Hen Party

My bachelorette party had been a long evening of fun, a broadway show, drinks, dancing, and more. My maid of honor had outdone herself. All my friends, sisters, everybody important to me came. Hell, she’d flown half of them out herself. 

She pretended she hadn’t ordered the stripper, but nobody believed her, and we were all flying high. Especially me, so I played along all the way. He was a total stripper, an exotic mocha god, teasing everything – ev-er-y-thing – off but his mask. And, he was a pro. Not intimidated by a room full or randy women. At all. Quite the opposite. He grew a raging hard-on right in front of me while he danced and we all cheered.

He danced around me, teasing me, waving his massive cock in my face.

I was getting so horny. 

My hands were even hornier, because one, then the other reached up to caress, then wrap around the thick shaft without consulting the rest of me. It was hot, and hard, and heavy.

I had not realized I had kissed, and then licked the cock, until the salty taste of precum on my tongue told me I had my lips wrapped around the head of it. I was salivating.

Somebody pushed a wrapped condom into my hand. Next thing I knew, I had it open, and was dressing the cock up. 

I’d barely finished that when the stripper lifted me up, twirled me around, and placed me me on a table that had appeared in the center of the room. He kissed me through his mask, leather instead of lips, then ran his hands down my body. In one breath, he’d hiked up my short dress, and in another he’d pulled down my soaked panties.

Before I could have second thoughts, his massive tool was buried in my pussy and fucking. Fucking me to heaven. I think I came in the first five strokes, to the cheers and hoots and applause of everyone. 

He kept on fucking, long deep strokes. Just like I like them. He kept me high as a kite, until another orgasm rocked me and I screamed with pleasure and ground myself into him. Everybody went wild cheering.

He pulled out, show over, certainly. But he hadn’t let go of my legs. Instead, my maid of honor was there, standing next to him, pulling the condom off his cock. 

She looked at me, a cold smile on her face.

“Queen Bitch Gracie gets married with a bastard child in her belly,” she said, and the stripper slammed his bare cock back into me, all the way.

The party went wild with cheers. The stripper fucked me hard and fast, not for my pleasure now, but for his. A chant started. “Knock her up! Knock her up!” and he was fucking faster, harder. I flailed my arms and found nothing to push against but sweaty, slick muscle. I screamed, but was drowned out by the chanting and cheering. Worst of all, the fat, fantastic, unprotected cock was driving me right back to climax.

When it hit, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before, light exploded behind my eyes and my head flew back. I screamed in mindless ecstasy as I came around the cock. My muscles squeezed it like a vise, and it expanded inside me, sinking to the hilt, throbbing. Cumming.

Afterward was a blur. The stripper had disappeared and there was a drink in my hand, which I finished in one pull. The dancing started again, another drink. 

Suffice to say, I got blackout drunk at my party. Lost most memory of the evening, too, sad to say. Everybody said it had been a blast. My maid of honor nursed me through a killer hangover, and had me ready and perfect for the big event, bless her. 

The wedding was beautiful and perfect. First night with Adam was… ok. Maybe some after-effects of the hangover got me feeling sore all over, but we had fun, and Adam made me an honest woman – and a mommy-to-be that first night!

About 5 months later, a plain, no-return-address envelope arrived for me with a thumb drive in it. The drive had a single file on it – a movie.

I spent the next two hours watching my bachelorette party, finally remembering bits and pieces of it and smiling along. Until the last half hour. Until I watched myself trembling and screaming in crashing orgasm as the entire female half of my wedding guest list watched me get impregnated by a stripper the night before my wedding.

The baby kicked just then.

Categories: Cassie Andra, Erotic Fiction, The Wrong AlphabetTags: , , ,

Cassie Andra

Old enough to know better and not care. Vanilla on the outside. Vanilla through and through, except for the mind. You don't want to go there, but I'll give you peeks. Be warned: erotica themes include standard fun, but also the taboo-est of the taboo. Coming of age, infidelity, family relations, dubious and non-consent. Every throbbing inch of it is, however, fantasy, and should be treated as such.

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