The Disappearing Cock Trick: aka The Bachelorette Party Report

After braving the traffic on I-90, we (Little Sis and I) finally made it to S's apartment on Fullerton. S and Little Sis will be my maids of honor come October, and it's the night of my Official Bachelorette Party. I have requested not to be adorned in a "suck for a buck" T-shirt, but I have been given no guarantees. We meet up with a few family (cool aunts--one is my uncle's new wife and is also the same age as me) and friends for dinner at a kick ass mexican place. Fancy tableside guacamole, the whole works. Then, we head back to S's place to lubricate ourselves in preparation for the night's entertainment. And by lubricate I mean have a few drinks, you perverted fuckers. So anyway, I have a drink or two and a few shots. There are 6 of us. Then "Brad" shows up, found on chicagogentlemen.com by S. He has an assistant with him, as it turns out his function was to operate the boombox and prepare the blowjob shots and strawberries.

Brad arranges our seats to make room for the performance. Oh, did I mention he was wearing full fireman regalia?? We're talking a little simulated ash on the cheeks, and a big red hose here people. This guy paid attention to detail. Anyway, he asks "are you ready" and before we can blink he's in full So You Think You Can Dance mode. He had no qualms about grabbing our hands and placing them directly on his groin. Or ass. Or chest. You get the idea. He even took the liberty of copping a feel on a few of us. But hey, it's OK, it's my last official hurrah...it's all good. Before we know it Brad is in his red thong, lying on a towel on the floor, having us do blowjob shots and eat strawberries off of various parts of his body. I can't help but wonder what the assistant thinks of the whole deal, but it's hard to concentrate on that when a nearly naked man has your 19 year old sister on all fours and has a handful of her hair in his fist.

After much hose-thrusting, crotch grabbing, and gyrating, we thought the show was almost over. But apparently Brad had other ideas, for all the sudden, the thong was removed and there were Brad's dangly bits, right in our faces. I think my jaw is still recovering from its lighting-fast plummet to the floor. I'm no prude, but I certainly was not expecting this! To make matters even more, shall I say, interesting?...Brad was able to make his cock temporarily disappear! ...into S's mouth, that is. He swooped over to her, his groin level with her face, and put the towel he'd been using for lying on the floor and wiping his man-sweat off of various things over her head, presumably to be cheeky. Well, as S put it later "there was a cock in my face, what was I supposed to do? It was instinct!" The girl has some issues. [Let me clarify that the cock-disappearance trick lasted only a minute or so, and there was no wad-blowing involved. Thank god.]

So, since I really can't top that part of the story, I will quickly recap the rest of the night:
11 PM. Brad and his helper leave, Ed the limo driver comes to get us. we are all wearing feather boas and I have on a sequined headband with large pink feather sticking straight up.
11:30 PM. Ed drives us down Lake Shore Drive. We stop for pictures and end up talking to some nice bicycle cops. One frisks me against the limo for a photo op.
12 AM. We arrive at a dive karaoke bar. S pays the DJ $40 so we can get songs in within the hour. I sing "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" while waving a penis-shaped squirt gun in the air. S, Little Sis and I sing "Baby Got Back" together. Someone buys me a shot of Jagermeister. I do it without puking.
2 AM. We leave the karaoke bar and head to the Liar's Club, an awesome hole-in-the-wall bar where they are playing great 80s dance music. Little Sis and I head straight for the back to dance. S finds Rick, the resident nudist, and asks him to disrobe for the occassion. He complies without hesitation, and for this I have the best photo of the evening: me, Little Sis, and S, standing with a buck-naked 40-ish year old man. It's a full length photo.
3 AM. Liar's Club closes, so we head outside. I give Little Sis's pink boa away to a chick who promises to wear it--and nothing else--for her husband. I thought it was a noble cause but Little Sis was none too happy. I owe her a pink boa. We walk back to S's place.
3:30 AM. Little Sis and I leave S in the bar below her apartment and head upstairs to crash.
9 AM. We are awakened by a strange man opening the bedroom door (Little Sis and I had shared S's bed). "Who the fuck are you?" I ask. "Who are YOU?" He replies. This goes back and forth, until we figure out it's S's friend from HS who she must've called after we passed out. Then I realize I've lost my cell phone, the only shitty part of the whole affair.
11 AM. Brunch. Then Little Sis and I drive back to the 'burbs, witnessing a Mexican guy falling asleep at the wheel right there on I-90. We manage to make it home alive.