When the television show was over and the twins had gone to bed, he continued sipping from his bottle, reliving the game in his mind. Helped by the booze, he seemed to be feeling stronger and er than he'd felt in years. In his foggy state of mind, George's thoughts turned to Della and the lusty way he used to fuck her. George suddenly wished she were home so he could slam his cock up her cunt like he did in the good old days. If she hadn't had to work tonight, Della could have watched him on television and she would have felt the same excitement he was feeling. Despite the large amount of booze he'd consumed, he was getting a hard-on as he thought about his wife. He became so sexually amused that the thought of jacking off crossed his mind, but he decided to wait and shoot his hot load into Della's cunt when she got home.

George was slouched in the chair, half smashed, when Della walked in shortly before midnight.

"Hi," she smiled, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"Hello, sugar," he slurred, rising unsteadily to his feet. "You sure missed my old game an television tonight."

"I'm sorry," she smiled. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Shit, yes," he chuckled, holding to the back of the chair for support. "I think I'm the best fuckin' football player in the world."

"That's nice," she sighed, noticing the empty bottle on the carpet next to his chair.

"Don't you think I'm the best fuckin' linebacker in the world?" he slurred.

"I'm sure you are," she answered to appease him, realizing for the first time how drunk he was.

Clinging to the rail as he struggled up the stairs to his bedroom, his stiff boner was throbbing wildly in his pants. He could hardly wait to stuff it up between Della's legs.

Completely exhausted from the thorough fucking she'd had from her boss, Della dropped into bed when George staggered into the bathroom.