by Hank Wilder
When John and I finally finish we stagger back, completely exhausted.
“Felling better?” my husband asks as he stands and wipes his lips.
John nods. “It’s going to be a long process to heal, but I think this was a step in the right direction.”
“A long process, huh?” my husband continues, exchanging a glance with me.
I give my husband a nod in return.
“I think we can help you out for as long as you need,” Brad continues. “After all, what are friends for?”
BACHELOR PARTY
8
When it comes to bachelor parties there’s a certain amount of unspoken honor between participants. It’s the one time where everyone knows the rules and doesn’t have to go over them, because nobody would dare break this sacred bond.
One such rule is, of course, no spouses allowed. If a group of guys is out on the town and they happen to see someone’s husband, or in this case gay husband, they’re immediately heading in the other direction. It doesn’t matter if it’s the groom-to-be, or just some low level past fling, they’re not allowed.
I have to keep this in mind as I sit on the patio of my favorite Las Vegas restaurant, looking down from my perch at the hustling, bustling pedestrians below. They’re making their way back and forth along the strip below, rushing past one another like a swarm of ants as they head from casino to casino. Each and every one of these people has a story, whether it’s looking to make their money back after some big loss, or simply hurrying along to some cheesy magic show.
“So your husband’s in town?” my coworker asks me, leaning back in his chair and enjoying the warm Nevada heat as we lounge in the shade of some large umbrella.
Chuck is a good guy, but certainly not someone I’d be spending my time with outside these work trips. He’s something of a nerd, and not in the cool, smart way, but in the anti-social kind of manner. He can hold a conversation well enough, but there’s just something about him that’s no fun on the town.
“Yeah, he’s here somewhere,” I reply, taking a long sip from my drink as I continue to gaze out at the thousands of people passing by below us.
“Why don’t you call him up?” Chuck continues.
“He’s here for a bachelor party,” I remind my coworker. “The husband of one of the groomsmen is the last person they’d allow to tag along. Those are the rules.”
“They are?” Chuck replies, wearing his slight social awkwardness on his sleeve now. This is something everyone knows, but it feels like Chuck is hearing it for the very first time. “I don’t know about that. I think they’d be happy to see you.”
I laugh. “They probably would. It’s a fun group of guys and I’m friends with most of them, but I can assure you I wouldn’t be allowed to come along.”
“But it’s such a crazy coincidence. What are the chances our business trip would be the same weekend as this bachelor party?” Chuck asks, starting to annoy me.
“Yep” is all that I can think to say, suddenly wishing I had somebody else, anyone, to talk to.
We sit in silence a moment longer as I polish off my drink, then wave down the waitress so I can order another.
“Don’t you wanna follow them along and see what kind of trouble they’re getting into?” Chuck finally continues. “What if they hire a male stripper or something?”
By now, I should be more annoyed with my coworker than I actually am, because this time he actually has a point. I might not want to join up with my husband during his wild guy’s night, but thinking about what his and the guys might be doing out here does put me slightly on edge. I’ve seen a few packs of roving gay groomsmen warder by since sitting down, and every one of them looks as though they’re ready for a good time with any number of horny guys.
If you’re a groomsman in Vegas, you might as will be wearing a giant sash that says ‘fuck me. I’m here to make questionable choices.’
“Taylor?” Chuck says, cutting through my trance.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking loose the cobwebs from my mind. I try my best to remember the last thing we were talking about, then finally collect myself. “No, I’m not gonna follow my husband around.”
Chuck says nothing in return, but I get the sense he’s skeptical of my relationship discipline.
Eventually, my friend finishes his drink and then stands up from the table. “I’m gonna head back to the room,” Chuck informs me. “If you wanna watch some movies later I think they’ve got some good stuff on TV.”
I begin to inform Chuck that I think I’d rather go out, but stop myself. If I say this then I run the risk of him asking to join in.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I finally reply. “Maybe I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay,” Chuck says when a nod, then turns and heads back out through the restaurant.
The second he leaves, a powerful wave of relief washes over me. It’s been a long day at the trade show and I’m utterly exhausted by his presence, ready to unwind without Chuck constantly talking in my ear.
Maybe I’ll head out and gamble a little.
The sun has just started to crest over the distant desert mountains, casting the sky in a powerful, purple and orange hue. I watch as the city lights become clearer and clearer, giant neon signs flickering and rolling past in a variety of colors. This is when the city really starts to come alive.
Down on the street below, I see yet another bachelor party approaching, loudly making their presence known as they cheer and wave. The guys are absolutely gorgeous, showing off their perfectly chiseled bodies in tight gold swim trunks, despite the fact there’s no pool in sight.
As I watch, the eyes of every other gay man begin to turn and observe this collection of handsome dudes, some of them sneaking glances while others simply dive in with a brazen, lustful stare.
Suddenly, I gasp aloud, recognizing the guys as they draw closer and closer. It’s my husband and his friends.
Immediately, all of my respect for the bachelor party rules flies out the window. I don’t have to tag along, but it would be crazy to completely ignore my beautiful husband when our paths happen to cross this far from home.
I down my second drink and leave some cash on the table as I hurriedly stand. Seconds later, I’m rushing out through the restaurant and down a flight of stairs to the casino floor, then B-lining for the exit.
The moment I burst out into the warm air of the strip, I lock eyes with the familiar group of guys.
“Hey! Adam!” I call out with a wave, immediately catching the attention of my husband.
I watch as Adam’s expression changes from one of confusion, to recognition, to excitement. he runs towards me, nearly bounding through the air as he arrives and wraps his arms around my body. The two of us sway in this loving embrace for a moment, kissing each other deeply before pulling back.
“I can’t believe we actually ran into each other!” Adam blurts. “What are the chances?”
“Well, it’s a big city, but there’s only one strip,” I remind the man of my dreams.
I glance back over my husband’s shoulder and see that the rest of the guys are watching us now, waiting patiently but clearly not too thrilled about my sudden arrival.
“Where are you headed?” I ask. “Pool party?”
“No, just gonna grab some drinks at a new bar Chris heard about,” my husband explains. “Why would we be going to the pool right now? The sun’s going down!”
I glance at my husband’s attire as he starts to laugh.
“Oh yeah,” Adam offers, rolling his eyes. “We’re really going for it this weekend.”
“I guess you are,” I reply with a chuckle.
Despite the fact that nobody else is close enough to hear us, my husband leans in towards me, lowering his voice to a whisper. I can now smell the alcohol on his breath. “We’ve got a stripper coming to the room at eleven tonight,” he informs me, giggling excitedly.
“Oh really?” I reply.
“Yep,” Adam say
s with a tipsy nod. “We’ve got a suite across the street and a very hot guy is going to treat us to some dances.”
“Well… that’s gonna be a lot of fun,” is all that I can think to say in response.
Suddenly, our conversation is broken up by a few frustrated yells from the other guys. They’re calling my husband back into the fold.
“I’ve gotta go!” Adam says with a grin. He kisses me on the cheek then turns to head back towards his friends.
“Have fun!” I call out as my husband returns to the rest of the pack, who offer me a few courtesy waves as they continue on their way.
A strange cocktail of emotions swims through my body now, some powerful yet indefinable mixture I can’t quite put my finger on. First and foremost, I’m jealous, but not without reason. It was already hard enough to watch my beautiful husband prancing around in his skimpy swimsuit like this, drawing the eyes of every other gay guy that passes his by. Now I have to think about what might happen later, back at the hotel room when everyone’s even more tipsy than they already are.
I’ve heard plenty of stories about male strippers offering a little extra on the side, and I don’t see what’s keeping that from happening tonight.
Of course, my husband has never done anything to dishonor my trust, and I’m probably just letting my emotions get the best of me, but the feelings still remain.
I take a deep breath and let it out, trying my best to quell this growing ache of anger and envy that burns within. My heart is slamming within my chest now, and I do everything within my power to calm its rhythm.
Eventually, my jealousy begins to subside, only now I’m left with a sensation even more disquieting: arousal.
“What the fuck,” I say aloud to myself, reeling from the thoughts that are spinning through my head.
Once I peel back all the rage that was bubbling up inside me, something else has revealed itself. I realize now just how much the idea of my husband and some male stripper hooking up actually turns me on.
In my mind, I can’t help but want them to take things further and further, to push onward into the most depraved scenarios imaginable. I think about what it would be like to watch Adam as he drops to his knees before this other man, opening wide and taking his enormous cock within his mouth while I watch.
Suddenly, I snap out of it, realizing now I’ve been staring off into space this whole time.
In the distance, I can still see one of the groomsmen sauntering away, and in this split second I realize that this is my golden opportunity. Without another thought, I begin to follow, weaving my way through the crowd as I watch the guys like a hawk.
I try my best to keep out of sight, but still remain close enough to observe where the guys are headed. I’m not at all concerned with their early evening activities, but once it gets late, I’ll make my move.
Yes, I realize how insane this is, but lust will make you do strange, strange things.
The most difficult part of my secret agent escapades comes when the guys arrive at their suite.
I’m watching from down the hall, tucked around the corner while the guys fumble with their keys. The men are talking loudly, barking orders at one another and then breaking out in a fit of laugher as they drop their keycards to the floor for a second and third time.
Finally, my husband takes his card and swipes it across the lock, causing a loud mechanical bang that signals it’s time to enter. The guys push their door open wide and stumble inside, leaving me a single chance to get this right.
If I get caught, I have no idea what I’m going to say.
Suddenly, I’m sprinting down the hallway as fast as I can, reaching the door to their room just seconds before it slams shut. I hold it open slightly, straining my fingers as I peek inside.
The suite is enormous, featuring a long hallway with several smaller bedrooms off to the side. In the middle is an enormous living space, where the guys are continuing to drink and party.
I don’t have long to consider my options, well aware that I can’t just sit here peaking through a crack in the door forever.
Not knowing what else to do, I slip inside and immediately duck into one of the bedrooms, figuring this is a great spot to consider what’s next.
I may have been turning over this plan all evening in my head, but now that I’m actually here, I have no idea what I’m doing.
Do I really want to watch a handsome male stripper rubbing himself all over my husband? Is that even possible from my hidden location in this other room?
These are important questions, but I don’t have long to consider them as the voices outside grow louder and more excited. The tones are muffled, but from their exuberance alone I can only assume that the stripper has arrived.
Worried the man might come in here to change, I quickly duck into a nearby closet, shutting the door and allowing the quiet darkness to envelope me. From here I have a perfect view of the bedroom, which is visible through a series of horizontal slats.
Out in the main living area, things have only gotten more raucous. It’s difficult for me to make sense of the sounds that I’m hearing, but when the thumping music starts I know exactly what’s going on.
I stay like this for quite some time, listening and waiting for my opportunity to get closer to the action. It’s only now that I realize just how stupid this plan of mine is, since there’s really no way for me to see a damn thing.
Who knows how long I’ll be stuck in this closet now.
The minutes begin to pile up, time stretching on and on while I sit here in the dark with nothing but my thoughts.
Suddenly, the bedroom door bursts open.
I watch as my husband stumbles in, laughing excitedly while he strips away his clothing. Following right behind his is an incredibly muscular man, handsome and toned with rippling biceps. The two of them begin to passionately kiss as they continue to tear away the fabric from one another’s bodies.
Despite the emotional control that I’d somehow managed to find earlier, the first thing I feel is a powerful surge of absolute rage flooding through my veins. This is my husband and another man locked in the passionate troughs of infidelity.
It takes every ounce of discipline I can muster to hold myself back. I desperately want to barrel out of this closet and let everyone know they’ve been caught red handed, but I somehow manage to quell these emotions just long enough to stay put.
My with and his new lover are down to their underwear now, making out ferociously as they explore the topography of their bodies.
“What would your husband think if he found out?” the male stripper asks.
“He’d be very mad,” Adam admits, but with a strangely mischievous tone. He’s loving this. “He’d probably punish me, Kent.”
“Let me take care of the punishment tonight,” the stripper coos.
As crazy as it sounds, I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been. Slowly, my hand begins to creep down into the front of my pants, unzipping my fly and pulling it down. I reach inside and grab ahold of my swollen, aching rod, removing it from its fabric prison as I begin to slowly beat myself off.
Meanwhile, Adam’s clearly anxious to get his hands on a cock of his own. My husband knows how dirty and depraved this is, which gives his pause, but eventually the sight of Kent’s enormous bulge is just to tempting to ignore.
Moment’s later, my husband reaches past his new lover’s waistband, wrapping his fingers tight around the man’s giant member and pulling it forth. Adam quickly begins to stroke the male stripper off, gracefully pumping his fist up and down his length as the man leans his head back and moans in utter satisfaction.
Adam eventually drops down to his knees before Kent, gazing up at the beautiful man with his cock-hungry eyes. He’s absolutely ravenous, and it’s no surprise when my husband decides to take things to the next level.
Opening wide, Adam wraps his lips around Kent’s giant cock and begins to push his face up and down across his length. My husband reaches up and cra
dles Kent’s hanging balls as he goes, giving everything he’s got to this oral encounter.
Trembling with surges of powerful emotion, I begin to beat myself off in time with the movements of my beautiful husband, my eyes locked onto the erotic scene as it unfolds before me. I’m completely entranced by what I’m witnessing, blown away by the fact that this is no longer just some wild fantasy. This is actually happening. My husband is fucking another man.
After a good while, Adam pops the cock out of his mouth and gives the male stripper a good, long lick, dragging his tongue across the length of his shaft and then kissing the head of his swollen cock with playful enthusiasm.
My husband opens wide again to swallow Kent’s rod, only this time he doesn’t pump his face across him. Instead, Adam slides this massive cock deeper and deeper into his gullet, refusing to pull back as he allows the man’s giant dick to slip well past the expected limits of his gag reflex. Soon enough, the stripper’s cock is fully consumed, my husband’s face pressed up hard against his new lover’s perfectly chiseled abs.
Adam gazes up at the man above him, his eyes overflowing with belligerent, cock-hungry lust.
Kent places his hands on the back of my husband’s head, holding his in this position as he revels in the sexual dominance. He’s taking control, claiming the man of my dreams as his own right before my very eyes.
The lovers say in this position for as long as they possibly can, then eventually my husband is forced to pull back with a sputter, erupting away from the mammoth rod as he struggles to collect himself. Adam is gasping for air as spit dangles from his bottom lip in a long glistening strand, but now he’s more enthusiastic than ever.
“I need you to fuck me,” my husband demands. “I need a new cock in this tight gay ass.”
Adam stands up, stripping away the rest of his clothing and then strutting towards the nearby bed. He climbs up onto the soft, blanket-covered surface and falls forward onto his hands and knees, popping his beautifully toned rump out towards Kent as he stands behind his in awe.