1. The Bachelor Party


    Date: 9/2/2017, Categories: Cheating, Author: LikeJagger, Source: LushStories

    I hate bars. I always have. There's nothing for me there. I'm in introvert by nature. There are a lot of introverts who love bars. They go in introverted, but a few drinks later, they're as friendly and obnoxious as they come. Not me. I don't drink. I go in sober and uncomfortable. The longer I'm there, the louder and dumber everyone else gets. I just stay the same. All of this to say that bars really aren't my thing. I wasn't here tonight because I wanted to be. I was obligated to be here. My co-worker Tim was getting married next weekend, and I was one of the groomsmen, which was weird. I was friendly enough with Tim that I should have been seated in the aisles, but definitely not close enough that I should have been standing up there with him on his big day. He'd moved to the area about five years prior, and didn't have any family here. He had lots of friends, but I guess he just wasn't super close to any of them if I ranked in his top 3. There were eight of us here with the party. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, so I sat against the wall nursing my water while my drunk co-workers took turns singing karaoke. I tried talking with the guys, but the music was so loud there really wasn't much of a point. There was one nice thing about bars though. The women. Usually at the very least there would be handful of hot women out on the dance floor, or hanging out with some friends. I try not to be too obvious about it or anything, but if I'm going to be stuck hanging out ...
    with a bunch of drunk dudes all night, at least I can try to entertain myself with a little ogling. This place was shit though. No one above a six in sight. This one little troll of a woman kept going up to sing over and over and over again. Metallica, Rob Zombie, Slipknot. Any excuse to scream into the mic and bash her head around. The night wasn't getting better. Then I spotted her across the room. Black hair. pale skin, about five foot seven. She wore a pair of skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination, and a tight black shirt with just the right amount of mid drift. She had a small frame and not an ounce of fat on her, and tits that looked like they should have belonged on someone twice her size. They had to be fake. Bodies shouldn't grow that disproportionate. That's how you get chronic back problems. She was stunning. She also kind of looked like a whore. I hate fake tits. They never look right naked, and what does it say about a girl who gets them? She was willing to spend a shit-ton of money to have guys objectify her and not take her seriously? Any girl who’s willing to spend that kind of money to disfigure herself wasn't exactly girlfriend material. Judgmental, I know. I just don't like fake boobs. That said, I wasn't planning on dating her. I was just checking her out. I watched her from across the room for several minutes, ignoring the noise of my friends and the shitty music coming over the speakers. I was thinking how much I'd like to touch the exposed ...
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