The Bachelor Party

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Athletic

I hate bars. I always have. There’s nothing for me there. I’m in introvert by nature. There are a lot of introverts who love bars. They go in introverted, but a few drinks later, they’re as friendly and obnoxious as they come. Not me. I don’t drink. I go in sober and uncomfortable. The longer I’m there, the louder and dumber everyone else gets. I just stay the same. All of this to say that bars really aren’t my thing. I wasn’t here tonight because I wanted to be. I was obligated to be here. My co-worker Tim was getting married next weekend, and I was one of the groomsmen, which was weird. I was friendly enough with Tim that I should have been seated in the aisles, but definitely not close enough that I should have been standing up there with him on his big day. He’d moved to the area about five years prior, and didn’t have any family here. He had lots of friends, but I guess he just wasn’t super close to any of them if I ranked in his top 3. There were eight of us here with the party. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, so I sat against the wall nursing my water while my drunk co-workers took turns singing karaoke. I tried talking with the guys, but the music was so loud there really wasn’t much of a point. There was one nice thing about bars though. The women. Usually at the very least there would be handful of hot women out on the dance floor, or hanging out with some friends. I try not to be too obvious about it or anything, but if I’m going to be stuck hanging out with a bunch of drunk dudes all night, at least I can try to entertain myself with a little ogling. This place was shit though. No one above a six in sight. This one little troll of a woman kept going up to sing over and over and over again. Metallica, Rob Zombie, Slipknot. Any excuse to scream into the mic and bash her head around. The night wasn’t getting better. Then I spotted her across the room. Black hair. pale skin, about five foot seven. She wore a pair of skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination, and a tight black shirt with just the right amount of mid drift. She had a small frame and not an ounce of fat on her, and tits that looked like they should have belonged on someone twice her size. They had to be fake. Bodies shouldn’t grow that disproportionate. That’s how you get chronic back problems. She was stunning. She also kind of looked like a whore. I hate fake tits. They never look right naked, and what does it say about a girl who gets them? She was willing to spend a shit-ton of money to have guys objectify her and not take her seriously? Any girl who’s willing to spend that kind of money to disfigure herself wasn’t exactly girlfriend material. Judgmental, I know. I just don’t like fake boobs. That said, I wasn’t planning on dating her. I was just checking her out. I watched her from across the room for several minutes, ignoring the noise of my friends and the shitty music coming over the speakers. I was thinking how much I’d like to touch the exposed şişli escort area above her jeans, running my hands up her hips and under her t-shirt, when she looked in my direction. I immediately looked away, averting my eyes in a way I hoped wasn’t too obvious. The place was getting busier. The dance floor was full, and the bar was starting to fill up around me. Tim yelled something about Game of Thrones to the group, and a co-worker of mine responded with something that didn’t look like “Huh?!” so apparently he could hear him better than I could. I just kind of smiled and tried not to lose track of my mystery girl. Didn’t work. She had walked over to get a drink and disappeared into a sea of people. About five minutes went by before she showed up again. The place was pretty crowded, and it was getting harder to find a spot. I guess the large crowd was working to my advantage. I was standing there, sipping some water, when her and two friends stepped right up next to me. The two friends were alright. Nothing special. The three of them were laughing amongst themselves and watching a guy do a halfway decent Maroon 5. My mystery girl seemed to be a bit drunker than the other two, and was the only one in a dancing mood. She started dancing by herself almost immediately. Being as it was right in front of me, I finally had something to keep me entertained. She wasn’t a great dancer or anything, but she really didn’t need to be. She was giving me a pretty show as she swung her hips; then she’d reach down to the floor and pop back up. Was a pretty great sight, and she had an amazing ass. After about a minute of that she backed herself up, and started doing the same thing, but right up on me. Now I’m married. I’m married, and I’m at a bar with a bunch of guys who know I’m married. They know my wife. Most of them have wives. We’re not there to hook up. It’s not the type of bachelor party where we go to a strip club, poor decisions are made, and we make a pact to keep each other’s secrets. It’s the type of bachelor party where every ten minutes or so someone is stepping outside to check in with his wife, maybe say goodnight to the kids, and then come back and talk about how mad the ending of Lost made him. I really couldn’t start dirty dancing with this chick. I just let her do her thing. I couldn’t tell if she was just drunk and oblivious, or if she was trying to get me to dance with her. If she was trying to dance with me, how lucky was I? The bar was full of drunk guys trying to hook up with chicks. I was the wallflower, sitting there with a cup of water, and the hottest chick in the bar was shaking her ass on me. I played it cool. Tried to act like I didn’t notice. She was just drunk and having a good time. I was just going to give her the benefit of the doubt that she didn’t notice me there, and just kept accidentally hitting me with her ass or her back. Smooth. After another minute of dancing the song ended, and she stepped away from me a mecidiyeköy escort bit to talk with one of her friends. The host called a name and another drunk dude stepped up to the mic with a shit-eating grin. I was still staring at her, my erection in complete control of my eyes, when her other friend stepped closer to talk to me. “Hey, do you blah blah blah blah blah?” I assume she asked. “What’s that?” I yelled over the noise of the crowd. “Do you see that girl over there?” I followed her finger to a girl slumped over in a chair and a group of onlookers trying to wake her up. “Oh, yeah. Looks like she’s had one too many.” I said. “Yeah, they’ve been trying to get her up for a few minutes, but no response. I hear they’ve called an ambulance.” the girl said. She was blonde. Attractive. Attractive-ish anyways. She was talking to me for some reason, and she was friends with the hottie, so that was something. “That’s no good. Hope she’s okay.” I said, because it seemed like the right thing to say. “Yeah, she’s been making a fool of herself all night. Now she’s just completely blacked out.” she said, laughing. One of the guys trying to wake the girl up lifted one of her arms, and sure enough it flopped right back down. “So how are you doing?” she asked. “Pretty good. You?” The music started again, and there wasn’t any point trying to talk any more. She answered with something, and I nodded and smiled, but it was lost to me. I took a drink of my water and watched the dude make a fool of himself. About twenty seconds went by and the hot black-haired girl was right up on me again. She was definitely trying to get my attention. Now I could’ve stepped back, or I could’ve joined in. I did neither. I just pretended I didn’t notice and kept watching the “singer” and sipping water from a straw. You know, keeping it cool. I didn’t feel terribly cool though. I’d gotten a pretty good erection going at that point, and really wanted nothing more than to grind it on her ass as she danced up on me. Instead I waited patiently for the song to end. It did, and the girl acted like she just noticed me then. “Oh, sorry.” she said, smiling, as though she’d just backed into me by mistake. “It’s cool.” I said, because it was. She stepped forward and started talking to her friends again. At this point quite the crowd had gathered around the passed out girl, and several big guys who looked like bouncers were trying to pick her up. “Hey, I’m going to step outside.” I said to my group of friends. I think they heard me probably. I stepped outside to get some air. “Weird night.” I laughed to myself. There were smokers all outside the bar. I didn’t really want any part of that. I walked to my car, got inside, and pulled out my phone. I think I just got hit on! I texted to my wife. About twenty seconds later I got back a message. No way! Really ? She was always getting hit on when she went out. It was kind of fun for it to be my turn for a change. I started to write her back, but then there was a knocking on the passenger side window. I looked over, smirking, unsurprised to see the girl from the bar. She laughed, then opened the passenger door and got in. “Um, hi. Can I help you?” I asked. “Hey. How’s it going?” she asked. She was definitely drunk. Not slurring, falling over drunk, but giggly, kind of loopy drunk. “Uh, good. So, uh, why are you in my car?” I don’t think I sounded nervous. Perplexed. Not really nervous. I hope. “Just thought I’d come say hi.” She said. In the bar, under the lights, she had looked about twenty five. Up close though she looked barely old enough to drink. She was gorgeous though. Her eyes were a piercing blue. I hadn’t even been able to see them in the bar, but now I was convinced they were her best feature. “Well, uh, hi.” I laughed awkwardly. “I saw you looking at me.” She said, much more seriously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lied. “Yes you do. I saw you staring at me from across the bar. That’s why I came over to you. You’re cute you know.” She smiled. “Well, uh, sorry about that.” I said, rubbing my hand sheepishly against the back of my neck. “Don’t be.” she said, putting her hand on my leg. “I’m married.” I said instinctively. I’m no fool. That’s what you say when a woman who isn’t your wife touches you. That’s how you keep from getting murdered when you get home. “I don’t see a ring.” she pointed out. Well that was my fault. “I don’t usually wear it when I’m not home. It’s pretty uncomfortable.” I told her, pulling my ring out of my pocket to show her. I never really liked wearing it. I loved the ring, but it didn’t fit great, and since it was tungsten I couldn’t get it resized. She leaned in closer to me, so that her face was almost touching mine. “Well I don’t see your wife here either.” she said, running her hand up my pants and over my bulge. I inhaled deeply. It felt amazing. “We shouldn’t do this.” I said, looking out the front window of the car. My car was facing the bar entrance. Luckily no one else from the bachelor party had come out. “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered into my ear. I most certainly didn’t. She was stroking my member over my pants. My erection was very uncomfortable in my jeans, but it still felt great. I hesitated to answer, and she seemed to take that as all the answer she needed. “I didn’t think so.” she whispered. The sensation of her voice in my ear caused goose bumps up my arms. I turned to look at her, and she slipped her tongue down my throat. The move surprised me. I didn’t know how to respond for a moment, but my body figured it out. I kissed her back, our tongues swirling around each other in our mouths. I could taste the alcohol on her breath. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste, but it would’ve been nicer without it. While we made out I felt her hands fumbling with my fly. After a moment she got it and managed to pull my penis out of my boxers. She stroked up and down my cock with her smooth little hand while we explored each other’s mouths. The mix of this girl being amazingly attractive plus the naughtiness of the whole thing was making me rock hard.

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