The Wedding Present

Tamara’s Wedding : Intro, Chapter1 of 12. A hen night escapade.

Introduction.

Engaged couple, Tamara and Simon, are about to enter married life like so many others before them. But events take a turn when northern lass Tamara’s hen night goes a bit wild and she finds herself in a spot.

Going around the pubs, bars, and the odd club on her hen night and getting to flirt with random guys, while being egged on to feel and size the cocks of as many a guy as she wanted was to be honest, a bit of a dream come true for thirty something brunette, Tamara. But after her best friend Amelia told her that the strippers they’d both planned for the evening had had to cancel, part of her dream, the part she’d really looked forward too wasn’t to be and her fantasy bubble if you like, had been popped.

Determined to indulge herself in “a bloody good send off” as she her self had put it, before definitively tying the knot, she picked herself up and buddy’s in tow, (or was she in tow?) they headed off down to the local bars, hitting the seafront before making their way up town.

The streets were busy with revellers as they stumbled from bar to bar like hen party’s do. And the drinks were of coarse, flowing. Girls were whooping as shots were downed, guys were everywhere and fella after fella got hand picked and selected (sometimes as a wind up it must be added) and brought forth for Tamara’s delight, or refusal and not so many declined her attentions.

A girl on her last night of freedom can be a loose and wanton thing, and Tamara was certainly giving it a good go!

After so many bars uptown someone decided it would be a good idea, don’t they always, to follow some crowd who apparently knew this place…anyway. They all headed out a side door from Bongo Jimi’s, whatever it was called, fragmenting into little splinter groups as they clopped, trotted and swayed down the narrow side street that led down hill.

Tamara was feeling horny after her encounters, jangling along with her bride to be, set free, last night o’ freedom get up she looked a plonker perhaps, but hey! She now had some hot guys hand on her ass who barely five minutes ago she’d not even met and with all her friends around giving her the green light for support and encouragement, the night was simply hers for the taking.

“Yea, get that hand up there!” One of her friends calls out. “It’s her last night y’know you can’t ‘ave her once this nights up, that’s it!” She continues. And grabbing onto his forearm suddenly she tries to jerk him up and down Tamara’s already wakening crotch.

“Hey!” “Cut it out.” Tamara spits, but then lowering her tone, swiftly adds. “Plenty of time for that later.” Tamara turn’s to the guy who’s hand is at her ass, letting inhibitions fall to the way and with a telling grin, plants a kiss on his lips…and then tongues, suddenly all tongues, wet ‘n lashing.

Her face becomes flush with a fresh wave of arousal, alcohol hitting her in the fresh night air and the women start to whoop at the spectacle before the crowd start their merry jaunt onward, to wherever it was they were meant to be going to, Tamara teetering along, arm in arm with some fresh fit bloke.

Eventually the cobbled street flattens out and gives way to tarmac beside an empty carpark.. Then stopping in the street, his hand comes up Tamara’s short black dress, as it heads straight up over her fish net stocking covered thigh to gently brush up against the mound beneath her red nylon knickers, feeling her warmth, her moisture.

“Oh my god, Tamara!” “You mucky tart!” Comes the ever audible voice of her Scouser mate, Claire.

“You ain’t seen nothin yet she throws back breaking off from a kiss that leaves spit trailing from her lips, and as she re-engages her arm moves downward and her hand glides over toward the bulge in his trouser. The booze helping to prime the unique situation she finds herself in and wash away the inhibition that would normally hold her in check.

“I’ve had no bloody strippers that were promised, i’ll ‘ave you recall!”

“Is that right?” Asks the guy who’s cock she is now rubbing against her greedy palm.

“That’s right.” Tamara say’s in a low, provocative voice and he responds in kind, moving into her, tongue probing her mouth. She squeezes his hardened cock, feels it’s size in her hand as it threatens to burst through the soft denim of his jeans.

And then he leans her forward into him as he moves back, and still probing her wanting mouth, backs up against a parked car as she steps gingerly forward on her heels. Grabbing her buttocks he lifts her dress up over her thighs to feel and caress, her knickers now exposed to the gathered crowd. Then his fingers slide down under her frankly, slutty underwear, gliding in to the crevice of her arse.

He touches her there with a finger, and she gasps as he brushes against her back entrance….Oh my god I am SO hot for this thinks Tamara as all sense of her wavering self control begins to wilt.

Arh, fuckin’ hell Tamara!” A friend shouts out to a hail of whoops. There is tension, there is excitement and laughter as she is cheered on with her heroic little escapade.

“Fuck me.” She now whispers to him tentatively.

Then louder and suddenly more confidently. “Fuck me on my hen night!”

“Here?” He hurriedly asks, voice sounding slightly taken aback but obviously just checking in.

“Yes here!” She replies quickly, her breathing shortened and rapid.

“I want it now!” She manages to say through the melding of tongues, her voice wavering a little with enhanced arousal at the sheer spectacle of what she has proposed to do.

He removes himself from her mouth and before she knows it she is being twisted about on her heels before a blurred whirl of cheering onlookers. Her stomach lurches a bit, but soon settles.

Here she is on her hen night, feeling really horny!…Her short black dress pulled up in a back street, and her hands flat against some car as a guy is up behind her, her best friend whispering in her ear for her to go all the way. Tamara can feel her breath, her dark ringlets tickling her cheek, the effects of the alcohol numbing her mind and her conscience. It’s like a spells being cast over her with Amelia’s lips so close to her ear, encouraging her amid the whooping shouts and cheers.

“He is so hot for you, I wish he’d fuck me instead but it’s your last night of freedom Tamara!” Another friend stands close by, chipping in encouragement, as if she needed it, her fanny is soaked with desire. And then a couple of metres away someone has her phone out but of coarse, Tamara doesn’t notice that the two friends are conspiring to capture it all on video.

Other women from the party who had wondered what must have happened to her have stopped further down the street and becoming aware of what’s happening, some are choosing not to partake seeing that things have gotten, shall we say, out of hand.

Gasps are coming up from the crowd and somewhere off to her left there’s a muted call of ” Oh my god Tamara, what would Simon say? But the girl is too far gone to hear and frankly, too lost in the moment, too free to care….not now, and besides she’d secretly drooled at the very real and legitimate prospect of getting up close and personal with those horny strippers on her last night of freedom.

I SO missed out. Tamara thought to herself.

She was having to resign that one to fantasy, but now this! Well, now she was actually gonna get some by the looks….and in the bloody street of all places!

Nipples like bullets that push out from under her heaving bra as his fingers massage and pull them out from Tamara’s chest, hands mauling and groping her tits.

She reaches back around and her mouth meets his as their tongues collide. Oh god I’m gonna fuck him! She almost think’s out loud.

“Go Tamara!” Come repeated shouts from the gathered crowd. Her groin is flooding, her body full of erotic energy, charged by the shots. Then a flash of sense comes to mind.

“Just don’t bloody film me ok” She say’s in her northern accent, but a bit weakly.

“No, we’re not gonna video you honestly Tamara we wouldn’t do that to you!” Her friend hurriedly replies. What liars they are. Tamara is in fact already on film, already captured kissing blokes around the pubs for dares, lost as she was in the celebratory occasion she barely noticed and when she did, didn’t think much of it. And besides, if she had realised what was going on, at this very moment she probably wouldn’t care, as the hot looking guy from the last bar that made eye’s with her, caused her soon to be wedded fanny to flush with moisture as she made a pretence of being fully engaged in the bitter sucking of a lemon between shots of tequila…..that muscular guy is now man handling her ample tits, squeezing them and flirting with her erect nipples.

Tamara reaches round to tongue him some more, feel his stubble against her face, tongue writhing in her mouth. Overcome with horn she grabs at her dress to more whooping and shouts of “Go Tamara!” As she is egged on further. He hastily hauls her dress up past her hips and around her middle, and a wet pussy threatens to drip onto the tarmac road. She reaches for the waistband of her knickers and he is already helping her haul them down…..and off.

A kind of hush descends over the enthralled audience, a mob of women transfixed by the illicit and ritual, fucking of a bride.

A belt is unbuckled, zipper tugged at….and soft blue denim is dropped down to the ankles. One of Tamara’s hands, eager, fingers spreading out, wants to feel and to grasp at the cock beneath his underwear as it teases her arse, then reaching inside to clasp him, the hot hard feel on her skin, the mouth at her neck, sucking. She slowly wanks him. Her friend gets into a half squat then, laughing drunkenly, the long painted nails of her fingers, reaching to the elastic of the guys boxers with one hand, a glass of Prosecco in the other, she calls out dirtily “Tamara the BRIDES about to get FUCKED everybody, whoooo!!”

Then turns, and smiles with a feigned sweetness toward the camera.

Boxers at the heels, a pair of manly legs are on show for the women as he pushes up against her black, fishnet stocking covered thighs, his hard meat slapped into the cleft of her naked, horny ass! Then slid down.

“Oh my god she’s fuckin’ doin’ him!” An enthralled onlooker whispers almost to herself in disbelief. ”

And similarly, mouth agape but in awe “I can’t believe her!” Says another right as a protruding cock slides up the drooling entrance, to her fanny. And Tamara gasps with delight! Her two hands stick up against the glass window of the car, and he begins to fuck her. Her head tossed back toward the night sky, she arches her back, pushing out with her big naked ass to get as much of his thrusting cock inside as she can.

“Aaaar!!” She moans as he fills her up. Him, grunting and thrusting, his buttocks on camera. His palm at her forehead, pulling her back onto him as she reaches and sucks at his fingers. Tamara is HIS hen night slut! ….For now, his purring alley cat.

He fucks her harder, relentlessly now. Wasting no time, probably not wanting to get caught on the CCTV cameras as he shags her from behind, a complete stranger. She is just a slut now, pushed up against a car, taking a cock for all to see….The spectacle! If only they were as brazen. Wantonly taking this strange cock, what a slutty thing to do…..and she is loving it!! Oh she is loving this cock!

“Fuck me harder!” She call out. Some of the women gasp in delight, which seems to send him into a frenzy, his muscular buttocks thrusting harder and deeper until…..arrrh!!! He’s cuming!…..Cuming, squirting and spasming, hot spunk in big splattering globules deep inside of her. Her legs shake from the sheer thrill of being taken like this in public as she surrenders to his body, held by his strength as he grips her tight, releasing the shuddering spasms of spunky euphoria deep inside her as she’s sandwiched helplessly against the car.

And then the deed is done….

The seed has left him and now, it’s part of her.

Suddenly and self consciously as if awakened from the spell, they uncouple to rapturous and embarrassing applause and whooping, turning, red faced to her friends. Let’s face it, some of them are also turned on, right? At least a few were probably jealous, witnessing their friend do things they themselves might scarcely dare imagine in the privacy of their own minds, right there in full view.

And as he steps away and she pulls the rumples of her black dress down to cover her slutty stockings, amid some jubilation, a pair of female arms come and take Tamara by the waist and then like some prized street fighter, she is paraded down the street and whisked away from the scene of the crime.

A short while later.

“Here, you’d better have these back Tamara.” Insists her best friend Amelia. Sat on a bar stool, in full view of the barman she thrusts a scrunched up ball of red nylon into Tamara’s chest that quickly drops, and hurriedly if drunkenly is clutched to press them against her palm and conceal them tight in her hand. Her face flushes a little as they both start to giggle. “I wondered where they’d gone!” She remarks and begins to cackle drunkenly. “C’mon.” Says Amelia, and they haul themselves up and off the bar stools, heels threatening to buckle beneath her, stockings, still in place but battle worn they disappear from the fray and head off into the bogs to do make up and yes, to replace that most intimate of garments, her knickers. They were discarded, and unwanted in the heat of the moment but now, there’s a growing seed of awareness in her that she might not want to be quite so vulnerable, exposed. And to reclaim a little bit of that dignity she earlier so claimed to herself to have as she looked upon her reflection in the mirror at home and swore loyalty to her betrothed while she donned her lipstick.

And so here in the relative quiet of the pub toilet and with some degree of concentration on the task at hand, half rolling, half tugging the reluctant, party knickers back up her fishnet covered legs, Tamara’s guilty conscience comes knocking at the door.

“I want t’ ring Simon.” She quietly slurs, stumbling as Amelia helps clean the lipstick smudges that somehow have been scrawled on Tamara’s fleshy cheeks.

She tries again more insistently. “I wanna ring Simon where’s ma bloodi phone?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea do you Tamara?” And as Tamara pulls it from her bag, attempting to open it, Amelia grabs it from her clumsy, drunken fingers.

“And besides Tamara in your state you might drop it down the loo.”

“And then I won’t be able to ring Simon!”

“No, you won’t!” She tries to be encouraging, knowing her friend is having a bit of a moment and gives her a hug.

“Come on now don’t start being silly.” She looks her square in the eye. Then suddenly chirpier, squeezes her bare shoulders. “We’re not done yet!” “And besides Simon can wait, he’s a good lad!”

“I know ‘e is tha’s why I don’t wan’ hurt ‘im!”

“I ‘ave….” She leers intently at Amelia, wobbling on her feet

. ” I ‘ave ‘urt ‘im ‘aven’t I?” “I’m such a stupid tart. Fancy fuckin’ someone like that!”

“I feel…’shamed, don’t know what come over me.”

“Sshush, stop it now, Tamara!” Amelia demands quite firmly, stamping her authority over her. “I’ll not have any more of this ok!”

“You haven’t hurt him trust me.” She says as she maintains eye contact, tears welling up start to break loose from Tamara’s eye’s and she stares into them compassionately, as if to convey some level of understanding, some secret perhaps that it hurt her not to express.

“You won’t hurt him, you can’t he loves you I know that for a fact! She says, grabbing her hands.

“Yea……” Tamara adds contemplatively.

And then suddenly as often is the way with drunks, her mood shifts again.

“Come on, let’s ge’tout of ‘ere!” Amelia adds assertively, sensing the right moment to move. “I’ll call a taxi.” “Though we might need two for all of us!’ She chirps in quickly.

And with that the tears recede, and a slightly confused and party weary bride to be in her high heels and her fishnet stockings, smudged makeup and a tatty white veil with an L-plate on her back, head out again into the night air, surrounded by a gabble of shouting, giggling and at times screeching women on a time honoured quest to paint a town red.

Tamara is led to an awaiting carriage before finally being loaded up, even the car seems to sway with drink, arms flailing from Windows with shouts at passersby as the laden black taxi heads off slowly up the road, followed straightaway by another, even louder gabble of pissed up cock hounds who shout to the driver incessantly to “follow that cab Mr!”

“You were awesome tonight Tamara, fuckin’, awesome!” “I knew you still ‘ad it in ya!”

Tamara grins drunkenly if slightly embarrasedly burying her shame for the sake of this ‘badge of honour’ being bestowed upon her.

“Simon’s a lucky guy to ‘ave you I tell ya!”

“You got some moves girl.” She tails off her speech, chuckling in an inebriated and somewhat sleepy admiration for her buddy.

Tamara’s head is back on the seat, a bit too drunk for the movement she is currently being subjected too as the cab swings full circle, lost in the smells of drink and the atmosphere she just grins and bares it.

A brief silence persists but it isn’t long before someone decides it’s time for pizza.

“Hey mate!” “Is there a pizza place near ‘ere?” Tamara say’s.

“Yea I’m fuckin starvin’!” Another pipes up.

“SSH!” “Wat’ch yer language you lot.” Tamara pitches in. “Ring them in front.” She says to her chief bridesmaid before adding half to herself. “Jee’s I’m bustin’ for a piss!”

The cab driver takes a left turn and a little detour to get them to a pizza House, undoubtedly glad to be getting his fare.

The two taxis arrive together but from opposite directions. The women erupt with apparent hilarity at this small twist to the evening, and there’s more shouting as approximately a dozen women seemingly wade through the thick treacly air beyond the cabs as they take up their fight with gravity.

“Hey Tamara y’ wild chick you!” Comes a shout. She is rightly the talk of the night but having a finger pointing at her from across the pavement, even if it is from a so-called mate, starts to touch a nerve.

“Shut up!” She shouts.

Some friends from the other cab order her to wind it in, and festooned on the pavement the women begin to light up fags, the odd mirror coming out.

“I still need a fuckin’ piss!” Tamara say’s to her friend feeling increasingly tense.

“Don’t fret you can ‘old it Tamara.” She says.

“And these bastard heels are killing my feet!” She protests.

Fifteen minutes later in the pizza House and Tamara’s really having a problem.

“I’ve gotta go!” “I’ve gotta go outside, I can’t ‘old it.”

All that drinking has finally caught up with her bladder. She clutches the doorway as the street outside looms at her suddenly after the brightly lit chaos of the takeaway.

“Tamara where you goin’ pizza’s ‘ere?” Shout a couple of the girls together from the pavement as she steps outside. She raises her fingers in comic gesture to her lips, to the amusement of her congregating friends.

“She’s off for a piss the poor cow, leave her be!” Comes the unwelcome shout from the roadside.

Sure enough, high on the night and the boozing. Unashamed, unselfconscious Tamara makes her way, alright a little slowly and deliberately, to a little space between two parked cars.

“Watch she don’t get run over will yer.” Someone shouts to Beth from inside the takeaway as Tamara leans on a car.

She manages to squat cumbersomely, giving the heels beneath her tiring feet some work to do. Hoiking her dress up in a public place, and not for the first time that evening, all she can think about is the desperate need for release. She reaches in front of her stomach and heads down with her hand under her dress, fingers to her crotch to grab at the nylon fabric of her knickers. Pulling them aside and to the right with her left hand she eventually free’s herself. Finally the tension starts to be loosed out of her as her hot piss, splashes against the knarly tarmac, bubbling and foaming then heading off, bound for the gutter.