A few years ago, my husband and I were invited to a Thanksgiving weekend party with friends. They had a big house by a lake and there were quite a few other guests, including some people we didn't know. I stayed up late talking to our friends while my husband went on to bed. By the time I went to bed, it was late and I was quite tired. I walked down this long hallway and went into the room where I thought my husband was sleeping. I took off my robe and slipped into bed. I was wearing a short, flannel nightie and was naked underneath. I was drifting off to sleep when I felt a touch. First, this warm body moved closer. Then his hands started touching me. I was groggy, and it felt quite good. Soon, he eased on top of me and we began having sex. I didn't mind at all. It took a few moments for me to realize this man wasn't my husband. Just as I did, he finished. I realized I had gone in the wrong bedroom and crawled into bed with one of the other guests. A strange man who I didn't know had just made love to me. I didn't know what to do. I gently pushed him off of me. Then I said thank you and started to get up. He murmured thanks and tried to hold me, but I pushed him away. I found the right room and spent the rest of the night wide awake, lying next to my husband, horrified at what I had done. The rest of the weekend was rather uncomfortable. I couldn't bring myself to tell my husband because I felt so foolish. Also, I was never quite sure which guy I had been with since there were several unattached men. I guess there were no consequences and, frankly, it wasn't unpleasant.
— Mariah, 32