The Bachelorette Party Pt. 06

The Bachelorette Party, Pt 6

Mrs. Samuelson and I were at something of a standoff. I'm a seasoned sex worker and the vision of a naked woman still turns my brain into mush.

Prior to Tammy's arrival I'd been toying with the idea of masturbating. Lounging about in the privacy of my home, my penis was already halfway hard. He'd been lazily considering the joys of feminine cleft, substituting my fist for same. Now this fucker pokes his nosey pud out from between my boxer shorts like a racer snake in search of a meal.

I couldn't find words. We just stood there like that as my cock filled with blood. It ratcheted upward by degrees. Soon enough the vision of Tammy's shaven pussy weaved its aphrodisiacal magic. I was fully erect, twelve point seven five inches of steaming pole, unjacked by human hands, unsucked by feminine maw.

Incredibly, I looked down to see Tammy's clit bobbing upward from between her labia!! She had a clitoral erection!! I hadn't noticed this fecundity at her bachelorette party. It must have been hidden behind her pube thatch. Not today! It burgeoned up happily, parting her cinnamon pussy lips like a pet turtle. Too, it was wrapped in foreskin like a nascent penis, reminiscent of Esperanza Gomez, my favorite porn star.

Tammy and I were breathing heavily. It wasn't exactly like Tony and Maria from West Side Story, but it was close enough. I felt that she should run and jump into my arms, giving my cock the perfect angle at the thing she'd come here to impale. But she didn't.

Instead, I stood there drinking in Tammy's loveliness. Her face was framed perfectly between the curls of her dreadlocks. Her tits hung lusciously, like wondrous glories begging to be milked. She'd lost a bit of weight; her tummy was flatter, and subsequently her waist tapered nicely into her plump behind. I liked the cut of her vagina. Even bald, it pulsed like a living thing at the juncture of her thighs, fairly gasping for pole. And then...that CLIT!! I'd masturbated to the vision of Tammy's loveliness on countless occasions in my youth.

Tammy seemed to know my thoughts. She doffed her trench coat and snow boots to stand fully naked before me. Her eyes told me that she'd wrestled with this decision since her bachelorette party and, having fallen to her baser instincts, it was time to perform.

I shed my boxer shorts and my t-shirt. This seemed to break her torpor. She stepped to me slowly and took my hand. Though she'd never been to my townhome and didn't know the layout, she walked me straight into my bedroom.

Usually the first sexual move in these instances is fellatio. I mean, a hundred thousand random porn videos agree--a sloppy blowjob always kickstarts every adulterous tryst. Tammy looked at me soulfully. We hadn't been together in a few months. She'd gotten married and taken another man's name since then. We'd fucked but failed to consummate (by her estimate) at her party.

It was time to correct that oversight.

Mrs. Samuelson lay back in my bed. She opened her legs to me. I looked into her opening; I could sense her heart beating in the deep pinkness of her vagina. I knew then that all my training and all my sexual professionalism would go by the wayside today. In that moment I was an eighteen-year-old kid again, dying to make love to my girlfriend. It's why she'd come.

I mounted her and used my thumb to guide my penis into her cleft, inch by inch. She was wet and deep. The exquisite sensation of penetration overwhelmed me; I was giddy with desire. Each forward thrust brought fresh explosions of mania in my brain. When I felt the press of her labia against my pubic mound I came, just as I would have ten years ago in that magical summer after high school. I felt Tammy jerk spastically and knew that she, too, had shaken free of her vaginal constraints. Her hips thrusted upward involuntarily to engulf me fully. In that instant I knew that we were one. We held each other tightly as she drained great bolts of semen from the depths of my testes. It took her a full minute to sap me fully. When it was over we both knew that this was not a fail. We'd extracted ten years of wonder from each other in a single moment of wild abandon. When I pulled my dick from her pussy there was a wet spot a foot wide in my sheets. It was soppy and thick and we both laughed at the fact that we'd finally consummated the fantasy that had haunted us since that hot summer so long ago. We lay in each other's arms for another twenty minutes, gazing into each other's eyes and kissing deeply. Taking her cue from my eyes, Tammy bent to suckle my cock. This, too, had been a key part of our fantasy. I came in her mouth. I bent to suckle her cunt. She came in mine.

An hour later I was mounted over her ass, erect, but devoid of semen. She'd extracted every ounce of my essence--pussy to mouth to ass to pussy to ass. Each iteration of our sex milked a proportionally smaller load from my nuts. I had nothing left to give.

Regretfully, I pulled out. My penis dripped with the fruit of our lovemaking. This boner would have to subside on its own. Tammy smiled at me wearily.

"Did you find out what you needed to find out?" she whispered.

"My dick did," I whispered jovially.

"Do we need to do this again?" she whispered.

Now I was confused. This was a loaded question. Any woman that fucks ME into oblivion is interviewing for a full-time JOB. I've fucked a lot of women. NONE of them had anything on Tammy Janeway. (You notice how I re-attached her maiden name there? That was deliberate.)

"What do you mean?" I asked, afraid of her answer.

"You know what I mean," she whispered.

"Tammy, don't. I was hoping this would be the start of something. ANYTHING." I said.

She sighed.

"Chad, I'm married to another man. I was so happy to see you at my party, and if you'd showed up a week before that, this could have been the restart of something. I LOVE you, Chad. I've ALWAYS loved you. I love you more than I love my husband. But I'm not married to you. I came here today to answer your questions and a few of my own. You've answered my questions. Now...I have to go home."

This was not game. She was serious. I was crushed. Again.

"Tammy, wait. Don't go yet. Can't we talk for a few minutes? Over coffee?"

"Chad, I can't. I have to be getting back."

She went to gather her things.

"Tammy!! Don't go. How did you find me?"

"It wasn't hard, Chad. I went to one of your shows, waited in the parking lot and followed you home."

I wondered if Gloria had done the same thing. How many other women knew where I lived?

"Tammy! Wait!! One more question. How did you join up with the Jehovah's witnesses?"

This question caused her to pause. I knew it would. The answer to this question would buy me the time I needed.

"Chad, that's a long conversation and it leads down a lot of rabbit holes. Do you REALLY want to know the answer?"

"We have a lot of ground to make up, honey. I do want to know."

She sighed again.

"Saturday afternoon? Starbucks?" she suggested.

That wouldn't work. I had a gig on Friday night. I wanted to fuck her again. That couldn't be accomplished if I was overly tired from work or meeting her in a public venue.

"I can't. Why can't you come back here?"

"Because if I come back here, Chad, we're going to do this again. You know it and I know it. I can't afford to keep doing this. I've got too much to lose."

"Next Wednesday, then? Starbucks? 4 p.m.?"

"Bring your Bible," she said.

And then she was gone--butt ass naked in a trench coat.

I did a half-ass show on Friday night with another bunch of pink weaves. I danced, but it was all I could do to get and maintain an erection. Even dangerous amounts of Viagra didn't help. Tammy had milked me. PROPER.

The pink weaves, of course, derided me viciously with all sorts of racial epithets directed at my penile disability. They called out my "useless softie". They said I'd sold them a bill of goods. Devon had to come out to cover the remainder of my show. The bride called Gloria afterward to demand a refund. Is it necessary to reveal Gloria's scatological commentary concerning that refund? Suffice to say she was NOT happy. She suggested that our regular Monday night date be scrapped for a few months. (I hadn't told Gloria about Tammy's visit yet.)

"Yo' dick needs a rest, son, especially when it fucks wit' MY money."

Gloria cancelled my pre-Christmas gig, too. She left my New Year's gig in place. (It was a $7000 job, pre-paid). She suggested that I rest up for it or, well, she ranted another scatological description about the consequences of failure.

I spent that entire week in celibacy, something of a record for a guy in my profession. By the time I met up with Tammy at the Starbucks, Bible in hand, I was fully recovered. The scent of her perfume aroused an enormous erection. She noticed it as I sat down.

"Do you often come out in public with a dick that hard?" she chuckled.

I shook my head and explained my failure at the pink weave bachelorette party the previous Friday. I soon had her roaring with laughter.

"Stop!!" she choked out. "You're killing me!!!"

"...and then," I continued, "She slapped my cock from side to side, and called it her bitch, and she said I shouldn't come out of the house with a dick this big and this soft. And then she said something about white boys not being able to fuck."

Tammy continued to laugh.

"Well, I could have told her differently, now couldn't I?" she snickered.

"I wished you'd been there," I said. "You could have saved me some embarrassment."

Tammy and I laughed and told stories for an hour and a half before she looked at her watch and said she had to be getting home.

"We didn't get around to answering your question, did we?" she said.

"No. We didn't." I replied.

"Is your dick still hard?" she asked.

"Yes. It is." I replied.

"I'd like to take care of that for you, Chad. I really would. But I can't. You know why. But I can meet you here next week and we can talk. I've so enjoyed catching up with you today."

"You're not going to answer my question today, are you?" I asked.

"Chad, I can't. I've got to be getting back. I promise we'll talk about it next week...if you don't have any more stories about the "pink weaves"!!"

"Next week is Christmas Eve!!"

"I don't celebrate Christmas, Chad."

And then she was gone.

The following week I rushed to Starbucks, eager to see the woman I hadn't fucked the week before. I also hadn't worked the prior Friday night, nor had I visited Gloria the prior Monday. Celibacy and I do not get along. I was in agony. But it was a good kind of agony. I was going to see Tammy again.

I sat down before she got there. When she arrived, her elegant perfume elicited another major boner. She peeked up under the table to check my incapacitation before she sat down, laughed, and punched my shoulder. I'd tried to hide it with my forearm.

"Does that thing EVER rest?" she smiled.

"Hmmmmph. I wouldn't have this problem if you hadn't got married," I groused.

She laughed playfully. But I sensed something. She was struggling!! She'd been thinking about our love life!! She'd been lusting over hobbling my erection!! I could see it in her smile. She was waffling!!!

This made my day. It's the best Christmas present she could have given me, that peek up under the table. It told me that our sexual history had yet to be written. One day she would show up at my door, buck naked under a trench coat. On that day we would rekindle our passions. I was sure of it.

We chatted for another two hours that afternoon. Tammy explained how she'd become one of Jehovah's witnesses. She explained her devotion to the religion and its tenets. She wasn't supposed to have sex outside the bonds of marriage, she said, but she was human and had needs that sometimes led her astray.

"Not often, but sometimes. That's what happened at your place the other week," she admitted. "Please don't tell anyone. I'm praying about it."

"Well, what happened at your bachelorette party?" I asked.

"Same thing. One of the women I work with set the whole thing up. I didn't have the nerve to tell her no. No one at my Kingdom Hall knows about it. To tell the truth, I hadn't had sex in years until that night. I couldn't wait to see what that party would bring. And look what it brought me? You."

I laughed.

"You couldn't wait one more day? Your husband and you could have had sex the very next day after you were married."

"I needed to get buck wild, Chad. That's not what JW's do."

"Not even married?" I queried.

"Not even married, Chad." she replied. "He won't even let me suck his dick."

"Dang!! Are you sure this is the religion for you?"

"It's tough on me, Chad. I do try."

"What happens if you get caught, you know, being led astray?"

"I'll get disfellowshipped, Chad."

"Disfellowshipped? What's that?"

"It's where they kick you out of the congregation, Chad. And you lose all your friends."

"You mean the women standing up at the front of the sanctuary with you? The women in your bridal party?"

"Yes, them. And don't call it a sanctuary."

"Will you get in trouble if they see you talking to a man that's not your husband?"

"Probably," she said.

"And you're willing to take that risk? Here, with me, I mean."

"Chad. Yeh, I guess so. I can always say I'm sharing the Bible with you."

"Tammy?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"The next time you fall astray, can you do it with me?"

"I can pretty much guarantee you of that, Chad."

We both broke up laughing. That's when I knew I had her.

I paid for our coffees and we walked outside laughing. We chatted for a bit, then I reached over and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed.

She shook her head at my boldness. And then she was gone.

I drove home in the best of moods. My love was coming back to me! I was sure of it.

I knew she wouldn't want me to continue as a party dancer, but I had a couple of hundred thousand dollars stashed away in deposit boxes, and my townhome was almost paid for and my Porsche was debt free. I paid off my Amex platinum card in full each month. I owed no one a dime.

I started making plans to get a square job, something like what Brother Samuelson had, so I could get some paid healthcare and a 401K. I knew that I couldn't drop my current party schedule too soon; I was booked for the next six months. But I figured it would take me that long to convince Tammy that the JW life wasn't for her. I just had to convince her not to start a family with her husband. I knew that would make it that much harder for her to leave him. I thought that if she and I could meet weekly at the Starbucks and continue to talk about my erections and maybe start talking about her need to get buck wild periodically, she'd see that I was really the man for her. She'd already admitted that, had I showed up a week earlier, I'd be her first choice. She'd already admitted that she loved me more than she loved her husband.

I started thinking about moving to the suburbs and raising little tan children with curly hair and crooked smiles. I'd teach my sons how to play basketball and I'd teach my daughters how to fix motorcycles. Every summer we'd travel out west to fish and camp. I had a whole new set of futures mapped out aside from fucking strange women in downtown nightclubs. Maybe I didn't need to spend ten more years gambling the health of my dick in the depths of their fragrant vaginas.

It was Christmas Eve. I bounced into my townhome and started dinner. Usually I liked to eat out on the holidays, but since my outlook was changing I thought I might cook something, you know, just to practice, just in case my kids got hungry and Tammy wasn't around.

Too, I called Gloria to tell her that I was back and that she should book me for as much work as she could. I didn't usually work on Thursdays, but I told Gloria I would accept Thursday gigs now. My plan was to drop our Monday night sex sessions and work myself into shape for a two-day workweek. I hoped to scarf together another couple of hundred grand before convincing Tammy to leave her current life and join me in mine.

I cooked the one dish I knew of--shrimp pasta--and I added onions, spinach, mushrooms and garlic-stewed tomatoes to the mix, along with a smidgen of white wine, heavy cream and some olive oil. It was the meal I planned to serve Tammy the first night she stayed over. And then I was going to make love to her...over and over and over and over and over. I sniffed my fingers again, on the off chance that the scent of her pussy lingered, two weeks after the fact. Even the memory of her scent and the vision of her shaven cunt sent my penis rocketing skyward.

I loved her.

Later that night, very late, my phone rang. It was Tammy. She was distraught.

"CHAD!!!" she shrieked, "Someone saw you kiss me in the Starbucks parking lot earlier today!! She told my husband!! Donnie knows everything!! I had to tell him!!!"

I was shocked.

"You told him EVERYTHING?"

"I HAD to!" she cried. "The bachelorette party, the visit to your house, the meetings at Starbucks!! EVERYTHING!! He knows!! He's put me out of the house!!! He's got all my stuff!! My furniture, my clothes, my phone, my car!! Everything!! I don't have anyplace to go!!!"

I'd never heard a woman so hysterical.

"Where are you?" I demanded.

She schnuffled uncontrollably for a bit. She seemed to be mulling her options.

"TAMMY. WHERE...ARE...YOU?" I repeated omninously.

"Ummm, I'm down the street from my house! I'm at the 7-Eleven. Chad!! I'm cold!!"

It was Christmas Eve. The 7-Eleven was closed. She was calling from a pay phone. I felt a burning rage percolating against her husband.

"You wait right there," I said. "No, you just WAIT there."

I jumped in my Porsche and flew to her side. I felt like Santino Corleone.

When I arrived the police were just taping off the crime scene. Tammy was dead. She lived in a high crime neighborhood. Someone had come to rob her. She had nothing, not even a cell phone, to offer. And now she was just another statistic.

I shrieked in anguish.

The police took me aside to question me. It's a good thing they did. It saved her husband from enduring a felonious assault. I saw him standing out there in the snow.

The fucker wasn't even crying.

I drove home and cried enough for the three of us.

In the morning Gloria called me with the news I already knew. I'd been crying all night.

"Chad?" she said in a tone more vastly more considerate than usual. "Merry Christmas, honey."

I waited. She continued.

"Chad, have you been watching the news?"

"She's dead, Gloria. I know about it."

"How?"

"She called me late last night. I was on my way to pick her up. When I got there they already had the yellow tape out."

"You were THERE?" she asked.

"Yeh. I got there too late."

"What happened?"

"Her husband busted us and put her out."

"BUSTED YOU? WERE YOU FUCKING HER?"

"No. But I was working on it."

"Goddam you. I TOLD you to leave the clientele ALONE.

"Merry Christmas, Gloria," I said, before hanging up.

I mourned Tammy Janeway. Sixteen hours ago she and I were laughing and telling jokes over coffee. I just had to go and force the issue. That public kiss on the cheek is the thing that precipitated this. I'm kicking myself now. If I had to do it over I would have smiled and nodded politely.

"Have a nice day!!"

What gave me the right to kiss another man's wife on the cheek? One small, innocent kiss led to all this. I'm sick to my stomach thinking about it.

And the loss is so real! My whole outlook changed overnight. I envisioned a family. And a home. And a job with benefits. I'd never imagined these things before. All lost, but for the sake of a kiss.

And I couldn't even attend her funeral!! Her husband would see to that. Tammy and I weren't yet lovers, despite that single vibrant episode at my place. And yet we were in love. I had plans!! Brother Samuelson would certainly paint me as his wife's adulterous partner in crime. He couldn't afford to be blamed for casting her out into the cold on Christmas Eve. He probably wouldn't even allow her to be buried in the Church.