I recently wrote a story called "The Surprise" - a non-consensual story with a twist. I deliberately picked a vague title, and so I will try and write a different tale under each of Literotica's twenty-five writing categories with the same name. This is Number Nine
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I nervously cleared my throat. "Honey, I think I might be bisexual."
"Yeah, of course you are. Tell me something I don't know!" Those words, from my wife of two years, hit me like a tonne of bricks! I had agonised for weeks over how to mention it to her. "The last hundred eBooks you've read. Your late night porn choices when you think I'm asleep. That you love a finger up the bum during a blowjob, and I know you have a dildo in your bottom drawer that isn't for my use. And you loved the uncut version of the Raspberry Reich. Sweetheart, you haven't been straight for a long time!"
My heart pounded as the woman I adored casually dismissed my painful admission as insignificant. She chuckled as she undressed, preparing to enter the shower. "You knew?"
Louise snorted. "Yeah, of course I knew."
"And you don't mind?"
"No, I don't care! I think it's hot, and it could open up plenty of possibilities for us. To be honest, if it wasn't for the way you fuck me every night, I'd guess you were gay!"
I stared as she stood at the end of the bed, naked. "I'm not gay," I quickly replied, looking at her svelte body, with her smattering of trimmed pubic fuzz and "C" cup breasts.
"No. You want to play with cock and cunt. Bums and boobs. You're a dirty, nasty, sexually promiscuous bisexual." She chuckled as she teased me, shaking her bosom as she spoke. "I reckon it's fit, hairless, dominant men that turn you on and I'm sure you fantasise about being a bottom, not a top. Definitely leaning towards being the bitch to some powerful guys." I blushed as my lover grabbed her towel and grinned as she shimmied away from me. "Am I right?"
Her assessment was rather accurate, and I lay on the bed, thinking about her reaction. I heard the shower jets fire water against the tiles, and closed my eyes, pondering the past two minutes. Louise had always told me she had a chequered history, with a wild few years, before we met, but refused to disclose any details. At the time, I was 26, and she was 22, and we stumbled across each other as we hunted for a late night train from London into the suburbs.
My alcohol consumption at a colleague's birthday party gave me the confidence to talk to the brunette beauty, sexily dressed and exuberant, as we tried to navigate a rail network plunged into turmoil by delays and cancellations.
She had a warm laugh and delicate hands, and we chatted as we waited on the cold platform. I gave her my coat, and she giggled. "Thanks. I've still got a short skirt and no knickers on!" She said, chuckling as she cuddled against me. Our connecting train was thirty minutes late.
We made it to my town before 1am, and the trains stopped for the night. Her flat was ten miles away, and I offered to let her stay the night at my home if she didn't want to chance a taxi. I had a spare room in my three-bedroom townhouse, and she gratefully accepted. I woke to a naked woman bringing me breakfast in bed. As I drank my coffee and ate my muesli, she slipped under the duvet and gave me the best orgasm I'd ever had.
Reward, for being a gentleman, she said. "And no man should face the world without a morning blowjob," she added, giggling.
Now sober, I drove her home, and we exchanged numbers. I had a date the following week with her, and we ended at my house, screwing on the lounge carpet. My third-ever sexual partner, and my fifth-ever fuck.
She laughed when I told her, and she refused to tell me her number. "It's over three," she said, chuckling. "A big load more than three." But we connected. We made each other laugh and smile; we may have been polar opposites, but I loved spending time with her, and I took her to restaurants and on dates as often as I could. She introduced me to a world of sex I never knew existed. The variety of sexual positions and sexual practices astounded and entranced me.
I had a good job in the City, and I proposed six months after we first met. We married three months later in a small, intimate ceremony in a tiny village church. She didn't invite her family, and only a few friends attended; I was told not to ask why and I didn't.
Throughout our relationship, she encouraged me to explore my sexuality. I never knew what was possible with our bodies. I read erotica, on the train, on holiday and at home. Stories about BDSM, orgies, hotwifing, bisexuality, public exhibitionism and more. We watched porn together, and she demanded sex nightly, each day doing a different position from the day before. I got blowjobs every morning before work, and we had two large drawers of toys.
For me, my married life was stuffed with sexual adventure, but I always felt that Louise hankered a little for the world she left behind. We watched the film Eyes Wide Shut, and when I said that it was fantasy and not reality, she scoffed. "I've been to dozens of sex parties and orgies," she replied wistfully, her eyes glazed. "They're good fun. You should try it. Can you imagine watching other men fuck me?"
I could, too easily, and she giggled at the resultant hardness in my loungewear shorts as the image sparkled across my brain.
The following morning, after the admission of my bisexuality, my naked wife entered the kitchen as I prepared breakfast. She kissed me on the lips, knelt in front of me, and took my cock from my sleepwear.
"Hmmmmm," she cooed. "You're hard already! Dreaming about me or some buff men?" She teased.
"Maybe both," I replied.
She beamed. "Sounds like a lovely dream." Her hand wrapped around my dick, stroking my shaft up and down. "I know what'll wake you properly."
A warm, wet suction on the head of my cock accompanied my wife's words, as my prick slid into her mouth. She expertly worked her tongue and her lips over my sensitive head as she bobbed on my dick, sending waves of pleasure radiating across my body.
"You're so good at that."
She flicked my frenulum, and I gripped the counter, groaning, as her hand jerked my shaft. "I'll teach you how to suck cock," she said, looking at me as her grip tightened on my shaft, stroking it furiously. "You can't be bi and not know how to be a cocksucker." Her lips kissed the tip of my prick as her eyes looked at me.
"I've got no-one to give blowjobs too!" I muttered.
"I know a few guys who'd love to play with us. Imagine sucking on a cock, sweetheart," she said, increasing her pace. I found it a simple image to conjure in my mind; I'd fantasised about blowing men for months as I read the erotic eBooks and watched bisexual or gay pornography. For weeks, I had dreamt about taking a smooth shaft in my mouth and enthusiastically bobbing on it, sucking it until it erupted.
I closed my eyes, imagining a thick cock sliding past my lips as Louise jerked my dick, drawing me towards my orgasm. I felt my prick twitch and she sucked the cum from my climax, smiling as she swallowed my seed.
I tasted my muskiness as we kissed, and she backed away, allowing me to continue to make breakfast.
The comments about my bisexuality continued over the coming weeks whenever she fellated me. For a treat she bought me some new underwear from Bum Chums Clothing and when we watched pornography together it was gay or bisexual erotica, often with a cuckold or wife-sharing theme.
Louise made several comments about me "exploring my sexuality," when we were in bed, and one night, as we ate our evening meal, she broached a sensitive subject. "Love, can we arrange a date with a guy I know for dinner? He's a bisexual-top and if we get on, maybe we could explore that side of you." I spluttered over my Caesar salad. "We wouldn't do anything unless you're comfortable."
"But ..."
"All those stories and fantasies that you have about touching dicks and giving blowjobs. We'd be one step closer to making that a reality."
"What about you?" I asked.
"I love watching guys getting it on," she replied, and looked away as she cut her chicken on her plate.
"How many times have you seen gay sex?"
She giggled and raised her eyebrows. "Once or twice." She put her hand on mine. "And then one or both of you could fuck me? We watch a lot of wife-sharing and cuckold porn as you love it." She shuddered. "I'm getting excited thinking about being shared!" She grinned, imploring me for a response.
I hummed and said nothing. I didn't give an answer, and she did not press me for one, but she raised the subject on multiple occasions over the next few weeks, and the thoughts churned around my brain.
It sounded exciting and adventurous, and the enthuasism that Louise had when we discussed it, edged me closer to agreement. I did want to explore my bisexuality, and thought the sight of my wife being screwed would be hot. I was prepared to try it, at least once, and agreed. My wife arranged for us to see Claude at a local pub that Friday.
I felt nervous all day; my wife had refrained from my normal morning blowjob, and my lustful expectation multiplied my anxiety. I read suitable erotica on the train, and almost ran to the pub to meet my lover and her "friend."
She had not invited Claude to our wedding, and she never mentioned him before that week. I didn't know what to expect. A mixed-race guy in his early-thirties, with black buzz-cut hair, and trimmed facial hair. He wore a yellow singlet, and baggy, pale blue, white and green check shorts, with a chain around his neck. His arms were beefy, and full of tattoos.
He turned to face me as Louise called. "Hello?" He said in a French accent.
"Hi, Stuart, this is Claude. Claude, this is Stuart." He eyed me up as I sat down next to him in the semi-circular booth, still wearing my suit and carrying my case from work. He had dressed for an informal occasion and I wore my smart work attire. I removed my jacket and tie and loosened my shirt.
We made dry small talk as we ordered food from the basic menu. I expected a slightly uncouth, aggressive man - from his appearance - but he was confident and engaging with a wicked wit that I loved.
