What goes on between my bi husband and the bi me.
"When you are fucking me Gordon, do you ever imagine I am someone else?" I asked my husband.
"To be truthful, Tina, yes I do sometimes," he replied after removing my nipple from his mouth.
"Anyone I know?" I asked stroking his semi-erect penis.
"No."
"Are they male or female?"
"It varies, but mostly it is you."
He kissed me and cupped one of my triple D boobs, or as I often thought of them udders, in his hand, squeezing and pinching it just as he knew I liked.
"But sometimes you imagine I am a man do you?"
"Yes."
"Is that more when you fuck my pussy or my bum?"
"Both. Now shut up, turn over and let me fuck your arse," he said just as I felt his erection completing.
*
Gordon and I were having one of our get togethers. We live apart, but meet every few weeks for a couple of days and do what married couples are meant to do: fuck like rabbits and then argue. The rest of the time, we lead our own, very separate lives.
He is a psychologist by profession, but also lectures at Cambridge University. I am a freelance writer, mainly of copy for ads, but also speeches, magazine and newspaper articles and erotic stories. He lives in Cambridge, I live in Islington. We have been together in what nowadays is a rather apart sort of way, for ten years, about half of which we have been married. By choice we have no children. We are both bisexual.
We met at an awards ceremony. It was one of those tedious advertising industry, self-glorification events or, as some of my more enlightened colleagues called it, a mutual jerk off session. An ad I had written was up for an award and Gordon who specialised in the psychological effect of the written word was one of the judges. I didn't win, an award that is, but I did win Gordon.
We chatted before the dinner at a small reception for the judges and nominees, then after it and later at a party at a night club. The mutual attraction was clear, particularly when we danced together at the night club and as his hand rubbed my bum, he whispered right into my ear.
"I have always loved large breasts Tina and yours look to be gorgeous," as he pulled me against him squashing my boobs against his chest and illustrating very clearly that he was erect. "And I always think women wearing glasses look so fucking sexy."
Having been large breasted since emerging from puberty I am used to such attention. Also I am used to meeting men who make more eye contact with my tits than they do with my eyes. Additionally, of course, I am used to being careful when I run or what I wear, particularly at the gym. Overall, though, I enjoy having large boobs and they do genuinely make me feel very sexy, but they can be a nuisance; I have missed numerous trains and buses because I feared causing a commotion by running and having my tits flying around all over the place.
I realised in my teens that to men, they are a little like a honey pot is to bees. And that gave me a problem because at that time I thought I was a lesbian. As my sexuality was emerging, I was not really aware of this 'inbetweeny' state of being bisexual. I did not feel comfortable with boys. I did not like the way they pawed me or the feel of their erections against me. Later in life, around my mid-twenties, I realised that I was put off men, and sex to an extent, by the way these inexperienced little buggers went about it.
Nevertheless, at the same time, I was attracted to the beauty, poise, elegance and style of some of the older girls at school and thought I had fallen in love with the school captain. I hadn't, but that did not stop her taking my lesbian virginity.
"Have you really?" I replied to Gordon.
Having been drinking since six in the evening and it now being three in the morning, I was slightly drunk as were most of us.
"Yes of course really," he said moving his chest so that it squashed firmly against my breasts.
I was thirty-six at the time, Gordon was ten years older. I had been in advertising since leaving university and he had been around the industry for years. Advertising attracts creative people, men and women who do not feel inhibited by the status quo, individuals who embrace change and new ideas and liberally minded people who are open to pushing out the boundaries. All of that makes for great advertising. It also makes for a very open, intimate, challenging and quite frankly a fucking sexy atmosphere and environment. There was more 'recreational' sex, as well as use of recreational drugs, in that industry than in most others, as well as affairs, bits on the side, office romances, one night stands and even office fucks. It really was a cess pool of sexual standards and morals and I loved it.
"I see," I muttered looking into his eyes not feeling shocked or that surprised.
"And that my lovely," he said with a glint in his eye. "Is exactly what I want."
"Huh. What do you mean?"
"To see Tina."
I understood what he meant then and after that everything fell into place, just as it tends to in the ad industry.
We kissed as we danced. We held hands as we left the club. In the cab he squeezed my breasts. In the lounge of his flat in Pimlico he undid my top and saw my tits and in the bedroom where we spent the night, he fucked me.
*
A few days after Gordon's and my latest get together I was with my occasional lover Molly. We see each other from time to time and although there was no strong romantic connection, we have fabulous sex. She was very 'attached' to a devoted lesbian and they were contemplating getting married and trying to adopt a child. I think I was her last 'fling' before she made that commitment.
We were in bed at my house in Islington. It was early-afternoon, which was the only time that Molly could safely get away from her lover. A successful investment banker, her partner Annie earned a fortune and insisted that her 'wife' did not work, but stayed at home and looked after her Victorian house in Hampstead and her. Molly had to cook dinner when they were in and Annie insisted she be there when she got home around seven. Hence, our afternoon affair.
We had been in bed since mid-day. There had been lots of 'fingersex', oral and body to body stuff, but little kissing. Molly had an illogical moral stance on some things; she would let me fuck her, but not kiss her. "That's just too intimate and it means love," she often told me leaving completely dumbfounded at her reasoning.
That said, she was an avid and enthusiastic lover with a fantastic tongue and a great love of anal, oral sex; I have never had my arse licked so well as she did it.
"I have a surprise for you Molly," I said sitting up in the bed naked.
"What is it?" she asked also sitting up so that the duvet fell away from her pert boobs.
Physically, Molly and I are contrasts. She is slim, petite probably. I am fuller and rounder. Whereas I am five feet six inches tall, she is just on five feet. She has short, blond spiky hair cut in a male style as ordained by Annie. I have shoulder length, black hair. Her tits are tiny, probably A cup, mine are huge, tripled D at least. Oh and yes I wear horn rim glasses, she has contacts.
"Be patient, I need to go to the toilet first," I told her.
Knowing that Molly's eyes would be on me as I climbed out of the bed and walked away her, I emphasised the sway of my hips and wiggle of my bum.
"Mmmm nice view lovey," she called out.
I looked over my shoulder and smiling said. "Like it do you?"
"You know I adore your arse, so hurry up."
"Won't be long," I said, my pulse racing at what I was about to do.
In the bathroom I opened the cabinet and took out the package that had arrived by Amazon just this morning. I began to read some of the details on the package about my new best friend. It said it was over seven inches long and two inches in diameter. I removed it from the package and touched it with my fingers. I ran them up and down the shaft and around the bulbous head. This was not some cheap and tacky looking pink or purple strap on. This was a very realistic, flesh coloured cock with veins that looked and felt real and a beautiful looking mushroomed head. I took a minute or so studying the somewhat complicated and intricate instructions for how the harness was to be worn. Once I had the harness on I read the instructions for how to attach the cock. Positioning it securely into the harness I realized that there was a small protrusion, a large stud on the inside of the harness that was designed to rub against my own clit; perfect!
I tightened the straps of the harness that wound around my thighs and waist, between my legs and across my bum cheeks. Then I turned once again to look at myself in the mirror. I gasped and exhaled a long oh my God. This thing looked so realistic, but also beautiful and sexy; but for the harness it looked like a real cock jutting out from the bottom of my stomach. I giggled as I first moved my hips from side to side and watched it sway. Then I moved my hips up and down and watched it bounce up and down.
I opened the bathroom door and wandered into the room. Molly was lying on her front facing away from me. The sexy little minx had slid the duvet down so that half of her bum was uncovered. She has a fantastic arse.
"Want to know your surprise?" I called out.
"Mmmmm, yes please," she answered rather sleepily.
"Turn over then," I said, adding as she turned and looked at me. "This," as I ran my fingers along the seven inches.
"Oh my god, you got it," she gasped. Referring to a conversation of a couple of months ago.
"Yes baby, want to try it?" I asked, kneeling as I held the dick out towards her. She ran her fingertips along the glistening plastic. Pulling it towards her, the dirty little bitch kissed it and then licked it.
Molly had brought the subject up when we were talking about Annie.
"She's a real cock hater," she had said as I used my vibrator on her.
"Don't you use these?" I asked.
"No, she hates them, I suggested a dildo once and she went fucking ballistic."
"You aren't like Annie then?"
"Not really no, I like a cock now and then."
"Maybe I should get one then," I had said not really meaning it, nevertheless I had bought one online.
"Oh my God Tina, you look fantastic," Molly sighed reaching out for the cock.
She wriggled closer to me and took hold of it.
"Go on," I said rather hoarsely.
"What?" Molly whispered back.
I suspected she knew what I meant, but wanted me to say it. Molly was like that, she liked us talking dirty.
"Suck it you dirty slut."