The Bachelorette Party Stripper and My Filthiest Confession

This is a confession, and if I’m telling it here, it’s because I can’t tell anyone in my life. Not my best friend, not my sister, and much less the man I’m dating now. It happened almost four years ago, but there are still nights when I close my eyes and feel those huge hands squeezing my waist like it was the first time, that thick cock opening me up inside, that hot semen sliding down my throat.

It all started with an invitation I wasn’t expecting. Magdalena was a former coworker I’d shared a cubicle with for two years. We got along well, but routine and job changes did what they always do: we stopped talking. When the envelope arrived with her name and her boyfriend’s on it, I thought she’d put me on the wrong list. I answered confirming, more out of obligation than actual desire.

A week later she added me to a group chat with all her friends and I got the second invitation: bachelorette party, Saturday at eight, private bar downtown. We started talking again as if no time had passed. Back then I was a wreck. I had just ended things with Lorenzo, my boyfriend of three years, after discovering he’d been messaging another woman for months. And to top it off, I’d had a huge fight with Carolina, my soul sister, over something stupid I don’t even remember now. My mood was in the gutter and saying yes to the night out was almost an act of survival.

I showed up at the bar in a short black dress, red heels, and the firm decision to drink whatever got put in front of me. I didn’t know anyone except Magdalena, but the girls adopted me from the first toast. Twelve women, almost all professionals, all with that mix of elegance and shamelessness that only appears when they know no one is watching them with judging eyes that night.

The decoration was explicit to the point of being ridiculous: penis-shaped balloons floating from the ceiling, straws in the same shape, a giant piñata in the corner. On every table, a box wrapped in pink paper with the word “surprises” handwritten on it. I laughed, but inside I could feel something loosening, feel my cunt starting to get wet without asking permission.

***

The games started around ten. First something innocent, a kind of truth-or-dare where the questions got dirtier and dirtier: how many cocks had you sucked, did you like swallowing, had anyone ever fucked you in the ass. Then a guessing game with blindfolds: they’d put an object in your hands and you had to say what it was.

When it was the turn of a red-haired girl — I think her name was Ivana — she pulled a silicone dildo the size of my forearm from the box. She brought it to her face, smelled it, smiled, and without warning pulled down her stockings and panties and shoved it in right there, sitting on the chair in front of everyone. She sank it in halfway in one stroke, threw her head back and started working it with her hand, in and out with a wet sound that rose over the music. The others were clapping and shouting as if it were a circus act, and she came right there, eyes closed and one hand squeezing a breast over her bra.

I stayed frozen for the first few seconds. Then I laughed. And a few minutes later, when a blonde climbed onto the table and started making out with the girl beside her, tongues visible and hands already under blouses, nothing surprised me anymore. The music got louder, the lights went down, and the bar stopped being a bar and became something else.

I was on my third drink when I felt my crotch start throbbing, my thong sticking wetly to my cunt. I didn’t come here for this, I thought. Or maybe I did. Maybe I came here exactly for this. I knocked back the rest of my glass in one go.

***

At exactly midnight, one of Magdalena’s friends climbed onto the improvised stage at the back and announced in a TV host voice that “the main gift” was arriving. The lights went completely out and for ten seconds all you could hear was the bassline of a song I recognized immediately. Then three men appeared, walking among us like they knew exactly the effect they had.

They were only wearing snug boxers. Three different bodies, all three worked out, all three with that air of men who have done this show a hundred times before. The first was blond, with tattoos on both arms. The second was Latino, shorter but solid, with a bulge showing obscenely under the fabric. And the third, the third took my breath away.

He was a Black man, tall, with the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen in my life. His head was shaved, he had a slow smile, and dark eyes that seemed to notice everything at once. The black boxers hugged a cock that already looked enormous, hanging to one side, thick even while resting. He walked with that calm of men who know they don’t need to hurry. I set my glass on the table and didn’t touch it again for a long time.

—That’s Antonella! —Magdalena shouted, laughing, because she saw my face—. You’ve already chosen!

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t stop looking at him.

***

The show started with individual dances and escalated from there. Within minutes the girls were already touching them, first over the boxers, then slipping their hands underneath. Laughter turned into gasps and applause into screams. The blond was kissing two women at once and one of them already had his cock out, jerking him off slowly while still following his tongue with hers. The Latino had another woman sitting on him, grinding against his thigh, her skirt hiked to the waist and her ass almost bare.

My beautiful Black man — because that’s how I started thinking of him, without asking permission — was dancing for a straight-haired girl, crouched in front of her, hands on her knees. When he stood up and moved away, I didn’t wait. I got up, walked over to him, and without saying a word, put my hands around his neck.

—Hi —he said. His voice was deep and it made my skin prickle.

—Hi —I answered, and rose onto my toes.

I kissed him. I grabbed his head with both hands and kissed him like I knew him from before. He didn’t move at first, surprised, but two seconds later he kissed me back with tongue, with teeth, with everything. I felt his hand slide down my back to the hem of my dress, and stop right there, waiting for an answer.

I ran my fingers over the boxers and felt him hardening under my hand, growing and growing with no end in sight. When I finally had him fully hard, I wrapped my hand around the bulge with all five fingers and could barely close them. He was huge. Obscenely huge.

—I love what you’ve got there —I whispered against his lips, looking him in the eyes, squeezing his cock through the fabric—. I’ll be back for more. I want this whole dick in my mouth.

He smiled faintly, with that slow way of his, and I went back to my seat before my legs stopped obeying me.

***

The boxers ended up on the floor a few minutes later. The girls pulled them down amid laughter, screaming like it was the event of the year. I watched him step out of his underwear and felt my mouth go dry. It wasn’t just big. It was beautiful, perfectly formed, dark, with that subtle curve upward I’d never seen on another man. It hung heavy between his thighs, thick veins running over it, and a shiny head already starting to leak a clear drop at the tip. His balls were big too, tight against his body.

One of the girls got it into her mouth before I had time to process it. I watched her open her jaw as wide as possible and still only manage to take in half, tears gathering in her eyes from the effort. I waited. I watched another one run her tongue over the shaft, from the balls to the tip, with saliva dripping down her chin. I waited while a third laughed and barely brushed it with her lips because the size intimidated her. And when my turn came, I dropped to my knees without thinking.

I took him with both hands, one on top of the other, and there was still cock left over. I looked up at him from below. He was looking at me too, no smile now, with a new concentration. I started slowly, sticking out my tongue and running it only over the tip, circling the head, sucking the pre-cum already beading there. Then I licked the whole shaft from bottom to top, following a vein that ran up from the base. I took one ball into my mouth and then the other, sucking carefully, feeling them heavy against my tongue.

When I went back to the tip, I opened my mouth as wide as I could and started to take him down. He went in with difficulty. He caught in my palate, in my throat, and I kept squeezing, pushing, forcing myself. I heard him let out a deep groan for the first time when the tip hit the back of my throat. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t pull away. I stayed there, choking, feeling him pulse in my mouth, feeling him get even harder between my lips.

I started moving up and down, both hands helping at the base, twisting them at the same time. I could hear the wet sound of my mouth sucking him, my own saliva streaming down my chin, dripping onto my breasts through the neckline. I held his balls with one hand and ran the other over his thigh, squeezing it, digging in with my red nails. I heard him let out air for the first time, with a long gasp. That was enough for me.

—Stay with me —I begged, pulling him out of my mouth for just a second, a thread of saliva and pre-cum hanging between my lips and the tip of his cock—. Please.

—How? —he asked. His voice was rougher than before.

—Stay with me. Now. I want you to fuck me.

***

I didn’t wait for an answer. I stood up, slipped the dress off my shoulders, and let it fall to the tile floor. I was left in my underwear and heels. I unclasped my bra and let it fall too; my tits were free, my nipples so hard they hurt. I pulled down my thong too, soaked through, and tossed it aside without taking my eyes off him. I sat down on one of the low couches in the back, spread my legs wide, and took two fingers to my cunt, opening myself with my index and middle finger so he could see everything, the pink, wet, swollen need of it.

—Put it in me —I said—. Put the whole thing in me. Please.

The other girls started screaming before he reacted. The other two strippers came over to watch too, never letting go of the women already on them. “Fuck her, fuck her!” they chanted like it was an anthem. Magdalena was screaming with laughter, jumping up and down, hands over her face.

He came over. He knelt between my legs first. He opened my thighs with both hands, looked at my cunt up close, and lowered his head. I felt his wide tongue tracing upward from my perineum to my clit, long, flat, soaking me even more. He sucked my clit with his lips, took it into his mouth and licked it with the tip of his tongue, worrying it there, unhurried, while he drove two thick fingers into me and moved them in and out with an obscene wet sound.

—Like that —I gasped, grabbing his shaved head with both hands, pressing his face to me—. There, there.

When I was on the verge of coming, he stopped. He stood up. He leaned over me. He kissed me first on the mouth, and I could taste myself on his tongue. Then on the neck. Then he sucked one nipple and then the other, tugging them with his teeth until I moaned. I felt the tip of his cock touch my entrance, felt the wet head slide up and down over my lips, soaking in my juices, and how, slowly, it began to push its way in.

It hurt. It hurt a lot at first, because he was much bigger than I was used to. I felt myself stretching centimeter by centimeter, felt my cunt opening by force to let him through. But I didn’t want him to stop.

—Slow —I begged, biting my lip—. I’m small.

—You tell me —he answered, with that deep voice, never stopping his push—. Take it, baby.

He went in little by little. Every inch made me make a sound I didn’t know I had in me, a rough moan, almost a whimper. I felt the head pressing inside me, hitting places no other cock had ever touched. When he was all the way in, with his balls heavy against my ass, he stayed still for a few seconds, looking at my face, letting me get used to having him all the way inside.

—You’re so tight —he said softly, almost smiling—. You’re choking me.

—Move —I begged—. Now. Fuck me.

He started moving. Slowly. Pulling almost all the way out and then thrusting back in to the hilt. I could feel every stroke going all the way to my throat. Then harder. He grabbed both my legs from behind the knees, lifted them, opened me even more, and started fucking me hard, his pelvis slamming against my ass with a dry sound that blended into the music.

—Harder —I said through clenched teeth, scratching his back.

—Like this.

—More, more, more. Break me.

I said it with a breaking voice, feeling every thrust shake my breasts, feeling the couch creak under me, feeling myself dripping down the insides of my thighs. I could feel his cock sliding in and out with a wet, obscene sound, and my own cunt sucking him back every time he tried to leave. The girls kept screaming. I didn’t hear them anymore. I only heard him breathing against my ear, and myself saying things I’d be embarrassed to repeat in any other context.

—I love your cock —I moaned—. I love your Black cock, give it all to me, give me all of it.

I felt the first orgasm coming like a wave rising from inside me. I dug my nails into his shoulders and came trembling around his cock, clenching on him in spasms, screaming in his face. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking me while I fell apart beneath him, stretching the climax until it almost hurt.

He pulled out suddenly. He turned me over without care, as if I were a doll. He set me on my knees on the couch, hands on the backrest, ass up high, and shoved back in from behind in one single thrust. I screamed. I screamed loud. At the new angle he was even deeper, hitting a place in my depths that made me see lights.

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit the leather of the couch so I wouldn’t scream any more. He gripped my waist with both hands, those huge hands, and fucked me without mercy, wrenching a gasp from me with every blow. At some point he ran a hand through my hair, grabbed it, and yanked, forcing my head up. With the other he gave my ass a sharp smack, once, twice, three times, until my skin was burning.

—Tell me you like it —he ordered, never stopping.

—I love it, I love it —I answered without hesitation—. Don’t stop. Never stop.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Magdalena giving me a thumbs-up, like she was proud of me. I laughed inside a moan, and at that moment he drove in especially deep and turned my laugh into a scream.

He had me on my side too. He laid me down, lifted one leg and set it over his shoulder, and kept fucking me like that, looking me in the face, watching me come apart. He bent down and sucked one nipple without stopping his motion. He ran his thumb over my clit, insisting in quick circles, and I came again, this time crying from pure pleasure, feeling empty and full at the same time.

***

Before he finished, he pulled out. He took two steps back, cock shining with my juices, swollen, throbbing. I turned around, still kneeling on the couch, trembling all over, and he pointed at the floor with a tilt of his chin.

—Here —he said. And then, lower, with a voice that made me tremble—: Come here, bad girl. On your knees.

I went down to the floor immediately. I knelt in front of him, with my head almost level with his waist, tits bare, thighs soaked, makeup smeared. I opened my mouth before he’d even finished saying anything and stuck out my tongue, flat, until I laid it against his chin. He grabbed my head with his left hand, shoved his cock into my mouth all the way to the back of my throat, and jerked off furiously with his right, two times, three, four. I could feel his balls hitting my chin.

When he came it was like being filled with a bucket. The first spurt struck my palate, so hot it shocked me. The second filled my tongue. The third spilled from the corner of my mouth, and he collected it with the tip of his cock and pushed it back into my mouth. He kept coming in smaller spasms, holding my head with his hand, leaving my mouth overflowing with thick, salty semen.

I didn’t move. I didn’t swallow until he was done, until he pulled his cock out and ran the tip over my lips, cleaning himself off. Then I did swallow it all, in one motion, not losing a single drop, feeling it go down my throat hot and heavy to my stomach. I opened my empty mouth to show him, tongue still shining, and he gave a faint smile and ran his thumb over my lower lip.

The whole bar applauded. Literally. For a second, and for the last time in my life, I felt like a star.

***

The rest of the night is a blur. I know I drank more. I know the other girls kept having fun with the other two strippers, that at some point I heard Magdalena screaming while they fucked her from behind on the drinks table. I know at some point I put my dress back on, without underwear, feeling the semen and my juices sliding down the insides of my thighs, the red heels still on my feet. I know he kissed me on the forehead before leaving, and that he said something I don’t remember. And I learned the next day, when I asked Magdalena by message, that his name was Gabriel. But nothing else. No Instagram, no phone number, nothing.

I looked for him for weeks. I got a little obsessed. Then I calmed down, focused on other things, met Lautaro, and we started dating. I’m fine. I’m in love. But there are nights when I close my eyes and go back to that couch, and feel that huge cock opening me again, that deep voice calling me a bad girl, that semen going down my throat in a way no one else has ever made me feel.

So this is for you, Gabriel, if for some reason you’re reading this: I’m the girl in the red heels, the one who asked you to stay with me, the one who knelt at the end without you having to ask twice, the one who swallowed every last drop. If you remember me, write me. Even just once. Even if it’s only to tell me what it feels like for a woman not to have been able to forget your cock for four years.