I got the ticket through a friend’s boss. It seems he was planning to go without his wife, until she found out. My friend Kent was already booked into a ski bum bash at Vail, so I scooped up what turned out to be the experience of my life. Even the food tastes different to me now, somehow. But all that is jumping the gun a little bit. Let’s slow down and take it all from the beginning.
I was at my desk running the last of my Y2K checks on my system when my friend Kent called with the offer. I kind of liked the idea of a New Year’s Costume Party. It was certainly different. But when he said it was a production of the strip club we went to for his bachelor party, I almost dropped the phone. Hell yes, I wanted those over priced tickets to Paradise.
I hadn’t even thought about a costume at that point, but I was damn sure I wanted to see all those gorgeous women in whatever they would be trying to wear. My cock got hard at just the though of it.
My costume was my girlfriend, Paris’s idea. Paris was a beautiful, adventurous redheaded divorcee, 5-foot 9-inches tall, and weigh 155 pounds with very smooth, milky white skin and medium size breasts with nice sensitive nipples.
Since it was highly unlikely that we’d know anyone at this shindig, I went along with her harebrained scheme. What the hell, right? Who would know it was me in that little nurse’s outfit anyway?
Paris was going dressed as a doctor, so it would be fun, right? Well, at least that’s how I rationalized it in my head, at the time.
She spent weeks getting our outfits together.
I had to try mine on several times for her to ‘get it right’. Although, I know that, towards the end, she was just getting a kick out of seeing me in a dress. That was okay, though, because I made her serve up a blowjob with each fitting, to keep my men’s pride up in the face of cross-dressing, of course. I could tell she liked the ploy, because she did the last fitting in just a pair of panties and tried to suck my cock out of my body by the root. Thank God the party was coming up the following week. My poor cock was in need of a rest.
Tragedy struck at Christmas. Paris’s father died on Christmas Eve. As we’d only been seeing each other for a little over a year, I couldn’t arrange the time off I would have needed for the flight to Atlanta for the funeral. I’d like to have gone very much. Paris was so in love with her Daddy, that I wanted to be there for her, but work wasn’t going to wait for a relative I hadn’t even met, let alone been related to. To her credit, though, my beautiful brave girl understood completely and marched boldly on by herself.
I had thought about not going to the party, I mean, half of my costume had flown south. The thought of seeing all those sexy sights, however, brought my internal compass right back to true. The real problem was, my costume dresser had also flown south. I wrestled with the problem all of the week between Christmas and New Years. Then it hit me like a bolt of lightning. I called my sister, only to find out later that Paris had beaten me to it by a full day.
Now Lucy and I had always been friends, except when we were trying to kill each other, but this was uncharted territory for us. You should have seen the look on my face when she jumped at the chance to go. It wasn’t until later that I found out I’d been set up.
Her husband had to work and our mother had insisted that all the grandchildren come to her house for the night, in the event the world really did come to an end.
That left Lucy free to come to the party with me. Cool, but I found it interesting that our mother had chosen to face the Apocalypse with her grand kids and not her kids. When I remembered that such would mean spending New Year’s with my Mom, well, I chose not to dwell on it too much.
Lucy is a bigger girl than Paris, and would never have fit into her costume. Nor was she inclined to do so. She said she had an outfit all picked out already. She insisted, thought, that I still wear the nurse’s outfit that Paris had made. She spouted endlessly about the time and love that Paris had put into it. I suspect, however, that she was grooving on seeing me in a dress too. Again, I chose not to dwell too much on it, pussy that I am.
Finally, the big night arrived. We had called Paris at her Mom’s early in the afternoon. She said she was doing better, but was a bit worried about her mother.
Then Lucy got down to business, getting all the details on how Paris had planned out my look. You wouldn’t believe what this bitch had had in mind.
My own sister stripped me nude and tossed me in the tub.
After a vigorous protest and a rousting defeat, she barged into the bathroom and shaved my legs bare. The feeling couldn’t have been more foreign to me and was unmatched in my experience, right up until Lucy shaved my pubes off too.
I was wide eyed and rendered speechless. My sister, on the other hand, carried on like she was a girl with a doll playing dress ups. The indignities continued. Next came eyebrow plucking, facial shaving and one of those stocking cap deals that hold hair under a wig. I tried desperately not to look at myself in the mirror.
Lucy took a little too much pleasure slipping the silk stockings on my newly nude legs. By the time she strapped that bra on and filled it with ‘my breasts’, she was openly giddy. I wanted to slap her, but she was so pumped up, I probably would have been seriously hurt in return. We went on. Rembrandt went to work on my face.
My God, do you women really have to work that hard to achieve a look? Granted, Lucy was trying to sculpt a feminine look from a masculine rock, but.... damn. It took forever.
You know how, in show business, they talk about hours of make up? Try three hours, friend. I thought my face would fall off. I was stunned, though, when she made me look in the mirror. I secretly wondered whose face I was looking into. Then it hit me, Mom’s. I shuddered a little.
Lucy finished dressing me and then she went off to get herself ready. I waited far less time for her than it had taken her to do me. During the waiting time I seriously had to think about whether I was going to do this or not. I smoked damn near half a pack of Lucy’s cigarettes, and I hadn’t had one in four years. I was growing lightheaded and that’s where I think I lost the idea of chickening out.
Lucy came out of the bedroom at that point, dressed in an overcoat. When I pressed her to see her costume, all I got was a ‘later’. We dashed through the lobby and sped away before both of us could change our minds one final time.
The club was a nondescript building on the outside. On the inside, however, it looked like a Sultan’s Palace.
The waitresses, bartenders and assorted staff were all decked out like Harem girls and boys. Again, we chose not to question these things too much.
I checked my specially made cape and held my hand out for Lucy’s coat. I almost dropped it when I saw what was underneath it. Now I’ve never been one for big girls, like my sister Lucy and probably because of her, but I was instantly jealous of my brother in law.
My beautiful, blonde 5-foot 4-inch, 120 lb., size 4/6 (depending on who makes the cloths), perfect looking sister had on a negligee that alternated black silk with a sort of netting like fabric that showed off her curves, but none of the good stuff.
I was absolutely floored. I hadn’t seen that much of my sister since we were babies. And believe me, I have no memories of such an event. She was gorgeous, and needed to be told soon because she looked scared enough to bolt at any second. I leaned over and kissed her cheek softly.
“Damn,” was all I needed to say, her shoulders relaxed and we headed for the bar.
We’ve all heard of Sodom and Gomorra but has anyone actually been there? I believe I have. The things I saw at this party have corrupted my soul and I’m now Hell bound just for being there. And I wouldn’t change one minute of it.
First, I stopped a Harem girl with a tray of Champagne. Her breasts were clearly visible beneath her purple top. They were mighty nice too. I suspect her pussy was also visible, but I couldn’t see through the tray she held. Oh well, I moved on.
There were the usual things I had expected to see, a man and woman in matching leather underwear, various married women in their limited lingerie and the occasional husband who made some sort of effort to look somewhat sexy. There were a few unattached guys there and looked obvious enough to get arrested. But it was the girls that made the extra effort that really caught my attention.
I saw a woman in a real grass skirt with an orchid-lei. Her skin was not the deep tan of the Polynesians but she looked good anyway.
Another woman was decked out in an outfit made entirely of sparsely laid out leather straps and a matching black cape. I deduced she was trying to be some sort of sexual super hero. I would let her rescue me any day, believe that.
Another pair of college age girls had worn their cheerleading sweaters with white socks and sneakers. It seems they had also shaved their pussies bare for the event and were so proud of the job they did, they just had to show everyone, for they forgot the skirts that went with the sweaters.
A man across the room wore nothing but a stuffed sheep on his cock. I don’t know how he attached it to him, but I’m guessing he didn’t keep it up all that time.
I myself, though, was having no hydraulic problems at all. My poor panties were really getting a workout this night.
The most curious costume literally jumped out of the crowd at me. A late thirties woman stepped up to me and snapped a crisp salute. She wore a pair of sunflower yellow bikini panties, white socks and saddle shoes, a blue and gold Cub Scout neckerchief and ponytails. My eyes just widened a bit as she put on a little show.
“Slut Scout Maggie reporting for inspection, Ma’am,” she barked out. Then her eyes rounded in surprise, as did her mouth, as a wet spot grew in her panties and the pee dribbled down her leg into her shoes.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I began in an effected female voice. “I think you were looking for someone a bit more,” I dropped my voice, “feminine.”
I thought the poor woman was going to burst into tears. She’d wasted her little play on me, without the means of starting again and I turned out to be a wrong number. Luckily, a kindly grandmother, dressed in what I can only describe as a chain mail nighty, jumped in and roundly scolded the errant Slut Scout.
The Slut Scout was in her glory when the older woman took her by the ear and dragged her across the room. Watching an experienced but certainly well maintained ass hurry to keep up, I was tempted to go and watch the spanking the Scout had worked so hard for, but I was interrupted.
A disturbingly handsome man stepped out of the crowd, stopped a passing Harem girl and handed me a glass of Champagne. I took it but said nothing. I was still transfixed on his ‘costume’ when it registered that he had spoken.
“I said, to the millennium,” he repeated.
I still lacked the ability to speak, but clinked my glass against his glass and drank his toast just the same.
I was too busy staring at his ‘costume.’ I mean, I’d expected the girls to take off every stitch and run around like that, but the thought that a guy might do it had never occurred to me, not to mention that said guy would catch and hold my attention. He had a ‘Fred Flintstone’ like caveman fur type of thing painted onto his nude body. I tried, but just couldn’t take my eyes off him. And, if I may say so, he was well worth looking at.
As I mentioned, he was disturbingly handsome, close to my age, early 30s, very sexy in a masculine way, taller than my 5-foot 9, about 6-foot or better, slim but muscular like a swimmer, short blonde hair, sexy full lips and a captivating smile with naturally white, straight teeth.
Because I’d never much hung around gyms and locker rooms I’d never really seen very many cocks, so I guess I was curious, is why my eyes drifted below his waist.
I could tell by the way that he smiled at me when he caught me looking that he didn’t mind because he was proud of it. Even though my cheeks turned red from embarrassment, I still got a good look at it and was surprised at how big it was. Even flaccid it was about 8-inches long, uncircumcised, and looked about as big around as one of those tall cans of Coors. Of course, it had to be thick to support its big reddish/purple plum shaped Ping-Pong ball sized head and the pair of golf ball sized nuts dangling below it. In keeping with the tone of the evening, however, I did not question this at length.
He smiled sweetly. “First time, hon?”
Still stunned, I didn’t even try to evade his meaning. I just gave a meek, “Uh huh,” and let it go at that.
Luckily for me, the band wound down and the emcee announced the countdown to midnight. I turned and he moved closer to my back. Curiously, somewhere deep in my brain, I was glad that I looked ‘my best’ at this particular moment in time. I also had an unsettling thrill growing in my balls. He put a hand on my shoulder and then let in slowly drift down my back until he was cupping my ass, as we shouted out the last 10-seconds of the year.
The moment of truth came at the expected time. And without the slightest hesitation on my part, at the stroke of midnight, I kissed him as if it were something I was supposed to do. Our lips met softly at first, then got deeper and harder. His kiss was one of the most sensual I have ever been on the receiving end of. I melted, ever so briefly, in his hands like an M&M wannabe.
When he broke, I stayed motionless for a long moment catching my breath, and then looked deep into his sky blue eyes for another long minute.
“Call me,” he whispered in my ear and slipped a matchbook into my hand. With all the gallantry of a knight of old, he strode away rather than prolong my awkward moment. I felt a pang in my heart at the kindness, and sexiness, or such a gesture. Then I straightened up and donned my male persona and armor once again.
I found Lucy in the company of 2-women, who had the look of wolves about to feed about them. Thinking quickly that we both had lives and relationships to keep intact, I collected her and we headed for the door before we had the serious chance to misbehave and have something to feel guilty about. Although she had said she wasn’t ready to go, I knew she would thank me in the morning and she did.
The drive home was completely silent. I didn’t even turn on the radio.
Needless to say, we were both horny as hell. I’m sure we were both wondering the same thing too. If it would be okay if something happened between us in these predawn hours of the New Year. But we both knew that in a night filled with such strangeness that was a line best not crossed.
I will admit, though, I saw nothing wrong with the two of us masturbating ourselves together.
I could tell, just by looking at her, that Lucy was dying to play with herself. She always was an avid fan of self-satisfaction.
I pulled up to her door before the subject or any subject, found a voice.
She kissed me on the cheek, thanked me softly and got out. I did notice thought that she failed to put on her coat for the bitterly cold walk to the door. Cold shower substitute perhaps or maybe just letting me get one last look? Yet again, I chose not to question.
I stumbled into my apartment with a loud shuffle. No one was home, so it really didn’t matter. I didn’t even bother to try to get the make up off. I just stripped down to my panties and lay on the bed, stroking my impossibly hard cock through the silky fabric and thinking about the handsome guy at the party.
As I looked at the matchbook cover I was pretty nervous, I decided to give it a try. My heart caught in my throat when he answered. “I’m the nurse from the party,” I stammered in a feminine voice, “I was thinking about you.”
“Yes, I remember you,” he purred in a voice as sweet as honey. “I hoped you called to invite me over.”
“I was thinking about it,” I explained, “But, I’m scared, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“What’s there to be scared of?”
“There are things that you don’t know,” I whispered.
“So, tell me,” he replied.
“Things are not what they seem,” I moaned.
“They never are.”
“I’m not really a girl,” I confessed, bracing myself for the onslaught.
“Well, no shit.”
“You mean you knew?” I stammered in shock.
“Duh, girls don’t have Adam’s apples,” he laughed.
He came over about 30-minutes later and he looked just as good in slacks and t-shirt as he did naked, well, almost.
When he got there, at first it was rather odd. I didn't know what to do with him. Should I get naked, should I stroke myself?
He wasn’t the least bit nervous. He took my wrist and let me feel his cock through his pants. Then leading me towards my bedroom, he said, “It'd be easier if he lay down.”
When he pulled his slacks down, my face glowed like a kid on Christmas morning. His cock was already as hard as a rock. I’d never touched another man’s cock before, but with very little hesitation I started stroking him a few times, and without asking, I went for it and before I knew it I had him in my mouth. My lips were wrapped around his cock and I was sucking away.
I closed my eyes and savored the feel of my mouth moving up and down on his massive cock.
As he stroked my hair, I heard him murmur, “Guys do give better head.”
Then something happened, I felt a strange reaction in his cock, it seemed to get harder and clinched up. When he exploded I eagerly sucked down every drop of his sweet man cream and swallowed it right down like a pro.
After he exploded, we lay there for a few minutes basking in the after glow. It felt simply marvelous to explore that whole strange new world.
When he was gone, I lay there wondering what Paris would think if she knew what had happened. As I lit one of the matches and burned the whole book, I thought, fortunately she’d never find out.
I ’d lit the cigarette that I’d bummed off Lucy and settled back for the return trip to my real life. The butt tasted so good.