The Hen Do Pt. 01

The music changed to a track that was equally as raunchy but one I didn't recognise. The stripper grabbed Mary this time and pulled her to the front. As much as I thought he had gone a bit far, I was feeling a little envious of her. He stroked her cheeks to a roar from the crowd before turning her to face them and wrapping his tanned, muscular arms around her, while Mary natural folded her skinny white arms across his. His arms unfolded, carrying hers with them and raising them high above her as he said something into her ear; her embarrassed eyes flicked away to the floor. Sensual hands slid down her soft skin to her armpits, and opened wide to stroke the sides of her breasts, missing each nipple a by a hairs breath. My own nipples stood to attention at the mere thought of it. The hands stopped at the hem of her short skirt, reversing direction and caring the leather up with them. Her hands dropped to stop him just as her white panties began to glow under the purple light.

Duplicate Daltry stepped in front of her, grabbing her hips and pushing her back towards the chair until she could not fail to sit, his hands sliding the leather up before her arse touched the seat. She may or may not have noticed, but she didn't cover up her glowing white V. As previously, he pulled apart her knees and place his remaining boot between her thighs, repeating his boot removal routine. The crowd, including me, and Mary herself were so pumped by the time he flung his boot that she didn't care when his foot blatantly assaulted her fanny through her exposed knickers. She writhed a little and grinned, as did I. She would have let him do that as long as he wanted, but he turned and walked toward me.

As he approached, I realised that Pam was standing next to me. He'd obviously been alerted to who was the main Hen round here. Grabbing her, he pulled her onto the stage, leaving me deflated and Mary walking off stage, a kind of relieved disappointment creeping across her face.

On the stage, he gyrated with his new dance partner, performing a type of pseudo-jive before turning her towards the audience and wrapping his arms around her. As he did before, he raised her arms in the air. This lifted her halter top to reveal a band of skinny flesh but also seemed to loosen the material allowing a clear view through the arm gap to the other side. He caressed the insides of her arms down to her armpits, whispering into her ear, at which she grinned and, as if hypnotised, her arms remained elevated. This time, his hands wandered to the front and slid down to her small but perfect tits. The crowd roared and applauded. I couldn't believe my eyes. I had no idea that strippers were allowed to do this so blatantly. His hands slid further down her front and stopped short of her crotch, to my relief. His hands found her hips and slid back up, finding bare flesh as they slipped into the side of her halter top to caress the sides of her boobs.

Stepping in front of her, he faced the audience, grabbed her hands and wrapped them around his body. Never a girl to disappoint a man, Pam groped his muscular chest and then slid her hands down his torso over his Harley Davidson belt buckle to grab at his leather-clad cock. A drunken squeal escaped her throat as she grabbed hold. The stripper feigned shock and took her hands, turning her to face him, side on to the crowd.

With a heavy hand on her head, Pam sank to her knees, delighting the audience. Signalling instructions, the stripper put his hands on his hips, Superman-style, while she unhooked the buckle. Pam's attempt to yank out the belt was thwarted by the blond stud, who grabbed it and allowed it to slide out at his pace. Unhampered by the belt, Pam's eager fingers un-popped his waistband, then pulled down his zip.

The baying mass was hysterical as she pulled the flaps apart. Pam's mouth opened in awe as she tugged at his pants, pulling them to his knees. I could not tell if it was real, but his cock looked enormous under the black leather thong he wore. The girls screamed and my knees trembled as Pam massaged the bulge before pulling his pants from his feet. She was a dab hand at that, I could tell.

After pulling Pam to her feet, Mr Daltry strutted about the stage, before guiding her off, much to her disappointment, I was sure.

Grabbing his bulge with one hand, Roger untied one side of his thong before swapping hands and untying the other, encouraged by the screams. Turning to face the back of the stage, the artist, for that is what he truly was, pulled off his thong and threw it to the side as the final notes of the heavy metal track crashed. The audience applauded. The last item to go was his hat, which he held in front of his still secret manhood, before turning to bow and walking off the stage, I still had not found out if it was real, but I was almost ready to go and finish myself off. I'd never seen anything so hot.

"Bit bloody short," I said to Pam

"I couldn't see," she said with a grin.

"I meant the performance, dirty ticket!"

"Oh, he'll be back for another one."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. You can't think I paid all that money for that. Anyway, I need a piss. Coming?"

"Almost!" my turn to grin.

"Now, who's being dirty?"

"I didn't think he'd be allowed to go that far," I said as we walked out.

"God, no. That was tame. I've seen much better."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes."

"That's the first I've seen," I said as we reached the queue for the ladies toilet.

"Fucking hell, San. You've never lived."

"How far do they..."

"Oh, you'd be amazed!"

I looked at the queue, I looked at Pam, I looked at the boys' loos. "Come on. I'm not waiting here." I said, moving away and pulling her by the hand

"What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"Here," I said, pointing at the door.

"What! We can't go in there!"

"Why not?"

"It's the men's. It's full of, well, men!"

"Do it all the time in these clubs."

"But," she managed before another girl crashed out of the toilet.

"See. Come on." I pulled her in. "They don't all have locks, so we can stand guard for each other."

My eyes inevitable drifted to the long metal troughs, against which a number of men stood, dicks out, reliving themselves.

"What? I wouldn't know where to look."

"Who the fuck are you? And what have you done with my mate Pam?"

"It's just..."

"Look over there," I said, which made he glance over to where the action was.

"Oh, fuck!" She exclaimed and looked at the floor.

"Just stand there and look at the floor." I didn't have time to argue with her. I went in, leaving Pam staring at a wooden door. It seemed to take forever to empty my bladder. No toilet paper, but I had a bag full of tissues. I flushed and opened the door to see Pam staring to one side, mouth agape. I followed her eye-line, and, obviously, she was staring at a trough full of pissing blokes.

"See! No one cares."

She didn't flinch. She was transfixed.

"Earth to Pamela," I said, shaking her arm

"Fuck!"

"First time experiencing the mysteries of a boys' bog?"

"Since I was, like, ten!"

"Fucking great, isn't it?"

"Erm, yeah!"

Pam took my place in the cubicle, leaving me to enjoy the view. Unlike Pam, I knew exactly where to look. A couple of the guys stared back at me and grinned, while one stopped mid-stream, tuned away, zipped up and got out as quick as he could. I have always enjoyed watching men pissing. A connoisseur of cocks, I like to study them in all their functions, and I like the feeling in my fanny that I get when watching them. After that performance, I nearly had a spontaneous orgasm. I almost helped myself but I didn't want to spoil the next half of the show. A little bit of denial does wonders for the libido.

Suzanne was on her way to the bar when we left the gents. Her face was a picture. We caught up with her in the bar queue.

"Why were you coming out of the men's?" She asked.

"Ladies was busy," I informed her.

"So! The men's is full of, well, men with their... You know."

"Dicks out," Pam piped in.

"Pam!"

"You know what," I said, "nobody cares."

"I'd care!"

"Oh, don't be such a virgin!" Pam disparaged.

"I'm... don't... I don't..." She didn't complete any of the sentences and turned to look at the bar.

Despite my promise to Pam, she still made me treble up on my drinks again, and the shorts were double.

"I might start getting naughty if I have too much more," I warned her.

"Always funny to watch."

"You mean fun," I said.

"I know what I mean," she replied and turned away before I could come back at her.

***

By the time Daltry Double began his second set, we seemed to have a lot more in the supposedly private function room. Boys and girls. After that first performance, I understood why straight men might want to watch a male stripper. It was not so much what the stripper was doing and more what he was doing to the women.

In the hour or so between sets, we settled at tables, we danced a little, and drank a little more. So everyone was a little more pissed, including me, but not Suzanna. I wasn't exactly staggering, but I was a little unsteady and very giggly. I resisted the temptation to cop off, though. Breaking one resolve was enough.

Pam was remarkably self-disciplined. Considering she was drunk, it was nearing the final days of her freedom, and she was surrounded by some hunks. I watched her give a couple of men short shrift. As did I; after almost constant arousal for the past hour or so, I just wanted to get home and fuck Jay's brains out. I'd had plenty of lovers before shacking up with Jay, and since - stories for another time - but he was still the best shag I'd ever had.

The lights began to dim, which triggered a movement away from the tables. As I moved forward, I felt a gentle hand on my buttock. I spun around, ready to either slap or kiss someone, and there stood Rory! Though he was usually known as Storm, it was a Liverpool thing, Rory was Big Dave's mate, Big Dave being an ex-boyfriend. The kissing option was tempting. Jay knew both of the friends quite well and both were well out of bounds. That was nothing to do with how secure Jay and I were in our love for each other.

"Hello, darling," he said, and my knees weakened. This was nothing to do with the show; my knees always went weak around Rory. "Long time."

"Yes. It is," I agreed as the stage lights came back up. I turned my attention away from Rory, which, on reflection, was a little rude but I had a stripper to inspect.

The entertainer appeared on the stage wearing a pilot's uniform. The airline was unrecognisable, but I didn't suppose that mattered so long as it came off. There was a lot more fabric than before, so this set would definitely be longer. I'd never felt a tingle from a uniform before, but there were lots of little feathers fluttering below.

Button by tantalising button opened, with the women doing the unbuttoning. His teasing was more provocative and raunchier than before. Each un-popped button received a reward of one sort or another. Grabbing a hand through the crowd, our stripper pulled through a flame-haired beauty. She wore a familiar red leather waistcoat and short black leather skirt. This was a more grown-up version of the young girl whom I had first encountered a few years before. She had been drunk and had stripped on the dance floor. Much to the delight of the bikers around her. This was the same girl who had spurred me on by her presence on the night I entertained the troops in the same space. Back then, she wore only the waistcoat on top, no bra or other covering, and, as tonight, it had no buttons. This time, though, she wore a tight white T-shirt under the leather. She un-popped the second button on his jacket while he stroked her face and peered into her eyes. Not for the first time, this girl inflamed an envy in me. Leaning into her, blond hair contrasting with her red, he whispered and kissed her so sensuously on the lips that my pelvis clenched.

The Rock God Replica spun her and wrapped his arms around her. His hands slid under her waistcoat to minister to her tits. The crowd loved this, and she didn't seem to mind too much either. I could see her knees giving way as her waistcoat fell away to reveal his teasing of her nipples. This sort of behaviour continued, with the girls lapping it up and, probably, wishing they were doing so literally.

Glancing around the room, I liked to see people's reactions, I spied at least a couple of the girls rubbing themselves off. This was something few women even admitted to doing in those days, let alone do in public. Though they did seem to think they were being discrete.

Every time the bastard came towards me, he would swerve at the last inch and pick someone else to tease. This was so winding me up, but still making me wet as fuck. I kept trying to get closer to the front without making it obvious; I was drunk, so it probably was obvious.

This time, it was Suzanne's turn. Straight-laced, boring, religious Suzanne! This should be interesting, I thought, as he dragged her towards the front.

"Fucking hell," I heard Pam's voice over the music. "She'll need a psychiatrist after this!"

"Do you think anyone has ever touched those tits of hers?" I remarked.

"I don't think even she's ever touched them."

We watched as the showman danced with the virgin. We saw him whisper in her ear, lift her arms, as with the others, and run his hands down her soft, pale flesh.

"Here it comes," I said.

His hands came to rest on the side of her boobs, and she did not flinch. The crowd didn't cheer, they didn't clap, they didn't whoop. Almost to a woman, our workmates' jaws dropped, mouths gaping open, as we watched the hands wander to the front and cup both of Suzanne's tits. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers and the seeds of a grin appeared at the corners of her mouth as he caressed.

"Fucking Jesus!" was all Pamela could muster.

"Maybe that's what she's been doing all these years!"

"Yeah! I've seen the exorcist."

By this time, Dirty Daltry's hands had slid down Suzanne's body and were heading crotch-ward. She gave in as they reached her mons. She dropped her arms to stop the action. Not to be deterred, the large hands slid back, unhampered and crept behind Jesus Was a Rock Star, to massage Suzanne's virginal tits from inside her T-shirt. The tension broke, and everyone cheered and applauded, as delight shone across Suzanne's face.

He turned her, gave her a gentle kiss on her lips, then led her back to her friends. Another round of applause.

I felt like I needed a pee and thought I should go while this long, slow strip was happening, to avoid the rush later, but was too engrossed to turn away. His shirt finally unbuttoned, Dodgy Roger gyrated around the room and edged closer to my location. Finally, he was staring down at me, those sapphires piercing my very soul.

Excitement bubbled like a volcano when he grabbed my hand, and then horror struck as I realised he had picked me, and was heading to the front. I was trembling with fear, excitement, and a desire to pee, though the last bit may have been nerves. The tease slithered around me for a time that was a lot longer up there than the audience experienced. He ran his fingers up the front of my shoulder strap, grazing one erect nipple as he did, and then slipped it over my head to relieve me of my bag. He dropped it to the floor.

Standing behind me, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and held my face. His hypnotic voice turned me to putty in his fingers as he said into my ear, "you are going to do exactly as I will." I giggled with nerves. "You're going to be begging for someone to fuck you by the time I've finished." His hand slid down to rest above my tit. I was aching for him to stroke it but praying that he wouldn't. I was not that kind of girl. Okay, I was, but I didn't want everyone to see that I was.

His other arm came across, and both slid away to the sides of my chest. Somehow managing to avoid both breasts. "Wishing I'd stroked those gorgeous tits, eh?" Most of the audience seemed to be clapping a quiet, slow clap as his hands inched lower, stopping at my hips. The fingers of both hands crept into the pockets of my jeans, putting pressure on the soft flesh in front of my hip bones, and began to massage my ovaries. Fuck! "Like that, don't you?" I was too scared to respond but, yes, it felt wonderful, which was apparent from my incandescent cheeks and my massive grin. My thoughts drifted to Jay, and I made a mental note to teach him that move.

The hands crept further into my deep pockets. They crept far enough for his fingers to press into my fleshy mound, which he kneaded millimetres from my throbbing clitoris. "Bet you're getting wet now," he said, "aching for me to touch you there." The cotton fabric of my pockets stretched until two fingers touched the aching organ. That was enough! I grabbed the hands, pulled them out and ran from the room straight to the men's toilets and into a cubicle.