Drunken Confessions Novels & Stories

When he was drunk, he would find anyone willing to listen to him and spill every secret he knew. Sometimes, I suspected he knew what he was doing but he had always denied that. He claimed he was never in his right mind while drunk. Because of this, all of us who were close to him always tried not to let him in on any secrets we didn’t want other people to know. You’d have to be real desperate to confide in Kane. I was not yet that desperate. “There are so many pretty women here. Just take one and have a good time. You have already shown your face at the party, you don’t need to stay till the end because you’re not feeling well. Take all the time you need, buddy.”

Ricky’s brow furrowed with concern, while Cole’s eyes widened in shock. I could feel their judgmental gazes boring into me, their silent condemnation weighing heavily upon my shoulders. “I think I’ve made a mistake,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper as I avoided their gaze. Their frowns tightened on their foreheads as they struggled to process my words. “What do you mean, you think you made a mistake?” Ricky asked, his voice filled with worry as he leaned in closer. I swallowed hard, the lump forming in my throat as I struggled to find the words to explain. “Two days ago,” I began, “I got drunk and… I woke up naked in bed with Dora.”

“You’re losing your mind and I can’t blame you. Timothy fucked your brains out — am I right?” Dane picked up the chair next to her, threatening to slam it against my head. “Too soon?” "You know..." There it is again, the beginning of another one of Dane’s ramblings. I feel like if she was wearing a robe, then she’d be one sexually confused shaman. "Alcohol, I've realized... Has given us nothing but despair and confusion. What’s worse is, it also comes with a nasty hang-over, right?” I raised my brow. “And your point is?”

Samuel, as expected, had been delighted, but that made the guilt weigh down even more heavily on my heart. So I did the only thing I could think of. I called Nikki and asked her for a drink. And since then, I had drowned my sorrow in a good few shots of vodka. To say that I was a tad bit tipsy, would be an understatement. I was dead drunk. And in that drunkenness, I confessed to Nikki my deepest, darkest secrets.

“I’ve broken off with you, Drake. If they approach me, I’ll be honest with them.” He leaned in closer, staring at me defiantly. “You can’t break off based on a drunken admission. I wasn’t in my senses, and all the years of pent-up hurt came pouring out that night. I had never opened up so much to anyone in these past nine years. Now I regret it. I wish I hadn’t opened up to you.” I gaped at him, unsure about how to react. Was I overreacting to a drunken admission? “I’m not ready to go down that path again, Drake. I don’t want to carry on this charade anymore.”

He was witty, and she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, her inhibitions slowly disappearing with each passing minute and with each sip of champagne, replaced by a sense of recklessness fueled by the bitterness of her recent argument with her parents. She laughed at his anecdotes, her laughter mingling with the soft strains of music playing in the background. The more she drank, the easier it became to confide in him, to share her deepest fears and frustrations. And then, in a moment of drunken candor, she made a mistake. As they sat together on the couch, their legs touching, she leaned in close, her voice low. “I have a confession to make, she said, her eyes locked on his. He raised an e

This was a career-ending sermon. Confessions were just as bad. As a priest, I obviously could not judge them, but it was quite something. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I lusted after my neighbor’s wife with desire in my heart,” the man confessed. I nodded sagely, trying to focus. “And how many times—” “But she looks just like that dangerous-hot looking Norwegian ex I had. Her ass is round and perfect and…” I coughed to get him back in order.

I knew they drew attention, pulling stares from every corner of the room, and a thrilling, illicit awareness bloomed in my stomach. Serena was already lost in the crowd, undoubtedly flirting with some dark-haired stranger. I finally reached the ornate bar, ordering a potent whiskey on the rocks. My phone glowed in my hand as I checked my ride-share app; a forty-minute wait. Just enough time for this drink to sink in. I usually kept my wilder fantasies locked away, the ones where I was utterly overwhelmed and pleasured by multiple men. But tonight, the air in this place felt thick with possibility, urging me to shed my usual inhibitions.

Brown smirked, “Of course you’re a slut. Only a slut would agree to be locked up in a room with strange men, begging to me fucked senseless.” I felt a drool slip out of my mouth. I wiped it off and for the first time, the corners of my lips curved up. “I’m a slut.” It was a confession, one I had longed to say out loud. “Shit boys, we’ve got ourselves a real one here.” that was Green eyes. I felt cinnamon spank my ass, I gasped out. “Get on your knees, Slut” I didn’t care who the order came from, I scrambled to my knees without a second of hesitation.

*** 7:30 PM Guilt stung Father Ward in the confessional booth at All Saints Church. Maybe it was his failed promise to only drink two glasses of wine. Maybe it was how drinking too much allowed him his first patch of dreamless sleep in months, which produced in him a conflicted elation. No nightmares! But only because he’d consumed more wine than he’d intended. Regardless, as he’d unlocked All Saints and turned on the lights, he tried clearing his head, but he couldn’t stop admonishing himself for his drinking.