by J D Stones
"Ummm …"
She turned to face her flatmate. "Michael, this is Peter. Peter is bisexual and married and is the neighbour and assistant of a man Crispin is having a meeting with. He spends his evenings watching football with another man and sucking him off. Or so he says."
I blushed; I knew the familiar feel of reddening cheeks as the young coquette sought to embarrass me. Her playful giggle and shimmy of her hips with part of her games. I held her waist as I whispered in her ear. "I thought you didn't have a boyfriend."
"I don't," she whispered. "He's bi, my girlfriend's bi and I'm … not. Work it out for yourself."
Michael lay on the couch, leaning back as the water drained into his gullet. I admired him for a moment from the doorway, watching the bulge of his muscles and casual demeanour. My eyes traced the prominence of his testicles, lying underneath his long, smooth cock and the welcoming sight of his purple glans.
He flicked the television on with a wave of the remote control, ignoring the ogling stranger. I was oblivious to him as he stretched on the couch with his feet resting on a wooden table. He scratched the inside of his thigh. I smiled as his cock flopped to the side and imagined the impressive dick sliding between my lips, feeling the warmth of the nudist as it hardened in my mouth.
"Go join him," Billie demanded and I stepped towards the sofa. "Naked. Only naked."
"Why?"
"Because it's my house, my rules!" Michael briefly glanced at me as I unbuttoned my belt. It felt weird to be without trousers in a stranger's house; the long tails of my shirt covering my underwear. My heart fluttered as I slipped the flimsy panties to the floor and unbuttoned my shirt. I shivered from fright not cold, and for the first time Michael paid me attention, tearing his eyes away from the sports news to ogle me.
Briefly.
I wasn't as big as him; my muscles not as defined and my pubic hair more plentiful. I heard a sniggering behind me, as Billie held up the pink panties to her flatmate. "You wear female knickers," she laughed.
I blushed further. "My wife makes me! She's a hotwife and a domme and I …"
"You're quite a nasty little fucker," she interrupted, and stood akimbo, watching me. "Now prove you're bi!"
"What?"
"Prove you're bi," she demanded. "There's a cock there. Suck it."
"Ummm … well I'm not sure Michael would want that and …"
"He does," Billie replied. “He always wants a blowjob! See you talk the talk, can't walk the walk."
Michael pushed his hips further into the beige couch, saying nothing as I stared at his semi-erect cock. It called to me; the feint aroma of man filled my nostrils as the long, thin shaft encapsulated my attention and pulled my open mouth towards it.
Billie gasped as my lips closed over the round head of his prick. I slid my tongue along the underside of his impressive cock that tickled my gag reflex as I sunk my mouth on his organ.
He grunted, pushing his legs further apart. His pubic hair tickled the end of my nose as I bobbed on his long prick, feeling the gorgeous shaft fill my throat. My fingers explored his balls, pressing against his perineum as he panted.
I stared at his eyes, watching his expression of relief and lust as my tongue swept over the head of his circumcised prick. I jerked his shaft, closing my lips over the sensitive tip and bobbed on his erect cock, eager to have him splash his cum over my lips.
Billie watched; she said nothing at first, and just ogled as the stranger fellated her flatmate at her command. Then she teased and she taunted, hoping to embarrass me. Toying with me and playing with my embarrassment.
But instead I was zealously sucking Michael's slender dick in front of her. Savouring every scent of his masculinity and enjoying every twitch of his delicious cock. Enjoying it. Loving it. Floating as she watched spellbound at the degrading submission of the stranger.
He grunted, panted and his cock twitched. He cried out in orgasmic delight, warning me of his climax and I sucked hard, flicking the top of his cock hole as his legs shook and his cock quivered.
I waited. I knew what was coming. I longed for it, closing my eyes as I felt his muscles tense and his buttocks clench. I sucked, harder and harder, eager to taste the musky saltiness of his cum, desperate to feel the jet of his seed against the top of my mouth. My lips pressed against his glans, my tongue flicking his frenulum as he gasped and I got my reward.
Four squirts of his cum, splashing against my mouth with a flourish as the confident man filled the rampant submissive with the sweet fruits of his testicles. His cum rolled against my tongue and I savoured the spent lust of his masculinity. A thick, glutinous deposit from the naturist stranger that fizzed on senses and brought my cock to leak pre-cum.
He said nothing as his slippery cock slipped from my mouth and I glanced at Billie, still and motionless as her mind processed the show. "I told you I was bi," I said calmly and glanced over at her. "Now may I have some pussy to lick to finish my show?"
She squealed. "I'm not bi," she flustered and I couldn't suppress a smile as she returned to her kitchen.
It wasn't a surprise, but the blowjob broke the ice with Michael and I lounged on the sofa with him, happily chatting about the football and work, about my family and his love life. About everything, while Billie watched from a safe distance.
Our conversation was interrupted by Billie's girlfriend coming home: the blonde-haired, blue-eyed shy PhD student and the young lady was too shy to venture back into the lounge until Billie called her for dinner. I was cordially introduced to the naked woman as "my acquaintance who just gave Mikey a BJ."
Sandy blushed more than I did; Billie had prepared a wonderful dinner and we thanked her as we ate our "vegetable stew" with chips and peas. A weird combination but one that worked well.
Of course, the chatter turned to sexual matters: Billie's initial surprise that I wasn't lying about my bisexuality to impress her had waned and the large glasses of red wine were removing the svelte woman's inhibitions.
"I don't know you're bi," she blurted out as I finished my dinner. "I've only seen you with Michael. You might be gay."
I sighed. "Well my relationship with my wife allows me to eat out pussy." I stared at her. "I just need to borrow a woman."
She pouted, sighing dramatically. "I am not bisexual or straight," she replied firmly, gulping her wine. "You aren't touching my cunt." I shrugged at her denials.
"Then I can't prove my sexuality. Not that it matters, you know I love cock and I'm married with kids so loving a woman is obvious."
"Or …" Billie motioned. "Or maybe you're gay. Maybe you are staying together for the kids, so your wife gets to have other lovers. Lovers with big balls of cum that want to fuck a hot little wife while you go around sucking men and having big, thick cocks stuffed up your arse." She rested her head on her arms, smiling as her eyes permeated my gaze. "And so you're together, on the outside you're a married couple who adores each other. But really you're this cock hungry slut who can't wait to get his next fix of cum. Can't stop thinking about the long, thick shafts that penetrate his ring and fuck his sissy little mouth. That's why you wear panties, because you long to be a woman. You'd not want to go near a woman's cunt any more than I want to touch your cock." She cackled as she downed her wine; the teasing rampant.
"Sandy, may I go down on you?" I looked at Billie's girlfriend, causing the shy blonde to splutter into her drink and nearly choke. "Because I adore eating cunt. I adore watching a woman squirm and writhe, squealing out my name as I take her towards orgasm. I love the slippery feel of her clit against my tongue and the smooth elegance of a female silky body. And I adore kissing a woman's butthole, sliding my tongue against her sensitive skin and feeling every quiver, every jolt of electric lust and every sizzling enjoyment of her sensual orgasm." I glanced at Billie watching her girlfriend intently, staring at her for any sign of emotion. "As I said, give me a woman and I'll show you."
Sandy screwed up her face as Billie nodded; her cheeks blushed
and she screwed her fists together. Was my new friend coercing her? Was this consensual?
Sandy sniffed and nodded. "OK."
"You sure?" I heard myself mutter.
The scared expression replaced by a feint smile. I tried to read her body language. I needed to see consent; a desire to be publicly touched and not being navigated into a cul-de-sac. I wanted to see something.
I got it. She nodded, getting up from the table and held her hand towards me, over the head of her partner. Billie kissed her midriff and the two women exchanged loving gaze. "Love you," the political secretary whispered into the belly of her lesbian lover, staring as I was led to the expansive sofa.
Sandy placed a towel onto the cushion and sat down, pulling me towards her and pressing her lips against mine. It should have been natural: the soft feel of her plump lips kissing me, but I recoiled in shock. She looked into my eyes, almost disappointed.
I wanted to eat her pussy, and bury my face between her legs. I wanted to taste her juices and smother her cunt with my tongue, drawing her towards orgasm after orgasm, and yet the act of kissing felt alien. The precursor to lust was almost strange: an unwanted diversion in my quest to find her delicious cunt and savour her sweet nectar.
But yet, she was sexy: incredibly sexy. Why didn't I want to make out with her? "Sorry," I muttered. "Didn't expect it." I cocked my head and moved in for the kiss. She was soft; sweet, gentle movements as her tongue slid against mine.
Her hands touched my body, my fingers played with her golden hair and swept over her neck. I toyed with the smooth orbs of her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers as we snogged; long, beautiful kisses that pushed her back onto the sofa and left her breathlessly expectant.
My kisses travelled down her body; gentle osculations on her neck, flicks of her nipple with my tongue, long smooches in her belly that left butterflies fluttering inside and gentle teasing pecks on the top of her mons.
Her smooth, hairless mons that bathed in abundant sexuality; an advert for my tongue and an invitation to me to push my lips against her crack. My mouth floated around her inner thigh, inhaling her sensual aroma that tickled my excitement. Fragrant, delightful femininity; the smell of a young lady eager and excited; aroused and slick.
Her legs were open, splayed to allow access to my mouth; she groaned as I flicked at her cleft, softly poking to the soft, slick wetness underneath. Her legs quivered as my tongue brushed her clit, making her cunt twinkle and sparkle with lustful magic.
I loved the feeling of her slippery wetness against my face, feeling her squeal against my tongue as I massaged her clit into breathless grunts. She writhed, bucking her hips as she noisily appreciated my efforts.
And I loved it. I loved the feel of her dripping crotch pressed against my face, and the desperate sounds of female satisfaction emanating from her cunt. I loved the feel of submission as she seized gratification from my efforts, without wanting or able to reciprocate. And I adored the public spectacle, knowing I was little more than entertainment for the two flat-mates.
She panted, and rocked, muttering obscenities as my tongue swirled over her button, feeling her body shake underneath the forearms holding her thighs apart. I pressed a finger against her hole, hearing her simper as it slid effortlessly past any resistance.
She panted, gulping and squealing as I scissored her cunt with my fingers, watching the lust seize her expression as she neared her first orgasm.
I was soaked; the aroused woman squeezed my fingers with her cunt, yelling into the silence of the room as her muscles quivered and her body lurched into waves of naked relief.
But she wasn't done; I wasn't done. I lifted her thighs up and buried my face against her perineum, flicking her butthole with my tongue and slipping against the whorl of her anus.
Her cries became louder; no longer mewling and squealing but deep, booming yells of unadulterated lust. Of sin. Of desperate thirst for more and more sexual relief.
And I was happy to quench that thirst, pressing my mouth against her tight whirl and sliding my fingers into her slippery cunt. She gasped as she snatched breaths; her legs shook and shuddered, trembling as I brought her hurtling towards her second orgasm.
Stronger than the first. Much stronger. Her cries and yells filled the room; her wetness soaked the towel. Her quivering muscles clenched tight and her breathless squalls of sated relief caused my cock to stand.
"No more," she begged and weeped as my fingers found her G-Spot. She recoiled in lust, panting as I pressed hard against her insides, rubbing her with firmness. She squirmed and she pulled a cushion onto her face, screaming into the fabric pillow as I took her into her third orgasm.
Her cunt glistened with juices: the air was thick with the scent and taste of female satisfaction. The slippery slide of her cunt gently allowed my fingers to depart, as her body rocked by her third climax, slouched onto the sofa, her face appearing from behind the beige cushion.
I smiled at her; she smiled at me. "I told you I wasn't gay," I said to Billie; her own fingers circling her clit. "I can take care of that for you," I said with a wink.
She leant against the wall, shaking her head at the offer. "Wrong gender. But thanks, I hate giving her head. She loves it to receive it. Makes a change from Micky doing it!”
With a sweetest grin, the scheming woman walked past me and jumped on her lover, kissing her passionately.
I looked at Michael. "I better head off."
He nodded. "Sure. Unless you fancy going to a party tonight. I could do with the company!"
"What sort of party?"
He looked at the snogging women on the couch. "A place where free love reigns supreme and girls aren't allowed."
"A gay party," I blurted out and he just smiled.
"I prefer a festival of fun for the open-minded man."
I shrugged. "Sure. I got nothing else to do."
"Oh, one more thing. It's fancy dress. I need to lend you a tracksuit." My eyebrows raised. "It's go as a Chav."
Classy.
Or not. But it was tremendously good fun.
Chapter XX
Michael's Party
The venue for Michael's party was an industrial estate a couple of miles from the flat; Michael drove in his battered Vauxhall Nova that shuddered as he roughly changed gear and swung the twenty-year-old vehicle into twisting bends in London's suburbia.
The black and gold tracksuit he lent me, was shiny and had a plastic feel to it; the sportswear logo dominated the jacket front while white stripes lined the trousers that came down to the white socks and borrowed trainers.
I was commando; the smooth fabric rubbed against my exposed cock and I slipped in the torn seats of my new friend's vehicle. He was dressed in a matt navy tracksuit bottoms with a white singlet that left much of his muscular body on view.
We heard the feint noise of the music before we arrived at the club; the deserted estate was almost eerily quiet as the car roared and spluttered down the main thoroughfare.
I must admit I was nervous; for all my fun and games with Michael and other men, I still thought of myself as more straight than gay. I loved my wife more than I loved Bryn and I adored feasting on cunt. But for the first time I was going to “gay” party. Although Michael was bisexual, as was I. He guessed that while there would be wall-to-wall sucking and fucking, most of the participants would be returning home to a girlfriend or wife.
In truth, I didn't care too much about that: I was fairly secure in my sexuality and no amount of rampant buggery was going to turn me off the delights of the female form. However, all my interactions had been with small groups of people, or even one-on-one, and I had never been to a sex party before. It was daunting. I was pensive and quiet while Michael found a small parking spot for his tiny boneshaker.
He gave my cock a squeeze as the engine flicked off. “Shall we go have some fun?”
I smiled, feeling his cool hand slip into the waistband of my trousers and stroke my cock. I sighed as his
grip tightened around my shaft and his eyes twinkled. Beautiful, mischievous brown eyes that captivated my attention as he gently stroked me. A warm smile as he watched, letting me sink into his seats with my cock sizzling with arousal.
“Later,” he teased, withdrawing his hand as I neared my climax; my erect cock tented the loaned tracksuit which felt wet in the crotch.
The bouncers on the door nodded respectfully as Michael approached; he passed them a ticket and they said nothing as he opened the windowless green door, stepping into a poorly furnished reception area.
The music hummed behind a half-naked man, sat behind a desk with a sheet of names in front of him. He looked at Michael and sized me up before passing me a clipboard to fill in. Temporary Member.
It was standard stuff: name, address, next of kin, date of birth, and Michael made idle chatter with the receptionist as my pen scrawled across the page. “Enjoy yourself,” we were told after they accepted my registration and we had paid the £10 for me to enter as Michael's guest. My first thoughts were that it was expensive: my first look at the main room changed my mind.
A giant hot-tub filled the first room as heaters blazed overhead. It was warm, and dozens of men were naked in the water, kissing and touching as others milled about in tracksuits and football kits, singlets and boxing outfits.
Others were naked with big cocks flopping as they walked. I admired the hairy chests and the smooth chests; I ogled at the swinging balls and muscular thighs. I smiled at the firm buttocks and cute smiles. My eyes took in the delightful feast of male sexuality and I was briefly overwhelmed as my hard cock responded to the smorgasbord of gorgeous masculinity.
A couple in the corner were fucking; I'd have guessed the top was still a student, ramming this youthful cock into an older gentleman, probably old enough to be his grandfather. They grunted and cried together, the submissive bottom squealing with every thrust in his butt. It was erotic; I wanted to join in. My cock was desperate for it, watching the student drive his prick underneath his football shirt into the jockstrap-clad aged man.