Guy Receives, LITERALLY, The Shittest Kind Of Karma You Can Get For Having Drunk Sex With A Married Woman

by 1 year ago


If you ever thought about having sex with a married woman, this horror story shared by Redditor ARattledSanity might make you think twice. And it should, because DEAR GOD.

Here are some of the, ugh, highlights…

I am a single man living in a city in the US. I was raised incredibly religious and recently, already far into adulthood, I have begun to experiment with the mischievous pleasures I have up to this point avoided. My life is currently an oddly connected string of misadventures. Not the least of which happened on the night I fucked up.

One such taboo I have explored is sex with married women. For those unaware, there is a robust online community comprised of couples in open relationships looking to explore sex outside of their partnership. I have dipped my toe into these waters many times with generally positive results. But after the events of this night, I fear I may never again.

Nor should he. Keep reading.

I had been talking to Jane (fake name) via text messages for a few weeks until all parties felt comfortable engaging. We decided to meet at a restaurant attached to my apartment building. Dinner was nice and we connected immediately. She’s a beautiful woman a few years older than me. She married young, has at least one child and an understanding husband. The only real mistake at dinner was opting for a second, free bottle of wine that came as part of a previously unknown 2 for 1 deal. We opened it thinking we would have a sip or two, but finished it far too quickly.

After dinner we changed into swimwear and went up to a large ornate hot tub on the roof of my apartment complex. The wine kicked in and we were feeling its romance. There was chemistry. We kissed. Soon we were ready to be alone.

In my apartment we turned the music on and the lights off. She removed her wet swimsuit in a strip-tease performance. All clothes came easily off and we started to have sex on my couch.

This doesn’t sound too bad, I can hear you saying. In fact it sounds pretty great. Yeah, well…

After an especially intense orgasm Jane’s body became erect and her face showed a state of shock. She ran to the bathroom. It was then I realized the smell. It was a terrible and familiar smell. My wine-drunk brain frantically scattered through its olfactory libraries to determine the culprit, afraid to look down where Jane had straddled. But in the end I couldn’t will away reality, and when all evidence was too strong to refute I began to accept that I’d been shit on.

Said mess was spinning afloat a small sea of gushed love left spreading inch-wise across my apartment floor.

I started to clean the mess with a half dozen towels (that have since been burned). Jane called out from the shower, demanding I join her. At this point in my mind our little rendezvous had ended and this was the solemn hygienic dénouement. But this only lasted a moment.

Oh god, oh god, oh god… It’s over now, right?! Right?!

Though I had apparently forgiven the earlier mishap, I had not forgotten. I laid down a series of towels in strategic locations and positioned our bodies to have sex on the bed’s edge so that the physics of our planet coupled with the angle of her asshole would form a natural path towards one of many towel traps. The sex continued. I could feel another strong orgasm build inside of Jane and peak. She paused, motionless. The suspense was palpable. Had it happened again? Up until this moment all admission of fault had be implicit. Until, that is, in a moment of introspection she conceded:

‘I keep excreting.’

I was a bundle of emotions. On one hand, I had been shit on a second time. On the other hand, my shit-trapping towel mathematics had succeeded! In many ways I felt like the sexually deviant De Vinci of this wayward shit-fearing generation.

The pride of accomplishment carried me a second time into the shower. This time we both had a silent understanding that there would be no third shitting.

We finished our shower. I walked her out. I bleached the apartment and I have never spoken of the incident. Until today….

TLDR; During sex, a married woman squirted and then shit on me. We showered and continued and I was shit on again.

Not only will I now never have sex with a married woman that’s not my own, I might just not ever have sex again after reading that. Yeesh…


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