How strange to watch my sons ogling the nude women gyrating on the stage, muttering little comments as they celebrated John's last night of freedom. I had never heard of a bachelor party like this, but it had a certain wholesomeness, I supposed. The way I was raised, this was a den of iniquity. For them, seven in all, not counting me, it was a night club.

For me, I kept thinking the girls were young enough to be my daughters, which brought a bit of a pang to my heart, since mine had died three years before, but I was still happy they had included me, though at a separate table. "You ever been to a place like that, Dad? You'd probably blush all the time, but it'd be nice if you came. Sit behind us, okay?" And it had worked out well, I was a participant without cramping their fun.

When I wasn't watching the boisterous kids, I sort of tried to figure out which tits were silicone. Funny, I'm as randy as the next guy, but it wasn't a turn on. It seemed so sweaty and staged, with most of the women looking bored. There had been that blonde woman with the nice big ones, a couple of numbers ago, who could have been forty or so, though she was incredibly fit, and I felt a tingling in my groin when she stared at me several times. But basically, the big finale was the girl Jack had hired to cuddle John at eleven. The timing looked pretty good, the groom to be was starting to look extremely relaxed.

So there I was, eyeing boobs clinically, and my sons and their friends fondly, when a low voice spoke quietly in my ear "Mind if I sit down?" I looked around in shock, and there was the blonde. I felt a powerful flush hit my face, and started to stutter as I hadn't for years. She didn't wait for a yes, no or maybe, just sat down on the chair next to me. I stopped making noise, and stared at her.

Up close, her makeup was very thick, but there didn't seem to be any blemishes. She was definitely around forty, ten years younger than me, wearing a robe that was belted and covered her from her neck to mid thigh, as she crossed her legs. She was looking at the boys in front of us. "You're the father, right? You look uncomfortable." That sort of settled me, and with my mind whirling, I answered "That obvious, huh? I guess you'd call me a first timer."

Her head turned toward me, and she smiled. It was a nice smile, taking some of the edge off her sharply accented features, and turned her face into pretty maturity. "It's a thing I do up there, try to figure people out. You'd be surprised at how predictable most reactions are, you know, lust on some, others trying to hide their excitement, some just drunkenly ogling. Every once in a while, along comes one like you, cool, not really interested. And those two, they're twins, huh, look like you. Betty's tickled about doing the lap dance for whichever one's getting married." All this delivered with good pronunciation, direct eye contact, and a nice, intelligent timbre in her voice. I managed to keep my jaw from dropping, but my eyes must have been blinking, because she chuckled. "Come on, get over it and talk to me. My name's actually Bernice." She was holding out her hand.

I shook it, and choked out "Umm, buy you a drink?" I was operating on autopilot, completely out of my depth. She held a beer bottle up to my eye, the first time I noticed it. "Maybe the second one." I was nursing a scotch, but threw it down, feeling it warm me up, and lit a cigarillo. That calmed me, and I tried a touch of wit. "Umm, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Her smiled widened. "That's better. I bet that's scotch, you look like the scotch type. I'll have one with you when I finish my beer. Businessman, right?"

I shrugged assent. "And by day, you're a mild mannered philosophy teacher, entranced of Nietze, but leaning toward existentialism." She laughed, and answered "Much better. I'll buy the existentialism, but not the other guy. He was german, wasn't he? No, this is it. You wouldn't believe how much money there is in it. You don't have to hook or anything, as long as you're built well enough and can put on a decent show. I raised a daughter without ever needing penicillin." I smiled at that, wondering as my mind cleared, why me?

"See, it isn't easy to find a chance to talk to a nice guy. Someone who can keep his eyes up, his pants zipped, and isn't queer. I miss little things, politeness, repartee, wit. A guy who drinks scotch. You probably lead when you dance, too. This is really a pretty graceless world, even if it's a good living." She was looking down at her beer. Then she gave a little shrug. "Here comes Debbie. You want another scotch, and will you buy me one? Really, I'll leave if you want."

One of the boys was looking at me with disapproval. That alone was enough to make me urge her "No, please stay. I'm interested. I like Johnnie Walker red, with water." I turned my head, but Bernice had apparently already signaled Debbie, who nodded to me. I looked at the confusing woman smiling at me, and asked "Really. How did you get into this?"

It turned out she had been married in College, to a Med student. He had given her implants after her daughter had been born, and she had been furious at him for how big he had made her breasts. But at the same time, she was surprised at the way men changed their reaction to her. There was no chance of being treated seriously, like anything but a loose woman, and her husband finally got tired of it. At twenty five, he "cast her out", and even though she was well fixed financially, she wanted something to do, and had always loved night life.

"I like showing off. After a while, you don't attach anything sexual to it. It's just a chance to attract admiration, to be loved. Five years of therapy to figure that out. But when some guy dumps on you, or leaves you, this... thing restores your faith in yourself. Honestly. When people fawn over you at work, deep down it pleases you, right? Makes you think you're Superman. Same thing." She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her robe and lit one. "Five a day. No more. Any more, and I notice it up there. Did you see me trying to catch your eye?"

I ended up telling her about the divorce, my daughter's death, the lukewarm relationship with Julia. "There's a certain ennui, a numbness. The kids, the prospect for grandchildren, that occupies my feelings. It's all I hope for." More revelation in an hour of knowing her than with Julia in three years. When I told her about the divorce, she leaned forward, elbows on the table. At the end of my diatribe, she breathed "There's a line from 'Good Morning Vietnam'. 'Never has a man needed a blow job as bad as you.' Geez, I was sure you were married." Just then, Betty came out, and started working on John. Debbie came up and whispered to Bernice, as I watched out of the corner of my eye. As the spotlights picked John and Betty out, she rose, with her hand on my arm, and whispered "I'll be finished at Twelve. Come back, and you can buy me supper. I'll make it worth your while."

I started to rise as she left, but realized my cock was sticking out blatantly, so I sat back down, blushing. She took two steps behind me, then whispered in my other ear "Glad to see you're still human."

I went through several stages. First, I decided I'd go home when the boys left, she was probably just looking for a trick. Then, after that didn't square with the emphasis she had made on not hooking, I thought about leaving her a note. Thanks but no thanks. Then I took a deep breath, and realized I was turned on, excited, and buzzing in a way that was totally unfamiliar. And flattered too, she was a hell of an attractive woman. When I thought about cupping those big tits, I decided to take her up on it.

It was actually about twelve fifteen when I got back from making sure the kid who had been careful about his alchohol intake was driving, taking the beer cans out of the car, and trying to urge caution on six drunk almost adults. I was shaking my head as I got to the bar, and Bernice chuckled at me. She had toned down her makeup, had a modest pantsuit on, and her hair up. Her breasts were fairly well concealed. She noticed my appraisal, and grinned. "Okay?"

I shook my head. "Hey look, I'm a country boy. You big city gals are way beyond me." Then I smiled, trying to be charming. "And yes, you look smashing." Her smile got broader, and she put an arm around me, as we walked out of the bar. I had retrieved my car, and it was just across the street. When we were settled in, she breathed "I wasn't sure you'd take me up on it. I kept thinking what impression did I make. I don't often ask a guy out. Plus, I thought you might be too dignified to go out with a stripper. It's the tits, right?" She giggled, then in a mock serious tone, said "You have the right to remain silent."

I was a little tipsy, so I tried wit again. Self deprecating, I hoped. "Here in Picksburg we laks the view from the Mount. How's that sound?" "What the hell's the Mount?" "Mount Washington, overlooks the city, pretty at night." She cuddled to me, it felt natural, as though she was totally comfortable with intimacy. My stomach churned, and my cock seemed to leap up. I sat there wondering whether to kiss her, make a move now, or try to be cool. She breathed "Lead on, MacDuff." I felt the pressure of her breasts on my arm.

We ate at a nice table with a terrific view, good food, and a bottle of Chardonnay. She was excited about the place. "It's a whole other world, Bill. I've been missing this lately. I mean, being sedate, nice conversation, letting my guard down. Thank you." No one stared, and we ended up giggling rather easily, about other people ("Has to be a Doctor, with a wife from his home town. They're the most dangerous guys you meet."), the ostentatious wine service ("If the cork's dry it may be bad. If its maybe twenty years old."), and the owner, who I knew ("Long time, no see, Bill. How do you do, Bernice."). "I don't think he approves of my name."

But as we waited for the car, I found myself insecure, wondering what to do. I didn't want to offend her, but I was also so hard I was aching. But I was also drunk, and wondering about how things might go. She seemed to sense it. As I drove carefully down the hill toward her downtown hotel, she whispered "Bill, you're gonna get laid, okay? Don't worry, don't rush. I told you. You've never lived in my world. You can't know how good you've made me feel."

It was not the best hotel, but she had a big suite. As we walked in, she squealed and ran around gathering up stray clothes. She bolted into the bedroom, then stopped in the door, blushing, her hands full. "Wasn't expecting company, darling. While I'm in here, I'm gonna change. There's some bourbon over there, and should be ice in the little bar refrigerator. Make yourself comfortable." I loosened my tie, feeling the heat in my groin, trying not to sneak looks into her bedroom. But when I did, I couldn't see her anyway.

I was sipping on ice water when she came out. The hair was down, she wore five inch spike heels, and had a black negligee that supported her boobs and hid nothing. The same light makeup, but a darker shade of lipstick. No panties over her tiny brown pubic patch. The smile that lit up her face. God, those tits.

Firm, huge, the nipples red, bouncing as she moved. She sat down beside me and took my hand up to the outside one. "Go ahead, babe. Get it over with. See how they feel." My fingers are long though my hand isn't that large, but I still couldn't get the whole thing covered. I kind of jiggled it, feeling the softness and malleability. You couldn't tell there was silicone in there. She pushed it harder into my hand. "They won't break, Bill. Go ahead, squeeze, pinch, whatever."

I dipped my hand down inside the bodice, feeling the warmth, the sponginess, watching the massive flesh move with my actions. I concentrated on the big nipple, stiff now, and my head spun. She must have had lots of experience with men admiring them, because just as I began to settle down, her hand came to my chin from the back of the couch and raised my face so we were staring at each other. She moved her mouth to mine, and we began kissing.

She was sucking on my mouth, her tongue active, seeking mine. Her hand was rubbing my prick, gently, but not pushing too close, letting me knead her tit comfortably. The adrenalin was flowing, so I didn't feel as drunk. As our mouths worked at each other, I felt her pulling off my tie, and starting to unbutton my shirt. She finally got it off, and pulled away so she could expose my chest. She chuckled. "Now that's a golfer's tan. I should have known." Her fingers were playing with my nipples, but her crack about my tan had jolted my confidence.

She noticed, I guess. I think my cock softened. "Come on, come on Bill. Neither one of us is getting any younger, it isn't your physique I'm after." Her hand went back down to my cock, massaging it harder. Then she leaned back and untied a little string just under the bodice of her gown, and her tits were suddenly uncovered. She leaned back against the arm of the couch, pulling my head. "Suck on 'em, babe. Get over the novelty." I buried my face in the massive jugs.

I don't know how long I did it. I felt lost in the soft, warm, comforting flesh. I sucked, kissed, licked, and once even bit. I stopped when I felt her tense. She cooed "It's okay, okay, I was surprised. I hope you'll go at my pussy as har... ooh that does feel nice, Bill." I had both nipples stiff, the little bumps fun to tickle with my tongue. She was starting to make small moaning sounds deep in her throat, not loud but letting me know that she was enjoying it.

She was used to men obsessed with her boobs, I suppose, and after a few minutes, the novelty wore off, and they were just lovely breasts on a body I wanted badly to ravish. When my hand started to go for her groin, her moans turned to a choked giggle, and she whispered "My body's got more to offer than just a set of big mams, huh Bill? Come on in the bedroom."

She rose gracefully, taking three slow steps into the doorway to the softly lit small adjoining room. Then she stopped, did something with the negligee, and as she looked over her shoulder, with a big, sexy grin, let the cloth slide slowly down from her shoulders, smoothly over her trim, muscular hips, to the floor. Raising her arms, she spun slowly, till she was facing me. Up close, I could see the thrust of her cuntal mound, the dampness between puffed up lips, the smooth, firm texture of her skin. "I run, I lift. I'm proud of the old bod, babe. Particularly when I get someone I really want to turn on." She looked down at my groin, her smile broadened, and she breathed "Glad it still works."

All this was done with a dancer's elegance, smoothly and without a trace of shyness. It only took her two steps to get to the bed, and she collapsed onto it sideways, those gorgeous tits bouncing lasciviously as she did. In the process her hand went down between her legs, and she kept one knee up, as her hand started diddling her slit. "Better hurry, babe, or I'm going without you."

As I pushed down my pants and lay down beside her, she wrapped her hand around my dong, squeezing a little to test it. I reached down to her twat, and we both had our hands there, she was diddling the clitty, and I stuck two fingers inside her. Her eyes slitted, as she let out a sigh. "Oooh, nice, nice, yeah." Her perfume wasn't all that strong, and I was starting to smell a musk I thought might be her cream. I pulled my hand out and sucked on the fingers that had been inside her. She watched me with an expression that it seemed to me was starting to be excitement. "Pretty sexy for an old man, Bill. Why don't you try the source?"

As she wriggled up on the bed, I started to knee walk around between her legs. She rose to a sitting position and grabbed one of my legs, pulling my hips toward her head. The bed shook and squeaked, as I bounced around to position myself with my head beside her hips and my cock at her head. She giggled at the noise. "Take it easy babe, take it easy. First times are always clumsy." I was getting a little frantic, wanting to eat her pussy bad by this point. As my head plunged between her legs, my mouth plastering over the pulsing soft cleft with its damp, slippery surface, she sucked in the head of my tool.

Her vulva was smooth as could be, no trace of stubble or hair. It's taste was an intense distillation of that musky smell, tart but soft, and as I licked up to the quivering clit, I felt her stomach tense, and her hips arch up. I heard her grunting, intensified my licking at the little button, and suddenly her hips were quivering, as a strong flow of juice filled my mouth and wet my cheeks. She released my cock, and moaned "Shit, shiiiiit." Her breathing was fast, and I realized she was getting off, that quickly. My tongue kept up it's licking, as she moaned and writhed.

Suddenly she held my head still with both hands, pulling it away. "Stop, stop babe, oh that's nice, ohhhhh." Her eyes were clenched shut. It took about a minute, then she looked down at me, smiling, and whispered "You're a sexy man, you know that? I think it was the sucking the fingers that did it. I don't often cum that fast. Okay, let's go." She sucked in my prick again.

Her pussy was noticeably hotter now, and her insides were slippery as hell. She didn't react as strongly to my licking, just moving gently to the rhythm of my tongue. Her mouth around my member was sucking firmly, making my hips start to hump. She didn't hurry, just smoothly caressing me with her lips and tongue. After a couple of minutes, I could feel myself shaking spastically. She did too, and pulled away. "Some other time, big boy. C'mon, fuck me."

I twisted around over top of her, and as I did, she smoothly took my cock, inserted it into her, and wrapped her legs around my thighs. She still had the shoes on, which felt strange against my skin. She seemed to notice that too, so as I started pistoning my hips in and out, she flipped them off, never taking her legs from around me. We never missed a beat, our hips surging against each other, the feel of her cunt enclosing me so erotic I was peaking almost immediately. With deep breaths, I held off spurting for a while, even as her tongue worked inside my mouth frantically She seemed to rise quickly, and the whole sense of our bodies working together toward orgasm was fantastic. I heard her groaning, louder and louder, until suddenly a finger poked into my asshole.

I shot off instantly. My hips were jumping all of a sudden, trying to friction the spurting pleasure filling my whole body. It had been years, if ever, since such a strong release had taken me. She was staring at my face, with a big smile, while her pussy was contracting on me with urgent, long hip surges. Her hair was all around her face, her mouth was open, the smell was strong, as if a bottle was under my nose, while my climax rattled through my body. She was gasping as she whispered breathily "Sorry, babe, but I didn't want you to miss the train."

I lay on top of her as her hands rubbed over my back and buttocks. I was breathing hard too, and began to realize I was sweating. It smelled like scotch. After a while I rolled off. When I did, she rolled to me and put her head on my chest. We lay that way for ten minutes or so, when I realized I hadn't been aware of her tits the whole time we were making love. But I felt them now, cushioning against my ribs. I said "Jesus."

She lazily raised her head, murmuring "Mmmmmmm", and looked at me. "Don't do that very often, do yah babe? I must say, that was nice for an amateur." She leaned down and kissed me lightly. "It's so nice to make love to a gentleman. The last few years it's gotten to be a head game with me, the studs don't do it for me anymore. You're my first man in three months. Do all the girls want to spill their guts to you? Probably. I wonder what it is. Maybe the manners, the formality. Or your looks, that handsome, refined face. Humph. God, why can't I shut up? Quit grinning. You weren't that good. Well, okay, pretty good. Oh shit."

She jumped up and strode quickly into the bathroom, closing the door. I lay there trying to figure out how I felt. It wasn't obvious. I could hear her clinking around, then the toilet flushing. When the door opened, a wave of her perfume rolled out, as she jumped onto the bed and crawled up beside me. "Uh, Bill, you were very juicy. Been a while, huh? Jesus Christ, say something. Did you like it? I thought you did. I wanted you to."

I knew she wanted me to talk to her, to communicate, but I had no idea what to say. So finally I told her that. "Bernice, that was so far outside my experience I can't take it in. Sorry." I got up and went in to the bathroom, found a washcloth, and emptied my bladder. When I came out, she was curled up on the edge of the bed, her back to the open side where I would have to be. She looked very serious, and a little sad. I lay down and tried to pull her around to me. She shook off my hand. "You think I'm a whore, huh? Or whatever you call it. A slut, a harlot. Big tits and loose morals. Damn, I really thought..."

I pulled her around forcefully. I could see a little tear in her eye, and she looked dejected. I used my executive voice. "Come on now. You're bright enough to recognize confusion when you see it. My world doesn't allow for someone like you. Can I call you Bernie or something? Bernice, I dunno, it doesn't trip off the tongue. Anyway, I mean you're body is so... I mean such a turn on, and I can't separate that from your mind. Umm, do I want to see you again, be with you? Yes. Do I want to take you home and meet my kids. No, at least not right now. And I'm a little ashamed of that, but it isn't all my fault. It's two o'clock in the morning, I've just had the world's greatest fuck, and have to be at work at nine, where I will direct great and noble strategies for the enrichment of my stockholders. I went to Harvard, and a little part of me is remembering George Apley. Please don't make me feel like a heel."

I took a breath, and watched her face. She smiled again, which was a great improvement. "Okay, okay, I guess I'm tired too, and you're right. I don't know what I expected. Rush right out to a Church, I suppose. Damn near forty and still a romantic. You'd think I'd learn. Goddamn tits. You gonna stiff me tomorrow, or what? Will you buy me a big lunch about five? Don't come to the club tomorrow night. I won't be able to function if you're there." Then, suddenly, she turned into a little girl. "Sleep here, with me tonight. Please. I get lonely." She snuggled up as she pulled a sheet over both of us. I could feel her boobs crushed against my ribs. "The other girls call me Ben."