simply gathered Claire into my arms and held her there.
“It’s all gone wrong. It’s my birthday. I’m supposed to be happy. But I feel so alone,” she sobbed.
“I’m sure Andy will cheer you up when you get in tonight,” I said.
“He’ll be in bed, asleep,” she said.
“No birthday bonk?” I replied cheekily, hoping to make her laugh a little.
“Oh, we don’t do that so much. Too old and it’s not so important to us,” she said, opening up in a way I would not have expected, mostly due to the drink I surmised.
“You’re younger than Jess and we still go at it like rabbits every so often,” I chuckled.
“Yes, well, Jess is beautiful and I’m not,” Claire mumbled.
“Nothing to do with beauty, though you’re not bad looking. More the desire to,” I said.
“Well, we don’t have the desire, not these days,” she said, looking uncomfortable and slightly down too I thought.
I’m not sure why, it’s not like I had a strong desire or fantasy to fuck Claire, but the talk about sex had got me somewhat aroused. That and holding on to her and sharing a little warmth ... OK, OK, it was the beer too, I admit it. So that suddenly I leaned forward and kissed Claire. There was no response on her part. I suspect she was just too stunned (or drunk) to realise just what was happening. So I slipped my tongue into her mouth, feeling heat as well as the sensations of swirling my tongue over her own.
“Pete...” she began with a sigh when our lips parted only to have me cut off what she was about to say by kissing her again.
I also began to move my hands over her upper body, gently squeezing and caressing her as she simply held on to me, too overcome by alcohol and the disbelief that this was happening to her, I thought, either that or she wanted this.
“Oh don’t!” Claire groaned as our lips parted again and I kissed her exposed neck, digging in slightly with my teeth.
I was now in a world of my own and assumed Claire’s passivity as consent to carry on, after all, she could have stopped me. I slipped a hand under her top to squeeze her breast before sliding the lower edge of her bra up and over it.
“Pete!” she gasped as I felt her nipple, already engorged when my fingertips took it, and rolled it between finger and thumb, making her moan softly.
I kind of presumed that her erect nipple also meant consent, though it was might have been the effect of the wetness of the rain cooling her skin, raising it. Still I was not to be stopped as I used my other hand to undo the buttons on her blouse.
“Please!” gasped Claire as her hand reached to grab mine, though no pressure resulted from it to actually stop me ... or not enough anyway.
.... There is more of this story ...