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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen Becker o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Bachelorette Party (MF)
by cmfaltz@panix.com (Christine M. Faltz)
This story may be distributed in its entirety, including this copyright
notice. Copyright 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com
****
This is a true story; the stripper's name has been changed
to protect his privacy, as well as that of the agency who
sent him, since I don't believe they would appreciate this
type of advertising, and I don't want to test that belief.
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.
The End