Quote:
Originally Posted by Urban Hatemonger
A friend of mine in the UK was getting married and I was invited so I stayed in her & her husband to be's spare room while I was there.
Anyway the night before the wedding he was staying at his brothers house, All the men & the women went out & got pissed separately. I was the first one back home so I was sitting in bed reading, I hear her get back and she's in a much worse state than I am. I hear her go into her room and a few mins later I hear her come out again. She comes into my room in her underwear, takes that off, sits on the end of the bed & tells me she wants to have sex with me.
I convince her that it's a bad idea and eventually she goes back to her own room.
My confession is all that stuff I fed her about it not being a good idea was a load of crap, I couldn't give a stuff if she went into her wedding with a massive guilt trip or not. The only reason I didn't screw her was i'd already fucked her twice before she was with this guy & didn't think she was good enough to be worth the hassle should it ever come out.
Had I not been with her before I probably would have been up there quicker than a rat up a drainpipe.
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This all reminded me of a similar incident that I suppose counts as a confession.
A few years ago I was in a band with a couple dudes--one was my roommate and the other was a guy that I dated a couple of times. It was one of those situations where it never got very far and we just decided it wouldn't work but we liked each other enough to hang out anyway. This fellow had recently started dating another girl whom he was clearly really into and I was (at least acting) fine with that--I hadn't met her yet, but she seemed alright.
So we're practicing (which involves drinking a fair bit, of course) til about 11:30. Then I decide to go to bed while my roommate and this chap go out to the bar that's down the street. I don't know exactly what the conversation they had was, but at around 2:00, I wake up to a knock on my door and he comes in, sits on my bed and asks if he can lie down. Against my better judgement, I tell him yes and we end up f--ing like crazy.
The next morning he wakes up and claims not to have any memory of what happened. I told him I was drunk too and wasn't sure either. That very night, I meet his girlfriend for the first time, we both act like absolutely nothing happened and they date for another year before breaking up (although to my knowledge, she never found out anything).
My confessions about this are 1) obviously I do remember it in great detail, 2) although I didn't do anything conscious to make it happen, I was hoping it would and 3) it remains the best sex I've ever had with a guy, to the point that I'm getting fidgety just thinking about it.