The Double Date That Didn't End Ch 2: No Strippers!
After that Christmas Eve, everything changed for the four of us. Connor, Tracy, Ria and I became inseparable; “The Double Date That Didn’t End,” we liked to joke. Each of us still had our own friends and our own lives outside of one another, of course, but in that never-ending double date, we found something that we’d all been missing out on for a long time—a family.
Connor became like a brother to me, Tracy became like a sister to me, and Ria…
She and I fell for one another faster than I’d ever thought possible. At midnight the following Christmas—exactly one year after we’d first made love in that silly swan-shaped boat—I got down on my knee and proposed.
Ria responded by asking why I’d waited so long.
Because we’d first had sex on Christmas, and because I had proposed to her on Christmas, it only seemed right that Ria and I would get married on Christmas, as well. After years of dreading the holiday that reminded us of the parents we’d lost, Ria and I wanted to reclaim the date for ourselves. From this year forward, Christmas would be our anniversary; “our” holiday.
We had exactly one year to get everything sorted out.
Thing is, deciding you want to get married on the biggest holiday of the year is easy. Actually pulling it off is not. Finding a venue was a nightmare, all the vendors wanted to charge triple their usual fee, and it was a massive inconvenience for our guests—most of whom had Christmas plans of their own.
It took its toll. With less than a week to go before our wedding day, Ria and I crawled exhausted into bed and realized that we hadn’t had sex even once during the entire month of December.
“Geez, it’s like we’re already married,” Ria joked.
She curled up on her side and closed her eyes, not realizing how absurdly beautiful she looked at that moment—all cozy in her baggy flannel pajamas, the faint glow of our newly-purchased Christmas lights illuminating her through our bedroom window. I really was a lucky bastard, no question about it.
“We’ll just have to make up for it on the honeymoon,” I whispered, kissing my beautiful fiancé goodnight.
“Mmm, sounds good,” she purred. A second later, we were unconscious.
Everything was going great for me. I was getting ready to marry the love of my life, I had awesome friends, good health, and gainful employment. There was only one, small problem. An unconsummated urge that nagged at me every single day:
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t harbor any romantic feelings for the girl. Like I said, we were more like siblings than anything. But she was just so ridiculously sexy. Those eyes, that smile, that BODY…
Every day, when I went into work and sat down at the cubicle beside hers, I couldn’t help but fantasize about stripping off Tracy’s clothes and fucking her in the broom closet until we both passed out from exhaustion. And the fact that Ria and I hadn’t slept together in a month just made matters worse.
I tried to justify to myself that it was perfectly natural for me to be attracted to a woman like Tracy—after all, she was busty and friendly and undeniably gorgeous. But it still felt wrong. Tracy wasn’t just some “hot chick at the office,” she was my fiancé’s best friend in the world. AND she was dating Connor. The girl was 100% off-limits.
Which is why I hated the fact that I couldn’t stop daydreaming about blowing my load all over her big, beautiful breasts.
The changing rooms at our local Frederick’s of Hollywood were not designed to accommodate two people, but Tracy refused to leave my side. The girl took her role as Maid of Honor very seriously.
“I am not wearing this,” I laughed, blushing at the way I looked in the ridiculous wedding-night lingerie my friend had chosen for me.
“But you totally pull it off! What are you so shy about?”
For the record, I am not shy about my body, and Tracy knew it. I used to work with her at Hooters, for Christ’s sake. But I have my limits, and the outfit my friend had picked out went way past them.
The bottoms weren’t too bad—some skimpy lace panties with a faux bridal-veil perched atop my butt. They were actually kind of cute. But the top? I don’t even know where to start. There was no “bra” to speak of—just two tiny sheets of diaphanous white lace that tied together above my cleavage and draped down over my breasts. A good sneeze, and I’d be completely topless.
I rolled my eyes at Tracy, “It’s like you stole the curtains from Mickey Mouse’s hotel room.”
“Pshh! You just don’t realize how lucky you are that you even have the option of wearing sexy underwear like this. Most places don’t even MAKE bras in my size, and when they do, they’re always these stupid boring beige things.”
“That’s because girls with boobs like yours don’t need any extra help getting a boy’s attention. Putting a sexy bra on you would be like murdering a fly with a bazooka.” I stole a quick glance at her chest. “Actually, make that two bazookas.”
“Come on, this is for your wedding night! You said you want Shane to be the horniest he’s ever been.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t sexy, it’s a costume! I don’t want Shane to laugh at me when he sees it.”
Tracy’s smile turned naughty. “You know what I think? I think there’s only one way to settle this. We need to get a man’s opinion.”
I saw where her train of thought was heading and I adamantly shook my head: “NO. No way! Not in a million, zillion years.”
“I’m not talking about in a million years, sweetie. I’m talking about this afternoon.”
I still can’t believe I went along with it.
Two hours later, from my hiding place in Tracy’s bedroom, I could hear the front door swing shut as Connor got home from his training at the police academy.
“Okay, so what’s this surprise you mentioned?” I heard him ask.
“I think you’re gonna like it,” Tracy teased, “We need your help with something.”
Connor’s footsteps stopped in their tracks.
“What do you mean, ‘we?’” he asked.
Oh god, I thought. What have I gotten myself into? My hands were shaking uncontrollably, so I quickly re-positioned myself on the bed to hide them from view. I felt like I was gonna pass out.
Was I really gonna let Connor see me like this? Sure, I’d secretly enjoyed the admiring look in his eyes all those times he’d seen me in my swimsuit over the past two years, but THIS? This was something else entirely. This was me, putting my practically naked body on display for him.
It’s not that I was shy about Connor seeing me in my wedding night lingerie. Like I said, I’m not a particularly shy girl. No, the real problem was just how badly I wanted him to look at me. I wanted Connor to stare at my breasts and gawk at my butt and spend sleepless nights dreaming that he was fucking me in a hot tub.
And, deep down, I secretly maybe wanted even more. I got wet just thinking about it.
What can I say? Connor’s a stud. For the past two summers, whenever he’d been checking me out in my bikini, I’d also been ogling him in his swimsuit. I never told Tracy about my sexual obsession with her boyfriend, but I suspected she knew. Whenever Tracy and I would get together and swap stories about our sex lives, her descriptions of Connor’s aggressive, athletic behavior in the bedroom always sent me home horny as hell.
And in a few seconds, Connor was going to walk inside this room and find me stretched out across his bed, waiting for him.
Outside the door, his footsteps resumed and I instinctively crossed my legs, hoping to hide how damp my little lace panties were getting. Too late to back out now.
The bedroom door swung open and Connor froze at the sight of me. I’d expected him to smile, or crack some sort of a joke to break the ice—but he just stood there, drinking in the view. His expression looked almost sad. Sad and adorable and HUNGRY. Like those orphaned puppies on the adoption commercials.
“Wow,” he said at last.
Tracy slipped her arm through his and asked, “Well, what do you think? Would Shane like it?”
“Just to be sure, maybe you should get a closer look,” Tracy teased, gesturing for him to approach the bed.
I held my breath as the object of so many fantasies padded across the room towards me. He kept his hands firmly at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out and grab me—though at that moment I secretly wished he would. I couldn’t help myself from glancing down as he got close, blushing once I laid eyes on the big, thick outline of his erection.
Connor’s weight on the bed beside me caused the mattress to shift, and the motion sent my unsupported breasts swinging out the sides of the top, briefly exposing them to his gaze. The man’s eyes swelled with lust as he leaned in to ogle my barely-covered chest—so close that his excited breath actually sent ripples through the lace.
“You look amazing,” he whispered.
“Maybe you should touch her,” I heard Tracy say as she watched from the doorway. “You know, to make sure that the fabric has a nice texture.”
What the hell was she getting at? She actually wanted her boyfriend to touch me? I started to suspect that this was as much of a turn-on for her as it was for Connor and me.
“Would that be okay?” Connor asked. His usual smile had returned, confident and horny.
“I guess a little bit of touching wouldn’t hurt,” I sighed.
Connor’s big, strong hands reached down and he cupped my barely-covered ass. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t deny the surge of heat between my legs as his fingertips trailed appreciatively along the edge of my panties.
“You’re sure you don’t mind this?” he asked.
“Of course I don’t mind!” I panted. “It’s not like we’re having sex, right? We’re all friends. Shouldn’t we all be comfortable around each other?”
Connor nodded, and raised his other hand to feel the shape of my breast, through the lace.
I shivered, my nipples aching for him to close that final inch and put them in his mouth…
He pursed his lips and let his face drift towards my breasts—but at the last second he stopped, blinking back to reality. Suddenly self-conscious, Connor pulled away.
“Um, yep!” he laughed, yanking his hand off my ass like it was made of kryptonite. “The fabric has a good texture! I think you ladies have picked a winner here. Poor Shane is gonna blow his load the second he sees you like this.”
He hopped off the bed. I couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or disappointed. I’d wanted him so badly, I was out of my mind—even with Tracy right there in the room with us. Thank god he hadn’t actually tried anything, I’m not sure I would have had the willpower to hold him off.
He hurried out of the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Tracy called after.
“Cold shower!” he shouted back. The bathroom door slammed shut.
Tracy pointed smugly at the lingerie I was barely wearing:
“Told you so.”
“I can’t believe you asked him to touch me,” I moaned, rubbing my legs together.
“Hey, you get my man all turned on, and I get to reap the rewards after you go home. Besides, it’s not like you were exactly fighting him off, with your ‘Oh no, Connor, I don’t mind you touching my ass. We should all be COMFORTABLE around each other, don’t you think?’”
I bit my lip and blushed.
On the other side of the wall, the shower switched on. I couldn’t help but picture Connor standing naked beneath the spray, trying to bring down the raging erection I had inspired.
Fuck this. I grabbed my purse and slipped on my shoes.
“Give me your rain coat,” I demanded of Tracy. “The big one.”
Confused, Tracy went to her closet and retrieved the desired garment. I stripped off all the lingerie and cinched the raincoat closed to hide my nakedness.
“Where are you going?” Tracy asked.
“Home. I’m gonna fuck my fiancé into a damn coma.”
I practically kicked down the front door in my hurry to get to Shane. He had just gotten home from the office, and he looked bushed—but whatever work-related stress he was feeling disappeared as soon as he saw the fire in my eyes.
“Everything alright, honey?” he asked.
“No, everything is most certainly not alright,” I growled.
“What’s wrong,” I said, untying my belt, “is that I need to get laid right now, and you’ve still got all your fucking clothes on.”
I let Tracy’s raincoat fall to the floor, exposing my completely naked body to his eyes.
Okay, technically I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my sneakers, which in retrospect probably ruined the aesthetic somewhat. But Shane didn’t seem to care. His eyes lit up like a kid who just found out he’d be getting his Christmas presents five days early.
I attacked him, ripping open his shirt and licking his chest while I shoved my trembling hand inside the waistband of his pants, feeling him harden in my grasp. Shane responded instinctively, raising his fingers to my dripping wet cunt and rubbing until I was whimpering in horny desperation.
As a lover, my fiancé usually preferred to take his time in the bedroom—really putting in the effort to do things properly so that we were both completely satisfied—but he could see how horny I was and he wasn’t gonna make me wait a second longer.
I spun around and dropped to all fours, presenting Shane with my drum-tight ass—his personal favorite part of my body.
“Damn,” he whistled. Then he kicked off his slacks and underwear, dropped to his knees, and teasingly slid his already rigid cock up and down the inside of my thigh.
“I want you to be rough,” I purred.
With a twinge of guilt, I imagined it was Connor doing everything, not my fiancé. It was Connor’s cock that I felt rubbing up against me. It was Connor leaving that slick trail of pre-cum on my skin as he moved closer and closer to my core.
I moaned loudly as Connor finally pushed his entire length inside me.
Shane! I mean Shane, not Connor.
He fucked me hard and fast, grunting like an animal. I felt both his hands reach around to paw at my tits while his pelvis collided again and again with my ass.
My own fingers became a blur on my clit and I let myself go—let the forbidden fantasy overwhelm me—crying and groaning and making a complete mess of my hair. Connor rolled me over and pinned me to the carpet, thrusting back inside of me.
I mean Shane!
His body raged against mine. Harder and harder. Filling me, holding me—the rapture in his eyes—my fingernails at his back—
“Aaah!” I screamed, delirious. “Harder! Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Connor! Oh! Connor! Connor!” I came so hard I could barely breathe.
When the fugue of my climax finally faded, I looked up into my lover’s incredible blue eyes and realized—with abject horror—what had just happened. I’d called out another man’s name during sex. Sex with the guy I was about to marry.
I was raising my voice again, though I didn’t mean to.
“You told him we should all be ‘comfortable’ around each other? What does that even mean?”
“I was nervous!” Ria sobbed. “I was horny and I was nervous and I was trying to kill some of the tension in the room.”
“It’s okay, I’m not mad. I just—“
“I’m so sorry!”
I knew that I shouldn’t be letting the situation upset me as much as it was. I wanted to sit down next to Ria and give her a reassuring hug, but for some reason I couldn’t quite bring myself to. Instead, I just kept talking, trying to sound as level-headed as possible as I paced around the room:
“Listen, I get it. You fantasized about an attractive guy. It’s no big deal. It’s not like we magically stopped noticing that other good-looking people exist the moment I put that ring on your finger, right? I mean, sometimes I fantasize about other attractive women. Seriously, no harm done.”
Ria looked up at me, pleading. Her dark eyes were still wet with tears.
“Do you still want to marry me?” she whispered. I took a deep breath and finally found the strength to sit back down beside her.
“Of course I do.”
I’d like to say that was the end of it; that I immediately forgave Ria’s harmless illicit fantasy and moved on. But it wasn’t quite that simple.
Not that I didn’t try. I kept telling myself that I had nothing to be angry about. It’s not like Ria had been unfaithful to me—quite the opposite, in fact. Sure, she’d sort of encouraged Conner to feel her up, but it would be a lie to claim I hadn’t wanted to do the exact same thing to Tracy on countless occasions. Hell, just two months earlier Tracy and I had gotten pretty flirty during our Halloween party, with her cuddling up on my lap while I blatantly stared down the neckline of her slutty I Dream of Jeannie costume.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t let it go. So the following day, when Connor asked me for the fiftieth time what kind of stripper I wanted him to hire for my bachelor party, I finally snapped:
“Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to say it? No strippers!”
For a second, he looked at me like I was a crazy person, but then apparently he decided I was joking and playfully slugged me in the shoulder.
“That’s not your decision to make, dude! I’m the Best Man, I plan the bachelor party!”
“Seriously. NO STRIPPERS. It’s not my thing.”
“But… why wouldn’t you want strippers?” he looked crestfallen.
“Because that’s YOUR idea of a fun party. I think it’s weird having some girl I’ve never even met rubbing herself all over me just because you paid her to. It’s awkward and I don’t want to deal with it. I just want to have a good time with my friends.”
He finally realized that my frustration with him was quite real, and all the goofiness instantly went out of him.
Quietly, he asked, “Is this about what happened with Ria?”
“No! That was no big deal. You guys were just horsing around. I’m not even mad about it.”
Connor frowned, “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to be cool about this, but yes you are, dude. You’re angry.”
I grudgingly nodded, “Fine, whatever. I guess I’m kinda mad. But I don’t want to be. This just, really sucks.”
“I’m sorry man. I’m not gonna make any excuses. Yeah, we were just horsing around, but I still got a little carried away. Ria’s gorgeous, you know? It’s not always easy to think of her as just a friend.”
After a long silence, I sighed, “I… know what you mean.”
“You mean, like, about Tracy?”
“I guess that shouldn’t really surprise me,” he said, looking away.
“I just wish there was some way to get rid of all this stupid sexual tension in our group.”
Connor thought for a moment. “Maybe the problem is that we all pretend like it doesn’t exist. Maybe we should just stop hiding from it. Get things out in the open, be honest with each other for a change. Stop being so scared of the fact that we both want to fuck each other’s girl.”
It was weird hearing him say it so bluntly, but he was right—getting things out in the open did let off some of the tension.
“We want to fuck each other’s girl,” I echoed, feeling a tremendous weight being lifted from my shoulders. I realized that it wasn’t my unfulfilled desire for Tracy that had been frustrating me so much over the years—it was the guilt. And, the more Connor and I talked about it, the more I could feel that guilt evaporating into the air.
“You wanna bang Tracy’s titties,” he laughed.
“You wanna eat Ria’s pussy,” I joked.
Connor enthusiastically nodded his head, and we both cracked up.
“I guess we’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” I said.
“You’re sure you don’t want a stripper at your stag party?”
“Geez, just checking.”
I calmed down a lot after that conversation. When I found Ria waiting for me at home that evening, I snuggled up behind her and kissed her tenderly on the neck.
“I forgive you,” I whispered. “And I figured out why I got so angry about what happened. It wasn’t because of you, it was because of me.”
“What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, but I’ve thought about it, lots of times. LOTS of times.” I took a deep breath, and continued, “I need to be honest with you about something, honey. I’ve kinda got a thing for Tracy.”
Ria went silent, but she nodded that she understood.
I continued, “I’ve always felt really guilty about it. I get mad at myself every time I think about her in a sexual way—which is practically every day. So, when I heard you call out Connor’s name during sex, I projected all those guilty feelings onto you.”
“You don’t need to be ashamed of that stuff,” she said.
“Neither do you. And in the future, if you ever wanna fantasize about Connor while we’re doing it, just let me know in advance. I can even play along, if it would make you happy.”
She cracked a smile and kissed me on the lips. “Same goes for you, if you ever want to imagine I’m Tracy. Though I don’t exactly know how I can pretend to be ten inches taller and three cup-sizes boobier.”
“Shut up, English is my second language.”
We spent the next hour getting everything out in the open. I told her about how distracting it was to work beside Tracy, and she told me about all the fantasies she’d had of Connor. Surprisingly, it didn’t sting as much as I’d expected it to. When the air had cleared, we kissed and made love until everything was right again. Basking in the afterglow, Ria whispered, “I know this might sound weird, but while we’re being all honest about stuff—“
She trailed off, too nervous to finish her thought.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“It’s just, for the record, if you and Tracy ever got a little bit playful, I’d be okay with that.”
“What do you mean, ‘playful?’”
Her cheeks turned red as she answered, “Like, not sex, obviously—“
“—But, like, flirting or fooling around or whatever. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Like what happened between you and Connor the other day?”
She nodded, nervously adding, “And maybe even a little more. But just Tracy, not other girls.”
My heart raced, not sure how I felt about what she’d just said. Obviously, I liked the idea of getting frisky with Tracy, but the implication was clear—Ria wanted permission to do all that with her secret crush, too.
The idea of them kissing each other was… odd. The idea of him touching her breasts, or of her stroking him through his pants, was worse. But the thought of how happy and horny it would make her was very, very appealing.
“I guess I’d be okay with that, too. If it was you and Connor, I mean.”
“You’re sure?” she asked.
In gratitude, Ria crawled beneath the blankets and slipped my quickly recovering cock between her lips.
“Pretend I’m her,” she whispered. “Call me ‘Tracy.’”
Thankfully, Connor was true to his word. Instead of paying for a stripper, he arranged an evening hanging out with some close buddies of mine at a local bar we all liked. It may not have been the “totally epic” bachelor party Connor had first envisioned for me, but I was exhausted from being over-worked, and an evening of good scotch and good company was exactly what I wanted.
What I appreciated most of all was how Connor—himself a total party animal—insisted on staying sober throughout my stag party so that he could drive me back when the bar closed.
Ria I were observing the whole “don’t see each other the night before” tradition, so we’d decided that I would crash on Connor’s couch while Tracy spent the night keeping Ria company at our place.
Connor unlocked the front door and bid me make myself at home while he walked into his bedroom to get changed for the night. I collapsed fully-clothed onto the couch, hoping to calm down enough to actually get some sleep. For a moment, I considered phoning Ria to say goodnight, but figured it could wait. She was probably still with her bridesmaids—their party had started a lot later than ours.
“Hey Connor?” I called out. “Thanks for everything tonight. This was a great bachelor party.”
“Dude! You’re totally welcome. But before you go to bed, I should warn you—it’s not quite over.”
Before I could guess what he meant, the song “Jingle Bell Rock” blasted out through his bedroom door—so loud I could feel it shaking my ribcage. Connor emerged a second later, wheeling out a gift-wrapped box the size of a washing machine.
The smug grin on his face told the whole story. He’d gone and hired a stripper, after all.
I shouted over the music, “Connor, I said I didn’t want this!”
“No, you said you didn’t want me to pay some stranger to rub herself all over you. So I didn’t!”
“See you in the morning!”
He bolted out the front door and locked it behind him.
You can handle this, I thought to myself. As soon as that box opens and the nice stripper lady comes out, you just politely ask her to get dressed and head home. She won’t care, she’s getting paid either way. Then you can—
Tracy popped out of the box.
It actually took me a second to recognize her. My friend’s sandy brown hair had been dyed a platinum blonde, and her makeup was dramatically painted on—festive red and gold glitter swirling everywhere around those big green eyes. It was stunning.
But I didn’t look at Tracy’s face for long.
My gaze fell to her jaw-dropping natural curves, barely concealed inside a metallic-red string bikini. That thing was TINY, clearly made for someone much more petite. Shiny red triangles held together by black elastic string. Each of Tracy’s ruby-colored stiletto heels probably had more fabric on it than the entire bathing suit.
To say I was staring would be the understatement of the year.
She stepped out of the enormous Christmas present and took a step towards me, but then stopped and frowned, “Hold on one sec, Connor turned this music up way too loud.”
Tracy’s breasts bounced nicely as she scampered back into her bedroom and then reemerged a second later, having readjusted the speakers to play at a much more tolerable level.
“Much better,” she grinned.
“I thought you were spending the night with Ria,” I said, my mind still reeling.
“Shh, we’ll talk about that later. For now, just enjoy the show.”
Then she started dancing.
The light from her bedroom silhouetted Tracy in the doorway, emphasizing every curve of her shapely, hourglass body. She wasn’t exactly a professional when it came to this sort of thing, but damn if I didn’t appreciate the effort. Her movements were a little timid at first, giggling self-consciously while she slowly rocked her full, healthy hips back and forth to the music.
After a minute, however, she started to loosen up, moving towards me as she shook her ample chest and let her hands drift up and down her own incredibly sexy body.
I was hypnotized. My angry cock threatened to tear a hole in my pants. By the time the song ended, I’m pretty sure I was drooling. I made sure to give her plenty of applause and a whole-hearted wolf whistle.
Tracy blushed, “I hope that wasn’t too bad. This is scarier than it looks. I had to down a couple glasses of eggnog before I could talk myself into this.”
“Trust me, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I’ve never been so—I mean, you look…”
I trailed off, my brain apparently robbed of sufficient oxygen to process speech. Most of the blood flow had been redirected to a different organ. Luckily, Tracy took my idiotic dumbfoundedness as a compliment. She strode across the room towards where I was sitting.
“Did you really bleach your hair?” I asked.
“Yup. Been wanting to go blonde for a while now, and this was the perfect excuse.”
“Does Ria know you’re doing this?”
Tracy smirked, “Does she know? Buddy, you don’t even realize what an awesome girl you’re marrying tomorrow, do you?”
Now less than a foot away from me, she stopped advancing. Her eyes twinkled playfully as she spoke:
“When Connor told Ria and me that you were uncomfortable with him hiring a real stripper, Ria said she wanted to make sure you still got to enjoy the full ‘bachelor party experience.'”
She placed her hands on my knees and leaned forward, bringing her lips to my ear and dangling those huge, succulent melons if hers right in front of me.
Now whispering, she continued, “So Ria turned to me and suggested that I take matters into my own hands.”
She emphasized those last two words by cupping her own incredible breasts and squeezing them together, creating the most delicious-looking cleavage I’d ever seen in my life.
“Holy shit,” I moaned.
Tracy leaned back to enjoy the look of unadulterated lust in my eyes.
“She didn’t particularly like the thought of some random woman giving you a lap dance, either. This was all her idea. She even helped me pick out my bikini.”
Tracy spun around, giving me a clear view of her soft, curvaceous ass—totally bare except for the tiny string of elastic between her cheeks.
“A lap dance?” I gulped.
Glancing over her shoulder, Tracy whispered, “I want you to know, you’re the only guy in the world besides Connor I would even think of doing this for. But since we’re such good friends, don’t you think we should all be ‘comfortable’ around each other?”
There was no mistaking her choice of words. They were the exact same words Ria had used to justify her behavior with Connor the other day.
“Yeah,” I panted. “No harm in enjoying ourselves.”
“Mmm, glad to hear it.”
She smiled devilishly as a new song started playing, slow and steamy.
Tracy lowered her ass over my crotch, sensuously swaying her hips back and forth in time with the music, threatening to rub those sumptuous buttocks across my erection. Not realizing what I was doing, I lifted my hand to touch her hip, but Tracy promptly smacked it down.
“Bad boy! Don’t you know the rules? You don’t get to touch me. I’m the one who does all the touching.”
To make her point, she finally let her soft buttocks graze across the fabric of my slacks, swirling her hips in a circle to stimulate my cock.
I let out a loud groan of pleasure.
“Tracy, that feels so good.”
“I can tell.”
She spun back around to face me, straddling my knees. My eyes immediately dropped down to her huge tits, drinking in the sight of them.
I let out another groan as Tracy rolled her body in time with the music, arching her back and thrusting those big, bouncing melons towards my lips. Not being allowed to touch her was murder, but I was a very willing victim. She leaned back and began massaging her own bosom for my amusement, groping, fondling, squeezing—
“You really like my tits, don’t you?” she whispered.
She grabbed hold of my hair and leaned in, as if to kiss me on the lips, but teasingly stopped just a hair’s breath away.
“Is it true you have sort of a crush on me? Ria said you like to fantasize about me sometimes.”
“Not sometimes. ALL the time,” I breathed.
“I fantasize about you, too you know. When I’m touching myself…”
Her fingers coyly slid beneath the tiny red triangles of fabric covering her nipples, and she started rubbing.
“Jesus,” I muttered.
Tracy reached for the little black bow that was tying on her top, and with wide, innocent eyes she asked, “Would you like me to take this off?”
“Oh yeah.” My voice was shaking.
“Okay. But first you’ve got to take your top off, too. It’s only fair.”
I couldn’t dream of objecting.
Tracy reached between the two of us and opened my shirt, one button at a time—kissing her way down my chest as she went. By the time she’d finally got my shirt all the way off, her lipstick had left more than a dozen dark red stamps on my bare chest.
She scooted forward on my lap until I could feel my erection poking up between her legs, where she was already soaking wet with excitement.
Then she crushed her bikini-covered tits against my bare chest and my hips jolted up in reflex, unconsciously pushing against her cunt. She squealed with delighted surprise.
“Okay, we got my shirt off,” I said. “Fair is fair.”
With her body still pressed firmly against mine, Tracy untied the string holding up her top.
The straps slipped off her neck and dropped limply onto her cleavage. With a shudder, I realized that the only thing keeping those triangles of fabric from falling off Tracy’s tits was the pressure of her chest against me. Slowly, torturously, she leaned back—bit by bit—until that skimpy bikini top finally fell into my lap.
I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.
Tracy was a living, breathing, wet dream. A buxom goddess, straight out of a centerfold. The reality of her tits put my imagination to shame.
“They everything you hoped for?” She asked, panting with arousal.
I moaned as she leaned forward and smothered my entire face with her abundant cleavage. The hard points of her nipples dragged across my eyelids, nose, mouth, and chin. Her hand dropped to my lap, stroking through the fabric—
I lost control and started licking.
If we’d been in a real strip club, some bouncer would have clocked me upside the head and thrown my ass out the door. But there was nobody else in the room with us to interfere—and Tracy didn’t seem to mind one bit.
“Oh yes!” she moaned. I wrapped my arms around her body and pulled her closer, fiercely sucking a big, puffy nipple into my mouth.
For several amazing minutes, Tracy just kept moaning and groaning while I feasted upon her breasts. She finally pulled my head away from her chest and stared right into my eyes with rabid, animal hunger.
“God, I wish we could actually fuck,” she growled.
“I know what you mean,” I sighed.
The song had ended a while ago, but Tracy still wasn’t quite done with my lap dance. After taking a second to calm herself back down, Tracy curled a finger inside the knot holding up her shiny red g-string.
“Would you like me to take these off, too?” She asked.
“I—” my voice faltered, wondering if that would be crossing the line. I was getting married in a few hours, after all. But I was also really, really horny.
“Definitely,” I answered.
Tracy smiled, pleased with the decision.
“Well then, you know what you have to do. Fair is fair.”
She hopped off my lap and knelt between my legs, watching intently as I unclasped my belt and slid my slacks down to the floor. Her eyes grew wide with desire at the sight of my erection, straining painfully against my underwear. An obvious spot of precum darkened the material.
“Maybe I should leave these on,” I laughed. “No telling what will happen if I don’t.”
In response, Tracy scooped up her huge, heavy breasts and let them drop onto my lap, slapping against my cock.
“Or, I could just take them off,” I said.
“Damn right, you can.”
I hurried yanked down my underwear and Tracy groaned appreciatively.
“Very nice. Now I know what I’ve been missing all these years.”
She stood up and repaid me by yanking loose the knot on her bottoms—
“Oh my god, Tracy.”
Her pink, glistening twat was completely clean-shaven. The aroma of her sex filled the air.
“Now, what do you say we finish that lap dance?” she whispered.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to do. We were both totally naked—and totally horny—and she was about to jump on my lap again. Part of me was terrified that we were going way too far, but my body refused to listen. Tracy picked up her skimpy bikini bottoms off the floor, draped them across my bare erection, and then straddled me one last time.
Our genitals weren’t actually touching, but I could still feel every exquisite detail of her pussy as it glided back and forth along the length of my shaft. To call what we did “dry-humping” would have been a misnomer—the fabric of that g-string was positively drenched with Tracy’s arousal. She grabbed my hands and placed them encouragingly on her magnificent breasts.
I squeezed and groped to my heart’s content while Tracy rubbed her soft, willing cunt lips along my cock.
“Can we come?” she asked.
“If it was Conner and Ria doing this right now, would you let them come?”
Tracy thought for a moment, then looked into my eyes and nodded.
“The fuck yes, we can come,” I growled. And I kissed her hard on the mouth.
Our hips went into overdrive, writhing against each other through that joke of a bikini. Tracy’s tongue invaded my mouth, and I gave her nipples a good, strong tug—
“Oh my god!” she cried, “I’m coming! Oh, Shane! Ohh!!!”
She was way too fucking sexy for me to handle. I exploded, gripping her tits and soiling the g-string on my cock. White, sticky cum bubbled out everywhere.
Tracy collapsed against me, shaking like a leaf.
“Was that okay?” she said at last.
“That was amazing.”
“Good. I wanted to give you a bachelor party you’d never forget.”
I kissed her again, more playfully this time.
“What exactly did Ria ask you to do tonight?” I asked.
“I think her exact words were, ‘Do a dance, take off your clothes, and whatever happens, happens.'”
“What about her bachelorette party?” I asked. “Won’t they all be missing you?”
Tracy just laughed, “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them. Your fiancé has got a surprise of her own on the way.”
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