To begin, I know I fucked up, but two things can be true at once. I made a terrible mistake, but the sex was amazing. I had gone to Vegas with a group of friends for a bachelor party. I know; this is the cliché setting for a million cheating stories.
The first night we decided to go on a guided bar crawl. It seemed perfect for what we were looking for. You pay an upfront cost, and then an enormous group of party-goers moves from bar to bar with their drinks paid for all night. It took little time for our bachelor party group to find our counterparts, a bachelorette party. The numbers matched almost perfectly, and eventually, everyone was paired off, including me, even though I was clearly wearing a wedding ring.
Her name was Stacey, and she had long black hair past her shoulders, dark eyeliner, and a short pink dress that hugged her tight body perfectly. We immediately hit it off, but things remained relatively innocent. Light touching during a dance and just a slight amount of playful flirting. Eventually, the drinks began to kick in. The touching on the dance floor turned into lustful grinding. I got us a couple more shots and knew I was in trouble when she suggested I took mine from between her perfect breasts, which were threatening to bust free from her dress any second.