Bi-Sensual

by Nikki- Michelle

  My aim was to give him satisfaction that way, but he had other plans. He stood and ripped my towel away.

  “Lie down,” he demanded.

  I did. He looked down at me. A slight smirk on his face. A vast difference from the sullen look that had been on his face earlier. Elliot got down on his knees and submitted to his urge to taste me. As soon as his thick lips touched my sensitive ones, I sighed. Elliot gave me his full attention. He was all into tongue loving me.

  I tried to hold my moans in. Tried to be cognizant of the fact that Demitri was in the other room. But Elliot’s mouth . . . goddamn his mouth. His tongue parted my folds, and he went in search of his treasure. My eyes closed, and my head dipped back. I’d assumed Demitri was in the living area, but once I opened my eyes, I realized he wasn’t. He was there, in the doorway, watching me. Not us. His eyes were directly on me.

  The candlelight created an erotic ambiance. Our shadows danced across the walls in the bedroom like lovers who swayed in the night. Demitri’s eyes were like a camera. He zoomed in and out on my every arch and moan. Each time the candlelight flickered, it seemed as if my orgasm intensified. As Elliot’s fingers slipped inside of me, I imagined it was Demitri on top of me again. Imagined his thickness was inside of me, making me come. Making me twist and turn like a madwoman. Making me moan like I was demented, insane even.

  For a minute, Demitri’s eyes didn’t blink. He was focused on me. For a while, anger resonated within his eyes. He held his chin high. Legs were planted wide; like he was in attack mode. He rolled his neck from side to side, like he was trying to talk himself out of doing something stupid. In that moment, I imagined myself dying. Imagined Demitri had snapped. Had picked up the lamp on the desk in the bedroom and had smashed it over my head. I imagined him beating me to death while Elliot was still practicing the art of cunnilingus on me. That was a morbid thought, I knew. But there was only so much one person could take of another pleasing their lover.

  However, Demitri did none of that. He stepped close. He needed a better view in the low lighting. Elliot’s hands were all over my breasts as his mouth attacked my vagina. Elliot was skilled in the art of eating pussy. That man ate pussy so well that sometimes I didn’t even need dick afterward. Demitri remained our voyeur. His eyes moving from my face down my neck to my breasts, which Elliot had locked in his hands.

  “Ooh, shit,” I gasped. “Elliot . . . El . . . li . . . ott. Sh-shit,” I panted.

  My arousal danced up and down my spine. Elliot was so affectionate as he pleased me.

  “Talk to me, baby,” he coaxed. “Tell me it’s good to you.”

  And I did. I told him how good his mouth felt on my pussy. Told him how good he made me feel. I shivered and shook on the bed. God knew I didn’t want him to stop. Demitri was still watching. Only now, he moved around the bed. He was standing to the side of Elliot, watching him mouth fuck me. The tent forming underneath the towel wrapped around his waist told me no matter how angry he might have been, he was stilled turned on.

  A shiver took hold of my body, and my orgasm erupted. My body jerked upward. Toes curled, and I damn near bit my tongue off. Still, I held Elliot’s head in place as he sucked on my clit. He sucked. And sucked. And sucked until I was pleading, begging with him to stop. I was too sensitive. Couldn’t take any more.

  Elliot pulled back. Stood up and looked down at me like he was admiring his handiwork. I lay there. Gasping and panting. Praying to God he didn’t let this petite mort be the last one.

  “You’re beautiful when you come,” Demitri said, surprising me.

  “Thank”—I took a deep breath and another—“you.”

  My breasts were heavy and swollen. I wanted like hell for Demitri or Elliot to suck them hard and slow. I wanted to be touched. Still needed someone to take this heat out of my belly. This fire that was raging inside of me needed to be put out.

  Mona

  A god stared down at me. A walking, breathing, living god. His gray eyes evaluated me, watching as the storm inside of me subsided. He came to me. Allowed his fingers to brush over my skin. From my inner thigh over my private parts on up to my navel. He let feather touches from his fingertips tickle my areolae, then my nipples.

  He was pretending as if he didn’t know me, as if he hadn’t explored my body before. Elliot watched us from where he sat. He had moved the chocolate wingback chair away from the window and had placed it inches away from the foot of the bed. His manhood, long and hard, was pointing at me from where from he sat.

  He sat regal like. Back straight, arms laid on the arms of the chair, like he was a king and we were his charges. Demitri already had a condom on. Had already sheathed his manhood in anticipation of getting some of my loving. I swallowed as he toyed with me. I was anxious. Had been waiting for this moment since he ran out the night we went to the club.

  My pussy throbbed in remembrance of what it felt like to have him there. Demitri’s nails raked over my thighs, then slid back over to my private lips. I took a breath so deep and released it so hard, it was almost as if my body caved in on itself.

  Demitri looked at Elliot before he crawled onto the bed. His strong arms on either side of me, Demitri moved my head to the side with his chin, his breath against my neck and ear. Then his tongue was there. He licked my spot, then kissed it. Kissed just beneath my ear before he used his teeth to tug on it. He didn’t forget the other side of my neck. Did the same thing there, getting me hotter than fish grease over an open flame.

  He brought his mouth back to mine. Eased his tongue inside like it belonged there all along. My breathing refused to cooperate with me. Refused to calm itself. Demitri was doing more than kissing me. He was tasting me. Tasting and dissecting every follicle of my molecular being. So I calmed my nerves. Returned the favor. Used my tongue to taste him.

  His tongue was so fucking sweet. The kiss was hypnotic in the sense that I was going to be under his spell if I didn’t catch myself. Demitri put his weight on me. His manhood rubbed against my womanhood, begging for entrance. He brought his hands up to massage my scalp as he pulled back and sucked on my lips.

  Now I knew why he’d been turned on by me massaging his scalp. I got it now. That shit, his fingers in my scalp, was taking me under. Waves upon waves of intense orgasms were coming in. Elliot had wanted us to fuck, but Demitri was doing what he wanted to do. Both of us knew Elliot was the dominant one in this triangle. So Demitri took control of this moment, having me the way he wanted me.

  I appreciated him for the way he was handling me. He could just fuck me to be fucking me, but he wasn’t. Demitri held me differently than Elliot. While he had facial hair, it didn’t make my cheek itch or irritate my skin. He was paying attention to my body too. If I moaned louder when his tongue touched mine, he made sure to do it again. If my breath caught when he sucked my nipple a certain way, he made sure to suck the other nipple just the same.

  I was so aware of the moment. Nothing, not one of my senses, could be dulled. Demitri was taking me on a ride that he didn’t want me to forget. His hands massaged my hips, thighs, and ass. Nails dug into my skin, making his touches more intense. I was so caught up in the moment that when his mouth traveled down south to my already sensitive clit, I almost bucked off the bed.

  “Breathe, Samona,” Elliot’s deep voice rang out. “Calm your center. Ride the waves, baby. Ride the waves. Let the orgasm rock you, but don’t let it throw you overboard,” he said.

  I heard him, but he didn’t have Demitri’s tongue and mouth on him at the moment. I turned my eyes to Elliot, set to cuss him to hell, but the smirk-like smile on his face stopped me. He was enjoying the show. Enjoying the way Demitri was torturing me. It was turning him on to the point that he had his dick in his hand, stroking slowly as he watched on.

  “Never seen him with a woman,” he said, like he could read my mind. Elliot’s voice was low. Eyes hooded. He looked like he was high.

  Demitri’s big hands slid underneath my ass, spreading me wider as
he licked me deep. I struggled to keep up with my counts for breathing in a rhythm. The scents from the candles aroused my senses further. Cinnamon. Black licorice. Lily of the valley. Vanilla. Peppermint. Sandalwood. Lavender. I smelled them all. It smelled as if we had just walked into the cleanest, most erotic room of heaven.

  Demitri spread my legs wide. So wide that none of my womanly secrets could be hidden. Every lick and flick of his tongue made my eyelids flutter. Demitri came up. Stopped torturing me with his tongue. My come all over his beard. It actually glistened in the dim lighting of the room. Dare I say, sparkled?

  I almost laughed at my foolishness. Almost forgot about how big Demitri’s manhood was. Forgot that his dick had the power to give me the Holy Ghost. He reminded me, though. He snatched me down to the end of the bed, put my ankles around his neck, pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. With the other, he guided himself inside of me.

  I let out a sound that I didn’t even recognize as my own voice. The “oh shit” got caught in my throat. My eyes watered. Instinct told me to run. He didn’t even give me all of him at once. He took his damn time.

  Slow.

  Easy.

  Torturous.

  The whole time, a god stared into my eyes. Watched my every expression. Dared me to try to run again. I looked away.

  “No. Look at me,” he demanded.

  I refused.

  He leaned in, chuckled in my ear. “Told you I was going to fuck you up,” he whispered so only I could hear him. Then to Elliot, he said, “Tell her to look at me, Elliot.”

  “Look at him, Samona,” Elliot responded on cue, his voice rough and heady.

  I whimpered. Cried a little. I wanted to ask God for help, but I didn’t think that was what He meant when He said to call Him when you want Him. I looked back up at the god that had me pinned beneath him. Those hip thrusts and deep strokes were lethal. Each time the Grenadian worked his hips up and down, he gave me a little more of him than he had before. He did that until he was all the way inside of me. He had worked my body until he had coaxed it to take every last inch of him.

  Demitri was winning. I couldn’t match his heat. Couldn’t match the intensity in his eyes.

  “Moan for me, Mona,” he insisted. “Moan that beautiful fucking way you do, Moaning Mona.”

  He was talking too much. Saying too much. I wanted to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to know anything about my moans. But his fucking baritone was lethal. It tugged at something primal inside of me. And I moaned.

  I moaned.

  I moaned.

  “Ah, God . . . ah, shit . . . so hard,” I said, barely above a whisper. “So . . . so damn hard, Demitri.”

  “So fucking sexy,” Elliot said from his throne.

  I didn’t know who he was talking to. I didn’t care, either.

  “I’m coming,” I declared.

  “Yeah?” Demitri asked.

  I nodded. He pulled out. That motherfucker pulled out.

  “No, you ain’t. Not yet. Turn over,” he demanded.

  I did, anxiously so. I turned over. Got on all fours. Put that perfect arch in my back that Elliot had always loved.

  “Crawl to the middle of the bed. Face Elliot,” he said.

  I did that too. Anticipation making me do what was asked of me without question. Before he crawled on the bed behind me, he grabbed some of the organic almond oil from my nightstand. Poured a healthy helping onto the dip in my back. Demitri grabbed a handful of my braids as he thrust inside of me. I was curious about why he’d poured the oil on my back, I but couldn’t think straight enough to ask.

  “Look at him,” he growled while rocking his hips into mine.

  My eyes opened, and my gaze settled on Elliot. Come was oozing from his manhood down onto his fisted hand. His mouth was open halfway; then he bit down aggressively on his bottom lip. He slow stroked himself. Moaned low in his throat as his eyes closed.

  “Look at her, Elliot. Look at the pleasure on her face. I did that,” he taunted his lover. “I’m doing that.”

  Elliot’s eyes shot open. He trained them on Demitri. His lips turned downward; the top one twitched in the upper left corner. I found my rhythm. Threw my ass back into Demitri. Caught him off guard. He let out so many cuss words that one would have thought he was only capable of saying the words shit, goddamn, and motherfucker.

  “Watch. Him. Elliot,” I sang out. “That pleasure on his face . . . all me,” I said.

  I tried to talk shit, but Demitri was massaging my back. The man was massaging me as he slow stroked me. I’d never experienced sensuality like that before in my life. He had let my hair go and had started to massage pressure points in my back, which drove me mad. I’d never imagined that being massaged while getting dicked down could be so erotic. He was even using different techniques, like compression, shiatsu, kneading, and stroking. He even massaged my ass. Massaged it with circular motions. Increased the pressure, then started kneading it, all the while giving me every inch of him.

  I was moaning so fucking hard, so damn loud. I was out of my mind. Elliot’s eyes had turned to slits by the time they found mine. We’d turned the tables on him. He was angry, but he still held his dick in his hand. Demitri was working me good. Had my pussy speaking in tongues. He was about to come. I could feel it. He called on God. Said something in his native tongue. Cursed me. Cursed Elliot for making him fuck me. Cussed at me because I wouldn’t stop moving, so he wouldn’t come yet, like he’d asked me to.

  “You evil bitch,” he growled with bated breath when I dipped lower and threw my ass back harder.

  That fueled me. Gave me that extra oomph to push him over the edge. I looked back up at Elliot. His mouth hung wide open. Something akin to shock, anger, resignation, and unadulterated pleasure washed over his features. Demitri moved in and out of me with powerful strokes. We were enemies. So he fucked me like he wanted me to surrender. Fucked me like he wanted me to bow out, give up. I made him come like he had lost his mind. We couldn’t beat one another, so I joined him by coming again and again.

  Demitri’s orgasm rocked me. It was violent. Caused him to grip my braids tighter. Say vulgar things to me that made my pussy tighten around him. The more he came, the harder he fucked. That shit felt like he was trying to fuck me to hell. But I made him remember that heaven would always be found between a black woman’s thighs. Always.

  Mona

  The room was silent. The candles had been blown out. The lights were on. The sweet smell of our sex still wafted through the air. Demitri sat in the chair Elliot had once occupied. He had put gym shorts on. I had on a nightshirt, while Elliot was in his underwear.

  Elliot chewed on his bottom lip as he looked up at me. After the sex high had worn off, after I’d witnessed Elliot give Demitri pleasure that I’d never be able to, reality had settled back over us. I had talked Elliot into calling Nicole from my hotel room. He’d been against it at first, but I’d told him he needed to start fighting back. Told him to stop letting guilt keep him away from his son. Demitri had agreed.

  So, Elliot had dialed Nicole’s number then put the phone on speaker.

  A man answered when Elliot had dialed the number. The plan had been for me to ask for Nicole if her husband answered the phone.

  “Hello? Who is this?” the man had asked.

  “I’d like to speak to Nicole Newsam please,” I said.

  “Who’s calling?” he asked.

  “This is a personal matter, and I can speak only to Nicole Newsam in reference to it.”

  I listened as the man on the other end of the phone said something to someone in the background. A woman’s sleepy voice asked who it was at that time of the morning. Covers rustled. The man told her to just take the call and tell her clients not to call at such a time anymore. He was angry that he had been awakened.

  Nicole cleared her throat and got on the phone. “Hello.”

  I nodded at Elliot and he said, “Hey, Nicole. It’s me.”

  There was
silence on the other end of the line. “Excuse me,” she said.

  “It’s me. Elliot.”

  I could tell she didn’t want her husband to know Elliot was on the other end of the line by the way she said, “Okay, and how may I help you?”

  “I was hoping I could talk to Jacques.”

  “You have to be kidding me,” she mumbled. “It is four in the morning.”

  “I’m aware. I just want to talk to my son, Nicole. That’s all.”

  “I’m sorry, but I told you we’d have to do that at another time,” she said, voice so professional I was sure her husband thought she was on a business call.

  I laid a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, urging him to be firm with her.

  “No, we’re going to do it now. I need to talk to him, Nicole. I’ve done everything you wanted me to. Now it’s time for you to return the favor.”

  “I’m not obligated to do anything,” she said contritely.

  “Then you’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

  “What? Are you threatening me?” she asked.

  “Who is that?” I heard her husband say in the background.

  “Again, I just want to talk to my son. That’s it. Anything else, I want no parts of.”

  “Threatening me with court won’t help your cause.”

  “You don’t leave me with many options.”

  Nicole took a deep breath. Her husband kept asking her if she was okay. She snapped at him to leave her alone and just give her a moment.

  She came back to the phone. “Don’t do this. I just need some time—”

  “You’ve had seven years with him.”

  Silence again. Then Nicole said, “Is he still around? I won’t have that man around my son.”

  Her husband’s voice turned grave in the background. “Is that Elliot? How did he get this number? Do I need to—”

  “No, Malcolm!” Nicole shouted in a voice so stern that it caused hairs to rise on my arms. “Please, I can handle this,” she then said, her voice back to being soft and nonthreatening.