Monogamish - The Bachelor Party

Tommy's phone buzzed shortly after my utter triumph. He looked at it. "Showtime, gentlemen," he said in a deep, fake voice.

*

Tommy headed out the door of the suite. It was late enough to need to escort guests up to the room floors.

Guests.

We all sat around looking at each other like kids waiting for the ice cream truck.

"How many?" Wally asked, as if discussing the weather.

"How many what?" I asked.

"How many 'entertainers' has Tommy booked for you tonight?"

"For all of us," I said firmly, and was met with approvingly raised glasses. "Over/Under? I say three."

We all pretty much agreed that only one dancer would be an utter impossibility for Tommy. Two was also unlikely, as he had apparently flown out here last week to evaluate candidates. Lucky fucker. So we all settled on 3.5 strippers being the over/under.

Half of us went for under, since Tommy, bafflingly, had an architecture degree, and his favorite subject, after tits, was The Rule Of Three.

My half went for over. Four meant two per guest, which was a nice neat number. Also, we were betting our aspirations...

The splits of Jonny Walker Blue that had been in Tommy's gift bags were our stakes.

The music coming from the sound bar in the suite suddenly rose in volume, and grinding, base-heavy dance music suddenly burst out. Tommy must have had his phone connected to it.

The connecting door from one of the separate bedrooms in the suite swung open and Tommy strode in dramatically. "Gentlemen! I have invited some additional guests." He swept his hand in a grand gesture... and five girls of varying kinds, but not intensities, of hot trooped into our suite.

The applause was delayed only long enough for me, Owen, and Wally to catch hundred dollar little bottles of scotch being tossed our way. Then there was a general expression of welcome and approval. The parade was approval-worthy.

Redhead, middling height, looked like she belonged on the nose of a B-29. 40's hairstyle, painted-on red, high-waisted hot pants and a white blouse tied up under her considerable breasts. Blue cowboy boots completed the Pin-Up look.

Barbie. Just... Barbie. Stereotypical Barbie come to life.

Asian girl. Tiny, with straight black hair that reached her tight little ass, wearing a full Zatanna outfit that highlighted some legit non-petite assets.

Arab femme, age hard to say. Dressed in a perfect Jasmine from the original Aladdin outfit, just with tits to match the hips.

Lara Croft. Middle-version video game Lara Croft. She was only missing the guns from her shoulder holsters, and I hoped the huge knife in her thigh sheath was not real.

Tommy had produced a cosplay wet-dream.

The approval was intense.

Barbie stepped forward, keeping in perfect formation with the amazing tits that preceded her. "Hello, boys," she said, in a truly melodious voice.

"Ladies," Tommy said, slipping past the pageant of pulchritude. "May I introduce you first to our Man of the Hour?" His hands indicated me, and I was suddenly beset with beauties. How many had Tommy interviewed to come up with these five total winners?

Somehow, I was on my feet without knowing how, and I was being hugged and kissed. I was being briefly but very explicitly groped from all directions. Breasts were introducing themselves all over my torso.

Suddenly, the sea of sex parted. Pin-Up, who had hugged me first, had stepped back and pulled over an armless chair from the table in the suite, positioning it in the middle of the floor.

I was propelled to the chair and seated upon it. I half-expected to have my hands tied up, but that level of restraint was apparently not being required or expected. My fingers twitched.

Starting with Pin-up, each of the ladies introduced themselves to me by draping themselves all over me, grinding against my already over-stimulated cock, and guiding my hands to examine the construction of their clothing. Barbie and Lara's tits could not possibly have been real. The others would require further research to determine. I didn't care either way, they all felt fucking amazing.

Once the women serially full-body groped me, and gave me a quick opportunity to respond in kind, they each peeled away to make the rounds of introductions to my friends. But they always made sure at least one of them was painted onto me.

It took a half an hour for the introductions to be made all around, and an unspoken consensus that some people who had worn great costumes maybe didn't need them any more.

I was released to return to my easy chair, and performances began.

None of them got fully naked, but...

Jasmine ended up her little production wearing only her slippers, the transparent blue veil, and she had the full hair thing. It might have been a wig, or it might have been real. The rest of her coffee-colored body was toned, with a gem in her navel, and a tiny little shaven heart of pubes. Now that her tits were roaming free, I was guessing they were real.

Lara Croft ended up wearing nothing but the holsters and the sheath strapped to her magnificent thigh. Her boobs were many megapixels, pale like the rest of her, with generous pink nipples.

Pin-Up ended up in only the boots.

Zatanna kept her costume going, despite the loss of bustier and fishnets, with her French cuffs and emeraldesque cufflinks. No shirt, just the cuffs.

Barbie... Barbie shucking out of that pink, mod, cooch-length dress was the earliest wet dream of every guy who ever played with his sisters' Barbies, come to life. Yeah, those boobs were fake. The Blue Lagoon in Iceland isn't natural either, but...

And the round-robin lapping resumed, except that now we were all enjoying lapfuls of naked tits, asses, and pussies. And my lap was never empty.

This might well have been more than enough. More than I deserved.

Booze wasn't bad either.

Then suddenly I noticed that Chet and Zatanna had both disappeared.

Well now...

About seven seconds after I had, Tommy noticed. He moved free of Lara and moved smoothly through the room to me.

"Jasmine," he said smoothly. Had he been born with that voice, or do they issue it when you receive your first million? "Excuse us, please?" He took her hand and helped her to her feet. She looked at us both and smoothly moved on to occupy Owen's chair, which was currently unoccupied by anyone... other than Owen.

My hands were sadly suddenly empty of breasts, and I cocked a skeptical eye at my alleged Best Man.

"You notice Chet just made off with Zatanna?" Tommy said, sitting casually next to me.

"Seems like he is taking full advantage of the bachelor party experience," I said, taking a long sip.

"Good for him," Tommy agreed. "Except you have not yet."

"I haven't?" I asked warily. I was supposed to be carful, right?

Oh. Yeah...

"I cannot have the groom getting sloppy seconds at his bachelor party," Tommy said intently, leaning into my personal space. "Zatanna appears to be in the process of being... ensloppenated. I hope she wasn't your choice. Who are you wanting, man?" he asked intently. "I need to make sure she remains... ready for you."

Well, this was it, wasn't it?

I always knew Tommy had stellar taste in female bodies. After all, he'd fucked Amy as many times as she had let him, right? But he had outdone himself in recruitment that night.

And I had permission. Hell, I had orders.

But.

I also had the greatest woman on Earth lined up for the altar. And when we reached it, I would never have need for another woman again. I, quite factually, did not need another woman now.

But I had permission. Again, I in fact had orders.

Tommy watched me, clearly waiting for whatever decision upon which the gears in my head arrived.

This was the question, really. Except it really wasn't. Permission or not. Orders or not. I knew what was the thing to do.

I looked at him levelly.

He smiled. "Who?"

"I think I'll go with Barbie, then Pin-Up," I said casually, taking a larger drink than was perfect for the moment.

"Two!" Tommy said with a broad smile. "Way to step up, dude!" He rose, then turned back. "And thanks, that means I can reserve Jasmine for myself to start! Um," he added, leaning back to me, "you want them together?"

"God no!" I snorted. "I'm going to need a bottle of Perrier, a cocktail, and a crap ton of these chichironnes between experiencing those two."

He turned away, and tapped Pin-Up and Barbie on their shoulders, beckoning them from the laps on which they currently perched. They all stepped to the side and Tommy spoke quietly to them both.

I was quietly examined from the corners of eyes. Smiles broke out. That was flattering.

Tommy wandered away, heading for a nice little chat with Hassan, during which he maneuvered Jasmine out of Hassan's lap and into his own.

Pin-Up smirked at me from across the room, then turned away to make Wally's evening continue to be great.

Barbie swayed over toward me. The six inch heels she wore made her gate... sexy as all fucking hell. Of course she wore six-inch heels. She wasn't Stereotypical Barbie, she was Come Fuck Me Barbie. (This was way before Margo Robbie's turn in the heels. Nevertheless, those were the terms in my head.)

Yes, ma'am, Barbie, ma'am.

Six foot two inches of bombshell, including the heels, draped itself into my lap. Long arms wrapped around my shoulders and an ass to die for pressed itself against the bulge in my pants. My hands found themselves sinking into beautiful, firm, at least partially natural breasts.

I had next to no experience with fake tits. If they were all like these, I was a huge supporter.

Her pink lips rested against my ear. "I understand you are a fan. Thank you."

"I very much am," I said, tweaking a nipple gently.

"No, thank you!" Barbie chuckled. "How about we step away to the bedroom over there and you can express your appreciation of my charms... fully?"

We both rose, my arm snaked around her wasp-thin waist, and we swayed toward the bedroom that Zatanna and Chet had not occupied. Most people were too busy to notice, but a few guys made soft hooting noises. They were discrete because they were gentlemanly like that.

As I closed the double doors of the bedroom behind us, Barbie perched on the edge of the big king-sized bed, arms braced on the edge of the mattress and breasts thrust out toward me. "Todd, take me... please," she said throatily.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I strode forward toward her.

"Um, actually, I think I'm going to start by sucking your cock, okay?" Barbie said, in a phrase that never gets refused. "Just a little?"

I froze in front of her, and her hands worked on my fly. My by now massively impatient cock made its appearance, and Barbie was treating it with some level of reverence and enthusiasm... or facsimile thereof.

I'm not stupid.

But she didn't seem to be having to act that much.

The blowjob was... excellent really. Barbie had a minimal gag reflex.

I also knew that she wasn't going to finish me with it. It was an hors d'oeuvre, for both of us. Still, top notch.

As her blonde head bobbed up and down in truly impressively long strokes on my cock, her hands pressed against my hips. Her left hand pressed against my pocket, and felt the crinkling foil in it. She bobbed off of me and gave me a wicked grin.

"Well, what have we here?" Barbie asked, reaching into my pants. She pulled out a couple of the condoms I had in there. "I like a man who is prepared."

I actually blushed a little. Then I shrugged. "My fiancé made sure I had a fresh box for the trip out here," I admitted.

"Holy buckets!" Barbie exclaimed, a sudden Minnesota accent appearing out of nowhere. "Are you for real?"

I laughed. "Yep. She is in New Orleans at her bachelorette party right now... with her own fresh box."

Barbie just sat there, staring up at me with her hand still gently cradling my cock. "You two fucking rock, you know that?"

"I am a lucky man," I said, reflecting on the truth of that statement. I was a lucky man. Not lucky enough not to fuck this gorgeous girl, but... Yeah, lucky enough to fuck her.

Barbie shoved all but one of the condoms back in my pants, then brandished the remaining one in her extended fingers. "All right, Todd. I think I need to use this on you, then you need to use that cock on me. Please?"

I could hardly refuse such a request, right?

As I tugged my shirt off, Barbie made short work of my pants. Moments later, I looked down to see my condom being applied to my cock... orally.

Nice touch. Again, minimal gag reflex. And she got it all the way on.

I leaned over Barbie, and she wriggled backwards onto the bed, with me following. I bent down and suckled on a nipple. It was a very nice nipple. I slid a hand up between her legs and discovered that the lubrication on the condom was unnecessary, as she was almost shockingly wet. Barbie liked her job. Or, at least she liked me. I booked the flattery and moved on to enjoying the results.

I slowly, almost leisurely sank my cock into Barbie, one hand on a hip, the other mauling one of her artistically modified tits. She was tight and, as mentioned, very receptive.

Amy and I had not used condoms since our engagement had brought all other sex to a wordlessly agreed upon halt, and the reduced (though still awesome) sensation reminded me of yet another advantage of wedded bliss to come. It didn't keep me from sawing in and out of Barbie happily at an enthusiastic pace. Her inner walls caressed and clutched at me as I rode atop her.

But I wasn't about to just thrust away until I was fulfilled, even if it was my party. The women I fuck, come. Before I do. It had been a policy that had served me well, and had just always felt right.

I doubted that, while Barbie seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself, her own fulfillment was exactly on her priorities list. But that was immaterial. I know what I'm doing, and I did it.

I for a moment pushed myself up higher, so my sliding member spent its entire stroke caressing her clit, but then I decided to rock downward instead, and shallowed my thrusts, making my rubberized tip bump across her inner target once I found it. Then I slid my hand from her hip down between us and began to play around her clit with my fingertips.

"Oh, wow, Todd!" Barbie gasped. "Fuck, that's... You don't have to do that," she growled. "But please don't fucking stop," she added involuntarily. I had her.

I increased my rate of thrusts as she writhed beneath me, and I flicked her bean mercilessly. Her breast thrust upward into my grasp, and I felt her unlooked-for orgasm explode through her body.

There is no feeling quite like a woman coming on your cock. I had no reason to hold back, and other things to do that night. In less than thirty seconds, I let myself go in response. My cock throbbed, and I bellowed happily, jizz filling the glove. Barbie clutched at my back like a drowning woman, still wracked with spasms of her own.

We finally collapsed simultaneously and lay still.

"Holy fuck!" she giggled beneath me. "Some nights, I absolutely fucking love my job."

"I love your job, too," I laughed, rolling off to the side. We lay there, save for Barbie's gentle removal of my condom, basking for a few minutes.

Then she rolled over on top of me once more and kissed me, actually on the mouth. Did not see that coming. "Thank you," she said, "you didn't need to do that for me."

"Oh yes, I did," I shrugged.

She just shook her head. "I am going to get cleaned up a little now, and go entertain some of your friends. I will send Jane back in with snacks, champagne, and motivation."

"Jane?"

"Pin-Up."

"That sounds like a wonderful plan," I said, sitting up to reach for my pants.

"No, no!" Barbie said, yanking my clothes away. "You stay here naked and waiting. You deserve it."

And so she slipped into the bathroom for few moments, and then out of the bedroom, and I lay there, buck naked, on the bed, propping myself up on pillows and an elbow. And I waited. I knew I had some time. It suddenly occurred to me that it would look fucking mortifyingly embarrassing if one of my buddies walked in, instead of Pin-Up.

But fortunately they didn't, and she did.

My red-headed confection slipped into the room, with a plate of cheese in one hand, and a bottle of champagne with two glasses in the other.

"Room service?" she called softly.

"Thank God. I'm starving," I said truthfully. Pin-Up just smiled and wafted toward me on the bed. She had ditched even the boots now, and only her archaic 50s hairstyle marked her as Pin-Up, instead of Generic Ginger Knockout.

She set down the tray of cheeses and just looked at me for a second.

"I must look pretty ridiculous, lying here like a fucking king or something," I said and she just stood there.

"It's your party, why not?" she said with a shrug and a smile. "No, I was just thinking that none of us often get gigs with so many actually good-looking young guys." Her eyes kept roaming up and down my naked body. My cock was interested, but hitting the snooze button still. Barbie had wrung me out. "And I'm thinking you are the hottest of your crew," she added quietly, working on opening the bottle.

I laughed. "You say that to everyone."

"Yeah, but I usually don't mean it," she smirked. She took her time opening the bottle, though she clearly knew what she was doing. I'd just never seen anyone make the process quite that suggestive...

She popped the cork free, and I'm sure she meant for the controlled amount of fizz overflow down her fingers to happen. She poured two glasses, handed one to me, and got on the bed to lie on her side facing me, with the cheese tray between us. She popped a cube of cheddar between her crayon red, glistening lips.

Her eyes were green and bright, and her makeup was only a trace overdone. Her shoulders were nice and strong-looking. Her tits... Well, they weren't Barbie's, but then, with those and Lara Croft's already making the suite crowded, a third that gorgeously excessive might have made it hard to breathe. These seemed just right to me. And from the stunning, enticing, gravity-defying way Pin-up's breasts hung there with her on her side, I knew they were as fake as Barbie's. I was very interested in examining at length if they felt as good.

A small tattoo of a teddy bear adorned her left hip, and she was clean shaven down below. That disappointed me, because much as I love baby smooth skin down there, I wished I could see the kind of fiery bush this woman likely could have sported.

We spent almost five minutes talking about the new casino being built, of all things, while I ran my eyes over her pale, smooth flesh, and she seemed to do much the same with me. About the fifth time my cock twitched as it slowly recovered, Pin-Up leaned across and caressed its slowly increasing length.

"Are you going to give me what you gave Barbie with this?" she asked, in what felt like real anticipation.

I just raised an eyebrow at that.

"We talked before I came in..." Pin-Up said softly, giving my much firmer cock another stroke with her pinky finger only. "Orgasms for us are rarer in this business than you might think, much less ones like whatever you did to Barbie. Her eyes were still wild. A few of your friends," she added slyly, "are probably going to benefit from how revved up you have her."

"Well, I don't know..." I said, sitting up on the bed.

"You don't?" Pin-Up teased, but it was also a real question.

My cock was getting hard fast, but I was long way from it feeling like I really wanted to put it to use yet. But that just meant I had plenty of time to do what I was really hankering for.

"I think I'm going to try to give you a whole helluva lot more," I said, shoving the cheese tray away and rolling over above her legs, looking pointedly down at her crotch and running my tongue over my lips.