992 words
It was clearly early morning. I’d guess around two or three AM. I was leaving a rather shady pub, quite drunk, full of desire, full of limpness, just full of booze. I should’ve been lying next to my wife long ago, fucking her, looking into her eyes, gently holding her neck and pounding into her at jackhammer speed.
This kept running through my head during my walk home too. From one side to the other, from the other side to the third. Mumbling and the scraping of soles in the early hours of a Saturday morning. Kind of classic.
And so one prefab apartment block replaced another, and I could already see my entrance. The main door was open—lucky me. Probably that drunk from the third floor forgot to close it again.
I shuffled toward the elevator. Press the button, the elevator starts moving. It glides and glides through all those floors. Suspiciously long. I reach my apartment, pull out my keys. Fuck my life, I can’t unlock it again.
I banged for a good ten minutes before the door finally opened. In the doorway stood my beautiful wife in a nightgown. Her legs shone into my drunk face like the most expensive diamond I know.
I couldn’t see her face. Without makeup, she looked like nothing anyway, so I didn’t care. I barged into the apartment like a bull and landed right on the couch. I had no idea the couch was even that close.
“Sir, who are you? Get out or I’ll call the police.”
“Darling, don’t you recognize me?”
“Sir, you’re drunk, please leave.”
“Oh come on, you wanna play rape, huh?”
“Sir, what are you doing? For God’s sake, stop!”
I grabbed that fabulous woman by the waist and shoved my tongue into her mouth, just how she liked it. My wife and I were a bit perverted in that way. We often played rape games, cops, doctors, firefighters. It turned her on, and I always got what I wanted. So it didn’t even occur to me to protest. Heh…
So I kept kissing her, even as she writhed, kicked, punched me, and so on. But I felt nothing—I was an unyielding wall, a drunk, wild-eyed monkey who wanted one last fuck before kicking the bucket and having flies buzz over its corpse.
I slapped her. The kind she liked. Hard, but not unbearably painful. She still wouldn’t stop kicking and flailing. So I hooked one leg behind hers and leaned my full weight on her. She fell to the floor. It was a hard landing—her back hitting the ground.
Must’ve woken every pensioner in the building, otherwise I don’t know. My little wife always had good vocal cords, so she made sure to scream properly. But my head was already pounding, so I covered her mouth with my hand as hard as I could—but not so she couldn’t breathe. I was never into corpses.
With one hand on her mouth and the other on her little ass, I made a drunken jerk and lifted her halfway onto the couch. Just enough so I could tear off that shiny nightgown in one motion. Must’ve been new—I’d never seen her in it before.
But she couldn’t stay quiet forever, and I needed both hands to shove it in.
“You know what? Scream all you want.”
“Help! Oh God, help! Please!”
“But you could at least try to shut up, yeah?”
“What do you want from me?”
“Damn, you’re really nailing this role today. Did you practice? Watch how I slam it in now!”
And so I slammed it in. She screamed like a madwoman, and I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her. Her tits swayed beautifully in the moonlight, her wild eyes stared at me, and the tears—those tears were as passionate as the water of the biggest waterfall.
She kept screaming. Now it wasn’t fear—it was pain. She screamed in pain, and I kept ramming it in. Another idea came. Probably an impulse from my dick. I flipped the little actress onto all fours and shoved it dry right up her ass. One hand muffled her mouth again, the other hand practically tore into her pussy. You can’t imagine such a perfect, perverted fuck.
We kept at it for at least another half hour. She even stopped fake-protesting. It was just plain fucking now. The floor ground her knees, I ground her pussy and ass. I squeezed those tits good. They were oddly smaller than usual. “Must be the booze. Why do your tits feel smaller?” No answer.
She just stared at the floor and took it. Not a peep. Whatever. I flipped her onto her back. Sat my balls on her face, then just shoved it in, choked her a few times, and decided the best finish would be to shoot it up her ass.
And so it finally came. I dumped my whole load into that beautiful ass. Let her shit it out later. Sweaty, worn out. She lay on her back, breathing like a hamster, covered her face with her hands, and cried. Blood dripped from her pussy, cum from her ass. Then I passed out. Rolled over with my dick still hanging out. Just lay there on the floor dreaming sweet dreams.
I woke up in the drunk tank. The cops charged me with raping a certain Miss M. in her apartment, No. 105, Block No. 368. I lived in the same building, one floor down in Apartment 98. Miss M. was the new neighbor—an 18-year-old virgin.
So I quit drinking, served long years in prison, and lost my wife, money, everything. But one of my own quotes came to mind: The vision of a good drunk fuck isn’t always so good. But damn, that girl was a fine piece. Oh well. Whatever.