One of the most common experiences I’ve had as a bisexual woman is having guys constantly trying to drag me into a threesome. I am not a fuck toy. I never take anyone up on the offer. In fact, I’m usually repulsed by the very idea; not because I find threesomes (or moresomes) repugnant, but because I’m being asked to be used as a prop in someone else’s fantasy. There’s no regard for my sexual satisfaction. It’s like saying, “Hey, you, why don’t you come over here and get me off?” Fuck you. Do it your damn self. The only time I was able to truly entertain those fantasies with someone else was with a bisexual guy that I knew loved me, who wanted me to enjoy it, be part of it. I’d never had that before, and I loved it. Still do.
When I was on vacation, made it up to San Francisco, partied for almost twenty-four hours straight with a bunch of complete strangers, bunked down on some guy’s couch, and fucked his girlfriend. I was exhausted and still wasted, or I would have seen what he’d had in mind when he invited me to stay at his place. I got my first clue (or the first that I caught) when I was already half asleep. He came out stark naked and stood over me with a full erection.
“Do you wanna have some fun?” was his creative come-on.
That snapped me right out of my doze. I sat up and swept his cock aside with the back of my hand, making him stumble. His ridiculous leer faded, replaced by genuine surprise. I could see his mental gears slowly turning in a different direction. Huh? She doesn’t want to fuck me?
“No,” I said curtly. I shot to my feet and brushed past him, trying to locate my backpack amidst the clutter of his living room. Behind me, I heard him stalk off. The bedroom door closed with a slam.
I found my bag, then started searching for my boots, cursing myself for being such a slob. One boot, no socks. I crawled around on the floor, looking under the coffee and end tables. I heard the door open again. I sat up and turned around, glaring, ready to eloquently flay the guy for his persistence. His girlfriend stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking at me.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” I told her coldly. I returned to my search, finally locating another sock. I gritted my teeth, wanting nothing more than to stomp out right then and there. “It wasn’t his idea,” she ventured nervously. “I’m curious about women. About being with one, I mean.”
“Sure you are,” I muttered absently. There! I spied my fractious boot, and made a grab for it, hoping I wouldn’t have to endure anymore in the defense of her boyfriend’s altruism. I plunked back on the couch and pulled the boot on, angrily yanking at the laces.
“I am,” she said a little desperately. I looked her up and down. “You’re a toady, just doing whatever he wants. I know all about your type,” I taunted her. “No, I’m not!” She was getting angry now, too. “Then tell your idiot boyfriend to stay in his room and I’ll show you how it’s fucking done,” I snarled. I grabbed my bag, knowing she’d never do as I suggested.
I stalked to the door, glancing back when I heard her say, “Don’t come out!” A little stunned, I watched her close the bedroom door behind her. “He won’t come out,” she smiled. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at the hint of wickedness in her eyes. She didn’t seem quite the naive sycophant I’d at first imagined. I dropped my bag and walked over to her with an unholy little smile of my own. I was still furious, and someone was going to pay. It might as well be her.
Coming to a stop in front of her, our bodies a scant inch apart, I stared down into her eyes. They widened as my smirk grew into a cold, gloating smile. My hand curled around the back of her neck, grabbing a handful of the wavy brown hair at the nape of her neck and twisting it around my fist. I pulled her head back, making her arch against me to keep her balance. I leaned into her, letting my body cup her, my upper thigh pressing against the cleft her thighs. The tip of my tongue lightly touched the inside of her ear. A tremor shot through the body arced against me, I could feel the play of her muscles against my leg as her cunt contracted.
“Are you still curious?” I whispered in her ear.
She answered with a low moan; I took it as an affirmative. Releasing her hair, I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to her knees. “Take my clothes off,” I ordered. She grabbed the waist of my jeans and twisted the button fly open in a heartbeat. “Slowly!” I snapped. She edged them down my thighs, glancing up at me for approval when she started to unlace my boots. I stared at her impassively as I stepped out of my clothing. I unbuttoned my shirt and directed her to strip. When we were both naked, I drew her up and went to sit on the couch, making her kneel in front of me again.
“Show me what you can do,” I told her. Hesitantly, she lowered her head between my thighs, lapping delicately at the hood of my clit. “Do it the way you like it done,” I urged her, unimpressed.
“Is that really how you like it? Really?” She nodded, uncertain again.
“Let me show you how you like it,” I growled. I grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her as I slid down to floor, kneeling at her back. I pressed her forward into the couch, slapping her thighs apart with my free hand.
“You have to make them want it,” I explained, my hand cupping her moist cunt. I pulled it back slowly, letting her swollen lips drag between my tightly closed fingers. As my middle finger started to clear her hood, I tapped a fingertip on her clit. “Don’t go right for the clit. You don’t want to give it all away. Most of the fun is getting there.”
My middle finger dipped between her labia, using just the fingertip again, I stroked it over her slick hole. I slid my hand to the side; she voiced a stifled, moaning protest. Her back arched as she raised her ass, trying to push her pussy against my hand again. I chuckled. I grabbed her hips and lifted her onto the couch, turning her sideways. She struggled to face me, but I grabbed the nape of her neck and pressed her face against the cushions again. Satisfied that she was going to stay put, I knelt on the floor and spread her lips with both hands, stretching them apart. I let a breath wash over her wet lips then pressed my tongue into her, twisting and turning the tip just inside her hole. She wriggled her pussy against my face, trying to lift her ass higher as I kept my tongue dancing over her lips and around her clit.
Please, please, she started to beg, her voice muffled against the back of the sofa. I pulled back; her ass followed me. I dragged her down onto the floor with me, then drove my fingers into her cunt, twisting her open as she slammed back against my hand. I held steady as she fucked my fingers, and waited until I could feel the walls of her pussy convulsing around them. I slapped a palm to her ass and pushed her forward, her face again against the couch cushions, holding her off as I curled three fingers inside of her and tugged. A strangled scream escaped her smothered mouth. She had a hand between her legs, rubbing furiously at her clit, the other groping blindly behind her for my wrist. I pulled my hand out of her and grabbed both of hers, twisting them together against the small of her back. Imprisoning them with one hand, I slammed the fingers of my other hand back into her, rocking her forward with the force of it. Her whole body twisted and struggled under my ministrations. By this time I had all four fingers in her, curling and tugging on her g-spot again, my thumb pressed against her clit. She was shuddering and crying out uncontrollably as she bucked against me, rocking against my hold. With surprising suddenness, a cry ripped from her throat and her dripping cunt clamped fiercely down around my fingers. The flood of her orgasm seeped through the seal of her tight pussy around my fingers. I pulled out slowly, letting my fingers caress her velvety walls. I pressed a kiss against the small of her back, my lips feeling the slight quiver that still raced up and down her spine.
“That’s how you like it,” I told her.