The Bachelorette Party

I had been looking forward to my bachelorette party for weeks. There
was a month until my wedding, and I really wanted to spend a day of
fun with my closest friends. More to the point, I knew they had hired
a male stripper, who would be visiting at midnight to entertain me.

I had made it very clear that no matter what they planned for the
party, they must hire me a tall, well-muscled stripper with an
Australian accent. The accent was a must: I *love* Australian
accents.

Anna, Sasha and I arrived at Lisa's at about five. Our dinner
reservations at a local restaurant/bar were for seven-thirty, so we
broke out some wine and junk food and began getting buzzed. When
dinnertime rolled around, we were well on our way.

By the time we had gotten back to Lisa's, it was ten till twelve,
dangerously close to the expected time of arrival. I had about ten
drinks in me, and I sat sipping another glass of wine while we waited
excitedly.

"Does this guy know I'm visually impaired?" I asked, smiling.

"No; I didn't tell his agent anything," said Lisa, my matron of honor
and friend since childhood.

"This is going to be interesting," said Anna. "Excuse me, she would
like to use the Braille method for this act, sir."

We cracked up, and went back to our drinks. Lisa put her German
shepherd in the basement, and as she walked back into the den, she
spied a man approaching the front door.

"Here he is! By the way, his name is Mark."

We fell silent suddenly, then decided we should pretend not to notice
he had arrived until he had changed and presented himself in all his
glory. So while Lisa showed him the way upstairs so he could change,
we chatted nervously amongst ourselves.

Lisa walked into the den, laughing.

"You should have seen his face when I told him you were blind. He
whispered to me, 'Then what am I here for?' I told him he was here
because he had an Australian accent. He asked what he should do. I
told him to use his discretion."

"But do I have to use mine?" I asked.

"You haven't gotten your discretion yet; I ordered it and will give
it to you on your wedding night," quipped Anna.

"Oho! You're a funny little bitch, aren'tcha?"

"You got it, you big clit."

"That's right, babe; big, hot and anticipating just about now."

At that moment, Mark came downstairs and talked briefly to lisa. Lisa
shut off the "10,000 Maniacs Unplugged" CD and put in a tape he had
given her. She then put a chair in the center of the room and told me
to take off my rings.

"Take off my rings?" I asked. "Why, where am I going to be putting my
fingers?"

"Oh, you behave! Here, give them to me."

I took off my rings and Lisa told me to sit in the chair. The tape
Lisa had put in started playing "Unchained Melody".

"You mean he's a ghost?" Anna asked.

"I hope he's a spirit with substance," I retorted.

"Oh, believe me; he's not even naked yet and I can tell you there's
plenty of substance," said Sasha.

"Oooh, tell me more," I whispered, leaning back toward her.

"He's tall, over six feet. He's wearing a jacket, shirt and pants,
but his lovely, wonderful body is evident anyway. He's got dark hair -
-"

Mark walked into the room, crossed to the chair and sat on my lap,
facing me.

"Hello, Christine."

My heart raced; an immediate wave of heat flooded my body, especially
my face and my upper thighs and clit.

"Hi, there."

"Would you help me with my jacket, Christine?"

"I'll help you with more than that," I said, and my friends giggled.

I slipped his jacket over his left shoulder and he tugged it off. I
reached for the buttons of his shirt, my fingers clumsy with alcohol.

"I've done this before," I said, "though not with all this company."

My fingers struggled with the buttons; they didn't seem to want to
come through the holes.

"I thought you said you had done this before, Christine," he teased.

That voice was going to send me right over the edge without any
further help; I couldn't even imagine how I would respond to what
would happen next.

"I generally don't get this drunk before doing this," I laughed, as
the first button finally comes undone. The others followed quickly,
and he helps me by shrugging off the shirt.

I reached for his belt and he pushed his slacks down himself; I
pulled them off him. He handed me a bottle of lotion and told me to
cover him with it.

My heart hammered and the heat washed over me again. I sloshed lotion
into my hand and applied it to his shoulders first. My God! I love
broad shoulders, and these were perfect. As I rubbed the lotion on
him -- down his back, on his beautiful, strong, hard chest, my mind
wandered. I imagined my hands grasping those shoulders while I moved
with that body above me, beside me, below me. I tried desperately to
keep the smile on my face from turning into a lascivious grin, but
the pictures taken by my friends apparently prove my inability to do
so.

Now I was rubbing lotion on his buttocks; they were firm, very nice
indeed. How I would love to have my legs wrapped around them from
below...

Mark handed me a towel and I rubbed the excess lotion from his body.
All the while I kept up a constant banter with my friends and
innocent chatter with Mark; I did not want to get carried away, like
those crazy bitches who paw male strippers. I wanted to enjoy this,
but I didn't want to treat the man like a piece of anonymous meat.
Yes, he was getting paid for this, but I was certain he had his share
of screaming, idiotic females tugging at his g-string. To ward off my
impulses, I kept the conversation light and ordinary.

Now he took my hands and pulled me towards him, as the song "I Want
Muscles" began to play. I ground myself against him; I reached up and
grabbed those shoulders again. I hoisted myself up and wrapped my
legs around his, pushing myself against him. I was so wet at this
point I could not understand why I wasn't dripping. We spoke quietly
to each other; for the most part, I was ignoring my friends now as
they snapped picture after picture.

"Hey, Chris, why don't you check what kind of marsupial is hiding in
his pouch?" Anna called out.

"I won't do anything I'm not invited to do," I responded.

When the fun was over, which was all too soon, we congregated and
compared notes. All agreed that Mark was a spectacular specimen.

"So, Christine, what size dick do you estimate he was hiding?" Anna
asked.

"About average, I think. But who cares? Those fucking *shoulders*.
And those legs!"

"Yes, those legs," said Sasha dreamily.

"I don't know about you," said Lisa, whose husband had just returned
from his evening's banishment, "But I'm tired."

"Oh, sure," I gibed. "She's got a dick to take away the pain. What
are we supposed to do?"

"I know exactly what I am going to do," said Sasha.

"Sasha, meet Jill," I said.

"Yes, definitely," said Sasha. "Jill and I are going to have a busy
night."

"Guys," I said, "I really *am* in physical pain here."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Sasha teased.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I answered. "Excuse me, all."

-
I lay in Lisa's guest room, trying to masturbate. But I was still
drunk and I was very tired. I slid my fingers inside my vagina,
pressing my thumb against my clit. I felt the tension inside me --
hard and hot; it was a spring which cried for release. But I hadn't
the strength to help it find relief. I drifted off at some point,
just slipped easily into my dreams.

There was a beach, the cries of many strange-sounding birds wheeling
overhead. The sun was fierce. I lay on the hot, silky sand, lathered
in sunscreen. My breasts were so damned hot; I rolled over onto my
right side, wishing for an umbrella, and there was Mark, eyes half-
closed, naked beside me. I rolled onto him, feeling his hard,
muscular body beneath mine. His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled
shyly at me. I wanted to kiss him, but I suddenly remembered that my
fiance would be coming for me: he had gone to get us something cold
to drink. I contented myself with sliding my hands over Mark's body,
enjoying its perfection, the energy I could feel rippling in those
arms and legs. I leaned my head against one of the shoulders which I
wanted to hold forever, those perfect, spectacular shoulders. The sun
was so hot, I felt myself drifting...

Mark was gone. Marshall, my fiance, stood above me, handing down a
cold drink. I reached up and pulled him down beside me, pressing my
lips to his. We kissed passionately for a long moment, then rose and
brushed the sand from our bodies. We hurried into the surf, the cold
water a shock to our sun-roasted skin.

The water was clear and calm. We swam out past the buoy; there wasn't
a strong undertow to worry about. The beach was largely deserted.
Marshall reached for my wrist and drew me toward him. He grasped the
straps of my bikini top, and with one swift movement, removed it. He
slid his hand into my suit and slid a finger inside me. His cool, wet
finger inside my hot cunt was a pleasant jolt. I grasped him tightly
to me, and we kissed deeply again. The sound of the small waves and
the birdcalls were a pleasant backdrop to our petting.

I reached for Marshall's trunks and drew them down; his cock was hard
and waiting. I slid my suit down and removed his hand, sliding him
quickly inside me. The water rippled and swayed around us as we moved
together. I leaned my head on Marshall's shoulder -- it was not a
hard, well-toned, broad shoulder, but it was the shoulder I wanted to
massage, lean on and drape my legs over for the rest of my life.
Marshall's thrusts became more insistent, which was fine with me. I
prefer a hard, fast fuck to a slow sensual one most of the time,
anyway. We worked together towards our orgasms, and climaxed
simultaneously, something which we managed often, to the envy of our
friends.

I awoke abruptly. My panties were wet with a recent orgasm, and I
discovered that I had fallen asleep with my hand placed tightly
against my vulva. The only sound was Anna's slow, steady breathing in
the next bed. I wondered if Sasha had been able to masturbate before
falling asleep. I remembered my dream, then remembered my body
wrapped around Mark's earlier that night. I brought myself to a quick
orgasm, gritting my teeth to keep from vocalizing it; there was no
need to wake Anna. I wondered if, under the blankets, she, too, had
fallen asleep clasping herself in a quest for pleasure.