Fireworks and First Touches: My Nervous Dive into Bisexuality
The bedroom air hangs thick, heavy with unspoken heat. Marc’s naked on the bed, cock half-hard, swinging lazy. Mine matches, limp but twitching. Hélène sits back against the headboard, panties only, eyes locked on our dicks. Her gaze drifts distant, a sly smile playing. Heart pounds in my chest. This is it. No turning back. We’ve chatted him up online, met at that bar. Normal talk—jobs, hobbies. But we all knew. Soon, cocks out, her pussy spread, asses fingered. My pulse races. Fear knots my gut. Desire floods lower. She’s discreet in public, wild in bed. Dragged me here. For her thrills. Mine too, maybe. His hand cups her tit, pinches the nipple. She watches us, hungry. I shift on my knees, facing him. Sweat beads my forehead. What if I freeze? What if it feels wrong? But her eyes spark fire in me. No backing out.
She crawls forward on all fours, panties hugging her wet slit. Glances at me—excitement mixed with ‘okay?’ My nod seals it. Hand reaches Marc’s smooth balls, cups them soft. I grip my cock, stroke slow. She weighs them, slides up his thickening shaft. Fabric of her panties soaks under my probing fingers. She peels back his foreskin, purple head swells huge. Lips wrap it, sucks deep. Slurps echo. Tongue laps his balls, pink darting wet. She flips on her back, legs split wide around me. My finger dips under cotton, grazes her hot, slick folds—pubes, juices, pulsing core. She devours his sack. My cock throbs hard now. Want to slam her sopping cunt, make her grind this stranger’s meat. But she pulls off, glistening chin, eyes on me. ‘I want Stéphane to touch your cock, okay?’ Heart slams ribs. No bi talk before. He nods. She grabs my hand, pulls me in. Stomach flips. Fingers under his balls—soft, warm. Up the rigid shaft. Stroke tentative. Her fingers join mine on his nuts. She grins wicked. ‘Suck him with me.’
