Bi-Satisfied Page 8

  Once I got home, I thought that since I was there, it was best to clean myself up better. I took a quick shower, while David and Michael talked about politics. Michael hated that his insurance premium had gone up because of the Affordable Care Act, better known as Obamacare. David was all for everyone being able to afford health care. They had a healthy debate about it while I washed up.

  After showering, I came downstairs with nothing covering me but my bath sheet. I walked in on them kissing. I remembered what I’d felt when I saw their tongues touch in the movie theater. There was something shamefully appealing about what I was witnessing. Two dominate males locked in a kiss. I’d never seen anything like that up close and personal. Again, my womanhood flooded with desire. I couldn’t explain what I felt as I watched those two kiss. I had never thought I’d be turned on by two men being intimate. It was strange because they didn’t touch one another like they had done with me. But the kiss was so primitive that it piqued my curiosity. I wanted to get closer to their erotica. Their kiss had no value other than to stimulate my sexual desire.

  I rushed back upstairs. Grabbed my Hitachi wand—Mr. Hitachi was the name I’d given it—plugged it in, and fell back on my bed. I needed a release so badly that I didn’t even check to see that I had closed the door all the way behind me. I discarded the towel. Used my fingers to spread my lips and put the vibrating sex toy against my clitoris. My eyes rolled back in my head. God, I needed a release. Another one. Needed to come again so badly, it pissed me off when Mr. Hitachi wasn’t getting me there fast enough. Usually, he would get me off in a matter of seconds. But not in that moment.

  I put the wand on the highest speed. This maximized the vibrations, but it still didn’t get me off fast enough. Shit felt good, but not as good as when Michael had kissed me . . . not as good as when they both had brought me to a squirting orgasm.

  “Fuck!” I yelled out in frustration.

  I needed that release again. I didn’t even notice the two males at the door, watching me. The door to my room slowly crept open. Without an invitation, Michael walked in. He watched me with no shame. Rubbed his dick through his slacks as he did so. David stayed at the door, waiting for me to give him permission to enter.

  “You’re so much fucking trouble, Summer,” Michael said to me. “So fucking sexual. Like, do you realize how many men would kill to know that they had brought a woman to a squirting orgasm from fingers and kissing alone?” he asked.

  “He’s smitten with you now, baby,” David said.

  He’d called me baby. He’d never called me that before. I kept my eyes on David. I was aware of Michael in the room. But I kept my eyes on David. There was something going on between us in that moment that I could readily explain. That magnetic pull to him was stronger than ever.

  “My wife doesn’t even squirt,” Michael admitted.

  It was as if he was amazed by my ability to ejaculate fluid from my female parts when I had an orgasm. I was amazed at it myself. I wanted to experience it again.

  David licked his lips. I could see he wanted me. I wanted him too. Was tired of playing the what-if game.

  “Michael wants to eat your pussy,” he told me. Mr. Hitachi was still stimulating me as Michael unbuttoned the top of his shirt. “Can he eat you out?”

  I turned my head and looked at David. “I don’t know. Can he?”

  David shook his head. “No.”

  I was disappointed more than shocked by his answer. If Michael could eat pussy the way he could kiss, I was done for. I wanted to experience that shit like I’d never wanted to experience anything else. Still, I didn’t want to make David feel any kind of way.

  “Well, if you don’t want him to, then no . . . ,” I said.

  David walked over to the bed and took the wand from my hand.

  “No, baby. I need that back,” I whined as I tried to grab it from his hand.

  He tossed it on the bed, above my head, and crawled between my legs. Only his clothes stopped him from penetrating me. He kissed me, and his hands roamed over my body. His big hands squeezed and palmed my breasts, like he was captivated by the fluffiness of them. He pulled his glasses off so I could look directly into the torture behind his eyes. He was fighting his own demons. We were in our own Garden of Eden.

  I cast a glance at Michael. His eyes were locked on us. In the heady, hedonistic den of his mind, he was plotting. I could tell by the way he watched me and David. He wanted in but didn’t want to force his way in. He was going to make us take a bite of that forbidden fruit without even having to dangle it in front of us. A slow smirk spread across his face as he locked eyes with me.

  “If he does, you can’t have an orgasm,” David said to me. He used his hand to cup my chin, bringing my attention back to him. He knew that what he was asking was impossible. That was the same man who had brought me to an orgasm by kissing. No way he wouldn’t be able to do the same if he put his mouth between my legs.

  “If he is able to perform the act of cunnilingus the way he performed the act of kissing, I’m going to disappoint you,” I admitted to David.

  “The act of what?” Michael asked from across the room.

  “Cunnilingus,” David and I repeated in unison. “The act of performing oral sex on a woman.”

  I smiled at the way we had said that. David hadn’t really said anything that most people didn’t know, that is, except Michael. But it was the way he curved his lips into a slick smile and gazed at me while he spoke that was unique. Getting your point across sexually without being crass was a big thing for me. It turned me on when he could use terms other than “eating pussy.” David had always turned me on mentally. That mental stimulation was what made me crave him. He was a force to be reckoned with not only in the courtroom but also in the bedroom. He had mastered the art of making love to a woman mentally.

  “Is that the politically correct term or something?” Michael asked. “Why not just say, ‘Eating pussy’?”

  David chuckled. The way Michael had said, ‘Eating pussy,’ was soothing, too. Don’t get me wrong. Being crass was a great thing, but you had to know when to be tactless. Michael’s timing was on. It turned me on too, for some reason. The abrasiveness of the phrase tickled my yoni. David was my mental stimulation. Got that fire in me blazing. Michael threw the gasoline on it.

  I spoke up. “It’s more appealing for me mentally to refer to it as cunnilingus.”

  “Sounds like an STD,” Michael said.

  I laughed low.

  Michael spoke up again. “I’d much rather perform the act of eating your pussy.”

  I turned my attention back to David and asked his permission again. “I would like that too.”

  “No,” David said.

  “Do you give head?” Michael asked, acting as if David’s answer didn’t bother him.

  “She performs fellatio,” David answered for me.

  Michael squinted. “Say what?”

  “She doesn’t give head. What she does is more. She doesn’t just slobber, spit, and suck. She makes love to your lingam with her mouth.”

  My back arched as David talked. He’d been listening when we talked about tantric sex.

  “Lingam, huh? Not dick, but lingam,” Michael mused and nodded. I found it comical that he knew what lingam meant but not cunnilingus. “She’s trouble, David.”

  David shrugged, kissed me once more, and then stood. Grabbed his glasses as he took in the sight of my body for a long while before responding. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve always liked getting into trouble.”

  David

  Seduction . . .

  Summer was seducing me. That was the only thing I could think of as I watched her. She was on the dance floor with Michael. Both of them were working their hips in ways that let you know they had island in their blood. I wasn’t too sure about Summer, but I knew the island in Michael was on full display. He was grinding and winding his hips behind Summer’s backside like he had been born to do it. Made any hip thrusting and gyrati
ng that Chris Brown was known for seem juvenile.

  The rest of the people in the secret, dimly lit club stopped dancing to watch them. Women looked at Summer as if she had violated some code of womanhood by being that wanton in public. There were women in the building whose bodies rivaled those of video vixens. They still had nothing on her. Summer was voluptuous. She wore every bit of her size sixteen with pride. Threw that fat ass and her thick hips around like she had no worries. Michael was in a zone. Hypnotized by her shapely rump and surprised at the way she worked with him. I could tell by the way he was biting down on his bottom lip and was keeping his gaze fixed on her. He was controlling their movements with one hand wrapped around her waist.

  My ex-lover and my possible future ex-lover tried to get a sexual healing through dancing. The way Michael was tuned in to her, you could tell he was begging her to heal him. I watched on in silence as I sipped my poison for the evening. Wondered what it would be like to have them both naked in a room with me alone. I knew what it felt like to be with Michael that way, but I had no idea how deep Summer could go once I dipped in her love. As if they knew what I’d been thinking, both of them looked over at me. Summer’s back was to Michael as they swayed to the beat.

  Summer’s eyes didn’t say yes . . . but they didn’t say no, either. Curiosity hung in the air around her. After what Michael had done to her in that movie theater, she carried this look of curiosity in her eyes. Curiosity was going to kill her cat. Satisfaction would be eager to revive it. I watched them both with equal intensity until the song faded out. A few people clapped as the two of them left the dance floor. Michael’s dick was hard. I could see it trying to free itself from behind the zipper of his slacks.

  They both walked over with smiles on their faces. For a few moments, they stood in front of our table, smiling, talking, and sensually eyeing one another. I was invisible to them. Michael excused himself to go to the bathroom. Probably to rub one out again. I’d never seen a woman get to him the way Summer had . . . not even Sadi. That part alone should have warned me that trouble was on the way. I ignored the warning signs, though. I was too caught up watching the way their bodies moved in sync with one another.

  “I’m hungry,” Summer said to me as she eased my drink from my hand. “You hungry?” she asked me after she took a sip.

  “I could eat something,” I answered.

  I didn’t mean for my words to come out like that, but the insinuation behind them and the way she blushed at my words made me smirk. She flagged down a passing waitress. Ordered fifty wings, a basket of fries, and Sprites for the three of us.

  “Does Michael eat hot wings?” Summer asked me. She was including him in things now. Just that quick two was company, and three . . . It wasn’t a crowd yet.

  “Lemon pepper,” I told her.

  She asked the waitress to make half the wing order to Michael’s liking. Things had changed within a matter of hours between the three of us. Michael wanted Summer. I wanted Summer. I wanted Michael. Michael wanted me. Neither of us knew what Summer wanted. After the conversation at her house about cunnilingus and fellatio, I had told Summer that she had to get dressed, or we were all going to cross a line from which there would be no return.

  “This place is nice,” she said once she finished ordering food for us. “How long have you known about it?” she asked.

  I glanced around the club again. It was packed to capacity. They couldn’t let anyone else in, or the fire marshal would shut it down. It wasn’t that big to begin with. Small and intimate. Perfect setting for what took place once the doors were locked. Bowls of condoms in different colors sat out in the open. Lubricants, whips, chains, handcuffs, whatever you were into, were provided. Beds lined the walls, but tonight wasn’t the night they could be used. You could do anything you wanted to do out in the open tonight except have actual intercourse. Only the bar stools, booths, tables, and lounge chairs could be used tonight, unless, of course, you went to one of the private rooms.

  “Since college.”

  She looked around the place. Saw couples of every orientation milling about, and her gears started turning. “You’ve never brought me here before,” she said.

  “Didn’t think you would like it.”

  “But you brought me here now.” Her fingers were tapping the table. I could tell she wanted to ask a question that she really didn’t want to know the answer to.

  “Sometimes, no matter how comfortable some of us are with our sexuality, we still need a place where we can mingle without the constant stares and the judgments about who we are. We need a place to be free of all of that,” I said to her.

  “And this is it? This is like a safe haven, then?”

  “Give or take a word.”

  We both watched as a couple sat at a table with a flamboyantly gay male. The matching wedding bands told us they were married. The woman whispered in the gay male’s ear, while her husband looked around nervously. The gay male smiled at the man once the woman had finished. Summer looked on as he took the husband’s hand and led him to a back room.

  Summer looked at me. “This a hookup spot?”

  “Give or take a word.”

  “You ever hook up with anybody here?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t get ass and slang dick with random people.”

  “Michael?”

  “No.”

  “You two used to come here a lot?”

  “Yes.”

  “To get away?”

  “To get away.”

  She stared at me for a long time. Those freckles danced around her cheeks under the lights. She batted her long lashes as we watched one another. She had cornrowed her hair back into two big braids. The style brought out those high cheekbones she had. Thigh-high boots with six-inch heels adorned her feet. A teal minidress that barely contained all she had to offer was her attire. The bottom of it stopped below her ass, cupping it as a lover would. Her breasts were on full display for the world to see.

  She sidled up to me. Laid a delicate hand on my cheek and smiled somewhat. She was trying. Trying hard to accept that part of who I was. Trying not to be jealous of the men in the room, including the one strolling back our way from the men’s room. Michael stopped and flirted with a few women in the place. Summer grunted and rolled her eyes. I knew what she was feeling. I felt it every time she and Michael touched.

  “You and Michael—” she began but then stopped.

  “Me and Michael what?” I asked her.

  “You two always share women?”

  “We have on more than one occasion.”

  “So there’s nothing special about it or about the women you’ve shared?”

  I finished off my drink. Signaled to the waitress for another. She smiled and winked at me. Summer sighed and folded her arms across her ample chest. I smiled at her and pulled her close to me. She was jealous. Had always been. I didn’t know why she felt the need to be. I only had eyes for her. But she was asking questions, showing interest. That was a good thing. I didn’t answer her question verbally. Held her close to me and stared down languidly into her brown eyes. The liquor had me a little lit, but not to the point of inebriation.

  We had been at the club for a little over an hour. Had danced together and separately. Had let the dim lighting and the erotic ambiance of the place get us higher in lust than we should have been. Both of us had decided to ignore the fact that Michael was married. I held her like she belonged to me. In my mind she did. I didn’t want to share, but I had learned long ago that when it came to Michael, I always had to share. One way or another, with him, I had to share.

  “We had sex with women together. Shared one or four. They didn’t have to be special to get sex. We were in it for instant gratification,” I told her.

  “What about men? You two share men too?”

  “Once or five times.”

  Her breathing deepened, and she looked away again. Looked at Michael as he flirted with some woman who looked as if she belonged
at Magic City on Mondays. She got quiet. Didn’t ask me anything else. A few minutes later our wings came. Summer and I sat down to eat.

  She fed me a few, and then I had had enough. While she sucked the hot wing sauce from her fingers, I slipped my hand underneath her dress. Eased her lace thong to the side and played in her sex. She was wet. Clit was firm. I wanted her badly. Needed to touch her, because I had to be sure it was all real. Had to make sure Summer was in an underground sex club/safe haven and was allowing me to finger fuck her underneath the table as she ate hot wings. Her walls quivered, which caused her PC muscles to grip my fingers in a choke hold. She stopped eating when my two fingers strummed her core bud. Took a moment to drop her head and call on the Son of God.

  I hated when she hid her face from me. I wanted to see her climax. Wanted to see if she gave me that same ugly come face as she had before. There was something so uninhibited and primal about the way she made that face. I looked across the room to see Michael watching us. He could read my body language. Knew I was stirring the pot. I pulled my fingers from Summer’s love, then licked each one as if syrup dripped from it. Michael rolled his shoulders. Whatever Ms. Magic City Monday was talking about got lost in translation when he walked off and made his way back to the table.

  Summer looked up as he sat next to her, and wiped her fingers with the Wet-Naps. She’d ordered wings for him, but when he tried to get one, she moved the basket. He tried to kiss her, and she turned her head. Gave that kiss to me. I accepted it with no problem. She was showing her displeasure with him. Turned her back to him to show her contempt for him, which was the result of him not giving her his full attention. Summer was spoiled. She felt entitled. It would do him some good to remember that.

  Michael chuckled, then leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table. “It’s like that?” he asked her.

  She cast a glance at him over her shoulder. “You say something?” she asked flippantly.

  It was my turn to chuckle then. “She’s spoiled, bruh,” I told him.