My wife went out for a friend’s bachelorette party last night, and I suspected things would get pretty rowdy.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” she promised.
“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I joked.
She was dressed to kill: sexy, tight dress, full makeup, stilettos—the whole works that would tantalize any man. My wife is a stunning brunette with a petite hourglass build and every bit of her was on display.
To be honest, I hoped she would indulge in a few drinks, as it secretly turns me on when she gets a bit too boozy for her own good. She did not disappoint. As the hours progressed her texts became increasingly misspelled and incoherent. Later in the night, around midnight, she snapped me videos of her and her friends taking shots, and I could see her eyes were glassy and she was sporting a very crooked smile. Definitely drunk as hell.