3 comments/ 94032 views/ 2 favorites Hen Party By: oggbashan (This is linked to the story "The Bridesmaids' Revenge" but can be read on its own, preferably AFTER Thomas' Stag Party ************************************************* Copyright Oggbashan September 2000 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. ************************************************* Thomas and Jane are to marry next Saturday. Today, Tuesday, Thomas is holding his Stag Party and Jane her Hen Party - in different pubs in the town of Silverbridge. Tuesday night had been chosen to allow the effects of the parties to wear off before the wedding ceremony. Both parties were small because there had been a joint party at their football club last Saturday. The Stag and Hen parties would be for close friends only. The Stag Party is another story, which you should read first ... Lisa (Jane's Chief Bridesmaid) had booked the conference suite of "The Duke's Head" for the Hen Party. The men had been surprised because the Hen Party was supposed to be a small affair and "The Duke's Head" conference suite could hold at least a hundred. The suite was self contained with a bar large enough for a dinner dance, a kitchen, a reception area, two lecture theatres with audio-visual facilities and toilet suites. There were even four bedroom suites which could be included with the hire. Lisa and Jane had planned a much more expansive affair than the men knew about. Apart from female friends and relations, both past and present members of the "Silver Vixens" and the "Stock Ladies" had been invited. There would be about eighty women. The bedroom suites had been hired for those beyond reasonable traveling distance. Jane, Lisa and the other bridesmaids had spent nearly as much effort planning to manipulate the Stag party as they had on their own event. The girls' party would continue for most of the night but the guys would finish about midnight because "The Glossies" were playing football on Wednesday evening. The Vixens next fixture was Wednesday week so the girls could really let their hair down and still recover to be match-fit. As the guests arrived a disco was in progress. Since it was a single-sex party much of the music was for communal dancing - line dancing; the conga; the Birdie dance - all the old favourites. The disc-jockey managed to get all the girls on the floor and participating within about twenty minutes of the start. After another half hour the female comic did her act. As expected it was very derogatory about male failings and particularly the lack of brains of male footballers. The bride came in for a lot of teasing for her "bravery" and was given much advice on how to handle a new bridegroom. The comic got the audience involved in suggesting ideas for the new bride. The suggestions became lewder and lewder as the women let their inhibitions relax. The male stripper and his "assistants" arrived. Only he would strip. His four "assistants" would dance and move among the audience but remain at least partly clothed. Many of the women present had seen the act before but "Peter" was good - particularly good with Hen parties. So far he had survived unscathed. When he and his assistants made their spectacular entrance through "fog" and disco lights Peter didn't show the apprehension he felt. He knew that the Silver Vixens and the Stock Ladies both had reputations as maneaters and he was worried that they might compete with each other tonight. As he started his bump and grind around Jane he scanned the audience. To his relief most of the Stock Ladies mankillers weren't present. The present audience would be difficult enough but without the competition between the two ladies soccer teams he thought that he would manage even for his group's second performance after midnight. ... He was wrong! .... After the stripper's first act the girls danced some more, drunk some more, and waited for what some of them knew was coming. The missing "Stock Ladies" would arrive from the Stag Party and report what had happened. About eleven the eight arrived, still dressed in their costumes. They had difficulty calming themselves down enough to tell what they and Amy and Jo had done to the men. The party broke up into giggling groups as they told their story. Most of the women knew the eight men at the Stag Party either as past or present boyfriends, potential boyfriends and even as brothers or cousins. They were very interested in how each man had reacted and when it became clear that later they would see photos and the video they became uncontrollable - just before "Peter" and his group made their second appearance. "Peter" realised that the mood of the audience was dangerous. he tried to calm them down but the girls were too excited. His assistants were being pawed and hugged every time they went near the audience. Then it happened! One of his assistants was by a table of four "Stock Ladies". He was grabbed by one and his head pulled into her breasts which just "happened" to fall out of her unfastened bra. As he struggled for breath his hands and legs were held. His trousers were peeled off to cheers as they were waved in the air. "Peter" tried appealing from the stage for calm but it was too late. The other tables competed to grab a man and de-bag him - but that wasn't enough. Each was completely stripped and held down. "Peter" tried to rescue his nearest assistant but he too was submerged in a heap of feminine bodies and stripped naked. All five men were in real trouble. They were completely naked and some of their assailants were stripping as well. They were smothered in acres of sweet scented soft flesh and their cocks were getting bruised by rough handling. It might have got worse if Lisa hadn't stepped in. She yelled at the party and told them to stop. Lisa hadn't used a microphone but her shout more suited to an open football pitch than indoors stopped the actions dead. No one disobeyed Lisa when she shouted like that. Sheepishly the men collected their clothing and retreated hurriedly. Lisa had saved them from "a fate worse than death" or at least from severe bruising. No man's tool could take being assaulted by up to twelve women at once. After "Peter" and the others had left the room, Lisa rounded on the party "You lot ought to be ashamed of yourselves! What we do to our men in private is one thing but those four guys were only trying to do what we paid them for - to entertain us. If it had been girls entertaining the Stag Party and the men behaved as you have done we would disown them - and the Police would have been called. I'll try to sort it out with the group but they need an apology from you. Will you apologise to them?" Lisa glared. There were shamefaced nods and assents. "OK then" said Lisa "IF they come back in again will you please say you are sorry and thank them for their performance." Lisa went out. She returned about five minutes later leading "Peter" by the hand. The assistants followed reluctantly. All five looked shaken. "Peter" Lisa said "This Hen party has something to say" Jane stood up "We would like to say that we are sorry for our behaviour and want to apologise." She turned to face the others "That is agreed?" From around the room there was a loud chorus of "Yes!" Jane continued "and we would like to thank you all for two fantastic performances tonight!" This was followed by a storm of clapping and cheering to which the five men bowed formally and withdrew. The disc-jockey started the music again but the party was very subdued. Jane spoke aside to Lisa "How did they take it?" Lisa replied "They were very shaken up but "Peter" was blaming himself for letting things get out of hand. He thought that he could manage the audience but admits that this time he was wrong. He and the others liked the idea of an apology but were scared stiff that we'd attack them again. We and the Stock Ladies have a reputation for being mantamers..." "No...!" said Jane sarcastically "Yes...!" riposted Lisa. They both had a fit of giggles before Lisa could continue "but he couldn't see the 'worst' of the Stock Ladies the first time so thought he was safe. But he didn't know that they came late otherwise he would have kept the other guys on stage. They're reasonably happy now but I gave them each a "bonus" for performance above and beyond the call of duty." "When will the other four arrive?" asked Jane. Lisa looked at her watch. "They should be here now. They are probably setting things up in the lecture theatre. I'll go and check." ..... Lisa came back about five minutes later. She went over to Jane. "They're ready for us. Shall I make the announcement or do you want to do it?" "I'll do it." replied Jane "The girls might think that you are going to shout at them again." Jane went to the disc-jockey who faded the music and passed her a microphone. "Friends - thank you for helping this party go so well this far," said Jane with a slight tinge of sarcasm "Now thanks to the Stag Party we have an audio-visual presentation for you in Lecture Room 1. Will you please follow Lisa in an orderly manner and take your seats for the next part of the evening which I am sure that you will find entertaining!" There was a shuffle of chairs and the ladies gradually moved into the lecture theatre. "Amy" and "Jo" and Helen and Pamela from "The Red Lion" were sitting at the podium. When everyone was settled expectantly Helen began .. "As some of you may know, we - that is Jane, Lisa, the bridesmaids, "Amy", "Jo", Pamela and myself, Helen ..." As each was mentioned they stood up and bowed to the audience. "... planned to ambush the men at their Stag Party. We will know show and tell you to what extent we succeeded." A screen was lowered and the lights dimmed. The video began near the end of "Barry the Comic's" act... The audience reacted with booing and hissing at "Barry's” references to the lady footballers and there were shouts of "No!" to the comments on Thomas' performance as the Silver Vixens coach. Lisa turned dangerously white at the comments about her but the audience chanted "Lisa! Lisa! We want Lisa!" so she stood up and did a mock bow to cheers. The entrance of Amy and Jo was greeted calmly enough but it was Jane's turn to wince as Thomas was pushed into Amy's breasts. Jo's act was received with increasing excitement and each man was identified by the audience. When she was seen to kiss Harold there was a call for "Encore" and the videotape had to be rewound several times so that Harold's embarrassment could be repeated. As Jo pushed Harold's head on to her leg there were loud cheers which got louder as each man's wrists were tied and his head fastened to Jo's legs. The tape had to be stopped again for Jo to accept cheers when all four men were trapped. Jo explained that she really enjoyed having four men sniffing her panties at once to cries of "We'd like that too!" There were several replays of this part. When Amy joined in and all eight men were trapped under two girls' skirts the tape was stopped again for a standing ovation. Amy and Jo blushed bright red at some of the congratulations. The videoed entrance of the Stock Ladies was the signal for stamping feet and cries of "Up the Stocks!". However the women grew quiet as the drama unfolded. After all it was "their" men who were been straddled and humiliated! They relaxed as the "loving" poses were photographed then erupted in wild cheers as the men's erect cocks were revealed. That section of the video had to be re-run at least ten times. There was little interest in the end of the tape as Helen and Pamela gradually released the men. The tape finished as the men returned to the bar for more drinks. The audience didn't notice just how angry the men were. They were more interested in celebrating a great victory. Jane called "Amy" and "Jo" forward. "I'd like to thank these two whose contribution was invaluable and let you into a secret. "Amy" and "Jo" are not professional kissogram girls. They have recently moved to Silverbridge and have been given transfers to our team next season. They have come with good reports from their previous soccer club and I'm sure that tonight they have proved themselves as worthy members of our club! Ladies, can I introduce you to Martine (indicating "Amy") and Susanne (indicating "Jo") Jones from Swansea. They are now "Silver Vixens"! And yes they are sisters." Martine and Susanne were welcomed with shouts of approval even from the Stock Ladies some of whom shouted "If you don't want them, we'll have them!". Jane continued "I'd also like to thank the proprietors and staff of Silverbridge's Kissogram company who first of all told the men that none of their staff were available to work tonight - it took a man to believe that lie for a TUESDAY night! - and then referred the men to a "new" kiss-o-gram team, our own Martine and Susanne. They went much further. They trained Martine and Susanne, devised their routine, rehearsed them and finally issued them with National Vocational Qualification Certificates as "Strippers Level 3". Copies of Martine and Susanne's "certificates" were shown on the screen. The "certificates" included pass marks in such subjects as "Bum-waggling", "Breast-Smothering" and ended "Shows exemplary ability in contact sport." Martine and Susanne made mock courtesies to the cheers from the audience. "Now" Jane added "I'd like to thank Helen and Pamela for their sterling work in setting the men up for tonight. They are not members of our club but they have shown that they are true friends to all of us. All our planning would have been useless without their help." Helen and Pamela bowed to the cheering audience. "Lastly I'd like to thank my Chief Bridesmaid, Lisa, who planned the whole of both parties and made the costumes for the Stag Party" said Jane "Lisa! Lisa!" cried the audience until she too took a bow. "Now" Jane added "Martine and Susanne also took digital still photographs which will be added on to the end of the video. Oh - I nearly forgot - the video will be on sale in the Ladies changing room of the club next week! Just be careful who you show it to. Now we will see the stills." The photos were shown to cheers especially the close-ups that Martine and Susanne had taken of each erect cock. The cocks were identified by shouts from the darkened room. .... After the still photographs a series of male stripper videos were shown to the still boisterous women. Jane, Lisa, Martine, Susanne, Helen and Pamela went back to the bar having completed their "presentation". Jane said "Well girls, we really did it! They won't live tonight down for years. Thank you all for making this evening so memorable. I didn't think we could do all we had planned and get away with it." Helen was not sure "After the others left the men were really angry. If they hadn't set themselves a midnight end I think some of them would have got really drunk." "They were really humiliated and the knowledge that there was a video and photographs made them feel even worse" said Pamela. "We had difficulty in trying to get them to see the funny side. I don't think they'll take it out on us but they resented being made fools of - especially Thomas. You may have a problem about this, Jane." Helen added "The surprise was Harold's reaction. We all know how straight-laced he is, but he really enjoyed himself. He was really the only one who had no regrets about tonight. He even said to the others that they should be grateful that the girls had taken so much trouble and effort. It fell on deaf ears, though." Just then Lisa's mobile phone rang in her handbag. "Who could be ringing me at this time in the morning?" she said taking it out, flipping it open and putting to her ear. "Hello?" "Oh, hello Harold. What was that? OK. Thank you. I'll tell the others. Don't worry, we'll sort it out. I'll see you later today. Bye." "What's up?" asked Jane Lisa replied "Harold's just told me that Thomas and the others are on the way here determined to break up our party in revenge for what we did to them. They think there's only a few of us, of course. Harold knows better but he hasn't told them. What are we going to do?" "Welcome them with open arms, of course!" said Jane to nods of agreement. "There's only seven of them and eighty plus of us. They haven't got a hope!" "How long before they get here?" asked Susanne "About ten minutes" replied Lisa "We'd better get ready then" said Helen "How shall we do it?" Lisa suggested "I think you and Pamela ought to stay out of sight. You may have to see them again at "The Red Lion". If a few stand around in the reception area and get chased into the darkened bar the rest of us can ambush them. I'll get the others prepared." .... When the men arrived they saw three Silver Vixens standing in the reception area near the bar doors. The girls fled through the doors into the darkened room hotly pursued by the men who found themselves quickly surrounded and harmlessly overpowered by what seemed like hundreds of feminine arms. The lights came on to reveal the men trussed like chickens in feminine garments - pantyhose, scarves, stockings and even bras. Jane sternly confronted Thomas as he lay before her "Can't you take a joke, Thomas? We planned this evening to be fun. You weren't hurt in any way and "Amy" and "Jo" gave you value for money. Why come chasing after us?" Thomas looked shamefaced and didn't reply. "No answer?" Jane turned to the other helpless men "No explanations from any of you?" She still had no replies. "Take them away and leave them to sober up." she told the women. The seven pinioned men were lifted and taken to the four adjacent bedrooms. Jane turned to Lisa "I suppose we'll have to charm them out of their bad mood. I'll look after Thomas. Can you arrange for the others to get some "tender loving care?"." Lisa nodded. She knew which girls were attached or attracted to each of the other six men. It shouldn't be difficult to calm the men down with some good loving. The men eventually had a wonderful night. They and the women would always remember Jane's Hen Party. And even if they wanted to forget there was always the video and photographic evidence. How many copies were sold ...? The girls never answered that question. The End. Hen Party Copyright 1998 Del Edwards (a nom de plume) I was already lying face up on the operating table wearing just my briefs when Joan Higley, the nurse who had gone over the paperwork with me, reappeared at my side. "You were right. There are three sites to be excised, not two," she said as she held up the clipboard with the release form attached. "I just listed the third one so now I need you to initial the form beside number three." "I can't see the form without my glasses," I told her. "You can trust me, I'm a nurse," she said. "Yeah but you're a woman too," I replied. My remark brought verbal responses from all three women in the room with me. "Wrong thing to say when you are outnumbered three to one and flat on your back," said Marsha Dunn, M.D. dressed in a white lab coat over her street clothes. She had short very dark brown hair framing a nice face and little round glasses with black steel frames. She was a small boned woman and quite trim based on the slim ankles and shapely calves showing under the lab coat. Also there was no excess flesh in her chin-throat area and she didn't have the beginning of chubby cheeks like the ones the lady surgeon was growing. Of course she was at least fifteen years younger than the surgeon. Dr.Dunn, I decided was compact and strong for her size and probably alternated weight work and jogging six days a week. I was playing a little game with myself, maybe to beat back the anxiety of knowing that the third woman in the room would soon be carving skin cancer off my face in three different locations. I call it the Remember Names Game. I was doing well so far--Nurse Joan Higley; Marsha Dunn, M. D., the anesthesiologist; and of course the surgeon, Doctor Christina Cage. There was another automatic game going on at another level in my head. I call that one Scope, Compile & File. I think a lot of men do it ... like I said it's automatic. Christina Cage, for example, was a little overweight with the excess stored in her hips and thighs, had a well supported bustline under the green silk blouse she was wearing the day I went to her office for a consult prior to the surgery. She had nice light brown hair done in a sort of a Heddy Lamar do. A nice small nose, I call it a chicken nose because it had a little raised portion about two thirds of the way up from the tip. It was the central feature of her pleasant face. I never got to scope her ankles that day because she was wearing slacks. Nurse Higley was wearing those baggy green scrubs so I had to work with a minimum of data. Based on her high cheekbones, the absence of excess flesh in her face and neck and the slim angular appearance of her wrists and hands, I was ready to bet she would look pretty good without her clothes. Someone put a very hard little pillow-more like a sandbag under the back of my head. Dr. Dunn was on my right tying my right arm outstretched to the armboard she had slid under the pad of the operating table. My own body weight was holding it in place. Next she attached several leads to my torso with adhesive pads and clamped something around my right ankle. I was being wired up. The last attachment was clamped to my right index finger. I enjoyed her touch as I felt her work. "Great veins," she commented. "I could put an IV in you from across the room. You're going to feel a little stick," she advised. She stung the back of my hand with her IV needle and taped it in place. "Don't be alarmed if your arm suddenly feels cold, I am just going to run a little saline as a double check--no drugs--want to make sure our lifeline is operating." I felt the coolness in my forearm for a few seconds and then it went away. Nurse Higley was pulling the sheet tight between my body and my left arm. I felt her wrap it snuggly over my left arm and push it under my back pinning my left arm to my side. Now both my arms were immobilized. I felt like I had become a captive of these women, vulnerable, defenseless. I fought with that imaginary monster while I listened for whatever was coming next. The brightness from the huge overhead light hurt my eyes so much that I had closed them. "This is the part that I don't like the most," I heard Dr. Cage say. "You're going to feel some sticks." I felt six or seven cool swabs and smelled the alcohol before each stick. "Okay, we're done with that," she said. "If you feel any pain during the procedure, let me know and I'll give you some more," she added. I was truly touched by her compassion but said nothing. "I'm going to swab the field now, make it sterile. Keep your eyes closed," I heard Nurse Joan Higley say. There was the strong odor of betadine, sort of like iodine with something added. She firmly scrubbed the areas on my eyebrow and cheek where the surgeon would soon be carving on me. I went into myself and found that I was both enjoying and was embarrassed by the attention I was getting from these three women. A perfect paradox, I thought to myself. Sometime later Dr. Cage was back. "Feel that?" she asked. "No," I told her. "Feel that?" she asked again. "No." "Good," she said. The hen party started very soon after that. The chatter among the three women was about, children, pets, vacations, with an occasional departure into the medical moment at hand. Dr. Cage wanted a number four blade ... stuff like that. I listened for the pecking order as a way to amuse myself since I seemed to be excluded from the conversation. The surgeon quickly established herself as the dominant one because she was doing most of the talking. Pretty young Dr. Dunn was asking questions and responding briefly to Surgeon Cage, a deference that quickly became obvious. Nurse Higley came in with a question or comment occasionally, just to hold her third place position in the trio. I also plotted their positions relative to me. Someone, probably Nurse Joan Higley, had placed a cool, heavy object across my eyes somewhere back in the stream of time and events after I was partially immobilized on the table. I relied on my sense of hearing to locate them. The surgeon was closest of course at twelve o'clock, just above my head. Dr. Marsha Dunn was at two or three beyond my outstretched right arm, sitting on a stool watching my vital signs on her monitor. Nurse Higley was at ten o'clock in close, responding to the directions of Surgeon Cage. There came a lull when the specimens went to pathology. The woman chatter picked up to fill the silence. Dr. Cage was very concerned about her son who had to find another apartment in Miami because his roommate had flunked out of school and he couldn't afford the rent on the big apartment alone. She was leaving this afternoon on a flight to Florida to help him find a place of his own and buy some inexpensive furniture so he could concentrate on school. Dr. Dunn was married and had two young pre-schoolers that she adored and wanted to find a nanny for so she didn't have to leave them in childcare. Higley was divorced and had a Queens Island Heeler for companionship. That started Cage into the money and affection she had for her three dogs and the size of the vet and grooming bills. She also bemoaned the long drive to her isolated desert home each morning and evening. She even mentioned her husband and how he rattled around the huge house with the dogs scampering under his feet. The husband seemed to have a priority behind her son and her dogs. 'Does that really surprise you?' I said to myself. 'No, that's entirely consistent with my own experience,' myself said to myself as I answered my own question in my head. "How you doing down there?" Christina asked. Suddenly I was the fourth entity in the room. She was indeed the director of this play. "I'm okay except for a full bladder," I told her. "Well, I'm on a schedule. I can't let you up--you want to try a urinal or hold it?" she asked. "I'll give it a try," I said. I felt the thin blanket being peeled off my hips and legs. Hands grasp the waistband of my briefs and I reflexively raised my hips so she could pull them down. Then I felt warmth of her fingers as she lifted my penis and then the coolness of the urinal as she slid it into place. "If this doesn't work we can always use a catheter," Nurse Joan Higley said brightly. "Do you know what that is?" she asked. "He knows. I can see it on the monitor," firm and compact Dr. Dunn said from three o'clock. "Are you sure your bladder is what needs relieving," Joan asked. "You're half erect." "I can see that on the monitor too. He's excited," Dr. Marsha Dunn said. "Are you sure this isn't just a way of getting me to play with you," Nurse Joan asked. "I'm not that creative," I responded. "Well, I guess I have a trust issue with men just like you do with women," she admitted. "I could always sedate him so he wouldn't enjoy what's happening," Marsha Dunn chuckled. "No, we need to go the other way," Nurse Joan remarked. "As in aprostadil," Dr. Dunn suggested "Sure. Wouldn't even have to do a direct stick, just an IV push," Nurse Joan giggled. "Now girls, let's behave. You'll have the man wondering what you're talking about and he'll get uneasy," Dr. Cage commented. "You didn't get much of that, did you sir," she added. "No, but I'm going to trust you to explain it to me since they seem to want to talk in medical code," I said. "Oheee, there's that trust thing again," Dr. Christina Cage said. I waited a few seconds and heard a long exhale come from her position. "What they said was that it was not necessary to inject the drug directly into your penis, that they could just administer it to you through the IV in your hand." "What drug?" I asked. "Aprostadil. It would cause you to have an erection. They were just kidding ... I think," she said. "There's a drug that will do that?" I asked "Yes, would you like to try it?" interjected pretty and petite Dr. Marsha Dunn "Doctor!" Dr. Cage exclaimed. "Why not? He's kind of a chauvinist. There's a part of me that wouldn't mind walking out of here with him lying on the table with an erection he can't use pointing toward the ceiling... I don't think he needs the drug. He's still quite excited," Dr. Marsha Dunn said. "Hard too. I think I'll change my name to Aprostadil if I'm that good," Nurse Joan laughed. "This has gotten completely out of hand. You two settle down," Dr. Christina Cage ordered in a stern tone. A little later Dr. Cage announced that she was finished and was leaving to write a couple of prescriptions that the aftercare nurse would give me later. It was very quiet in the operating room. I knew the sisterhood was still alive and well when the coldness returned to my right forearm. "I hope you and Dick have a good trip," I heard Marsha Dunn, M.D., say as her fingers lightly tapped the back of my hand. Five minutes later the coolness was gone from my right arm. I felt the IV being removed. I was also aware that I had an aching erection. The cool, heavy object across my eyes was still in place when her warm wetness enveloped my throbbing cock. "Oh, yessss," I heard her say as the weight of her hips settled onto my loins. Please send comments regarding this story. Hen Party Although the mansion had a long driveway, I parked on the street just as Ms. Johnson had requested. Having all that money enabled her to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, like take classes at the university. I had just finished modeling for a figure drawing class she was taking when she approached me, "How would you like to earn five hundred dollars in one night?" she asked me as I put on my robe. "I think I'd like it very much," I replied. She told me that she was throwing a party for a friend of hers. This friend was about to get married, but she didn't call it a bachelorette party. She said it was more of a tea party, only with wine instead of tea. "What would I have to do?" I asked. "Whatever my friends want you to do," she said. I figured that, for five hundred bucks, I could do just about anything. She gave me the address and told me to show up at 6:30 that Saturday. "Oh, and park on the street," she told me. "The driveway is for the guests." So here I was, not really knowing what to expect. I rang the doorbell. The place was so big that I expected a butler to answer. But Ms. Johnson, dressed in a slinky evening dress, answered the door herself. "Good evening Dan," she said, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Come on in." I walked in and was immediately impressed by how nice the interior was. "Nice house," I said. "Thank you. I'll give you a tour." Ms. Johnson took me all through, showing me the bedrooms, the pool and hot tub in the back, and the game room. "This is where most of the party will take place," she said, referring to the game room. We then went down to the kitchen, where the caterers were just leaving, having delivered the food. "They're leaving?" I asked. "Yes, you'll be serving the food throughout the night." I had never worked for any kind of catering company before, but I said, "Ok." Ms. Johnson then led me to a guest bedroom on the ground floor, one that we hadn't been to on the tour. "Now, the rules for the party. You do want the five hundred, don't you?" "Yes. I could sure use the money," I replied. "Number one rule is, you are not allowed to wear any clothing whatsoever as long as any guests remain. So go ahead and get undressed." Even though I model nude for art classes, this request took me a little by surprise. "Right here," I asked. "Yes." Ms. Johnson was an attractive woman, and she had already seen me naked on several occasions in art class. So I didn't really have a problem stripping for her. In fact, I was starting to get excited about the whole thing. "You are not allowed to try to cover up with anything," she continued as I took off my shirt. "There will be about 20 women here, all friends of mine. Some of them will be surprised to see a naked man serving them; some will love it. Just do whatever they ask you to do. You will answer the door when it rings, so they will all get a good look at you as soon as they get here." I sat down on the edge of the bed and took off my socks and shoes. "The guests will be allowed to touch, fondle, or whatever. That doesn't mean they will, so don't expect it. In fact, don't expect anything. Just do anything they ask you to do." "Anything?" I said. "Whatever they want. If you're not hard, and one of them wants to see it hard, then you better get it up." I stood up and dropped my pants and underwear. Hearing her talk about my erection like that had given me one, and my cock practically jumped out of my pants as I pulled them down. "Mmmm," Ms. Johnson said. "Nice. Also remember that I am the boss. If two guests give you conflicting instructions, whatever I say goes. Understand?" "Yes." "And if someone is not entirely happy with you, there might be some light spanking as a punishment." "Ok." My cock was throbbing now. Ms. Johnson bent down and gave it just a little kiss. The doorbell rang as she stood back up. "Now go answer it," she said. I looked down at my eight inch cock, standing straight out at attention. "Like this?" "Yes." "Ok." I walked out of the guest room, and Ms. Johnson followed me. She closed the door and locked it with her key. "Just in case you're tempted to get dressed and leave our little party." "Don't worry," I said to her over my shoulder. The doorbell rang again, and I ran to the front, my cock dancing up and down as I moved. I pulled the door open to see two beautiful women, about 30 years old, standing at the door. They were both dressed to kill. The both looked down at my erect cock. One of them smiled ever so devilishly, while the other one's jaw just dropped. "Good evening," I said. "Hi," the smiling brunette said. "That looks nice." She gave my cock a good squeeze as she walked into the mansion. The red head closed her mouth and seemed to regain her composure. The brunette noticed and said, "Oh yeah, you've never been to one of Carol's parties before." Turning to me, she said, "And where did she find you?" "I modeled for her art class a few times this semester." The brunette's smile widened. "Naked?" "Yes," I confirmed. "So she got a preview then. You didn't model like this, did you?" She gave my hard cock another squeeze. "No, not hardly," I said, and we all laughed a little. "Would you two like a drink?" I asked, playing the part I was hired to play. "I think we'll both have a glass of wine," the brunette said. Ms. Johnson arrived in the foyer and greeted the two guests. I went to the kitchen and poured two glasses of wine. As I took them out to the guests, the doorbell rang again. It took almost an hour for all twenty guests to arrive. I greeted each one at the door, stark naked, although my erection subsided somewhat as I got used to being their naked servant. Once everybody was in the gameroom and had a glass of wine, Ms. Johnson addressed the group. "Ladies," she said. "You've all met him already, but I want to formally introduce Dan to you." She motioned for me to step forward, and I stood in front of the group. "Dan is not only our waiter tonight, he is also the entertainment. So if any of you have any special requests, please let him or me know." One attractive blond, whom I had served at least three glasses of wine already, said, "Can he do some jumping jacks?" Ms. Johnson smiled and turned to me. "Of course he can." She nodded, and I set the serving tray I had been carrying down on an end table. I stepped toward the middle of the room and started doing jumping jacks. My cock and balls bounced all over the place as I did them, and several of the ladies squealed like little girls. The movement was making my cock hard again, and soon I was sporting another eight inch hard on. Most of the later arrivals hadn't seen it hard like this, and I heard a few ooh's and aah's from the group as my erect cock slapped my belly with each jumping jack. The ladies played several games during the next couple of hours, including ring toss and twister. In between games, I refilled wine glasses and played the naked waiter. "All right," Ms. Johnson announced, "we all know that Sarah is getting married next week, so she is our guest of honor." Everyone looked toward a pretty, petite blonde and started applauding. Sarah blushed at the attention. The playful brunette, who had been the first to arrive at the party, stood beside Ms. Johnson. "Yes, Emily?" Ms. Johnson said to her. "Since Sarah is getting married, she will need to learn some things that she isn't used to doing," Emily said. Some of the ladies giggled. "Now one of the things that Sarah told me wasn't comfortable doing is oral sex." The giggling got louder. "What I'd like to do," Emily continued, "is to give her a blow job lesson using our entertainment here." Emily looked at me, and my cock twitched just a little. The giggling stopped, and the ladies' eyes all grew wide. "That sounds like a great idea," Ms. Johnson said. Emily walked over to me and grabbed my cock. All the other ladies started moving to where they could see. I was led by my cock over to a couch. "Why don't you lie down for this," Emily said. I did as she asked, and Emily motioned for Sarah to come over. Sarah was still blushing. She had a hand up to her face as she walked over. Emily kneeled on the floor next to the couch and pulled Sarah down beside her. "It'll be all right," Emily said. "Ok," Sarah replied in a shaky voice. Emily leaned really close to Sarah's ear, and I could hear her whisper, "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." "No, this is fine," Sarah said. Emily looked at me and grinned devilishly before turning back to Sarah. Emily still had my cock in her hand, and she held it so that it pointed straight up. "Now the first thing you need to do is relax. Your throat muscles should be very relaxed so you won't gag." "Okay," Sarah said. Emily leaned her face toward my dick as she talked. "You'll want to start with some light licking first. Like this..." Emily's tongue caressed the head of my cock, moving under the ridge and down the shaft before going back up, licking the underside of my cock. She let it glide off as it passed over the opening of my urethra. "It's always good to get them warmed up before you actually take it in your mouth," Emily explained. She took about a quarter of my cock into her mouth, and I could feel her tongue still moving over the head as she sucked. I looked up at the other eighteen ladies looking down at me and felt a charge go through my entire body. I don't think I had ever been that turned on in my life. Emily pulled her head back, and my cock exited her mouth with a loud pop. "See, you can do a lot without actually taking the whole thing into your mouth. Do you want to try?" Sarah blushed again and said, "Not yet." "Good. More for me," Emily said and took more than half of my cock into her mouth this time. She moved her head up and down, sucking and licking and making all kinds of friction. My toes curled up from the wonderful sensations shooting all over my body. I was getting fairly close to an orgasm when Emily came up again. She took a deep breath before turning back to Sarah. "Now, to deep throat, you have to relax, and tilt your head at an angle so the dick goes in straight." Emily then dove onto my cock, taking it all into her mouth. I heard several women there gasp as she did so, but Emily ignored them. Her head once again moved up and down, taking my cock all the way into her throat with each dive. She took me to the edge again before coming up for air. Sarah looked at her in awe. "You try it," Emily said breathlessly. Sarah got on her knees and took the same angle that Emily had taken. She gagged a bit the first time she tried to take my cock in. Her mouth was smaller and tighter, and I didn't think she would be able to take me all the way in. "Relax," Emily said. Sarah tried it again, and took the entire length of my cock into her mouth. I looked as her lips wrapped around the base of my cock. She moved up and down as Emily had done, keeping her lips wrapped tightly around my shaft. Sarah's up and down movements got faster and faster, her lips tighter and tighter. "Careful, or he'll come in your mouth," Emily said. Sarah came up for air, and the other ladies applauded. "Do you want him to come in your mouth?" Emily asked. "I don't know," Sarah said. "No," one of the other ladies chimed in. "We want to see that thing erupt." Almost everyone voiced their agreement with that statement. Emily took my cock in her hand and started working it furiously. She blew on the head of my cock, and every once in awhile, put it into her mouth for just a second. The friction and the fact that twenty women were staring at my cock put me over the edge. I came in a fantastic burst that must have shot ten feet into the air. "Oh my God," one of the ladies said. Emily slowed her motion, as if milking every last drop, and then gently kissed the head of my cock. I then assumed my waiter duties for the rest of the night. I left the party with seven names and phone numbers scrawled on napkins and seven fresh one hundred dollar bills. "For a job well done," Ms. Johnson said as she gave me the extra two hundred. "Thank you," I replied. "And any time you want to throw another one of these parties, please let me know." "Oh, I will," Ms. Johnson replied with a grin. Hen Party Interlude Your friend nudges you in the ribs. You glance at her to see her staring at the front door of the bar. Your breath catches a little as you see me standing in the entrance, head and shoulders above anyone else, casting my eyes around. Our eyes lock. I start striding towards you, pushing effortlessly through the crush of people. You turn your back on the rest of the hen party as I arrive at your side, and you look up, up, up into my eyes. The fingers of your left hand intertwine with my right, and I swing it round your back and press you into me. You tilt your head to one side as I bring my free hand up to the nape of your neck and we kiss. Slowly at first, gently, then more urgently my tongue enters your mouth and yours mine, intertwining. We break off for a deep breath and I cast my eyes around the periphery of the bar. Spotting a doorway that might lead to privacy, we start threading through the crowded bar, though the pulsating music, through the shouted conversations, me in the lead, our hands locked together. In the clearer space near the door I pull you in tight and wrap my arm tightly around your waist, my hand on your hip, and we crash through the door. We ignore the chorus of squeals from the line of women washing their hands, fixing their makeup, standing talking. The door shuts behind us muffling the oppressive beat of the music, but we're already striding across the bathroom floor, trying door after door until the last door in the line swings open and we enter. We are already kissing again as I slide the bolt across, with none of the tentativeness of our previous kiss. I sit on the seat and you straddle me, your skirts hitched up to your waist, facing me, kissing, our hands caressing, searching, pressing, cupping. My left hand finds the clasp of your bra and twists to open it, as my right is up inside the front of your dress, across your tummy, finding the wire and lifting to hold your breast, my palm brushing the nipple. Sitting astride me in the cramped confines of the cubicle, you feel the hard bulge behind my zip pressing on your pubis, and you start to slide yourself forwards, backwards, a precursor of the rhythms to come. You feel my hands working around your immaculate body to force your dress higher, exposing your freckle-peppered alabaster breasts fully for the first time. As one hand cups your left, your eyes lift to the ceiling and you let out an involuntary gasp as my lips enclose your areola, my teeth sink into the base of the rock-hard nipple, my tongue flicking the tip. Seconds pass, hours maybe, and you can stand it no longer. You stand and bend to unbuckle my belt, open the button, pull down the zip. My cock bursts free as your expert hands wrest it free from its final layer, hitting you on the cheek. It's my turn to gasp as your mouth closes around the tip, the tips of your teeth glancing along the shaft as you pump your head once, twice, deeper. Impossibly it seems to have gotten harder in your expert care. You step up and back, unzip your dress and let it fall to the floor with your bra entangled. You count your blessings you wore stockings as you twist the lace of your knickers to the side, and step forward, remaining standing. I look up into your face, and see your upper lip curled in a sneer of lust as I return my gaze to your expertly trimmed bush. You brace both your hands on my broad shoulders in anticipation of what comes next. Pressing with both thumbs, I expose the inner folds of you, my stiffened tongue first teases then envelopes your clitoris, strumming it rhythmically, momentarily darting to catch some juices from lower down, never straying too long from its task. A minute, no more, and your legs almost give way as you come, waves crashing over you as my mouth teases the last enjoyment from it, a loud "Oooohhh.." escaping your lips. You lean your elbows on the shelf behind me as you recover. You've got more work to do. No-one's finished yet. Gathering yourself, a deep breath, you look down and find my pulsating cock waiting for you, wanting you, needing you. With a slowness gifted by the hours of squats in gym class, you lower yourself, pausing as my glans stretches upwards to search for your outer lips, finds the opening, then forcefully down onto the shaft, deep, deep inside you. Our breath quickens as you start thrusting yourself up and down, using the full length of the shaft as you find your rhythm, working yourself up and down the pole, feeling every inch inside you. Unbidden, a moan enters our panting, getting louder with each thrust as the passion, the lust blocks out our surroundings completely. The warm feeling enters your loins, different to before, as the thrusting quickens towards it's now-inescapable conclusion. One more push, two more, and your limbs shake, their previous strength lost, as you come in waves, rolling over and over, distantly realising that hot feeling within is me, spurting, coming at the same time, together in our ecstasy. You collapse onto me, spent. Somehow, we both remember to breathe again. My cock, so tight before, slips out, flaccid. Some quick cleaning, you're almost respectably dressed again, except for the lace knickers, had to be flushed. One more deep, long kiss, my hand searches out yours, and snick! the door is unlocked and we must step back out into the harsh lights and mirrors. A round of applause greets us, two girls you vaguely remember from the bus pause in the middle of their lipstick reapplication, their eyes widening in the mirror as they realise who has been providing the soundtrack. Giggling to each other, we run to the door and burst back out into the cacophonous bar, still holding hands. We push through the press of people, this time you leading, but our grip gets weaker, our fingers losing contact, and I'm gone, lost in the crowd, back into the night from whence I came. You stop, look back, puzzled. There's no sign of me. Had I been there at all? Was it all a dream? Later, leaving the bar with your friends, you realise it was no dream as the cold night reminds you that you are no longer wearing any underwear...