Copyright© 2004

Dave couldn't get over it. He was actually getting married tomorrow. Married!

Well, why not get married? He loved Laura. And she loved him. They had been living together for seven months now and they clicked as a couple. The sex was dynamite. Even after knowing her for over a year -- and "knowing" her in the Biblical sense for almost as long -- he would still sometimes lapse into daydreams at work about what he'd be doing with her in bed when he got home. Their minds were on the same wavelength and their bodies were perfectly attuned to each other.

Some old friends were throwing a bachelor party for him tonight. One last wild fling. The final chance to blow off steam and get rid of all the accumulated cobwebs. Just a bunch of the guys having fun. He'd probably make a fool of himself and laugh about it tomorrow with Laura.

At first there were no surprises. Piled in random disarray on the dining room table were grease-stained cartons of take-out pizza, stacks of cold cuts and sliced cheese, jars of olives and pickles, and the indispensable bowls of pretzels and barbecue chips. On the breakfast bar, almost as an afterthough, were six-packs of beer and bottles of Cutty Sark and Old Grandad. Dave had stuffed himself with mushroom-pepperoni pizza and snacks, and had drunk a little too much of the booze. The party was starting to wind down when the two hired strippers marched in.

To music from a Francoise Hardy retrospective album, the women plodded through their act. It was all very mechanical, and they didn't exude much in the way of sexiness. They had both seen better days, and, if truth be told, they looked considerably better with their clothes on. But what the hell -- they were pros, and this was what they had been paid for.

The better looking of the two, a buxom dishwater blonde, sashayed over to Dave, wagged her ass in his face, and sat herself down on his lap. She had on only two sparkly adhesive patches over her nipples and a G-string down below. Her figure wasn't all that bad -- nice and lush, even if sagging in too many places -- but her deeply lined face made her look old and tired and worn out. Having her nearly-bare ass grinding into his groin wasn't much of a turn-on for Dave.

She must have sensed his lack of enthusiasm because she stood up, leaned over toward him and whispered a few unintelligible words in his ear. In a sort of beer-induced fog, Dave thought she was saying something about a snow job. Before he knew it, she had unzipped his fly, pulled out his dick, and taken it in her mouth. (No! Not "snow job," dummy -- blowjob!) His buddies looked on, and hooted and stomped their feet.

Dave stayed limp in her mouth for quite a while, and when he finally began to harden it dawned on him that the absolute very last thing he wanted was to shoot his wad inside the sloppily-lipsticked mouth of a rent-a-ho on the night before marrying the love of his live. "Thanks, baby, but I think I'll take a raincheck," he murmured as he pulled out from between her lips.

Things went steadily downhill from there.

It was 2:00 a.m. and Dave sat there in the armchair staring at the pizza crusts covering the table top and the beer cans and cigarette butts littering the floor. Nice. Very nice. Good buddies had left him with a messy cleanup. A fine way to start off the most important morning of his life.

Charlie was snoozing on the sofa. All the rest of the good buddies had long since staggered out the door. 'Well, I hope they had a good time, at least. Leaving me to pick up after them.'

Now Charlie was awake. He was sitting up and stretching. Good old Charlie. Dave had known him since high school. They'd had some wild times together. Once, they'd even...

"C'mon, Dave, old fella. Lemme help you straighten up the place. It was s'posed to be your party after all."

Yep, good old Charlie. Solid, mostly reliable, and sometimes just a little bit wacky.

An hour later, the apartment was clean and neat. Dave and Charlie sat side by side on the sofa nursing warm beers. Dave yawned.

"Late, isn't it?" Charlie said. "'Scuse me, it got so late, it's early the next morning. Gotta get some beauty sleep, don'tcha think? Charge up the old batteries for the hard work ahead of you tonight. The lady'll be expecting you to perform, no?"

Dave noticed Charlie's hand resting on his knee. It probably didn't mean anything, but it did bring back memories. Memories of a certain night when...

Charlie leaned over and... kissed him. On the lips. It did mean something, and Charlie was probably playing back the same memories.

They had been celebrating their graduation that night. Just turned eighteen, the both of them, and finally done with Coolidge High. Just a bit drunk, the both of them. Charlie had leaned over and kissed him that night, too.

Oh, it hadn't gotten much further than that. Yeah, they'd ended up jerking each other off that night. And yeah, Dave had felt a strange upsurge of desire for Charlie that night. But they hadn't actually... ("I think I want you inside me," he had said. "And afterward I just might have a yen to fuck you in the ass," he had said.) They hadn't actually done it, but Dave had... had maybe wanted to.

Here and now Dave had a raging hardon. Charlie had noticed. Charlie's hand was rubbing it. Ah, that felt good. Damn good. But Laura... what about Laura?