Tracy pops out of the box

SHANE

You can handle this, I thought to myself. As soon as that box opens and the nice stripper lady comes out, you just politely ask her to get dressed and head home. She won't care, she's getting paid either way. Then you can—

Tracy popped out of the box.

It actually took me a second to recognize her. My friend's sandy brown hair had been dyed a platinum blonde, and her makeup was dramatically painted on—festive red and gold glitter swirling everywhere around those big green eyes. It was stunning.

But I didn't look at Tracy's face for long.

My gaze fell to her jaw-dropping natural curves, barely concealed inside a metallic-red string bikini. That thing was TINY, clearly made for someone much more petite. Shiny red triangles held together by black elastic string. Each of Tracy's ruby-colored stiletto heels probably had more fabric on it than the entire bathing suit.

To say I was staring would be the understatement of the year.

She stepped out of the enormous Christmas present and took a step towards me, but then stopped and frowned, "Hold on one sec, Connor turned this music up way too loud."

Tracy's breasts bounced nicely as she scampered back into her bedroom and then reemerged a second later, having readjusted the speakers to play at a much more tolerable level.

"Much better," she grinned.

"I thought you were spending the night with Ria," I said, my mind still reeling.

"Shh, we'll talk about that later. For now, just enjoy the show."

Then she started dancing.

The light from her bedroom silhouetted Tracy in the doorway, emphasizing every curve of her shapely, hourglass body. She wasn't exactly a professional when it came to this sort of thing, but damn if I didn't appreciate the effort. Her movements were a little timid at first, giggling self-consciously while she slowly rocked her full, healthy hips back and forth to the music.

After a minute, however, she started to loosen up, moving towards me as she shook her ample chest and let her hands drift up and down her own incredibly sexy body.

I was hypnotized. My angry cock threatened to tear a hole in my pants. By the time the song ended, I'm pretty sure I was drooling. I made sure to give her plenty of applause and a whole-hearted wolf whistle.

Tracy blushed, "I hope that wasn't too bad. This is scarier than it looks. I had to down a couple glasses of eggnog before I could talk myself into this."

"Trust me, you've got nothing to be nervous about. I've never been so—I mean, you look..."

I trailed off, my brain apparently robbed of sufficient oxygen to process speech. Most of the blood flow had been redirected to a different organ. Luckily, Tracy took my idiotic dumbfoundedness as a compliment. She strode across the room towards where I was sitting.

"Did you really bleach your hair?" I asked.

"Yup. Been wanting to go blonde for a while now, and this was the perfect excuse."

"Does Ria know you're doing this?"

Tracy smirked, "Does she know? Buddy, you don't even realize what an awesome girl you're marrying tomorrow, do you?"

Now less than a foot away from me, she stopped advancing. Her eyes twinkled playfully as she spoke:

"When Connor told Ria and me that you were uncomfortable with him hiring a real stripper, Ria said she wanted to make sure you still got to enjoy the full 'bachelor party experience.'"

She placed her hands on my knees and leaned forward, bringing her lips to my ear and dangling those huge, succulent melons if hers right in front of me.

Now whispering, she continued, "So Ria turned to me and suggested that I take matters into my own hands."

She emphasized those last two words by cupping her own incredible breasts and squeezing them together, creating the most delicious-looking cleavage I'd ever seen in my life.

"Holy shit," I moaned.

Tracy leaned back to enjoy the look of unadulterated lust in my eyes.

"She didn't particularly like the thought of some random woman giving you a lap dance, either. This was all her idea. She even helped me pick out my bikini."

Tracy spun around, giving me a clear view of her soft, curvaceous ass—totally bare except for the tiny string of elastic between her cheeks.

"A lap dance?" I gulped.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tracy whispered, "I want you to know, you're the only guy in the world besides Connor I would even think of doing this for. But since we're such good friends, don't you think we should all be 'comfortable' around each other?"

There was no mistaking her choice of words. They were the exact same words Ria had used to justify her behavior with Connor the other day.

"Yeah," I panted. "No harm in enjoying ourselves."

"Mmm, glad to hear it."

She smiled devilishly as a new song started playing, slow and steamy.

Tracy lowered her ass over my crotch, sensuously swaying her hips back and forth in time with the music, threatening to rub those sumptuous buttocks across my erection. Not realizing what I was doing, I lifted my hand to touch her hip, but Tracy promptly smacked it down.

"Bad boy! Don't you know the rules? You don't get to touch me. I'm the one who does all the touching."

To make her point, she finally let her soft buttocks graze across the fabric of my slacks, swirling her hips in a circle to stimulate my cock.

I let out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tracy, that feels so good."

"I can tell."

She spun back around to face me, straddling my knees. My eyes immediately dropped down to her huge tits, drinking in the sight of them.

I let out another groan as Tracy rolled her body in time with the music, arching her back and thrusting those big, bouncing melons towards my lips. Not being allowed to touch her was ****, but I was a very willing victim. She leaned back and began massaging her own bosom for my amusement, groping, fondling, squeezing—

"You really like my tits, don't you?" she whispered.

I nodded.

She grabbed hold of my hair and leaned in, as if to kiss me on the lips, but teasingly stopped just a hair's breath away.

"Is it true you have sort of a crush on me? Ria said you like to fantasize about me sometimes."

"Not sometimes. ALL the time," I breathed.

"I fantasize about you, too you know. When I'm touching myself..."

Her fingers coyly slid beneath the tiny red triangles of fabric covering her nipples, and she started rubbing.

"Jesus," I muttered.

Tracy reached for the little black bow that was tying on her top, and with wide, innocent eyes she asked, "Would you like me to take this off?"

"Oh yeah." My voice was shaking.

"Okay. But first you've got to take your top off, too. It's only fair."

I couldn't dream of objecting.

Tracy reached between the two of us and opened my shirt, one button at a time—kissing her way down my chest as she went. By the time she'd finally got my shirt all the way off, her lipstick had left more than a dozen dark red stamps on my bare chest.

She scooted forward on my lap until I could feel my erection poking up between her legs, where she was already soaking wet with excitement.

Then she crushed her bikini-covered tits against my bare chest and my hips jolted up in reflex, unconsciously pushing against her cunt. She squealed with delighted surprise.

"Okay, we got my shirt off," I said. "Fair is fair."

With her body still pressed firmly against mine, Tracy untied the string holding up her top.

The straps slipped off her neck and dropped limply onto her cleavage. With a shudder, I realized that the only thing keeping those triangles of fabric from falling off Tracy's tits was the pressure of her chest against me. Slowly, torturously, she leaned back—bit by bit—until that skimpy bikini top finally fell into my lap.

I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven.

Tracy was a living, breathing, wet dream. A buxom goddess, straight out of a centerfold. The reality of her tits put my imagination to shame.

"They everything you hoped for?" She asked, panting with arousal.

"Better."

I moaned as she leaned forward and smothered my entire face with her abundant cleavage. The hard points of her nipples dragged across my eyelids, nose, mouth, and chin. Her hand dropped to my lap, stroking through the fabric—

I lost control and started licking.

If we'd been in a real strip club, some bouncer would have clocked me upside the head and thrown my ass out the door. But there was nobody else in the room with us to interfere—and Tracy didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Oh yes!" she moaned. I wrapped my arms around her body and pulled her closer, fiercely sucking a big, puffy nipple into my mouth.

For several amazing minutes, Tracy just kept moaning and groaning while I feasted upon her breasts. She finally pulled my head away from her chest and stared right into my eyes with rabid, animal hunger.

"God, I wish we could actually fuck," she growled.

"I know what you mean," I sighed.

The song had ended a while ago, but Tracy still wasn't quite done with my lap dance. After taking a second to calm herself back down, Tracy curled a finger inside the knot holding up her shiny red g-string.

"Would you like me to take these off, too?" She asked.

"I—" my voice faltered, wondering if that would be crossing the line. I was getting married in a few hours, after all. But I was also really, really horny...