Three Bi Night Ch 01

This Saturday started out as unremarkable as any, except I had not slept much the night before. The erect penis between my legs kept begging me to be released of its burden throughout the night. Whether I take care of business myself or I beg Monica for her help, my penis did not care. It simply wanted release. I refused to give in, for I had to save my strength and my cum for the upcoming evening. Monica had no idea the surprise I had in store for her; and I was afraid she might back out given too much advanced notice.

My plan was simple: we were going to engage in a fantasy we had erotically discussed many times before. Making this fantasy a reality required delicate skill -- too much excitement and anticipation can ruin the moment by expecting more than what is actually delivered. So I wanted to make sure this evening's events came as an unexpected surprise to Monica. However, I am getting ahead of myself.

I continued my uneventful Saturday by reading the morning paper over some coffee and toast. A gulp of coffee, a bite of toast -- it did not matter. The words on the pages blurred together. I could not keep focused. "How did you sleep, Mark?" Monica asked from the kitchen. "Not well -- I am really horny for some reason" I replied with a silent snicker. "Well I could have helped you rest, had you said something" she replied. I sipped from my coffee, the cup disguising a small smirk. "Tell you what" Monica says, "I will definitely help you sleep tonight. In fact, you will probably still be sleeping at this time tomorrow when I am done with you." A quick check of my watch reveals the time to me as 9:32 A.M. "In that case, I look forward to all of the rest I am going to get" I reply.

Monica rounds the corner, carrying the local section of the newspaper in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. She does not notice me staring at her, no longer reading the section of the newspaper I started out with. I stare at this woman in front of me, one who can straddle the line between classy and slutty without even trying. Thirty-four years have been very kind to Monica. Her long blonde hair, disheveled from the night's sleep, is wavy in directions I did not think hair could be arranged; laying gracefully upon her strong yet feminine shoulders. Shoulders that are holding up tiny straps of what I guess one could call a shirt. This tiny, loose fitting white shirt ends well above her navel, barely disguising what would never be mistaken as tiny. Monica's breasts are to be marveled: a pinnacle of natural design. Hidden behind this baby tee are two of the most gorgeous tits I have ever laid eyes or hands upon. Large and ample, measuring well into D-cup size, if not larger, her breasts frame her perfectly developed large, brown nipples.

As I continue down her body, I realize my stare follows the same direction as my tongue normally does -- across her flat stomach, tracing her navel on its way to her sweetness. This morning however her sweetness is hidden discreetly behind a white thong. I wonder how her hidden secret looks. Usually shaven clean, Monica has noticed in recent magazines of mine more girls are allowing for a little strip -- a landing strip perhaps -- and had mentioned to me she was interested in trying that out. My tongue has not traced that path lately, so I wonder what awaits me. I notice in this light how much her white thing contrasts greatly against her dark suntanned skin. Down her long and slender legs I continue, passing across her muscular and toned thighs, passing her knees, ending at her calves. "Take a picture, it will last longer," she snaps at me, noticing how I am ogling her five foot seven temple of beauty. As she turns back towards the kitchen, my stare locks onto her butt. The thin strap of the white cotton thong disappears between two ample, toned and tan buttocks., the endpoint of those two long, muscular legs. I silently thank the stair climber on the cardio deck at the gym as I watch this perfectly round ass leave the room. However, this fantastic perfection has downsides: No matter what she wears, no matter how she looks, men cannot help but to stare at her.

Having finished mentally tracing my wife's perfect body, I put aside the newspaper and look deep into the cup of coffee before me, as if expecting the upcoming night's activities to be revealed in its dark depth. While we are not seasoned swingers, at least not by the Seventies-era definition of swingers, we have some friends that are looser than others. It is among these friends that we discovered Greg and Carrie. We have found much in common with them, both vertically and horizontally. Family comes first fun comes second for us and for them. We met Greg and Carrie on a swing site, but never really got around to fully swinging with them. We dined together, got naked together and played together. This was the norm when we have socialized -- somehow we have not fully swapped. It was among one of these naked plays together that something happened to change Monica and I forever. While naked, my wife and Carrie were focused on my erect cock, sharing in the sucking and licking duties. With my head back, looking at the ceiling I could only imagine just how sexy the two of them looked. My head spun from too much drink, not allowing me to focus perfectly. I raised my head looking up only to see Monica and Carrie kissing. It was then I noticed there was still a tongue on my dick. Not really caring, my head returned to the pillow. Days and weeks later, the thought of this new development could not be erased from my imagination.

The sound of the shower starting above me jostled me back to reality. Monica must be getting a shower, I thought. For a brief moment, I consider hopping in with her. Instead I shake my head, trying to clear the image of the water careening down her tan and ample breasts, my hands reaching from behind, rubbing the lotion upon them as my penis springs to life and presses against her firm buttocks. No, I cannot join her -- I need to save my energy for the night. What I have not yet revealed to Monica is that I have made plans for us to live out one of our favorite fantasies tonight. Since our last get together with Greg and Carrie, I could not stop thinking about him. What he did to me simply opened my eyes to an alternate sexual reality. A reality that has no boundaries -- one where there are no lines and therefore no limits that cannot be reached. While I personally find homosexuality unthinkable, I suddenly became aware that I might have a desire to cross the line into bisexuality. The thought of giving up women altogether never crossed my mind; enhancing an already incredible sexual life by broadening my desires that included a sexual appetite to gratify and to be gratified by both men and women greatly appealed to me. Monica and I on many occasions fantasized about having one man join us together for an evening of passion without limits. Tonight I planned to turn that fantasy into a reality.

It is already after 2:00 P.M. and I am trying to concentrate on my workout. Between reps on the bench, I turn, looking upward at the elevated cardio deck. There, perched upon some mechanical contrivance is Monica, sweat glistening on her chest, her sports bra and tee barely containing her. Her boy shorts are almost too little for this gym -- more appropriate perhaps for a muscle-headed meat factory, not a wholesome family place like this. I can imagine those same beads of sweat dripping from her breasts as they heave above me as she straddles my cock, grinding herself down hard against me. "Fuck it" I mumble to myself "this workout was shit." I unhappily give up on my lifting. Heading to the shower for a quick rinse off then home to do a little cleaning up. I wonder when I am going to tell Monica of our evening. Suddenly I have a moment of reconsideration -- should I tell her now? Is she going to be mad if I wait until a few minutes before our evening begins? What if there is just a knock at the door and then I tell her? Am I being unnecessarily nervous? Should I rethink my plan? Should I call it off?

Fifteen minutes later, with my hair still damp, I am waiting in the lounge for Monica to finish her workout. She usually runs for an hour, with a quick circuit around some weights for fifteen or twenty minutes afterwards. I sip on some coffee, watching the gym patrons come and go. I usually do not like to drink coffee this late in the day, but I have no plans to sleep much tonight. Another stare into my coffee and another chance to daydream. Sometimes I analyze situations too much. As I swirl my cup, watching the drink spin, I plan our evening. Shall we go to dinner? What if dinner runs late -- our houseguest might think we reconsidered when nobody answers the door. Besides, I am so excited and horny that I doubt I will have much of an appetite for anything except some booze. Which leads me to think, what kind of booze? Not beer, too much volume to gain the desired effect. Wine gives me a slamming headache with a nasty hangover. Definitely no champagne -- bubbles can lead to gas. So perhaps it is something straight. A good vodka, tequila or scotch will provide the desired outcome without the unnecessary side effects. Appetizers, enough for everyone will be the perfect compliment for our evening. I can whip something up and I will make the mistake of "making too much" in case Monica asks.

"Mark, you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I am. Let's get outta here. I had a really shitty workout. I am ready to go home."

"You looked like you had increased your weights. Why was the workout so bad" she asks, climbing into the truck.

"I could not concentrate. I could not stay focused"

"Still horny?" Monica replies. "I thought you would have taken care of that by now."

Starting the truck, I give her a sideways glance with a raised eyebrow. "And when would I have done that?" I ask.

"I don't know, maybe you could have picked up some cute guy in the gym, taken him into the sauna with you. That trainer guy, Jon, is pretty hot."

I feel my penis jump to life in my shorts. I suddenly remember I decided to skip the undies after my shower - I wonder if she sees my hard-on beginning to grow through my shorts.

"And tell me, sweetie, what would Jon and I have done in the sauna that would have relieved my current situation?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe he would have blown you if you had asked him" she says.

"What?"

"Believe me, Mark, that guy Jon, is totally bisexual. I have seen him checking you out on many occasions."

"Sounds like he is gay to me, Mon."

"No, trust me" she says, "Jon is not totally into guys. I can be sure of that. You know Kelly, from my spin class?"

"Yeah."

"Well, she fucked him last week while her husband was at work. Picked up Jon at the gym after he helped her with some squats. She said she was going to head back to her house for a dip in the pool and asked him if he wanted to come along. So, there they are, back at her house and she told me it was only twenty minutes before her bikini was off and he was giving her the first orgasm of the afternoon."

My dick, now at full erection, pointed up to the roof of the SUV. I allowed Monica to go on.

"Kelly told me they had a marathon of sex that afternoon at poolside, in the shower and lastly on the kitchen counter just 10 minutes before her husband got home." Monica smiled and continued. "She told me her pussy was dripping Jon's cum as she kissed Joel when he came in the house. That stupid fucker did not even notice his wife spent her afternoon as someone else's slut."

"Well, I am sure if he did not notice, then he was too busy trying to hide something himself. Or else he did not care." I replied. "By the way, which one is Kelly?"

"She's the girl with the long and curly dark brown hair, the one with the tattoo on her right ankle. Some kind of Irish band meaning something or another. She told me what it meant once before, but I forget."

I knew the girl she was talking about. Kelly is in her late twenties and sexy as hell. She is kind of on the shorter side, but she has a body meant for sex. "Well, I say good for Jon. I would fuck Kelly too if I were him."

That statement earned me a punch on the upper arm. "You're an asshole" Monica snaps at me.

I turned and smirked at her. "No, I am just a horny and dirty man who has an equally filthy-minded wife. I can't believe you think I would let Jon blow me. Besides, I thought that was something we were going to try together"

"You are never going to do that," she says. "You are way too phobic to allow another guy to suck you off. I know damn well you fantasize about that with me simply for my benefit."

"Well, we'll see. Maybe I will surprise you sometime and just invite Jon over. He and I can be waiting for you when you get home. I promise we will not start without you!" I laugh.

"That would be so fucking hot. I would love to be surprised with a two-guy threesome. Would you be willing to try some bisexual play with him?" Monica asks as she opens the door to get out.

Now at home, I shift the truck into park. I realize I cannot easily stand up. My cock is so hard, it aches so much, that the only thing I want to do is to grab hold of it and pump it off. I would not even have to move from this seat. Just lay the seat back, pull my shirt off, lower my shorts and grab the shaft of my dick. It would only take a few brief strokes, but in no time I would have a wet pile of semen all over my stomach. All of this agony would end in an eruption of cum.

"Baby," I say, turning to look at Monica as she is exiting the SUV, "I would let that hot piece of ass fuck my tight little butt all night."

"Why do you make a joke out of this? I am serious, I think it would be really hot for us to do this" Monica snarls back as she opens the door to the house.

"Who said I was joking?" It is already too late, she is in the house and the door slams closed behind her. She probably did not hear me. I get out of the truck and adjust myself, hoping no one walking on the street out front saw me do that. Opening the door in the mudroom, I find a naked Monica putting her sweaty gym clothes in the washer.

"Put your stuff in there too. I want to run a load of wash before I hit the shower. We need to think about what we are doing tonight."

"Well, I was thinking we could stay in" I suggest. "You know you promised me something this evening. Why don't we just stay here and have a romantic night?"

Now in the kitchen, a nude Monica pops open a bottle of water and leans against the counter. Wearing nothing but a pair of cross-trainers and some tiny socks, she takes a big gulp of water. A small amount escapes her mouth and runs down her chin. I watch the drop collect more before it drips off, landing on her cleavage between her breasts. I imagine her kneeling in front of me, still wearing the sneakers and socks, taking my throbbing, cum filled cock into her hand and guiding into her waiting mouth. I can see it happening moments later, my cock exploding pile after pile of jizz deep into her mouth. Quickly overwhelming her, my stream is too much and too fast for her to be able to swallow. In no time, what was previously a drop of water on her chin is in my mind replaced by a trail of cum leaking out of the side of her mouth and down the edge of her face, waiting to collect enough volume that it would be forced to leave its perch and drop to the waiting breasts below.

"Sure, that sounds great to me. Are you making dinner?" Monica asks.

Shaken back to reality by her question, I respond. "Yeah, I can take care of dinner. I was thinking we could eat around 7:00. Sound good to you?"

She looks at the clock. "OK, that gives me plenty of time. It is getting a little late, but I want to catch some rays. Also, I want to take a bath and relax for a little while afterwards."

"I am going to clean up outside, maybe mow the grass. See you in a little while." I leave the kitchen and return to the garage, smiling. It is all going to come together just as I had planned. Soon enough all of this sexual energy would be loosed. I walk around to the back of the house, hearing Monica enter the courtyard in the back. Six foot tall fencing blocks my view into the back yard, but I try peeking through the fence. There, laying out a towel on a lounger is my nude wife, attempting to catch the last of the good sun. I wonder if the neighbors ever peek between the fence at her.

Popping my head out of the bathroom, I look at the clock on the nightstand. 6:30 P.M. Plenty of time. Bite size finger foods are in the oven, Monica is doing what women do when they get ready, and I just need to get dressed after my shower. I wipe the mirror clean and look at myself. For thirty-four years old, I think I look damn good. A full head of black hair, wide shoulders, strong arms and chest, and somewhat chiseled abs. Oh, and a very neatly trimmed cock and shaven smooth balls. This is not the seventies and I am glad to prove I know how to use a razor. I look at my cock hanging down, a benefit from the hot shower and realize sex will never be the same after tonight. At my dresser, I pull open a drawer, wondering what I can wear. Should I wear anything? Sometimes it is hotter to be in very little than to be in nothing at all. I hold up a tiny pair of Calvin bikinis. Black. About two sizes too small. I slip them on and pull them up, adjusting them in the mirror. They barely can contain my cock and my balls, let alone my nice round ass. "Too small" I mumble. Taking them off, I reach into the drawer for something "different". I pull out a shiny black men's g-string I usually reserve for sunbathing. Nothing more than a black fabric pouch with a string, I slip it on. I pull my cock and balls together into the pouch and turn to straighten the strings flossing my ass cheeks. Perfect.. Easy on, easy off; exactly what will be needed tonight. The black pocket that has my manliness gathered looks almost comical, almost like it is just hanging in mid air, bulging out from my body. I splash on some cologne, run some gel through my hair to give it some style and brush my teeth. "Time to go" I say to myself as I leave the bedroom. Passing the other bathroom as I walk down the hall, I hear Monica's hairdryer running and her singing along to some music. Time for a drink. Time to take this edge off.

"Sweetie," I shout and tap on the door, "I am getting a drink. Do you want anything?"

"Cosmo" Monica replies.

A short time later, after downing my first glass of scotch myself, I finish making Monica's cosmopolitan. Some chips and pretzels in a bowl, the finger food in the oven. I take a deep breath and look at the time. 7:10 P.M. Butterflies abound in my stomach. I realize the effects of my first drink as I pour myself another. Greg will be here any minute. No Carrie, just Greg. Fantasies about to be experienced. Greg and I have chatted often on emails since our last encounter. I cautiously asked him if he was aware of what he did. He said he was, and asked if I minded. He told me he got caught up in the moment and that my dick looked really hot. No, it did not bother me I replied. In fact it really turned me on. I told him Monica and I have not stopped fantasizing about it. That opened a door for Greg and I to talk about experimenting more together. He invited me over anytime to help him with Carrie. In fact, he told me he was interested in recording me fucking his wife. I revealed to him I want to watch him screw Monica while I lay there and watch. Our desires were traded back and forth, each time trying to outdo the previous. Finally, Greg trumped me when he asked if I was interested in having a sexual get together with just him. I could not. This was something Monica and I wanted to do together. He told me he was not going to hide this from Carrie, and in fact she approved of him getting together with me alone. I told him I had a better idea but I needed his help. I found out he was more than willing to oblige.