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Teachers Union -- 1 Girls Night In

It was a girls’ night out.

Actually, it was a bachelorette party for one of the young teachers at the high school. It had been arranged by my wife, Carol, and my buddy’s wife, Barb. His name is Frank. The group had gone out for dinner and drinks in nearby Three Rivers.

And since the wives were gone, Frank and I decided to get together, the two of us, share a few brews, and watch some Clint Eastwood movies … westerns and Dirty Harry, not that Bridges crap. And since I had the best basement TV and sound system in town (admittedly, not a very big town … in fact, a very small town) we met at my place.

We were on the third movie … one of the spaghetti westerns … the beer was gone, and we has switched to tequila shots. That’s when we heard the girls come in the kitchen door upstairs. And it wasn’t just the two of them … they had some of the other teachers in tow.

As they came down the basement stairs, Carol called out, “You guys decent?”

From behind her, someone shouted, “God, I hope not!” The rest broke out in laughter.

I clicked off the TV as Carol led a half-dozen ladies down the stairs. “The old fuddy-duddies went home,” she explained, “and I invited the others … the cool girls … over for another round.”

“Or two … or three,” someone added. Again, the women gave out a buzzed laugh.

Carol went to the bar. “What’ll it be ladies? Margaritas for everyone?” There was a chorus of assent.

As my wife set out the blender and began to make that frozen concoction, Frank called out, “How’d it go, honey? You gals have fun?”

Barb paused before speaking. “It was nice,” she said, her voice revealing a level of disappointment.

“Just nice?” Frank continued. “What was the matter?”

“Everyone was nice and all,” Barb explained. “The dinner was nice and the drinks good, it’s just…” Her voice trailed off.

Frank and I waited for her to continue. When she remained silent, it was another of the teachers, Jenny, who chimed in. “There were no strippers! What’s a batchorellete pary without guys in jock-staprs?” There was a collective gasp and then an outburst of laughter.

Carol announced that the first round of drinks were ready. “Drink up,” she said. “They’re on the house!”

“Gotta ladder?” said one of the girls. More laughter. They were all feeling no pain!

The ice broken, Barb went on. “Well, everything was nice but it would have been fun to have some entertainment.”

“Strippers!” Jenny said.

“Yeah,” said Barb. “Strippers. But there’s no place like that in Three Rivers.”

“We could have gone up to Kalamazoo,” said another, Cathy.

“That was too far,” said Carol, preparing the next round. “And then we’d have to all drive back. No one needs to run the risk of a DUI.”

There was a general agreement.

“We could have hired some,” said Jenny.

“Yeah, sure!” Carol replied. “And there sits Grace, the minister’s wife, head of the PTA.”

Again, nods of agreement.

Jenny didn’t seem to be giving up on the idea. “Well, we should have planned and after-party party, for when Grace and those fuddy-duddies went home. We could have had some hot studs meet us here and enjoyed the show.”

“And what they show,” said Cathy. Laughter.

“We could have hired some local talent,” said Jenny. “I was out the other day and saw Ben Stillwell mowing his lawn, just wearing shorts and shoes. He has a gorgeous body. I wouldn’t mind seeing him strip.”

Cindy, the youngest and newest teacher of the group spoke up, “I’ve seen Ben Stillwell. I wouldn’t mind slipping a dollar in this shorts.”

“Cindy!” said Barb, “I’m shocked!” And when she laughed, everyone joined in.

Now, Frank and I had not budged from the overstuffed sofa that faced the TV. The women had seated themselves at the bar and small table behind us. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.

Frank leaned to me and whispered, “Can you believe these women? They’re all married, except for that Cindy.” I shrugged.

Carol announced that the next round of drinks was ready, and then added, “Well, Ben is nice looking, but I think my husband has him beat!”

“Thanks, babe,” I shouted without looking back.

There was a moment of silence, and then Jenny upped the ante. “Prove it,” she demanded.

Frank and I exchanged a shocked glance.

“Yeah,” said Cathy. “Why doesn’t he give us a show?”

“Yeah,” the other said, and then chanted, “We want Joe! We want Joe!”

Carol came out from behind the bar to stand in front of me. “Come on, sweetie,” she said, “dance for us.” A wicked grin was on her face. She took me by the hands and pulled me from the safety of the sofa. Then, “You too, Frank.” She pulled him to his feet too.

Frank and I stood in silence as Carol crossed to the stereo unit, putting on some hard bass song. The women quickly adjusted their seats.

“Go ahead,” Barb said, “dance for us.”

Now I don’t know if was the combination of the beer and tequila, or the fact that a dozen female eyes were staring at me, or the realization that a long-held stripper fantasy was on the verge of becoming a reality, or all three … yes, definitely all three … but I began to move, first my feet, then my hands, then my hips. I closed my eyes and let the music and the moment take over. It wasn’t anything lewd, just a moving to the beat.

The song ended, and I opened my eyes to see Frank finishing his dancing as well.

“More, more, more,” the women shouted. Another song started and so, Frank and I began to dance some more.

It was mid-way through this second song that Jenny shouted out, “Take it off!” which became an immediate chant from the group.

I looked at Frank. He smiled, and hiked his shirt up over his head. I shrugged and began to slowly unbuttoned my shirt. The women hooted and hollered. By the end of the song, Frank and I were standing topless before the women.

Now I have to admit that I’m proud of my body. I would get together with some of the guys in the high school weight room and lift several times a week. I was still running daily, and so, even though I was not sporting six-pack abs, I was still in pretty good shape, almost as good as Ben Stillwell! Frank was a little softer and not as defined as me, which only, I thought, made me look better.

I bent over to get my shirt when Cathy shouted out, “One more. Please, one more.” Before I could object, Carol kicked in a third song.

It hadn’t played too long when Jenny yelled, “Pants! Lose the pants!”

Both Frank and I looked at each other, bewildered as to what to do next.

I turned to look to Carol for an answer. “Well,” she said, lowering the volume, “if we had hired you boys, you’d at least get down to your underwear!”

“Yeah,” said Jenny. “Let’s see those underwear.” And the chant became, “Underwear! Underwear!”

I leaned to Frank. “What should we do?”

“Carol and Barb don’t seem to mind. I’m game if you are.”

“Let’s go for it then,” I said as Carol turned the music back up.

Suddenly there was a rush as the women moved from the bar and table to take front row seats on the sofa. They huddled there, not four feet from us, eyes wide, biting their lower lips, in anticipation. It was a rush for me, too.

I stood facing them and slowly unbuckled my belt. I was laughing as I pulled it through the loops and then, like I’d seen in some movies, straddled it. I pulled it back and forth, as I rocked my hips. The reaction of the women was fueling my bravado.

I undid the button and slowly lowered the zipper. Then I jerked the flap to the right, then to the left, and then both at once. “Take ‘em off!” they shouted.

I turned my back and began to slowly lower my jeans. I wiggled my hips to shimmy them downwards. When the tops were at mid-thigh, I bent forward, sliding them over my calves and to my ankles. I pushed my ass back and shook it before the women.

Without warning, I felt a sharp slap on my right ass-cheek. I looked over my shoulder to see Cindy, blushing. “Oh,” I said, “that feels so good,” and laughed. Then came another slap to my left cheek.

I stood and stepped out of my jeans, my back still to the audience. Then I turned, wearing nothing but my boxer-briefs. Raising my hands, I shouted, “Ta da!” But, glancing down, I noticed that the women weren’t watching me; they were staring at Frank. Or, more precisely, at the tent that had formed in his boxers. Maybe it was the booze, but all I had was a chubby.

A moment later, when the song ended, the ladies erupted in applause. I bowed to them, as did Frank, and started to gather up my clothing.

“Ahh,” Jenny moaned. “One more.”

A wicked thought entered my head. “Well, maybe if we had someone up here to dance with us. If we could have a volunteer.” I looked at Cindy with a smile. But, before she could respond, I heard, “I’ll do it. If it means another dance, count me in.” It was Carol … my wife, Carol!

She started another song and came to join me and Frank, dancing between us. Now, Carol is a fantastic dancer, rocking and swaying to the music in the most sensuous of motions. I knew, watching her, my chubby would be a full on hard on by the end of this song.

She made sure of that. Grabbing my hand she pulled me to her, then turned so that we were spooning together. Then, she reached over to pull Frank to her, making her a “sandwich.” How right I was. My cock immediately grew. My boxer-briefs were tight enough to keep me from “tenting,” and instead sent the bulge down my left thigh.

“Turn,” said Carol, as she swirled around. I turned, to face away from her, and Frank turned to face her back. We were giving our hips a thrust when it occurred to me: Frank’s hard on, sticking straight out as it was, must be pressing on my wife’s ass, trying to make it’s way between her cheeks. Instead of making me jealous, the thought of Frank dry-humping my wife only hardened my cock.

When the song was ended, I thought that was it. How wrong I was!

It was Cathy who said, “You know, we haven’t slipped anything in their shorts. They’ve done all this for free for us.” The ladies responded with claps and “Thank you’s.” But Cathy continued, “I’ll give you both $20 dollars if you take off your underwear for us.”

Jenny picked up on the idea. “Me too. $20 for the full monty.”

Frank and I looked to our wives. They smiled. Barb said, “You’ve gone this far; why not all the way?”

Carol added, “You’re not hiding much any way. Go for it.”

I looked at Frank. “The wives say it’s OK. What about you?”

Frank laughed. “In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.”

I turned to the women. “OK, ladies,” I said. “After consulting with my partner, one more dance.”

Carol started a song. But instead of a fast, pounding number, it was a “sensuous sax” instrumental. Barb had crossed to the light switch and turned the dimmer down. Taking our cue, Frank and I began a slow, grind to the music.

Frank lost no time, maybe out of fear of chickening-out, and jerked his boxers down. I had seen Frank naked many times before, in the locker room and changing into swim trunks at the lake, but I had never seen his hard on. I’m not really into evaluating guys cocks, but I’d say Frank was OK. The shaft went from his pubic hair, about five inches, to a pinkish head. The women seemed to appreciate it, clapping at its unveiling.

It was then that I heard my wife say, “Go ahead, baby. Show them what you’ve got.”

That was all the encouragement I need. I faced the women and slowly rotated my hips to the music. I hitched my thumbs in the waistband of my underwear and slowly started to pull them down. All eyes were on me as I slid the elastic band down, revealing the top of my pubic hairs; down further to the base of my cock; down further, one, two, three inches down the smooth, veined shaft; four, five, six inches further down, to the ridge that marked the beginning of my glans. Then, all the way down. Seven, almost eight, inches of stiff, uncircumcised cock, sprang up, before the women. I did a little thrust that caused it to bounce up and down before them.

Cindy reacted without thought, reaching out to slide her hand over the length of my cock. Jenny reached out to fondle my balls. I looked over to see the other two paying the same attention to Frank’s junk. The wives stood back, whispering to one another.

The song ended, and everyone breathed a deep sigh of contentment. It was Carol who stepped forward. “Ladies,” she said, “you don’t have to worry about paying the boys. I’m sure they enjoyed everything as much as you did.” The women clapped. “That’s concludes the show for tonight … almost.” Frank and I both shot that bewildered glance once more.

“Barb and I have discussed it, and we cannot let the evening end with our guys in this condition.” Then she said, “Joe, Frank, lie down on the floor.” It was a berber carpet, so we complied. Barb crossed and knelt beside Frank; Carol started another song and came and knelt by me. All the ladies laughed as the song began: Clarence Carter singing “Strokin’.”

I felt Carol wrap her fingers around my cock and heard Barb announce, “Ladies, start your husbands.” And start she did, pumping the skin of my cock up and down. The foreskin slid down, the hot head of my cock feeling the cool air. Faster and faster she went. Through squinting eyes, I saw the onlookers lean forward for a better view. Up and down, up and down, pumping for all she could.

I heard Frank moan, “Oh, God,” and heard a gasp from the ladies.

That was the spark that I seemed to need. My balls pulled up in a “lock and load” position. I thrust my hips into the air and could feel the cum rushing up and out of my burning hot dick. The jiz must have shot three feet into the air, laying a white stripe from my nipples to my navel. I took a quick breath and again unloaded my wad. A third attempt was dry, and I lay there, before these wide-eyed women, my body shaking.

I looked up to see Carol smiling down on me. She leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. “You were great, baby,” she said.

Turning to her guests she said, “If you don’t mind letting yourselves out, Barb and I have some cleaning up to do.” They all laughed as they rose from the sofa.

Cindy and Jenny stood over me. “That was great,” Cindy said. “We’ll have to do this again.”

“Yes,” Jenny added, “most definitely.”

As the ladies ascended the stairs, I turned my head to see Barb smiling at her husband. Carol bent over me again to whisper in my ear, “Do you want to do this again?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Anytime.”

“Anytime, huh? Well Barb and I’ll get on that right away.”