Bi-Satisfied

by Nikki-Michelle

  Bi-Satisfied

  Nikki-Michelle

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  Summer

  David - Seduction . . .

  Summer

  David

  David

  Summer

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  Summer

  David

  David

  Summer

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  David

  Summer

  Summer

  David

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  It has been a long but pleasantly enjoyable ride on the author train for me. First, I’d like to thank Brenda Hampton, the best agent in the world. You saw and continue to see in me what I couldn’t. You took a chance on me. For that you will always have a place in my heart. Kai Leakes, no matter how we fight, you always stick around. We’re soul mates. Deal with it.

  When I first started, I introduced the world to Chyanne, Aric, Gabriel, Jamie, and the crew. This time I want to take you guys on a different ride, a different kind of love. Meet David, Summer, and Michael, three people who will show you love through different lenses. These characters grabbed a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t eat or sleep until they’d had their say. It took me a little over thirty days to finish the first draft of this story, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

  So, enjoy the ride and know that true love comes without conditions.

  Summer

  Life had always been a conundrum to me. Ever since I found out I was adopted, I had been confused about life. I didn’t know where I belonged. Didn’t know who I belonged to. Didn’t know my mother or my father. There were times when I had no desire to know them and times when I wished I did. Sometimes I wanted to know what it was like to feel a mother’s love or a father’s pride, but alas, I had never felt that. I mean, my foster parents had done the best they could, but I was the only black child in a house full of white people. Needless to say, things didn’t always go the way they should have gone.

  When I was twelve, my seventeen-year-old foster brother decided I was old enough to fuck, so he snuck into my bedroom and made it so. Pressing a pillow over my face, and damn near smothering me to death, he took my virginity. All I remembered was the smell of cigarettes, his blond hair, and his blue eyes before he decided he couldn’t look at me anymore. Once the pillow was over my face, he used his pencil dick and humped me until he was content. Yeah, what he did was wrong, but his penis was so small and thin that he didn’t even break my hymen. Was I still disgusted? Yes.

  I didn’t know what it meant to have my hymen broken until I had sex with my first black boyfriend. That was another story in itself, but I was going to tell it, too, one day. I’d been fascinated with sex ever since I’d seen my foster parents doing it on their boat. We’d lived on Lake Spivey, a very posh, upscale neighborhood in metro Atlanta, and everyone there had had a boat and boating dock to go along with their mini mansion. I was twelve, and I happened to be going for a swim when I saw my foster dad drilling into my foster mom like he was using his dick to drill for gold. Her head was thrown back, her mouth was half open, her eyes were closed, and she was saying the nastiest things she could.

  Mind you, my parents were devout Christians. Demanded that we got up to go to church on Sunday and that we didn’t leave until Tuesday. I hadn’t even known Christian people had sex, with the way my foster parents preached hellfire and brimstone. My foster parents were good-looking white people, the kind you expected to see in Beverly Hills, on Rodeo Drive. My father was an all-American white boy. From his perfectly cut blond hair to his gym-perfected six-pack, he was who you brought home to your white mama and daddy. My mom reminded me of Angelina Jolie. She was sexy like that.

  I remembered watching as my dad pumped and worked his hips. Sweat drenched his brows as his ass cheeks clenched. I stood there in awe, wondering what the white stuff was that was coming from my mom’s pussy and coating his manhood.

  “Fuck me in my ass, John,” she pleaded.

  That was when things got a bit more interesting.

  “Clarissa, thought you were saving that for me,” I heard another male’s voice say, and I got closer to the boat’s window to see who it was.

  It was one of the deacons from our church. He was as naked as he’d been on the day he was born. In his hand was his johnson, and he was stroking it like it pained him.

  “Let him finish, Jim. I want to see Clarissa orgasm like before,” said another woman in the room.

  My twelve-year-old mouth fell open when I saw Deacon Jim’s wife straddling a chair, her legs open as she played with her pink, hairless pussy. She was biting down on her bottom lip, one hand was vigorously tapping against her clitoris, and the other was massaging her breasts. I stood there, transfixed by what my twelve-year-old mind couldn’t process. It felt like hours passed as I stood there and watched. My mother finally turned over, dipped her back, and begged my foster father to give her what she wanted.

  They had been passing a bottle around with the letters K and Y on it. At the time, I had no idea what it was. Still, I watched in silence as my father poured some down the crack of my mom’s lackluster rear end. First, he used his fingers to please her anally. Talked to her. Told her to relax and assured her that he would be gentle. I watched as she cooed under his touch and words. And then I watched as he ever so slowly slid his salmon-colored dick into her ass. Truthfully, it looked painful, but my foster mom was into it, and so were the deacon and his wife.

  “That’s right, John. Fuck her harder,” the deacon’s wife coaxed. “She likes it hard like that. Isn’t that right, Clarissa?”

  “Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh God, yes, John. Fuck me in the name of the Father.”

  John pumped as hard as he could once.

  “The Son . . .”

  John did it harder still and deeper this time.

  “And the Holy Spirit.”

  My father was focused. His skin was ruddy in color as he gave her all she could handle and then some. I thought for sure he would come too as liquid ran down my foster mother’s leg. I looked on in awe as the deacon and his wife dropped down to their knees and started to lap up whatever that was that had come out of her. I thought I’d seen it all when they both started to eat my mom’s twat as my dad continued to ram his dick inside her anally.

  But no, those Christians had another surprise for me. They all fucked one another in that small room on our boat, and when I said all, I meant all. I thought my eyes would pop out when my father took the same position as my mother. Deacon Jim grabbed that bottle of K-Y and poured some on John’s backside. As Deacon Jim entered my father from the rear, that was the first time I’d ever seen a look of pure pleasure on a man’s face. Both my mother and the deacon’s wife lay on the bed in front of them, in the sixty-nine position, watching as their husbands screwed one another.

  “Damn, Summer. I’ve been standing at this office door, talking to you, for five minutes already, and you’ve yet to even acknowledge me.”

  I jerked away from my thoughts of that day and gazed into the eyes of my best friend, David Hall. I smiled at the man. He was the most beautiful shade of chocolate you’d ever want to see on a man. His teeth showed that he never missed a dentist’s appointment. Thin locks were pulled back in a ponytail on his head. His
catlike brown eyes twinkled with mischief, as they always did. He was dressed like he was one of those preppy boys from Harvard, but the broad shoulders, the down South, Georgia boy swagger, and the deep voice told you it was more likely that he’d come from Morehouse. The man was fine. Everything any woman in her right mind would want. There was one problem for me: he was bisexual. That would forever kept him in the friend zone.

  David was also one of my bosses. I worked in his law firm, as a paralegal to one of his partners. In fact, it was David who had gotten me the job.

  “I’m so sorry, David. So sorry,” I said as I chuckled. “I was in my head again. Was thinking about my foster parents,” I admitted honestly.

  He smiled, then walked in and sat in front of my desk. “Ah, the bisexual Christians who liked to have orgies with different members of the church,” he commented, then chuckled.

  He knew all about my folks because I’d told him. That was one of the reasons he and I had become such good friends. The one thing we had in common was the fact that neither of us knew where we came from. I’d been blessed with rich foster parents, while David had been cursed with being thrown from one group home to another. Still, he had made it out alive and had been able to make something of himself in the process.

  I laughed. “Yes, I still think back to when I saw them on that boat.”

  “Sounds like some shit you should write in a book.”

  “Who’d believe me?”

  “You’d be surprised. If Fifty Shades of Bullshit can make the NYT Best Sellers list, then I’m certain Sixty-Nine Shades of Freaking in the Church would make it,” he commented casually as he laid a folder on my desk.

  I laughed. “Leave my folks alone. They taught me a lot.”

  He chuckled again, crossed his left leg over the right, and looked at me. “I bet they did. Like how to—”

  I laughed, cutting him off. I jumped up to close the door to my office, all the while holding my finger up to my lips, telling him to be quiet.

  “Why do I have to be quiet in a law office I’m a partner in?” he joked, feigning ignorance.

  “Because you know how nosy people are around here. The last thing I need is my parents’ freaky sex life on blast.”

  David and I laughed about the whole thing for a few minutes more before I addressed the real reason he was there again. Although David was laughing and talking like nothing was bothering him, I’d known my best friend long enough to know something was wrong. He took his glasses off and sat them on top of his head, then rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

  “Want to talk about it?” I asked him. I kicked my heels off and sat sideways on his lap. He was the only man I could sit that way with and know he wouldn’t try anything that would force me to punch him in the nuts.

  “Michael called me. He’s coming to visit,” he said.

  “Michael? Your best friend from New York Michael?”

  He nodded.

  I wrapped an arm around my best friend’s neck and shrugged. “Okay, and why do you act as if this is a bad thing?”

  “I haven’t seen him in years. Almost ten, to be exact.”

  “You’ve never told me why, and I’ve asked many times.”

  David had told me about Michael. They’d been best friends back in college, but then they’d parted ways. He’d never really delved into the details of the demise of their friendship. I had often asked him if Michael knew he was bisexual, and he had never answered that question for me. He would always say that it was complicated and that he didn’t feel like explaining it at the time.

  “Things happen between people, and some of those things you can never take back. I did something to him the last time we saw one another, and it didn’t end so well.”

  “Well, is he gay? Did you fuck him and not call the next day?” I asked these questions in a joking manner, but I really wanted to know.

  David chuckled. “No, he’s not gay.”

  “Did you sleep with his woman?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Jesus, David, you’re a greedy bastard.”

  He chuckled again. “He was hurt after what I did. Didn’t speak to me for a long time, no matter how many times I apologized.”

  “Did he love the woman you stuck your happy stick in?”

  David nodded. “Loved her very much. Loved her so much that he even married her.”

  My eyes widened, and I leaned back to get a better look at David. “Oh God, tell me you didn’t sleep with her while they were married.”

  He gave a light smile. “Yeah, I did. So sue me.”

  “Sue you? I can see why he hasn’t spoken to you in ten years, with that attitude.”

  “I said we haven’t seen one another in almost ten years. Through mutual friends we found each other again on Facebook. And as corny as this shit is about to sound, I did send the man an apology again through Facebook, since that was the only way I could communicate with him.”

  “Did he respond?”

  “Yeah, he did. Accepted my apology.”

  “Okay, so I don’t understand why his coming here has you all bent out of shape, or so it appears.”

  “Ever had that one person that you would damn near sell your soul to have?” he asked.

  I stared at my best friend, looked him in his eyes as he did the same to me. Let those unspoken words settle between us. Hell, yeah, I knew what that feeling was like, but I digressed.

  “But, wait, you screwed his wife,” I said.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And you want him too?”

  He nodded. “Always have.”

  “Damn. For real? But you said he’s not gay.”

  “He isn’t.”

  “And he has a wife.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not about to let you do this down-low shit. Granted, Atlanta is known for it, but I’m not about to—”

  David sighed and tapped my backside, signaling me to get off his lap. I did and then watched the very masculine male in front of me stand. David stood five-eleven to my five-seven. I gazed up at him quietly.

  “You don’t ever have to worry about that with me, Summer. You know that shit. I don’t get down like that. Don’t fuck with the niggas who do. Still, a man can hope, right?”

  “I guess . . .”

  I studied my best friend as he studied me, and I wondered what made him tick. Granted, for a long while, I had had a crush on David. Even after he’d told me he was bisexual. I knew I would never be able to cross over the romance line with him, but I still liked him. Now, I stood there wondering why a man as fine as he was didn’t find a woman like me attractive. Would it be so hard for him actually to have feelings for me like he did for Michael?

  David cast a glance out my office window and then looked back down at me with a smirk on his face. He was reading me. Silently reading the pages of my book, and I hated it. Hated when he could look at me and see what I was thinking.

  He shrugged and then slid his hands in the pockets of his designer dress slacks. “All you had to do was say yes.”

  David

  All she’d ever had to do was say yes, but I knew she wouldn’t. That was just the way Summer was. Like I knew how many freckles lined her almond-colored face, I knew that she was into me in ways she didn’t want to be known. Had known it since the day we met eight years before. I was a thirty-eight-year-old bisexual male and was damn proud of it. I didn’t have a problem with my sexuality. Other people did. I didn’t have a problem with being sexual with a man or a woman. For as long as I could remember, it had come natural to me. I could love men and women. I’d never had a totally successful relationship with a man, but I couldn’t say I had a clean track record with women, either.

  My encounters with men had been mostly for sexual gratification. There had been a few men who I had had an emotional attachment to, but I had been quick to withdraw from any one of them who had got too attached to me. With women, I’d had some good relations
hips and some bad ones. Most of them couldn’t handle the fact that I was bisexual. Didn’t think a man like me could be faithful to them, because I’d had sex with men before. So these days, I stayed to myself. Had sex with a man here, made love to a woman there, but there was never anything serious.

  Summer could have been the one, but as with most women, my sexuality scared her. And that was fine with me. She still respected me as a man and a friend. I loved her for that.

  “W-what?” she stammered, pretending she hadn’t heard what I’d said.

  “All you had to do was say yes,” I repeated.

  “Yes? What are you talking about, David? Yes to what?”

  “I know that look, Summer. I’ve seen it enough times to know what you’re thinking.”

  She shook her head and then turned her eyes away from me. “Whatever, David,” she said and then moved behind her desk to pick up the folder I’d put there. “So when is Michael coming again?” she asked, taking a seat.

  “Should be here next week.”

  “Are you going to tell him you have a man crush on him?” Although she was smiling and joking, I could see that hint of jealously behind her eyelids. Could see the fact that she felt some type of way.

  “Whatever, Summer. I came to tell you because I want you to meet him,” I told her.

  She raised both her brows, then screwed up her face. “Why in hell do I need to meet him?”

  “Because both of you are good friends of mine.”

  “And?”

  “And because I know if you’re there, he may not jump stupid.”

  “I mean, if there is so much tension, then why even meet up?”

  “Because he wants to squash the beef.”

  “Not if you’re worried about him getting in your ass.” She smirked. “No pun intended.”

  I had to chuckle at that. She was trying to be funny. I took in her appearance. Let my eyes drink in her thick, caramel, toned thighs, which were being showcased by a skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees. Summer was the kind of thick that only a down South, country black man could appreciate.