I [F] Was The Stripper At My Own Bachelorette Party

It took a while for Mark and I get married after being engaged. The world was crazy and we were just keeping our footing in it but eventually as things got back to normal we made our plans. Venues were booked. Clothes brought. Honeymoon planned. Invites sent out. And then there were the bachelor/bachelorette parties.

Neither of us are big party animals so ours sided more on the tasteful side. We also planned them on different days so the other would be sober and able to rescue the other if things got too crazy. On the Saturday, I had booked out a spa day followed by a classy dinner. On the Sunday, Mark was playing golf followed by a night at the casino.

Everything went to plan. The spa was lovely and I spent the day with my closest friends and family members. The meal was great. And that was the night! Except it wasn’t. As I’m helping my mom into a cab, my best friend beside Mark (we’ll call her Becky!) grabbed me by the arm and tells me the night isn’t over. Her and a few other of my closest friends (fake names of Jo and Kate) are taking me back to her apartment for some proper drinking now that my family are gone.

So that’s how I end up at Becky’s apartment with a lot of alcohol flowing. We’re a giggling mess. At one point Kate suggests calling a stripper but I refuse. Mark isn’t having one and it wouldn’t be fair! We carry on drinking and I lose my inhibitions and start telling stories about Mark and I much to the girls delight. And then Becky asks me if I’m doing a boudoir shoot for him. I’d never even thought of it! The idea excites me (obviously!) but also it would be scary to strip off for some random photographer. Becky laughs and says she isn’t a random photographer. She’d do it for me and she’s semi-professional. I ask her when and Becky gets a wicked smirk. How about now and we solve Kate’s complaint about a lack of a stripper?

If I wasn’t as drunk as I have been in years I would have said no. But I was really really drunk. Kate and Jo are egging me on too. So we move the furniture around in the apartment to make a space for me in the middle, Becky comes out with her camera and I start to pose. I’m wearing a figure hugging blue dress from the classy restaurant and the girls start directing me. I strike all sort of poses: alluring looks down the camera, looking over my shoulder as I stick out my butt, on my knees, hands in my red hair.

Kate tells me to lose the dress. I don’t even hesitate. I throw it onto the sofa as they cheer me on, now standing in Becky’s apartments in just my black underwear. The dress meant I had to wear a thong to avoid panty lines, much to their delight. The poses they get me to strike are increasingly less classy and more slutty. I bend over, hands on my ankles. I get onto all fours. I’m so drunk that I’m not even worried about my friends seeing any wet patch on the fabric as I get more and more turned on.

They chant for me to lose my bra. My breasts are now out in my best friend’s apartment. I cover them up with my hands until the cheering becomes too loud that I have to let them free. I squeeze and grope myself. I push them together. Becky’s camera continues to take photos and the girls continue to cheer. It’s hard to explain what I was feeling. I wasn’t attracted to any of the girls. I didn’t want them to fuck me. But I was so turned on by it all.

And then the thong came off. I was butt naked in front of my three friends, while they were fully clothed. I did whatever they told me to. Lay on my back legs spread. Get on my hands and knees. Becky says it’s time for Kate to get her stripper lap dance and we all laugh like crazy people but I do it, dropping my butt onto her lap. Becky’s camera continue to takes pictures. It gets wilder. At one point I’m on the rug, on my hands and knees, and Jo and Kate both takes turns at dry humping me, pretending to fuck me roughly from behind. I pull all sorts of fake faces for the camera, pretending to moan in pleasure. I am dripping wet now and no one mentions any stains I leave on their dresses.

Finally I think both Becky and I realize that we need to stop this. She tells me the fun is over and I quickly get dressed, my face now bright red. The rest of the night is a little awkward until Mark arrives to pick me up. He looks confused as Becky shoves the camera’s memory card into his hand and tells him to thank her later. He is even more confused as I push him into the stairwell of Becky’s apartment instead of the elevator. I need him. I hike up my dress, pull my thong down to my knees and tell him to fuck me. He’s sober. He should stop this to avoid us getting caught. But apparently I was quite a view because only ten seconds later, his cock is out of his pants, and he’s fucking me against the wall. We both climax in barely a minute.

And then on Sunday afternoon, Mark got around to loading up the photos on the memory card. The lighting is terrible. It’s so dark you can barely see anything. The best photo, dark and fuzzy but just about visible, is one of me completely naked, Kate’s hands in my hair, her hips pressed against my butt as she mimes fucking me. Mark doesn’t ask me what happened. He just recreates that photo from the privacy of our bedroom.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/nyjxly/i_f_was_the_stripper_at_my_own_bachelorette_party