Two Bi Two Ch. 01-02

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(Note to readers: All of the writing has been finished on this story, and all 14 chapters have been submitted for publication. They are to be posted every few days, in seven chunks. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older. In these two chapters, those situations are straight M-F with oral and interracial, plus anal fingering, by two couples in the same room. The characters also watch porn that includes anal, lesbian, and gay male sex, along with multibody braiding and chaining [MFM, FMF, etc.]. The main character/narrator describes his bisexuality, and his wife’s. During the course of this entire story, there will be the range of sex seen in the porn, and more. Some of the sex is physically rough, but all of it is consensual. To frequent readers of my writings: This story doesn’t have my usual upbeat tone.)

Chapter 1: Mind Feeders

We met at a charity golf tournament. We were a very flirty foursome. In our marriage up to then, Kristi and I hadn’t gone in for that sort of thing. There was enough on our plate, what with earning a living and making each other happy. But we seemed to have chemistry with Brenda and Garth, and it wasn’t alcohol-based.

On the 18th green, Brenda asked if we’d like to go somewhere and talk, just talk, and see if we wanted to get better acquainted. She and Garth seemed nervous. That, oddly, put us at ease.

At the tournament’s closing event, our foursome took a table way in the rear of the country club’s banquet hall. Far from the dais, and all the back-patting about how much money had been raised, Kristi and I sat quietly while Brenda and Garth worked their phones. They arranged for their kids to go out to a movie with an aunt. As the event was wrapping up, Brenda told us, “Garth will go first to pick up the kids. I’ll ride with you and give directions.”

They both seemed dead serious through this mission-control stuff. Not flirty at all.

When we arrived at their house, Brenda fetched beer for us. When Garth showed up, he looked relieved. He smiled as he moved in on Brenda. They shared a long kiss. Then they sat, almost flopped, on a sofa, holding hands.

“Kristi, Sherman, please forgive us,” said Brenda with a weary smile, “and thanks for your patience.”

Garth’s smile regained flirtation. “Here’s what this is all about. We’d like to hang out with you. Get together, for social activities. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure,” said Kristi, not checking with me. “Is that all?”

Brenda leaned forward a little. Her expression again showed the bubbly eagerness that started getting to me around the fifth hole. “There could be more. After we get to know each other.” She was well built, and obviously knew it. Her short suburban-mother hair was an effective disguise when she needed it to be, and no impediment if she encouraged someone’s interest.

“Please tell the truth,” said Garth to us. “You’re both accustomed to people finding you attractive, right?”

My gorgeous wife gave me a glance with her all-knowing smirk, then said, “Yes. And we like it. But mostly we keep to ourselves.”

I gave my quick version of our story. “Widespread dating was fun, but it was time to get on with grown-up life. So we got married.”

Brenda laughed. “You poor, world-weary babies! What are you, all of twenty-five?”

“Around that,” I said, unwilling to admit she was dead on.

“And now you’re in the clutches of forty-ishes,” said Garth. “Do you find that gross, or pathetic?”

“I don’t,” I said quickly, to get that in before my tack-sharp wife. “I imagine you’re used to attracting people too.”

Garth chuckled. He was Hot Daddy above–graying temples, steely eyes, and firm jawline–but made no attempt to suck in what his golf shirt surrounded. He patted his gut and asked Brenda, “Do you know where I put my washboard?”

“I haven’t seen it since the honeymoon,” she batted back.

Kristi and I laughed. Our hosts appreciated that.

“So anyway,” said Brenda, “we think you’re smart, hip, and interesting. Have we done enough to get you to that place with us?”

“Yes,” said Kristi, first again. I think she does that by breath control, and knowing when the other’s last syllable will end. “On the golf course we discussed, by my count, four movies, six books, and three plays, along with economic theory and ocean acidification.” She fingered back a lock of her side-parted brown hair, a quirky smile below her wide-set blue eyes. “That’s more mind food than we get from our Gen-Z friends.”

I then went maybe a little too far, but it felt right, and I don’t regret it. I leaned a little at Brenda and said, “And we definitely want to learn about you. And consider doing more than play golf.”

Garth raised his beer bottle to us. “So we’re all on that page. Brenda and I are okay staying there, for now. Do you two play Settlers of Catan?”

The game, and more sharing of mind food, were how we used up the time until their kids were on the way home. So, what we learned about each other ankara duşta veren escortlar this time came from repartee and body language, not carefully edited life stories.

There was enough chat to show that Garth’s and Brenda’s wit and intelligence were natural to them, and not forced in an attempt to impress us. I think Kristi and I gave as well as we got. When we parted company we all knew, without saying so, that we were as turned on by our minds as our bodies. It was therefore unnecessary for anyone to use the cumbersome term ‘sapiosexuality,’ but it surely applied to all of us.

***

“They’re swingers,” I declared to Kristi as we showered.

“Maybe,” she said, rubbing the loofa on my back and her breasts on my front.

“From what I’ve seen,” I said, conditioning her hair, “people who are into that tend to be their age, or older. They might be looking for young stuff.”

She got lips to my ear and cooed, “Brenda wants a hot black stud. Garth wants to watch. I’ll decide if they can have you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I choose not to live in the porno universe.”

Her thighs pressed in. “That’s not what this part of you is choosing.”

“Oh, like I can’t be aroused by my wife, nude and wet and rubbing her labia on my dork?” I’m two inches taller than she is. Given her leg length, our groins can align, if we like.

Her fun went to too much. “Brenda’s got me by at least two cup sizes. You could fuck her tits. That’s something I want to watch!”

“Yeah, right,” I said, getting back to cleanliness, but pursuing another thought. Finally I asked, “You think that’s the whole vibe from them? Mate swapping?”

Her brow furrowed. “Not sure,” she said at last. “I think some of the flirting was yanking the young folks’ chains.”

I didn’t say, You dig Brenda’s tits too. Instead I said, “Let’s see what develops. If real life gives us any opportunities.”

***

For a while, real life didn’t. Kristi and I were on early career paths, and focused hard on them. Garth and Brenda had 12- and 15-year-old kids, who had been overprogrammed almost since birth. This made their house a Family Home, suitable for all aspects of suburban nuclear child-rearing. The parents surely had their own fun, privately, in their master bedroom and attached bath.

I didn’t think they wanted our presence in their house for anything more adventurous than board games.

Ahh, but Kristi and I lived in the city, that wellspring of excitement and danger. Where arts and entertainment flourish, and young people disport in carefree abandon (it says here). It appeared that Brenda and Garth wanted that environment as much as they wanted us. And, as already admitted, our Gen-Z crowd wasn’t stimulating us much lately, and the mature couple from the suburbs was.

Our work lives were as separate as our ages and residences. Kristi and I commuted from an arts district to large, architecturally-significant buildings downtown. I worked in the development of environmentally preferable alternatives to traditional building materials, Kristi in private security, including high-tech surveillance and data mining. Brenda and Garth commuted from their sprawl suburb to steel-and-glass towers near the airport. She was a commercial artist, including digital photo editing and other forms of image manipulation, while he was a financial analyst specializing in municipal bond issues.

Our acquaintance developed slowly through email, mainly with more mind food. We enjoyed that, but it gradually became clear that this limit annoyed us. Yet nobody raised the prospect of doing anything more provocative, such as with images. Kristi and I have sexted each other, but never did that for a wider audience.

Garth’s and Brenda’s kids were old enough to be on their own on Saturday nights. They could go out with friends, in ride-shares, if they were nannied up with phone tracking and other digital intrusions. When the kids were out, the parents stayed home. If the kids didn’t have events lined up, the parents got their turn by going out for a date night, with the liquor cabinet locked, in addition to all the kid spying.

That was how Garth and Brenda got to join us, the month after the golf tournament, for that most eye-rolling of arts-district events, an independent film festival.

They got the whole city package that night: An interracial couple for companions, a restaurant with an ethnicity that hadn’t spread to the burbs (Ethiopian), short films with subsequent live Q&A with the directors, and a visit to a small condo where very little money had been spent on decor.

“If you’re hoping for Settlers of Catan,” Kristi told them with a smile, “you’ll be disappointed.”

“I’m sure we’ll be happy with your hospitality,” said Garth, “whatever it entails.”

I asked, “Are you ready to take a step towards what I think we’re considering?” I stood between the flatscreen on the wall and the spot where I had set up our two loveseats facing it. “We can watch a different kind of performance elvankent fetiş yapan escortlar art. Sorry, the directors aren’t here.”

Kristi sat on one loveseat. I picked up the remote, and sat next to her. I waved our guests to the empty loveseat.

“Nice,” said Brenda, sitting. “A very clear step, but with limited commitment.”

As Garth nestled in with Brenda, Kristi picked up a different remote and doused every light except one by the front door. Now, even as the flatscreen illuminated, we were silhouettes, with seclusion available if desired.

I brought up one of our porno standbys, with four people starting MF/MF and working their way into FMFM, and then FFMM. While the performers were still undressing each other, I set the remote on the table between the loveseats. I said, “Fell free to suggest something else.”

“We’ll let you know,” said Brenda, already getting breathy. I heard movement from their loveseat, weight shifts, hands on fabric.

Kristi slid her side against mine, never taking her eyes from the four on the screen. Asian and white males, white and black females.

Kristi wanted all of them.

So did I.

The makeout sounds from the other loveseat were steady, during the video’s separate couplings, and maybe a little quicker during woman-on-woman, and the connected foursome. I couldn’t be sure, because Kristi and I were sharing our own appreciation. But we kept clothes in place, and weren’t too provocative with hands and mouths.

When the video showed a penis entering a male mouth, the other loveseat got quiet.

One of the women appeared with a strap-on. She pegged the guy who was getting blown. The other woman started eating the ass of the guy who was blowing.

I heard murmurs from the other loveseat, and then more makeout sounds.

When the video ended, Garth and Brenda each needed a bathroom trip

They thanked us during our farewell hugs. But there was more.

“If that was a first step,” said Garth, eyeing between Kristi and me, “is your destination something like what you just showed us?”

Kristi put a hand on the back of each guest. “Like or unlike, whatever we all choose,” she said, “but with that passion and freedom.”

“But with other steps to be taken first,” I said. “Also with limited commitment.”

Brenda smiled. “Garth, these twerps are playing us like a xylophone. I’d better drive, I know what condition you’re in.”

As soon as the door was deadbolted behind them, Kristi and I threw ourselves at each other.

Yeah, we were playing them. We knew they’d be stuck in their stolid suburb, and they knew we could cavort in a libertine city. But we were bonkers for them. I had envisioned Brenda’s face on one of the women in the porno.

We had to keep playing them, to stay in charge. Even though it meant edging all of us insane.

Kristi jumped back from me and stripped, staring hard at me, lips parted around rapid breaths. I stripped also, aware that we behaved like yuppies with strict clothing budgets.

This embrace was tighter. I pushed her against a wall. On that impact I felt a fizz onto my thigh from her pubic hair.

I hauled her left leg up and out, bent my knees, and drove my cock up into her cunt. She whimpered, and raked nails on my back.

She wrenched and I jerked and we were on the floor.

She bit and I spanked and we were on the loveseat still warm from Brenda and Garth.

She sucked and I licked and we were halfway on the bed.

At the finish, for only the fourth time in our life together, all of our genitals were sore.

Chapter 2: Wedlocks Rattled

I don’t think about men much. I look at a guy, and if he meets my standards, I think ‘Yeah, I could do that.’ Then this gets buried in the data bank, and I think about something else. I’m so accustomed to most guys being straight that there’s no erotic investment. If it turns out that he runs counter to the current, I’m set to go, and it’s just a physical activity. There’s nothing after, except maybe an agreement that we can do that again, if we’re in the mood.

I think about women quite a lot. Assessing my attraction to a woman gets my immediate and full attention. I’m not creating excuses to claim that I’m not bi, or not gay. I bang men, and sometimes I’ve banged a man when I could have banged a woman instead. Make of that whatever you like.

I honestly couldn’t care less what men think of me.

I care, maybe too much, what women think of me.

Kristi’s calculus is different. Yes, everything about Kristi is different, from anyone else, but I’m limiting this to the interpersonal. She and I want each other, and had plenty of reasons to marry, topped by our feelings. However…

A black husband gives her a way to deter other men, when she wants that. It also means that when she gets interested in a white man, he falls totally under her spell. He’d think, ‘Wow, this beauty thinks I measure up to her black husband!’ This, with everyone fully etimesgut iranlı escort dressed.

Her bisexuality is casual, a pose that’s available to an urban Gen-Z woman, with no adverse consequences. Her enjoyment of women is carnal, but also psychological. She challenges herself by pursuing women with high intellect and self-esteem. Sometimes, she’ll rope in a cutie who’s brainy but less secure, to entice me with a threesome. I participate eagerly if this sweet third isn’t exploited or manipulated.

With me alone, Kristi is calmly affectionate, and we’re more or less ‘equals.’

The sailing hasn’t always been smooth. During our engagement, we had two intense shouting matches that led to quasi-breakups. The first posited, and the second confirmed, that for us both, Can’t Live Without outweighs Can’t Live With. Our happiness together is built on a foundation of misery apart.

***

A month had passed when I called Garth. This was during working hours, giving us both an excuse to keep it short. There was a gallery opening on Saturday. By telling him this, I performed due diligence for arts-deprived suburbanites.

“Hey, thanks, I appreciate it,” he said, sounding harassed. “But we’ve got a prior engagement.”

“It’s cool,” I said, suddenly really wanting to see Brenda naked. “Hope you enjoy it.”

“Oh we will,” he said with a sudden laugh. After a second or two of silence, he said more quietly, “Gotta go, say hi to Kristi for me.” The call ended.

While Kristi and I were rustling up leftovers for dinner, I shared this conversation. She wielded Occam’s Razor, as well as a paring knife. “He could have lied about the whole thing, maybe because of what was going on in his office when you called.”

“If you believe that,” I riposted, “then you believe that we’re a low priority for him. Do you?”

“No,” she conceded. “You sure you remember his exact words?”

“I am. Notably his laugh when he said they’d enjoy it.”

“It could just be a wild night at home while the kids are out. We don’t know their kinks.”

I was my turn to concede. “True. Nor their drug use, if any. But I think he was on the brink of saying more, because it was me. A fellow envelope-pusher.”

“And you think they’ll go out swinging on Saturday.”

“I consider it a possibility.”

She side-eyed me. “Are you that geeked to fuck a dozen fogies in the suburbs?”

“I’d do it, but I’m interested in Brenda and Garth. I’d like to see them in a group setting. My goal remains getting them into our clutches, here.”

She put what we had prepped on two plates. “Eat, and remember that we’re busy.” We had both brought work home. Now, with no reason to attend the gallery opening, we might bring home more over the weekend.

***

About a week later, Brenda emailed Kristi, asking about our availability. The target date was two weeks after the Saturday of their prior engagement. This struck us as them granting their kids a weekend out, then getting the next weekend for themselves.

Replying to Brenda, Kristi noted that on that weekend there wasn’t any significant artsy action in the city.

Brenda replied with a list of restaurants that she and Garth were interested in. So one of their pretexts for getting into the city, culture, fell by the wayside.

None of the message traffic was in any way incriminating. Nor was our dinner conversation, in which we shared mind food while passing around samples of Lebanese food.

At our place, however, our guests incriminated bluntly.

“We’d like to take another step, if it’s all right with you,” said Brenda, shedding her coat. “But not every remaining step.”

“We’re listening,” said Kristi.

Garth held up a jewel-boxed DVD. “We offer this for us to watch. As before, on wedlocked loveseats. But this time in full lighting, clothing optional, and doing whatever we please within a wedlock.”

I smiled. “And watching more than the video?”

Brenda smiled bigger. “Oh yeah.” She unbuttoned her blouse.

Kristi fetched beach towels, which she draped on the loveseats. This made her the last to disrobe, which she did slowly, getting as much attention as possible. But not all of it. I gazed at Brenda, her breasts so large and round that their slight sag didn’t seem to matter, her arms and legs sleekly toned, her belly smooth, except for a c-section scar. My cock swelled. Brenda winked at me.

Their video was of a large orgy enjoyed by what were probably Eastern Europeans. I made myself look at this sucking and fucking, and away from Brenda once she embraced Garth and nestled into their loveseat.

Kristi and I entered our own clinch. I had two fingers in her pussy when she leaned over my shoulder and asked our guests, “Is this the sort of thing you were doing two weeks ago?”

“Yes,” said Brenda between gasps. “When Garth told me he had to turn you down, I almost took his head off. I made the best of it. I took on nine guys, and I came six times. I left with a pussy that felt like broken glass.”

“But you’re resigned,” I said between nipple nibbles, “to us staying apart?”

“Not entirely,” she said, now bobbing as she faced us, I think reverse-cowgirling Garth, “But my old man is my cunt’s favorite visitor, and I’m getting some cute young eye candy. We’re the parents here, we understand about self-denial.”

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