Men's Night Out

Morning Light...

I ran my hand softly over the nude form I was snuggled against. Half here, yet half in dreamland, the soft breasts registered pulling me more awake. My head was throbbing terribly. What kind of night had it been? I remembered nothing. It did not matter now I guess; we were safe in bed together. My hand continued its journey south, caressing the soft tummy, then the navel. Drawing circles and invading. Lower and lower now, waiting to touch her soft silky pubic hair...

My fingers unbelievingly, felt instead the bare folds of womanhood. I am jarred totally awake! I checked. I checked again. I tried to raise my head to look, my head feels like an anchor. More effort, more throbbing, "Damn was I hit by a truck? " I make it to my elbow to peer over her shoulder. My eyes have trouble focusing. I feel like I am going to retch. I stare in disbelief; there is not one of her beautiful auburn pubic hairs left on her bottom. But her smoothness excites me. I have to touch her again. The softness springs life quickly in my loins. The blood flow further infuriates my head. I lay back fighting for control. I wanted to fuck her more than ever before, but this is the worst hangover I have ever had! My organ pressed tight up against her bottom. I can not help but move toward entry. She still does not move, and I will not take her in her sleep.

Frustrated I rolled back away, trying to remember what had happened the night before. Try as I might, nothing will come to mind.

Later I pried myself out of bed. She was still dead to the world with no signs of stirring. I uncovered her to look again. Annette was still bare as a newborn. My lions lurched again. I notice the handcuffs were still on, but were now in front! Her wrists are rubbed raw, they need to come off.. I reached for the key, but it was not where I put it last night. I recovered her and turned to leave. It was what I didn't see that bothered. Where are her clothes? Nothing is here, no stockings, no beautiful dress, no revealing underwear, and not even a nightie? I searched the drawers, the closets, and under the bed. Frantically I race through the apartment looking to no avail. Not even ther clothes she came in could be found. I wrestle with the thoughts of: How could I ever take her home without clothes? None of mine would be large enough to close in the front, if she could get them on. And how can I get the cuffs off?

I called my friends, there was no answer, nor would there be any the rest of the day.

When she awoke it was a frustrating time. Her call from the bedroom for help was expected. I knew she had no clothes, but I soon found out, her ankles hidden under the blanket were also cuffed together. I had done a complete search of the apartment and could not find a key anywhere. After six aspirins and two hours I was moving up to the "almost miserable" state of mind. I could hardly function, and more problems was the last thing I needed. I pushed her for answers about how this all came about, and I was really starting to boil at getting nothing. No matter how much I tried, Annette would not, or could not, reveal anything about what had happened the night before.

We waited over an hour to make connections with someone about the keys and had no luck. We had some brunch, as it was about 10:30. I had to feed her with the handcuffs on as she could not use the spoon. I found nothing at my place to get the cuffs off of her with. The only thing I could think of at the time; was to take her down to my local gas station and have them cut off. I put her in a pair of slippers, and draped a cotton shirt over her shoulders. She held it the best she could with her cuffed hands. I found an old pair of boxers, and with a kitchen knife cut the bottom out of them so they could go over her chained legs both at the same time like a short skirt. The idea backfired though. My small boxers would not quite clear her hips, requiring more surgery now to the waistband. Well, we were ready to go. That was when the fun began. Do you realize how little of a step you can take with a 4 inch chain between your ankles; and how easy it is to loose your balance? I ended up carrying her down the outside steps. This was really over my physical limit, considering the distances. I was spent, and thought we would fall so many times. I knew this would be the last such action for the day. I left her standing there and got the car.

Arriving at the gas station, we found, as luck would have it a semi truck was filling up their tanks. That killed any idea of a close parking spot. Leaving her in the car I went in and explained what I needed, all to the laughs and snickers of the crew. They were very understanding, accommodating, and up for the challenge.

I went to the car, and extracted my girl. She was being watched closely by four mechanics, an attendant, half a dozen customers, and a truck driver. Their jaws all dropped when they saw this was no hag, but a very beautiful young lady. What a sight for them to see: A scantily clad girl shuffling across the lot at a snails pace.

The sun was brightly shining, and the wind was blowing through her hair. Hints of more flesh would tease with fluttering cloth. She was Radiant! Sexy. And alluring to no avail. Cat calls and whistles added excitement to the air. She did the best she could, but progress was painfully slow. Annette was making a great effort under the circumstances. I thought we had the worst over when an uneven surface caused a loss of balance. Instinctively she grabbed for my arm. Our friend the wind silently lifted my yellow and black plaid shirt from her shoulders. Everyone stared as it flew out in the street and caught on the ladder rack of a white Chevy 4x4. The last we saw of it, it was headed east on Route 60.

Back in the parking lot the males were, let's say, quickly raising to the occasion. They all gazed upon her lovely breasts. One guy took pity, and found a cloth seat cover to drape over her. We tried to seat her on some clean rags on the floor of the garage. Shortly however, we discovered that there is not much strength left in boxers when you cut the waistband and bottom out. Rippp! Her bending posture sent the weakened fissure at the waist right through the bottom; while the small amount of material between the bottom and the fly gave way splitting up the front. The boxers literally disintegrated before our eyes. At this point she had nothing left to hide, and no further efforts were made to cover her. You just could not work on the cuffs and keep her covered...

A fortnight past...

I stopped in my tracks there in Marty's Liquor Mart! In my peripheral vision I had caught sight of the video being played to the four guys gawking at the counter. I moved hypnotically to confirm what my mind would not believe I saw. I began to sweat while I watched the events unfold on the surveillance tape.

The clerk was talking. "Here let me start it over for you it is real hot stuff," he said. "I'll sell you a copy for seven bucks," he continued.

I felt faint as I Watched:

Annette walked into the store stark naked except for handcuffs. She was coming on to the clerk using overly suggestive body language. This pot bellied ugly clerk was easily more than twice her age. He was not about to let a good thing like this pass, and moved like lightning around to the front side of the counter. Now they were in full view of the cameras which were filming from two separate angles. I just stood there in shock as she threw her handcuffed wrists up over his neck and began frenching the older man.

His hands explored her firm body as she ground her flesh against him and swayed in his arms. Next she unhooked her arms, dropped to her knees, and took him into her mouth. My grip loosened on my packages. The oral activity was short lived for then he forcibly bent Annette over the counter. He had her breasts in his hands, and she was getting royally fucked by the nightshift man! His pace quickened until he stiffened every muscle in his body and rammed home like a pile driver. I thought the counter would tip over. His climax was gargantuan. But he wasn't finished yet; he grabbed her by the hair laying her face up on the counter making her lick him clean. As she was attending to him, the stockman came up between her splayed legs, and with no pretense stuck his cock in to the hilt. My packages hit the floor! The licking, pulling tits, and watching the other guy fucking her brought new life to the old hoot. He jammed his meat back in her mouth. Annette was getting it from both ends.

My knees buckled. I clawed at the counter for support. My eyes glazed over as things began to go fuzzy and dark. Someone was speaking again. "So what do you say, You want a copy?" he restated.

"Huh... ya sure..." I managed. He picks one off the stack of 50 or so he had cut, dropping one in the bag. Annette had left that night with a bottle of booze. I left this night with a vhs tape I couldn't remember getting, and a case of the shakes so bad it took twenty minutes in the parking lot for me to feel safe enough to drive home.

Epilogue...

Her silence about that night bugged me for a long, long time. Upon reviewing the tape however it answered my questions. Flashes could be seen from time to time off the glass cases and windows. Silence at a price. The rest of the "night's events", the missing clothes, the shaved hair, were never discussed. I know now that I had been drugged.

Annette and I are still very much a thing, but my old friends and I are not. Many of my fantasies were fulfilled that night, though I was not privy to their enjoyment. I can only guess what else transpired that night. How many stops? How many men? Probably more than I care to know. Like any erotic adventure it changed our lives. Liberating us. Maybe enough, to create our own "Men's Night Out" someday soon...

Oh yes! Gas station service has never been better! And if you happen to find a men's yellow plaid shirt somewhere along route 60, feel free to use it with the next naked girl in handcuffs you meet.