Trouble

How many ways can you get in trouble? I only needed one.

It's not my nature to look for trouble. I'm overly conservative. Extremely cautious. It's not easy with my body to avoid attention from men. My husband constantly reminds me about how hot he thinks I am. He's also convinced, based on my attempts to minimize the attention I get too often from other men, that I'd never stray. I'd never allow anyone to ever get close enough to even make a pass at me. He's a fool.

He was so certain in his assessment of my caution about contact with other men that he never worried about my activities when I was out alone or with friends. He never showed concern about my outings, always telling me to have fun and enjoy myself.

He was always correct in his assessment. I never wandered. I never even had a thought about wandering. My girlfriends had a different attitude but they always protected me. They knew me well and always came to my assistance if someone who approached me with vulgar intentions was causing me problems. They didn't mind. They knew the cad's intentions and it was a chance for them to score as well. I was the bait and they were the switch.

It worked well for everyone, until May a year ago.

Maryanne, probably my best friend and a member of the group of eight women who hung out and supported each other, was getting married. She was twenty-eight, built like a plus sized stripper, and head over heels in love with Dan, her intended husband.

However, she wasn't quite ready to give up the hedonistic life style she enjoyed while single. Don't misunderstand me, she fully intended to be faithful to her husband after the marriage but that was a month away. Right now she wanted one last lustful fling. She was determined to get laid, maybe twice, and we all knew it.

Maryanne spent considerable time planning her final fling as a single woman. She researched venues within fifty miles and wasn't satisfied with any of them. She widened the scope of her research to include private parties and performers that could provide the services she was looking for. Google was her friend and videos on socially frowned upon, but frequently viewed, sites became the focus of her research. She discovered a number of CFNM (Clothed Female Naked Male) party videos and was immediately intrigued. The videos showed male dancers removing their clothes and dancing naked among the women and encouraging them to touch the merchandise.

She suggested the possibility to the rest of us and we all agreed it could be fun. Honestly, I was a little nervous but since the women kept their clothes on, I went with the rest of the groups' decision. What Maryanne hadn't revealed to the rest of us was a number of videos showing some of the women fully naked and having sex with the dancers.

She selected a performance group that had the most flagrant videos, contacted them and got times and costs. She booked a two performer party for eight, paid the entire amount in advance and began to look for a venue for the party. The dance group had a number of suggestions near her that would host a small party in a private room and were known to be discrete. She booked a Saturday night, one week before the wedding and within ten miles from the city.

She emailed an innocuous invitation to the other seven of us.

I showed the invitation to Matt, my husband. "Maryanne's having a party?" he asked.

"It's her last fling before the wedding," I told him. "It's her bachelorette party."

"They can get pretty raunchy, I hear," opined Matt.

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before," I responded.

"Go and have a good time," Matt said. "If you get too worked up, come home and I'll be glad to accommodate whatever floats your boat."

"That's not going to happen," I retorted.

"Getting worked up or screwing me afterward?" asked Matt.

"Certainly not the former," I said.

I spent the Saturday afternoon of the party carefully considering what to wear. I knew the party would probably be raucous and I needed to be more careful than usual not to wear suggestive clothing. I settled on a long sleeved blouse with a buttoned up collar, roomy enough to deemphasize my breasts and a pencil skirt with a below the knee hem. Two inch heels and full bra and panties completed my outfit.

Maryanne came by at six pm to pick me up. She was riding in a chauffeured party bus and I was the third to be picked up. The inside of the bus reeked of sexual escapades. I looked around as I got in. "Maryanne," I asked. "What are you thinking?"

"That none of us will be able to drive home later," she told me.

I sat down, mildly uncomfortable in the lavender atmosphere and extra wide seats. A half hour later, all eight of us were headed for dinner.

Dinner was in a small room off to the side in an excellent restaurant. We were given menus without prices. Jackie asked about the missing information.

"Order whatever you want without considering the cost," Maryanne said. "I'm paying for everything tonight."

"You know that you're not supposed to pay for your own bachelorette party?" asked Susan.

"Actually, I'm not," Maryanne said. "My dad is."

"That's generous of him," I suggested.

"He doesn't know it yet," Maryanne informed us.

When the laughter died, we ordered meals, including drinks. I ordered a Tequila Sunrise because I liked the drink and its colorful presentation was consistent with the party atmosphere. During dinner a second round of drinks was ordered. I demurred but another Tequila Sunrise showed up anyway. Not wanting to be a killjoy at Maryanne's party, I drank it.

At eight, Maryanne tapped a spoon on a glass and announced the real party in another, more private room in the back of the restaurant. We moved to the new room. I felt a little unsteady but nobody noticed and I made the short walk without incident.

There were eight overstuffed chairs set in a large circle in the center of the room. Behind the chairs on one wall was a selection of nibbles, alcohol and mixers in a self service setting. Maryanne invited each of us to get a drink and choose a seat. She managed to get me next to her. When she noticed I didn't have a drink she offered to get me one. When I didn't respond fast enough she brought me what looked like a margarita in a tumbler. Just what I needed, more tequila.

We toasted Maryanne and each other and sipped our drinks. Music started, emanating from unseen speakers and the lights dimmed. A man danced from a darkened corner of the room into the center of the circle. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, bow tie, black pants and boots. He was an excellent dancer. Several of the women began clapping with the music. Soon, we all were.

The dancer responded, moving sinuously with the music. His moves were more than a little suggestive. He removed his clip on bow tie. "Who's the bride?" he asked. We all pointed at Maryanne. He tossed the tie in her lap and moved closer, dancing in front of her.

Watching the way his hips moved mesmerized me. I tried to blame the alcohol but his movements were the actual cause.

The dancer unbuttoned his shirt at the neck and continued to dance in front of Maryanne. Without warning, he grabbed the center of his shirt and pulled it open, buttons flying everywhere. He had the shirt off in seconds and began to spin it around his head while he danced. The women clapped more energetically and several of them hooted.

His shirt ended up in Maryanne's lap. He was wearing a wife beater undershirt that accentuated his pectorals and his well developed biceps. He danced around the circle giving each of us a good look at his physique. He was standing in front of Margo when he tore off his undershirt. The women cheered and Margo reached out and rubbed his chest. He put one foot in Margo's lap and she took off his boot. His other boot followed. Back in the center of the circle, he continued to dance until he had everyone's attention. He spun around and ripped off his pants. The seams were held together with Velcro and they came off suddenly and in one piece.

He danced around the circle so each of us could appreciate his outfit. He was wearing something that I could only describe as a penis sheath with a sack to contain his testicles. He wasn't erect but he wasn't flaccid either. He couldn't have been that big without being somewhat distended.

He danced around the circle, getting as close to each of us as possible without falling on top of someone. Susan was the first to reach out and catch his cock. She held it for only a second but she was clearly impressed. When she released him, he moved his hips in a manner that made his sheathed penis move in a circle in front of her. When she didn't reach out again, he moved on around the circle.

Maryanne grabbed him and held on. She began to stroke him slightly. He sighed and moved closer to her. She gave his cock a little pat and he moved on, in front of me. I shyly tried to avoid the obvious invitation. Maryanne accepted for me. She took my hand and put it on his sheathed cock. Startled, my fingers closed around his member. Susan wasn't the only one impressed. I let go and he moved on.

I drained my drink and headed for the table for a refill. I needed another drink. My panties were wet and I blamed it on the alcohol although I knew better. I suspected where the evening was heading and I needed the drink.

Several others followed my lead and refilled their drinks. By the time we got back to our chairs, the performer was writhing in the center of the circle without his penis sheath. I looked around. Margo was idly turning his last piece of clothing in her right hand.

Suddenly, the music changed and a second dancer emerged from the darkened corner of the room. He was wearing a terry robe and I suspected nothing else. The first dancer high fived the new performer and left the circle pointing out Maryanne and me as he left.

His singling me out bothered me but not in the way I expected. The drinks were getting to me and my traitorous body was becoming over heated in a good, but forbidden way.

The new dancer was a clone of the first dancer except he was already erect. He began to tour the circle. As he approached Carolyn, she pulled her shirt up over her braless breasts and slid to the floor on her knees in front of him. She reached out, gripped his erection and kissed the head before sliding her mouth over it. With Carolyn's help, he reached over and removed her shirt over her head.

She sucked his erection and he fondled her breasts. I was in shock. Not from what Carolyn was doing but from how my body was responding. I couldn't explain the pulsating of my pussy as I watched. Internally, I wanted to try that.

That led me to get another drink.

When Carolyn took a break, he kissed the top of her head and moved on. In turn, each of the others spent some time enjoying his erection with three of them sucking on it. When he got to Maryanne, things moved to the next level. She slid forward on her chair, pulled her skirt up around her waist and revealed a panty less and very wet pussy.

The dancer dropped to his knees in front of Maryanne and began to feast on her pussy. He was good at what he was doing and Maryanne let him know. When he brought her to orgasm, she cried, "Fuck me!"

Someone handed the dancer a condom and, within seconds, he was deeply inside Maryanne. I should have been shocked at what was happening next to me. One of my friends, maybe my best friend, was having sex not two feet from me. More than that, she was enjoying it and asking for more. The dancer had no problem giving it to her.

Maryanne had a second orgasm and, before he joined her, he withdrew. Maryanne reached out to stop him from leaving her. She grabbed his erection but he managed to escape and leave her holding an empty condom. He got up and tried to leave but Maryanne stood up and redirected his gaze toward me.

I was mostly drunk, my panties were overflowing with effluent from watching him fuck Maryanne and my libido was screaming for someone to fuck me. He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. Without conscious thought, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back. The rest of the women in the room went wild.

Seconds later my blouse and bra were on the floor behind me and the dancer was on the floor pulling my skirt down. God forgive me but I helped him remove my skirt and my panties. I can only explain what happened next was caused by too much alcohol and the emotional frenzy capturing my body.

I pushed the dancer back on the floor, straddled his hips and sank down with him completely inside me. He tried to slow me down but I would have none of it. I wanted to be fucked and he was right there. I rode him like there was no tomorrow without considering that there might be no tomorrow after I was finished.

An orgasm racked my body, rattling me from my primitive brain to my toes. In spite of his attempts to remove me from his erection, I still wouldn't have it. I won the brief struggle and he came inside me. My second orgasm left me almost unconscious and was still reverberating through my body the next day.

The rest of the evening is a blur. Somehow, I managed to get dressed with help from Maryanne, and stumble to the party bus for the ride home. On the way, the girls poured coffee into me in an attempt to sober me up. They managed a reasonable job. I managed to walk in a reasonably straight line up the walk to my home with the help of Maryanne.

When she was sure I was able to operate without help, she opened the door, saw me safely inside and closed the door behind me.

After a few minutes standing in my living room, I suddenly was completely sober. Matt was in the bedroom and I was standing in the living room with my clothing disheveled and the residue of my debauchery drying on my thighs.

I tiptoed through the living room while removing my blouse and bra. I entered the bedroom and headed silently for the bathroom. "Gabby, is that you?" asked my drowsy husband.

"It's me," I responded while holding my breath.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked.

"I'm going to take a shower first," I told him.

"Can't that wait until the morning?"

"Carolyn spilled a drink on me and I want to wash off the residue before I come to bed," I half lied.

"Okay, then," he said and rolled over, hopefully to go back to sleep.

I finished the shower and stood naked and scared shitless that I had destroyed my marriage. In the shower I had washed everything three times trying as best I could to remove the evidence both external and internal. How was I going to tell Matt? Was I going to tell Matt? Having secrets between us could cause problems in our marriage but confessing what I did that evening was worse, considerably worse. I had a secret but I had a good reason to keep it from Matt. Only nine others knew what happened and I would never see two of them again. Could the other seven remain silent? I thought so. They weren't angels either. I needed to get my act together and act as if nothing was amiss.

I slipped into bed without waking Matt. I didn't sleep. My mind was racing from one thought to another. I replayed every moment of the evening multiple times. Every time I thought about the moment I slid down on the stripper's erection, I smiled. That bothered me. Why the fuck was I smiling when I was violating every vow and everything I believed about myself.

The smile bothered me. I actually enjoyed sex with a stranger and I couldn't explain it. I could still feel the lingering effects of what was probably the best orgasm of my life. My concern was that I'd do it again if I had the opportunity. I convinced myself that the odds were low but they were not zero.

The sun came up. Matt stretched, yawned and got out of bed. I pretended to be asleep. He let me alone, peed, brushed his teeth, put on shorts and a t-shirt and headed for the kitchen.

I continued to battle with my conscience for another hour or more. When I looked at the clock, it was nearly eleven. I got up to pee and realized that I needed to tend to my clothing from the night before. I gathered my clothing, except for my panties, thankful that Matt hadn't tried to take care of it for me. The missing panties were a concern. I probably left them in the back room of the restaurant where anyone could find them. "What the hell?" I thought. I hoped that whoever found them might get some pleasure from the soaked and stained underwear.

I put on a robe, added some other laundry and headed for the washing machine. With the clothing under control, I headed for the kitchen. Matt was sitting at the kitchen table reading something on his phone. He looked up. "You look like you had a rough night," He commented. "Coffee's on the counter."

"I poured a large mug of black coffee and sat opposite of Matt at the table.

"Was it a rough night?" he asked.

"Drank too much," I admitted. "Hangover."

"That's a first for you," Matt observed.

"And a last," I added.

We sat there, in silence for a while until my phone rang. I moved. "Sit there," offered Matt. I'll get it for you."

"Thanks," I said. "It's in my purse."

Matt returned, talking to someone on the phone. "It's Maryanne," he said and he handed me my phone.

"Hang on," I said. "While I get someplace where I can talk."

I curled up in a comfortable chair in the bedroom. "Hi," I said.

"Hi yourself," said Maryanne. "How are you feeling? Hangover?"

"No. Guilt, shame, embarrassment and more guilt," I admitted.

"Don't beat yourself up. You weren't alone," informed Maryanne.

"I got you," I said.

"Don't forget Susan and Carolyn," informed Maryanne.

"I didn't see them," I said.

"There were two strippers," reminded Maryanne. "You were busy."

"That really doesn't make me feel any better," I told her.

"If it's any consolation, you were the life of the party," declared Maryanne. "What got into you?"

"Oh, it got into me all right," I quipped.

"Is that going to be a problem?" asked Maryanne.

"I'm considering not telling Matt," I said.

"Not that," said Maryanne. "You didn't wait for a condom."

"I've done the math," I told her. "It's close but I think it's safe."

"Anything I can do for you?" asked Maryanne.

"Don't invite me to your next party," I suggested.

"Do you really mean that?" asked Maryanne.

"Not really," I admitted.

"Oooh, I think something has changed in my friend Gabrielle," cooed Maryanne.

"Let's talk about that some other time," I suggested. "Meanwhile, I need to sleep."

"Nighty night," said Maryanne.

I slept most of the rest of the day.

I was uncomfortable at the wedding. I refused all invitations to have a drink and I couldn't look any of the other seven women in the eyes. I also steered clear of contact with any man except Matt. I'm sure Maryanne's newly minted husband noticed I wasn't as assertive with my congratulations as the other of Maryanne's friends.

I'm living with a secret and slowly becoming comfortable with it. I can't get what happened that night out of my mind. Except for those several times a month that I want to relive the uncontrolled ecstasy I experienced that night, my life is relatively normal. I pray that I don't talk in my sleep on those days.

It's been almost a year and Matt hasn't brought up Maryanne's bachelorette party. I'm not about to mention it either. I don't know if he's just as comfortable with my going out with the girls as he's always been or he's aware of what happened and is just unwilling to address it with me. If anything, I've become even more conservative in how I dress and how I deal with other men and I'm sure that pleases him.

The one thing that has changed is that sex with Matt has become more adventurous and exploratory. Neither of us is unhappy with the result.

One thing hasn't changed. Maryanne is just as flamboyant as she always was. It took her less than six months to forget her intention to be faithful. I don't approve of her decision but she is my best friend and I can keep her secret. After all, she's keeping mine.