Author: Embitterment PM
Every husband-to-be wants a kick-ass bachelor party. Most of the time they get out of hand; bras come off and pants drop down. Shit happens. However, not everyone is a willing participant. One-Shot.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Friendship - Words: 1,025 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 10-14-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2961003
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Her fingers wrapped into my belt-loops and kept me from backing away any further. I tried to swallow but my throat was too dry. My hands fell feebly down in an attempt to remove hers from me, but her grasp was firm and her eyes were determined and dark. I looked at her and felt a pang of fear as she smiled, the bright red gloss stretching across her lips like an open wound.
I should never have agreed to this, I thought nervously. My friends said it was what guys do during a bachelor party; drink and screw. Well, I was just a groomsman, and though I wasn't a virgin, the idea of recklessly whoring myself over a paid prostitute just turned my stomach.
The alcohol I'd consumed sloshed around in my brain, buzzing me with dizziness and a weightlessness that tried to lull me into a sense of comfort, but I had enough of my wits about me to know that there was a whore trying to get in my pants, and I didn't want her to.
Benson, the groom, that bastard, he was already passed out on the loveseat with a whore of his own curled at his feet like a dog. One of the groomsmen was getting blown in the corner, and the other one had taken his whore into the other room.
I peered over my whore's frizzy, fake-blonde hair to see who it was in the corner. Jonathan! I cursed under my breath. Well, at least Reggie had the decency to fuck in private.
The bitch suddenly unzipped my pants and stuck her hand inside, seizing my cock. I gasped and tried to shove her away, but she didn't let go of me and it really hurt with her tugging on it. My faced burned with shame and I told her to stop, please, that I didn't want this. But she jerked my pants down to my ankles and began rubbing my dick in her hands. Yes you do, she told me, you just don't know it yet.
"Shit," I muttered. My dick began to warm under her touch, and my legs began to shake. She knelt down and began licking at the tip, which almost instantly began to ooze.
"Jonathan," I pleaded, looking over at him.
"Fuuuuuck," Jonathan moaned in response, holding his whore by the hair, forcing her to suck him faster.
Then her hands were all over me, going up and down my inner thighs, tickling over my testicles, and tracing through my pubic hair, all with her sticky lips mushing in and out around my dick.
I tensed up as pleasure began to pulse within me, sweat itching along my back. I tore off my shirt, momentarily strangling myself with my tie as I fought to get it off. Instantly I felt cooler, more at ease, and more turned on. I looked down at the whore as she sucked away, and suddenly what she was doing was no longer satisfying.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her back. She crashed over onto her side, her head thudding mutely into the thin, hotel-room carpet. She looked up at me angrily, but she was still determined to fuck with me.
I relented. I'm a guy, after all.
I stomped over to her, my dick bouncing thickly inches away from her face. Sitting up, she threw her head back and licked at the underside of my penis, but that wasn't what I wanted. I pushed her onto her side again and straddled her, pulling her velcro outfit off and exposing her wet, open cunt. Shaved, red, and unappetizingly saggy, but that was typical for a whore. I slid into it easily and began pumping myself in and out of her, gathering speed as she began to tighten around me and I inside of her.
She moaned and yelped and bucked dramatically, trying to intencify the moment, but I didn't need her damn encouragement. After a few moments, I came inside of her and thudded shamelessly until my release was complete.
She let out a feral growl, grinning drunkenly up at me as I got to my feet. She laid in the floor and fell asleep after about five minutes.
I looked over at Jonathan and saw him laying on top of his whore, his penis still wedged up inside of her, with them both passed out.
Benson snored lightly on the loveseat, the whore at his feet twitching every now and then.
I went into the other room and saw Reggie in the bed. Him and his whore looked like a sweet honeymoon couple, snuggled together under the sheets, naked and asleep.
I stumbled over to the mini-fridge and took out like five or six of those little bottles of alcohol and I downed them. About thirty minutes later, I sat on the floor with my head hanging back inside the fridge, and passed out.
In the morning, Benson woke everybody up so they could each pay their own whore. Benson was wide-eyed and bloodshot, squinting and blinking through an early hangover. But he kicked everyone awake, and we all got up to see our whores waiting by the door. Reggie looked disappointed to see his girl among the beggars, their filthy hands outstretched, waiting for cash. We paid them dry and they gathered their mangled outfits and left.
Benson grabbed us by the shoulders and held us in a sort of football huddle. "Look, we never speak of this night, got it? Never."
"Sure, Benny. We know that," Jonathan grinned, his face looking sallow and thin.
Benson eyed us carefully. "Okay, good." He grinned too. "Wouldn't want our wives finding out!"
Jonathan and Benson laughed together as Jonathan slid his wedding ring back on.
"If we ever get married," Reggie muttered. I tried to exchange a glance with Reggie, but he wouldn't look at me.
A few moments later, I ran to the bathroom and threw up. Instantly, my head began to pound. Fuck bachelor parties, I thought.