Bi-Erotica at A Bi-Friendly Place

bisexualRéve' Erotiquebisexual
by M. H. Presedo

bisexual


He lies naked next to me sleeping, gently breathing, baby smile on his face. I trace the curve of his buttock down to his thigh. The skin of his inner thigh is smooth and soft like hers. Responding to my caress he moves back against me, his skin hot to my touch. My fingers reach down to the base of his balls where I gently feel for the familiar ridge. When I touch him, he sighs deeply. His nipples are hardening and I can't resist. 

Gently, I turn him on his back and he stretches suggestively, smiling at me lazily, invitingly. My tongue grazes his mouth circling the smooth inside of his lips. My hands feels his nipples become rigid at my touch. I trace the line of hair down the middle of his chest down to his belly. My mouth follows closely and he moans softly but he does not move. My hand cups his balls and I take his hardened penis in my mouth, lips and teeth gently scrape his turgid shaft. His velvet tip strokes the roof of my mouth insistently and I lap at it playfully tasting an almond promise of what's to come. I inhale deeply taking him in all of my senses, then suddenly... 

It's her I smell, taste and feel: lush, dusky, inviting, warm earth, flowering orchids, sweet. Light glistens like precious stones on our sunburnt skins. The images she invokes in me are rich and hot like summer on the island where we met. My mouth goes to her breast eagerly like the lips of a suckling newborn. Her hair spills on my shoulder as she leans over to nuzzle the back of my neck. I rub my cheek against the place where the swell of her cleavage begins and I feel the warmth of her skin slightly moist. I want to feel her, taste her, be inside her, period. Her smell is filling my senses, drugging me, driving me over some unknown brink. My hands find her velvet folds and I part her, sure of myself. Her breath is coming in rasping gasps and her voice, like silk, emerges wrapping itself around me. 

"Yes," she whispers, "I want--- Oh, I want..." 

I know what she wants. I want it, too. I take my fingers out of her and suck her wetness from them. I love the way she tastes, I always have-- slightly salty at first, then the faint taste of almonds. 

She pushes me away and looks at me through glassy eyes. She leans forward to take my nipple in her mouth, but I'm too fast for her. I move just out of her reach and instead I glide a finger in her mouth letting her savor herself. With a little cat sound she begins sucking on my fingers as if they were my sex. When she teasingly licks my palm, the shocks go through my skull to the ceiling. I can't stand the teasing anymore. I bury my face between her thighs. The silky hair is damp. Her smell is musk and almonds. My tongue parts her lips and I lick her juices. I taste her, no, I drink her, as if slaking the thirst created by the heat of a thousand deserts. Gently folding her, exposing her with my hands I glide my tongue from that sensitive spot just inside, just at the top of the vagina, to her clitoris. Her legs open wider and she thrusts herself further into my mouth. With my tongue flat against her clit, I move against her motion. I slide two fingers into her, again finding that spot, stroking her just at her entrance, no deeper. Her breath comes raggedly now, I start to feel her contractions. Her scream is primordial like a wild animal unchained. Now my fingers take the plunge. Ah, my first, my shadow, my sweetest, my mentor, my foil, my sister, my friend. How I've missed you! 

As her shudders subside, she takes my face in her hands and she pulls me up. Her lashes are wet, her cheeks tear stained, swollen lips parted, she tenderly kisses me and like a mother cat with her kitten, she cleans the salt from my face, my mouth, my earlobes, with her tongue. Then, with her mouth on my neck, she nibbles at my earlobes, her tongue tracing around my nipples, teasing me. Parting my buttocks, she fingers pressing, circling, fingers teasing but not entering. Her wet fingers snake down my belly, down to my pubic hair, down to my sex which is contracting and opening, begging to be stroked. 

"Oh yes, yes, yes, like that, sucked, filled... oh YES!" 

Her hand gently finds my center. My legs fall open and I know I look like a hot house orchid beckoning, inviting. 

"Ooooh yes, like THAT!" 

He fastens his mouth on my clitoris, now licking, now sucking, his finger touching in that precise spot, his other hand holding my ass, pressing me to his face, tasting me, no, drinking me just as I imagined drinking her. His wonderful mouth works its inevitable magic as his erection presses against my leg. I feel the semen on the head and try to turn myself so I can taste him. I love the taste of him, first the taste of salt then the taste of almonds, but now I'm totally paralyzed: the crescendo builds and the waves begin to wash over me. I feel my cunt swell and start to pulsate. I am on the brink. 

"Fuck me now!" 

His huge cock plunges into me at the moment my orgasm begins. My body explodes; my head jerks back; I scream. 

"Hold me. Now!" 

A guttural scream escapes him and as his arms tighten around me, I let go. My face is wet. He cradles me like a baby; his tenderness protects me like a warm blanket . Once again he's managed not to let me lose any of the pieces. Safe, intact, I bury my face in his shoulder and sob. He kisses me over and over, repeating softly, 

"Shhh, don't cry. Please don't cry. I'm here," he says. 

Gratefully, I let him cover us with the bed clothes and I press my back against his chest. His arms hold me protectively, lovingly. I close my eyes and dream. 

She lies naked next to me sleeping, gently breathing, baby smile on her face. I trace the curve of her buttock down to her thigh. The skin of her inner thigh is smooth and soft like his... 

Copyright © 2000 Mari Haget-Presedo. All Rights Reserved. 



bisexualAbout The Author:
Mari Haget-Presedo: 12/05/53 was Cuban born, Miami raised, married three times, has two sons and is an LSU graduate. She is a freelance writer for various trade magazines but her real passion (pardon the pun) is erotica, collecting it, reading it, writing it. She also works as a semi professional photographer in all her spare time and in spite of her particular preferences has come to love and admire the female form-- and mind. 

bisexualAbout The Story:
The preceeding story was first published in the premiere issue of Mind Caviar, Winter Issue 2000. 

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