My best friend decided to have her bachelorette party in Los Angeles.

The four girls in the bridal party, including me, had never been far outside of Dallas, Texas, so we were extremely excited to visit the City of Angels for some dirty fun.

The bride, Alabama (and yes, she knows her name is ridiculous), put together the whole itinerary. She’s never been good at delegating, so we let her decide everything. We would start with dinner and rooftop cocktails at a bar downtown, catch a Lyft to Hollywood to visit another bar with a mechanical bull, and end the night at a nearby hotel.

We dressed in cowboy boots and jean skirts and did our best Texas-pageant-girl hair for the occasion. Despite how cliché it was, I was feeling sexy as hell, but when we got to the bar downtown, I realized we did not fit in. It was the kind of place with a $20 cover charge, and the women were all stick-thin and red-carpet-ready.

Nevertheless, we persevered. After dining in the restaurant, we went to the roof. Most of the decor was kind of Space Age, but we were delighted to find a ping-pong table and a beer garden on one corner of the roof. The lights of LA glittered around us as we played, and as I kicked Alabama’s ass, I stopped feeling so self-conscious.

That lasted until the most gorgeous couple I’d ever seen stepped out of the elevator. She was brunette and stacked, wearing a tight red dress, and he was tall and wore a suit like he’d been born in it.

Now, Texas has a conservative reputation, but don’t let that fool you. I enjoy men and women equally and sometimes together, and I’ve never suffered for a lack of partners. But I had never seen two such gorgeous people in the same place at the same time.

The ping-pong ball whizzed past me. “Point!” Alabama screamed, thrusting vulgarly against her paddle.

The man in the suit made eye contact with me. I tucked my hair behind my ear and gave him my best smile. One corner of his lips lifted, and then the couple moved away in search of drinks.

Alabama followed my gaze and laughed. “Oh come on, slut,” she said, retrieving the ping-pong ball. “I’m the bachelorette. All eyes should be on me.”

She was right, of course, so we kept playing. But I saw the couple constantly over the next hour. They always seemed to be nearby, watching us with interest. Aware of their gazes on me, I played ping-pong as sexily as I could — a harder thing to accomplish than you might think — and when I noticed the woman ogling me, my pussy got wet.

Alabama announced that it was time for the next location, but I couldn’t leave without talking to those two gorgeous creatures. So I gathered all my courage and stepped up to them. “Hey,” I said with a saucy wink. “I’m only here for the night, and I’m about to leave for another bar, but I wanted you to know you’re both sexy as hell.”

To my surprise, the woman reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Where are you going?” she asked in a throaty voice that made me want to squirm.

“Some Hollywood bar with a mechanical bull,” I shrugged. “You know how it is. Bachelorette parties are meant to be ridiculous.”

The couple exchanged glances with each other, and then the woman turned back to me. “We know which one that is. It’s a tourist trap.”

“Well, good thing we’re tourists.”

She stepped toward me close enough that no one could see her slide a hand up my leg. Her fingers slid beneath my skirt, almost brushing the edge of my pink panties. “Do you want us to follow you? It’ll be both of us, to be clear.”

Both of those beautiful people might be in my future? “Hell, yes,” I said, hardly believing my luck.

She smiled and pulled her hand away. “Good. We’ll see you there.”

The journey to the bar was a blur, and not because of the alcohol. I was hyper-aware of my pussy every time I crossed my legs or shifted in my seat. The other girls were having some lively conversation, but all I could think about was that couple. That man with his tall frame and long fingers. The woman with her perfect hair and bedroom eyes. If they wanted to share me, I was a dead woman — but oh, what a way to go.

The bar was definitely a tourist trap. Loud, crowded, and overpriced, especially for a Texas girl, but I loved it. The mechanical bull bucked and shuddered, always with a woman riding it, and I watched the boobs shaking with appreciation.

I took a tequila shot with the girls, and as I licked the salt off my hand and sucked the lime, I saw the couple watching me across the room. I winked, and the woman winked back.

“I’m doing the bull,” I announced to  my friends.

It was a sleazy operation, which I already knew. The operator clearly didn’t want to buck me off until everyone had gotten a show, so he tilted me at precarious angles and vibrated me until my boobs quivered. My skirt rode up my thighs, and when the bull finally bucked me off, I’m pretty sure I flashed my panties to half of LA.

It didn’t matter, though, because when I got up and left the ring, they were there. The man grabbed my elbow, while the woman slid a hand around my waist. They guided me out of the bar like that, while I used my free hand to text my friends and let them know I was about to get laid and not to wait up for me. I wasn’t too tipsy, I swear — just a little buzzed and aching for a threesome.

A short drive later, we were at their place. It looked nice to me, but what did I care? The second I got out of the car, the brunette kissed me. Her hand clutched my ass, pulling me against her, and I returned the favor eagerly.

We kissed all the way into the apartment. With the door shut and locked behind us, the man came up behind me and held me in place while the woman stripped me. She asked me a few questions — had I been tested and was I down for unprotected oral followed by sex with condoms — and my answer was a “Hell yes.” I didn’t include the follow-up thought: Why couldn’t every potential hookup in Texas ask me the same things? Their casual acceptance of practical safety measures turned me on as much as anything else.

I was fully naked when the brunette started sucking my nipples. She reached between my thighs and stroked my clitoris. I shifted, but the man held me tight. Then the woman got to her knees and started licking me, and I nearly lost my mind.

I moaned and writhed, but the man transferred both my wrists to one hand and then pressed one to my stomach to hold me in place. I was helpless to do anything but take the pleasure she was determined to give me, and damn, was she good. She thrusted two delicate fingers into me while she licked my clit, and my inner thighs tightened while a squirmy feeling started in my lower belly.

I was close to coming, but I couldn’t orgasm like this. Oral is great, but it’s never gotten the job done. I need pressure. Roughness. “I need more,” I managed to say. “Fill me up and touch me hard.”

She stood and kissed me, and I tasted my own juices on her mouth. Then she stepped back and stripped off her dress, and I got a look at the best body I’d ever seen. Round, natural breasts, slim waist, elegant hips. Her pussy was bare, and I reached for it immediately, wanting to feel how wet she was.

I stroked her wet labia while the man undressed behind us. It was so hot fingering this woman while her man took his clothes off. Soon his thick dick would be in me. When it happened, would my tongue be in this woman’s pussy? Her mouth? Her ass?

They took me to the bed and bent me over. She wriggled into position on her back under me, and I sighed in relief as her wet pussy opened before my mouth. I love giving head. I licked into her, and my pussy throbbed when I heard the sound of a condom wrapper opening behind me.

His dick pressed against my pussy, and then he was sliding inside. I moaned into his woman’s pussy, then licked and sucked her clit gratefully. His dick was thick and perfect, and when he thrusted all the way in, it was almost too much to take.

I stood up on my toes to let him in deeper. He gripped my hips and pumped into me, and although I wanted to succumb to the pleasure, I had a job to do. I fingered the woman on the bed, licking all over her soaked pussy.

“He’ll take you next,” I told her as the man’s thrusts intensified, making my breasts swing. “I want to watch him fuck you.”

She cried out and came, her thighs shivering around my face. I kept going, dragging the orgasm out with my fingers and tongue.

Her sleepy satisfaction only lasted a few minutes, and then she got on her knees in front of me and grabbed my hair. “He’s going to go hard now,” she told me, squeezing until it hurt just enough.

“Yes.” I braced myself against the bed, caught between her hand and his dick. Then the man started to hammer into me. It was almost too much, but when I slipped one hand between my legs to my clit, the near-pain turned into pure pleasure. I rubbed in hard circles as he plowed into me.

The woman whispered filthy words into my ear, and the combination of brutal cock, dirty talk, and stimulation on my clit was too much. I came with a scream.

The man thrusted a few more times, then shook. When he withdrew, I collapsed to the bed, totally wrung out. I watched in amazement as the woman fingered herself, drawing out one more orgasm.

We cuddled afterwards, panting, and then the man flipped me over. He smiled down at me, pure wickedness in his eyes. “I need a break,” he said. “But not a long one. You said you wanted to watch next?”

“Hell, yes,” I said, hardly believing my luck. “But I want to touch, too.”

I didn’t see Alabama again that night, but all was forgiven when I returned to the hotel in the morning. It was the City of Angels, after all — although it felt more like a city of delicious devils to me.

I asked.

She looked at me through pleasure-hazed eyes. “It was incredible. You sure learn quickly.”

I grinned and stroked her sweat-dampened back. “I have the best tutor.” I waggled my eyebrows roguishly. “Any other feminist concepts I should learn tonight?”

She laughed. “Oh, baby, you have no idea.”