Amazingly enough, I was getting married. My friends were not so amazed. They had heard me bitch and moan for years about getting out of the singles scene. My best friend Karl had laughed when I told him. "Tim, we've known that since you first started dating Calli."
Calli was my fiancée. She was also probably the last woman I'd ever thought I'd fall in love with. She was straight-laced and, though laid back, was not the experimenting type. She always told me she had done all that wild stuff back in high school and college. Whenever I asked her what that wild stuff was, she'd say that she was entitled to some secrets. It would piss me off, but I wasn't going to fuck up our relationship over past shit. She was 24 now, but definitely ready for the quiet married life.
And I couldn't really complain. Calli was the hottest woman I had ever laid eyes on. Only 5-foot-1 and 105 pounds, she packed more sex-appeal and raw femininity into her small frame than Pam Anderson, Cameron Diaz, and Mariah Carey combined. Long, wavy brown hair fell down to the small of her back, matched by her dark brown eyes in her sculpted, high-cheekboned face. She had small, pouty lips that could turn kissing from an art form to a lusty tongue-fest in a second. Blessed with perfectly shaped 34-C breasts that were made for fondling, she also had dark pink nipples that grew to the size of the ends of my pinkies when erect. I always loved it when we'd go to the mall and she went bra-less, because I'd whisper what I wanted to do to her in her ears and watch those nips pop through her shirt or top for everyone to admire. Calli was in great physical shape. She had definition to her muscles, but not too much. Her legs were strong and curvy like a dancer's, and her ass was the absolute best I'd ever had the honor of seeing naked or in a thong.
Unfortunately, for all that, Calli was not very creative in bed: missionary position, or her on top, though she had let me do her doggy-style a few times (and god what good times they were!). She did give me head occasionally, and of course, she loved it when I ate her out. I'd ask her to try some more exotic positions, but she'd always say that she was past that kind of stuff.
The boys pretty much knew what I was in store for sexually after the marriage, so they had promised me one kick-ass bachelor party to send me off into married bliss. Karl had gotten together with my other good friend Jim and a buddy of mine from work, Clay, and planned for over two months. The party was going to be at Clay's house. Clay was a lecherous bastard of 43, and we all knew that any party he was a part of planning would be a memorable one... if you didn't drink any of the premium booze he would be passing out. Yeah, I was definitely looking forward to my last fling as a single man!
About two weeks before the party, Calli found out about the shindig at Clay's. She had been okay with a standard bachelor party, but now she was against it, knowing what kind of guy Clay was. I, of course, let her know that I was going to have as much fun as I wanted, and it was my right as a red-blooded American male to do so. She wasn't too happy about that, and asked me if there would be strippers at the party. "I hope so,' I replied smugly. That pissed her off, and she told me that, while she couldn't stop me from partying down, she was going to have a serious talk with Clay. Knowing Calli, I felt sorry for Clay, but I knew it would change nothing. Clay took every opportunity he had to get strippers in his house. He had been married three times and had sworn never to give it another chance.
And then the day of the party came. Damn, was I pumped! I hadn't been to even a topless bar for over six months, and I was ready to get wasted and have a boatload of tits and pussy shoved in my face. Clay met me at the door. "This way, your highness," he smiled wickedly, leading me into the living room.
Chairs had been lined up along open walls and between the couch and love seat was a spotless dark-blue la-z-boy. "Your throne, milord," Clay droned in a perfect English accent.
"You da man, Clay," I said smiling, ratcheting the chair back into full relax mode. He brought me my favorite, a double shot of Jack Daniels, and started up a porno on the VCR.
Meanwhile, more of my friends had begun to arrive. I was slapped, patted, hugged, and punched by ten different men before everyone was seated with their favorite poison. Conversation was, of course, about women.
"Where the strippers at, Clay?" Karl asked.
"Yeah, bro, get the bitches in here!" Jim demanded, smiling. A chant of "Pu-ssy, pu-ssy" began. Clay couldn't help but laugh, and raised his hands.
"Alright, fellas, we spent a big-ass chunk of cash to get this right for our boy, right?"
"Yeah!" said ten voices at once. Clay nodded his head and looked around the room. "Hell, yeah, it's gonna be done right! Here we go! Bring on the babes!"
The guys cheered, and someone turned the stereo on, which blared out 'Brick House'. And in came the women. Three long-legged, big-breasted babes, sauntering and swaying to the music. The first, Alison, was a blonde with short, curly hair and blue eyes and a huge pair of melons, wearing a white lace teddy. The second, Debbie, was a shorter Hispanic beauty, her long curly black hair as long as Calli's, dolled up in a black push-up bra, black g-string, garter belt, stockings, and stiletto heels. The third, Jenni, was an Asian babe with long black hair and an awesome ass, wearing a red string bikini and thong. They wasted no time in dancing, all of them lining up in front of me. I slammed my shot and Clay was right there with another.
"Damn, man, you can sure pick 'em," was all I could say, watching three pairs of tits jiggle erotically.
