This is a bisexual story, but there is no bisexual rubric on Literotica. It could also be in Exhibitionism. I think, however, that the most appropriate place to put it is in Erotic Couplings. Let me know what you think, if you like, via your comments, please.
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"Good morning," I said to the hunky, naked man in my bed. "Would you like some coffee?" I had met him the night before. He had got me drunk, had taken me home, and he had enjoyed my body as much as any man ever had.
I remember liking him enormously. Probably that was the alcohol that always made me amorous, but you never know, do you? Maybe I had finally found a good man? Do I believe in sex at first sight? Apparently yes, I do, at least when I'm sufficiently drunk.
The man held his head, and said, "Oh my goodness yes, and some aspirin too, if you have some?"
I got him coffee and two aspirin. I also gave him a large glass of water, saying, "You may be dehydrated. Besides all the alcohol you consumed last night, you donated a large amount of your special bodily fluid to my nether regions."
"I did, didn't I?" he said. "I've never met a woman like you before. My God, you can fuck."
I winced at his crude language. "Do you remember my name, lover?" I asked, because I had not remembered his. I had checked his pants and found his name was Mark Stevens, by fishing his driver's license from his wallet. This was an advantage of waking up first. Another advantage was to cover myself with panties and a T shirt.
"Grace," isn't it? I smiled at him, sadly shaking my head.
"You fucked me silly, and you do not even know my name?" I teased.
"It's not Grace?" he asked. I shook my head no. Sometimes I use the name Grace, and maybe I had done that when I met him the previous night? I could not remember. I use the name Grace as a precaution. If the man turns out to be a dud, or nefarious, better he has a false name than my real one. It's paranoid, I know, but so what?
The result is that a lot of my old lovers still call me Grace. It's kind of awkward to explain why I had told them my name was Grace in the first place. My girlfriends always smile when they hear a man call me Grace. They know exactly what has gone on between us.
"I'll tell you what. If you want to try again, why don't we fuck this morning, and maybe my name will come back to you?" I proposed.
Mark seemed to find that proposition agreeable. I'm the type of girl men love to fuck, even though I'm not important enough for them to remember my name. "Maybe Grace is the name of your girlfriend?" I teased.
"I'm between girlfriends," Mark said. "I'm sure you told me your name was Grace last night. Since I'm between girlfriends, I'm wondering if you are available?"
"What do you think?" I asked. "I'm naked under my robe, and that was your doing, Mark. I'm not the kind of girl who does that with a man if I'm committed to another man."
"Good to know," Mark said, smiling.
Mark drank his coffee and his water and also ate the toast and jam I made for him. His head gradually cleared, and we began to discuss the previous evening. We had met at a party my friend Sally had thrown. Mark had been invited because he was a friend of Sally's partner. I had recently had a bitter break-up with my boyfriend, when I learned he had cheated on me, and I was in the market for some casual sex. It's a great way to get over a man, or at least it is for me.
At the party Mark seemed taken with me, or perhaps he had simply been taken with my cleavage, it was hard to tell. I have great cleavage, and I was showing plenty at the party.
Mark tried to get me drunk, always getting me refills or new drinks, and matching me, drink for drink. He succeeded to get me drunk, even very drunk, and as I said, liquor makes me amorous. Mark ended up taking me to my home, and taking me to bed.
I was trying to remember what he told me about himself, but only some of it was coming back to me. He too had a recent horrific break-up with a woman, and so we were both falling into bed on the rebound. This was not a good way to start a promising relationship, but hell, it was fun.
Mark and I together drank three or four cups of coffee each, and then added Tylenol to the aspirin. Our heads began to clear, and Mark's hands began to find their way into my robe. I pushed his hands away, saying, "Why don't you take me out to brunch before you ravish me again, Mark?"
We got dressed again, and at Mark's request I went braless. At my own design, I wore a top that revealed a lot of cleavage. Without a bra, however, the well positioned viewer got a real eyeful of my boobs. I suspected Mark not only enjoyed it, but that he liked having a woman on his arm that other men might leer over. I was only too happy to comply, especially given how wonderfully the man had fucked me the previous night. I must have climaxed at least three times, thanks to his talented mouth, fingers, and cock.
This was New York, so Mark took me to a nice brunch place that was both crowded and noisy. Mark told me his ex was there, and a little later I noticed my ex was there, too. I thought of the movie Casablanca, when Humphrey Bogart muses, "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine." Both our exes were there? Talk about bad luck.
We each pointed out our exes to the other, and we each checked out the other's ex. Shit, Mark's ex was a gorgeous woman, and she had a rugged man hanging all over her. Most people consider me good looking, and I'm dynamite in bed, but I could not compare with Mark's ex. Suddenly I felt intimidated and outclassed. Mark would never go for me if that was his taste in women.
As if he could hear my thinking, Mark said, "You know, Grace, I'm the envy of every man here. There's not a man in this room who does not want to stick his hand in your blouse and grab your fantastic boobs. I'm the lucky one who gets to, though, right?"
"That means a lot to you, does it?" I asked.
"And how. I love having the hottest woman in the house," he said.
"What about your ex? She's much prettier than I am," I said, kicking myself right after I said that. I hate it when I reveal my insecurities.
"You're so much hotter than she is, Grace. Pretty does not beget sexy. You're pretty and sexy. I love that in a woman," Mark said, and I was all smiles. Mark was a smooth talker. That meant I could not trust him, but on the other hand it also meant I could enjoy it.
"Want to slip off your panties, lover?" Mark asked. I was wearing a short skirt and no hose and already felt compelled to hold my legs together at all times.
"Would that mean a lot to you, Mark, if I did that?" I asked.
