Michelle: The Bachelorette Party Ch. 01

But I'm not prepared for the up-close-and-personal assault of her taut globes as they hover like hot air balloons above my face. I have to admit, though, that they are pretty impressive from this vantage point. I bet good money you could bounce a quarter off them.

"Oh baby...do you have to register that thing?"

I shift my gaze past Ayla's pride and joys just in time to see her glossy lips slip around the biggest cock I have ever seen. Now you know my experience with erect dicks is fairly limited. I walked in on my brother once when he was...well, he was rather small, actually. And that guy, Kenny, I dated just before I met you. You know we never did it or anything but there were a few clumsy handjobs in the front seat of his Bronco. He was maybe just a bit larger than you. Sorry. And of course there's yours. The only penis I've really gotten to know. I adore your dick, by the way.

But let me tell you, Sarge is hung like a mule. His cock is built just like him; thick and solid, wrapped in a tangle of bulging veins. It looks like it lifts weights. I'm suddenly irrationally proud to have been mock-fucked by such a mighty tool.My stripper's dick can beat up your stripper's dick.

I'm actually so fascinated by the blowjob occurring above me that I have inconceivably let slip from my consciousness the fact that my highly aroused, virtually bare pussy is still exposed to the world and Jesus. This is undoubtedly the most shameful display I have ever been a part of and I'm praying equally for some kind soul to cover me with a tablecloth and for anyone with a tongue to lick my throbbing clit.

"Mmmmm..."

Ayla's moaning vibrates in the air and as she leans over me to take more of Sarge into her eager mouth I feel her stone-hard nipple brush my forehead.Good Lord, watch those things, Ayla. You could take an eye out.

Unlike Erin's sensual performance earlier, Ayla sucks cock like a Hoover upright, like she's trying to pull the sperm directly from his balls. I have to confess that contrary to any predisposition I may have had concerning blowjobs as a spectator activity, I am now very much in favor of the concept. I'm beginning to like watching these carnal displays and I would be happy to watch Ayla finish him off but my legs are cramping and there is a critical situation that needs to be addressed concerning my own orgasm.

As if finally reading my mind, Sarge stands, dragging Ayla's greedy mouth up like a tarpon on fifty-pound test line and mercilessly freeing me from my nightmarish exhibition. I am quick as a summer storm getting my skirt pushed back down but slightly slower getting to my feet. The awkwardness of the position has left me stiff in joints that are seldom stretched.

I have lost all track of time. It feels like I was on that floor for days. More likely a few minutes. I am, of course, expecting to be ridiculed by every righteous woman in the building but I find instead that I am abruptly ignored. Maybe there are no righteous women in the building. Sarge has disappeared into the throng and seems to have taken my audience, as well as my dignity, with him. I'm not sure how to proceed. What is the proper etiquette following a stripper rape and threesome dick-sucking?

I'm enthralled by the scene that unfolds before me, though. It's like an episode of Girls Gone Wild. The Colonel has left the spotlight and is now on stage smacking his penis on Kelley Butler's face. The black stripper -- sorry, I have no other way to identify him -- is still making dessert of himself and the line to lick the canned cream off his dick wraps around the snack table. I take note that Sarge has wasted little time replacing me with Janice Walters sucking on his balls and...oh my God, Sandy Kirkland, the pastor's wife, laughing as she reaches around from behind and jerks him off.

My first tentative steps reveal that my panty situation is far worse than I feared. I try to squirm them back to their intended position by that quickly proves a futile task. Oh fuck it. I immodestly reach under my skirt and fish for the silky fabric but my fingers touch only flesh. Did they rip! Where the hell...oh, there...a trace of something. You won't believe how deep that thin line of silk was pushed into my slit. Oh, I want to die! These women haven't been laughing at my panty-clad crotch all this time. They've been looking at my dripping, naked pussy!

The thought makes me feel nauseous but -- and this is the thing that confounds me about my body -- the image of myself in that mortifying position turns me on like gas on a flame. The urge to touch myself is almost overpowering but I somehow manage to resist the temptation to hike my skirt back up and do myself right there on the floor.

I know that I have to get out of here but I can't leave without talking to Erin. I finally pick her out of a cluster of women around the bar and I hurry over. She is dancing with a young blonde woman I don't know, spilling as much of her punch as she is drinking. I'm not sure which tact to take with her and so I just walk up and glare.

Seeing me, she covers her mouth to stop from spitting out her drink. "Michelle! You were awesome. Wasn't that a blast?"

"A blast!? I don't know about you but I was sexually assaulted."

"Yeah," Erin says whimsically, "me too."

I'm thinking,I don't fucking believe you. I say, "I don't fucking believe you."

She accepts a refill on her punch from Blonde Chic and drains a few inches from the cup. "Oh just chill, Chelle. I was just having some fun. Besides, all I did was give a little head. It's not like I fucked him or anything."

Erin raises her drink to indicate the area beyond the snacks where the women get thicker and the clothes, thinner. I brave a few steps closer and get my first real look at stripper number four. All I can really see, however, is his shoulder-length fawn colored hair as he is sitting in a chair turned with his back to me.

I do get a suburb look at Amanda Biddle's face, though. She was one of the women I noticed laughing at my compromising position earlier. Her expression is one of serious concentration as she straddles Long Hair, raising and dropping herself onto his cock. I would cover my mouth and fake shock if I thought she'd care. Or notice for that matter, with her hand rubbing her clit and her hair hiding her eyes.

An arm drapes over my shoulder and I instinctively tense. "So Michelle, aren't you glad I got the strippers?"

Oh thank God, it's just Ayla. I turn to tell her just how glad I am. "In case you didn't notice when your mouth was full...Oh for Pete's sake, Ayla! Cover those things."

You would think that my entire body would forever be a permanently shade of red after the public porno I just shot. Or perhaps that nothing could possibly faze me, given that every woman under the age of thirty-five in this town has now seen my aroused hoohah and probably believes I was sucking on Ayla's nipples while she was bobbing on Sarge's cock. But no. It's ridiculous but here I am, absurdly filled with fresh embarrassment at being in a naked embrace with Ayla and the wonder twins.

"Oh, don't be such a prig. They're just tits. Go ahead, you can feel them."

"Ayla, I don't want to...oh, fuck it." I turn and grab two fists full of modestly enhanced boobs. Now this does mark the only time I've gotten to second base with another woman and I do have to admit that it wasn't unpleasant. Like she said, they're just tits - though hers were definitely firmer than my slightly saggy pair; kind of like there were two boobs stuffed into each one.

"Damn, Michelle. I never thought you'd do it." Was that a hint of admiration in her voice? "Maybe there's hope for you yet."

"Maybe," I agreed, giving her hooters one last playful squeeze. "But right now I really need to find a bathroom."

Ayla looks a bit dejected that I'm no longer feeling her up but before the girls even have a chance to get lonely their presence is requested on the far side of the room.

"Hey, Ayla." Dawn Whats-Her-Name, the real estate agent that sold Erin her house is practically busting with news. "The one they call Major is down by the gift table titty-fucking anyone who's willing."

Ayla's eyes light up like a Polish church. She begs off quickly and dashes away like her boobs are the only things that can save the Major's life. Just as well. I really need to dash off myself. I scan the room again for Erin but it turn out that my ears locate her before my eyes.

"Erin...Erin...Erin...Erin..."

The chant is coming from near the tall windows at the back of the banquet hall. I pick up a clear plastic cup of punch and gulp it down like I'm taking a shot. The second one goes just as hastily. I pick up a third for the road and head toward the shouts, taking a deep breath as I try to ready myself for anything.

Honey, believe me. There is nothing that could prepare me for what I see.

Erin is bent happily over a table full of gifts, her chin resting on her elbows. She has a sort of pixie smile on her face and her eyes are dancing with laughter. Honestly, I don't know when I've ever seen her look as adorable. Which is what makes the fact that Black Stripper is fucking her in the butt seem so incongruent.

"Erin!" I don't mean to shout but it escapes my mouth before I have time to catch it. Where the hell was my voice earlier when I really needed it?

"Oh God, Chelle," she says, laughing guiltily through her fingers like hearing a joke at a funeral. "Come here."

Erin nonchalantly waves me over like there isn't a huge black cock in her ass and just like a thermometer over a match my head is bristling with fire. Everyone is looking at me and I'm instantly reminded of the last time many of these women saw me only it wasn't my cherry-stained face they were looking at.

"Chelle...I want to talk to you and I can't exactly come to you."

She rolls her eyes back to indicate the smiling Captain -- I can see the name on his choker now. He waves. Can you believe that? He fucking waves! He's fucking my sister. The bride-to-be. In the ass. In front of every woman she knows. And he waves like he's in a god damn parade.

I move slowly toward her like you know I will. A touch on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear: "You were awesome earlier."

Turning to see who spoke I'm instead inturrupted by another encouraging comment. Mandy West says, "Little sister's got nothing on you. You were definitely the hottest show tonight."

I smile and say thank you like she just complimented the lightness of my angel food cake and step, a little bewildered, closer to Erin. Did I just win trophy? It's like I've been dumped into an alternate world and no one informed me of the customs.

As casually as I can, I lean down and yell into Erin's ear. "So, how's it going?" The tremor in my voice betrays my nervousness at talking to her in this...posture.

"Pretty good, actually."

Damn her! She's as cool as the other side of the pillow. It's not fair. How did she get to be the cool one?

I do my best to feign unflappability. "Ah, you are aware of the well-endowed black man fucking you in the ass?"

"Kinda hard to ignore."

I imagine it would be. "I thought you said you weren't going to fuck anyone tonight?"

"It's just in the ass."

And there you go. Another custom I have not been brought up to speed on: anal sex does not count as real sex. It actually sounds like a Bill Clinton excuse.No, I did not have sex with that woman. What? Anal sex? Oh sure, I fucked her in the ass. But everyone knows that doesn't count. Everyone but me.

I'm nudged out of the way by the Colonel's naked hip. He shimmies up to the gift table and waves his dick in front of Erin's face like he's challenging her to a sword fight. She plays along. Tongue and cock clash several times with no apparent winner. Then she playfully grabs his saber between her teeth and the Colonel happily surrenders.

I don't know how I went through the first thirty-six years of my life without seeing anyone else doing it but tonight it seems I can't spit without hitting a new sexual act. Erin's eyes are closed as I watch her seductive lips slide over his glistening cock. It is perhaps the most erotic thing I've ever witnessed and it reaches a neglected part of my anatomy with invisible fingers.

You know how much I love having you in my mouth. Well, from the impassioned look on Erin's face I don't think I love it as much as she does. I reflect for a second about what a lucky man Grayson is to be marrying her and then I remember that the lustful look that moves me is being displayed by my sister while she entertains one strange cock in her mouth and another in her ass. Maybe Grayson isn't so lucky after all.

I mouth to Erin,we'll talk later, and retreat to the edge of the crowd. From this angle I can see Captain's lubed cock slipping into her puckered hole. The image is vulgar. It's obscene. And it's hotter than cayenne pepper. My hand subconsciously presses against my skirt and I feel sodden panties like cold fingers against my sex. I am oblivious to the fact that I am actually masturbating in public until a voice jolts me from my trance.

"I know exactly how you feel." The tweety-bird voice belongs to a red-head I don't know. She stands topless beside me watching my sister's pornographic display with hungry eyes. Both hands cup her modest, freckled tits as she pinches her tiny nipples to attention.

I'm immediately ashamed at being caught pleasuring myself but the emotion doesn't last. Maybe I am loosening up a bit. I do, however, remove my hand from my crotch.

"Nice boobs," I say. I'm not sure of the protocol here either so I decide to just make up my own.

She turns her head in my direction, her eyes catching mine but quickly darting back to the tabletop threesome. "Thanks. Oh, you were really hot on the floor tonight. I wish it was me down there."

"Yeah, me too."

I stop by the storage closet where I have left my personal items and grab my office keys. I can't leave the party but it has become imperative that I leave the room. Since I work in the building I know the layout. Admin and security offices on one, banquet hall and associates on two, and named partners on three. You know as legal aid to the Hester piece of Foreman, Cole, Hester and Finch, I have access to just about everything.

The stairwell deadens the blare of the music that now seems unbearably loud. My heels echo on the steel-trimmed risers as I make my way up to the third floor. Kim Hester's corner office is at the end of the hall and I can't get there fast enough.

The smaller, outer office is mine and I hurry through without even cutting on a light. The only place to sit is my desk chair and that just won't do. I move slower into Kim's office, not as comfortable in the dark with the layout. I flick the lamp on beside the black leather couch, plopping myself down onto the cushions with a huge sigh. I know the party isn't over yet but it feels like I've survived something.

So, you know why I'm here. I think I could do some internal damage if I go much longer without release. But...you're going to have to wait to hear this part. I've got to pee.

*** "What?"

"Hey, sorry. But this is a long story and I'm on my third glass of wine."

Michelle gave her husband's cock a quick kiss and then quickly ran off to the bathroom, leaving Rob alone with his hardon. He took the imposed break to refresh both their drinks and pad naked to the office to check his email.

"Where'd you go?" Michelle asked the empty living room when she returned a few moments later.

"Coming," he called from down the hall as he left office.

"I hope not. I wasn't finished playing."

Michelle was already kneeling at the chair and her husband resumed his earlier position. He set the refilled glasses on the table.

"I don't know why you made such a big deal about that promise. That stripper story was hot. Besides, it would be wrong for me to get mad at you when the whole thing makes me so damn hard."

She looked cautiously up from between his legs. "Oh, I didn't make you promise not to be mad because of this part of the story. It's the part I haven't told you yet."

Rob's eyes grew large. "Baby, maybe you'd better climb on to finish this one."

With a gleam and a giggle, Michelle carefully straddled him and slowly lowered herself down on his stone-hard erection. As always, he filled her just right.

"Okay, here we go," she said. "But remember your promise."

"I'm not sure I can tell the rest of the story in this position." Michelle looked down at her husband's blissful smile and worried about just how he would take hearing the remainder of her bachelorette party adventure.

"That's okay, baby. You feel too good for me to last much longer anyway."

Those were just the words she needed to hear. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled his face between her boobs. Rob responded by lifting his hips off the chair and driving himself deep inside her.

"Mmm...you feel so good." Michelle wiggled her knees into a more comfortable position on the upholstered chair. After a good squeeze, which included Rob's enthusiastic tongue on her nipple, she placed her hands on his shoulders and sat up straight.

"You'd better pace yourself," she warned. "There is still quite a bit of story left."