Chapter 1
I'm a 32-year-old woman.
I know I shouldn't be acting like a schoolgirl. But when you and
your office mates are at a bachlorette party and a little alcohol
has passed down your throat, inhibitions give way.
I had no idea what time
it was when I fished my cell phone from my purse to call my husband.
My voice was hoarse from all the screaming I did earlier in the
evening during the "entertainment" (a 20-ish man named
Eric dressed as a sailor - well, he started off dressed as a sailor).
I even sheepishly "copped a feel" which was unusual for
me, considering I rarely handled my husband's penis.
I pushed the send button
and waited for the answer. "Hello," a somewhat harried
voice said. In the background I could hear my year-and-a-half year
old daughter, Ellen, screaming her head off.
"Hi honey; it's
me. Look, I've had too much to drink tonight and I won't be driving
home tonight."
"You want me to
pick you up?" he asked.
"No. Wendy will
be taking me home; to her house that is. You just stay there and
take care of Ellen. I'll call you in the morning." I had a
feeling that I would be somewhat hung over when I called him.
"OK, honey. I love
you. You be safe; you hear?"
"I'm OK, Bill,"
I said while simultaneously attempting to find my mouth with another
drink. I did manage a "goodbye" before hanging up. I can't
remember if waited to hear his goodbye.
"Where's Eric?"
I asked.
Linda laughed at me,
"He went home about an hour ago. Where have you been?"
"Right here,"
come the obvious response. Obvious to me at least.
The other women laughed
at me.
Cindy said, "Man
she got a bad case of the hots. Somebody better show that girl to
a cold shower."
"and a hot cup of
coffee or two," chided Wendy. She winked at me and cocked her
head, "Come on. Let's party."
I don't remember how
it happened, but apparently I agreed to go home with Wendy to continue
the party with Linda and Cindy. Come to think of it, there were
more people at the bar. Where did they all go? Why were we four
the only ones left?
I asked again, "Where's
Eric?"
Wendy grabbed my arm
and eased me to my feet saying, "Come on Tracy, I got something
at home that will get your mind off Eric."
Wendy is in her mid-20's
and there is probably just enough of a generational gap between
us to cause a difference of opinion on sex. I was by no means naive
or a prude, but tonight was out of character for me. Although I
enjoy my sexual fun, I am not as overt and flamboyant about it as
Wendy and her friends.
I remember nothing about
the trip to Wendy's house. All of a sudden I was there and sitting
in her kitchen sipping coffee.
"We thought we'd
better sober you up a little before we continue with the party."
Linda said. "Will you be OK here? I have to help Wendy set
up in the living room."
I nodded. I was actually
feeling better … and a little more sober … and also a
little guilty. I'm a mature woman, a mother no less, and here I
was getting excited over a male stripper. It wasn't like I didn't
know what a man looks like. I had brothers. I can't recall ever
not knowing what a penis looked like.
I blushed a little at
that thought. When I was 13, I once accidentally caught my older
brother coming out of the shower. Somehow the image if him doing
a show like Eric flashed into my mind and I thought that he could
do a better job than Eric.
Not only did I have brothers
and boyfriends, I also had a husband. We really got into studying
the male reproductive system. Ellen was artificially conceived.
The thought went "poof"
as Cindy stuck her head through the doorway and announced, "Come
on, you don't want to miss any of this."
Wendy had a large screen
TV, and playing on it at the moment was obviously a home movie of
another party featuring a male stripper. This one seemed to be taken
at Wendy's house instead of a bar, and was a little wilder than
what I remembered of this evening's events.
We all feel into our
roles. "Yeah, baby," I heard Linda say. Cindy yelled,
"Take it off. Take it off!"
Wendy apparently knew
the movie well as she narrated, "Wave that thing baby. Shake
it at her baby. Pull it back. Don't let her touch it … yet.
Wiggle it from side to side for her! Bounce it up and down. She
must really like it; she's shaking her head 'yes.' Move those hips
and get it whirling around in a circle. That's it! Now where did
we put that lotion? Where is it? Who has the lotion? Well I do!"
I watched the screen
as Wendy handed the lotion to the apparent guest of honor. She continued
her narrative. "Grease him up, girl! Get that pink stuff all
over him. Oh yeah. Use more. Just squirt it on his dick. Get those
balls too!"
Whoever was working the
camera zoomed in to get a close up of the girl's manipulation of
his organ. All I saw was 60 diagonal inches of penis, hands and
a woman's face. Bigger than life.
Wendy's commentary continued.
"Work him girl. Work that pole. Look how stiff it's getting.
Man it's big and it's red. Ooops, he's pumping. Let him hump. Go
with the flow. Keep rubbing him. You're getting close. Pump it man.
Pump it!"
I could see Wendy leaning
forward in her seat anticipating, "There we go girl. He's coming.
Just another couple of rubs. And …" Wendy paused for a
dramatic effect, "THAR SHE BLOWS!"
I was fixated on the
image as this huge white stream came pulsating out of the penis
on the screen. Cindy and Linda cheered and laughed. I gasped and
they turned to look at me.
"Look at her,"
Linda said. "She's all red."
Cindy asked, "What's
the matter with you. Didn't you ever see a man come before?"
|
