When the couch became our bisexual throne

Trío con pareja Bi

The air in the bar was thick with cheap cologne, spilled beer, and that specific kind of desperate energy that only a Saturday night can brew. I was on my third beer, just watching the crowd, my eyes scanning for… well, for anything. That’s when I noticed them. A guy and a girl tucked into a corner booth. He was built, the kind of solid that comes from actual work, not a gym, with a tight shirt stretched over his chest and a look on his face that was trying way too hard to be bored. She was all curves and laughter, her hand on his thigh, but her eyes were wandering the room, landing on me more than once.

I gave a slow, easy nod, not committing to anything. She whispered something in his ear and his eyes flicked to me, quick, then away. But it was enough. I saw the flash of something in them—not anger, not jealousy. Curiosity. Maybe a little fear. That’s my favorite flavor.

An hour and a couple of shots they sent over later, I was sliding into their booth. Her name was Carla, his was Marcos. She did the talking, all flirty and bright, telling me they were “exploring.” He just nodded, sipping his whiskey, his leg jiggling under the table. I played it cool, leaning back, letting my knee “accidentally” brush against his under the table. He didn’t pull away. He stiffened up, but he didn’t pull away. The signal was fucking crystal clear.

Back at their motel room, the vibe switched from maybe to definitely. The second the door clicked shut, Carla’s mouth was on mine, her tongue tasting like tequila and mint. She was all over me, her hands grabbing my ass, grinding against my hard-on through my jeans. I kissed her back because, fuck it, why not, but my eyes were on Marcos. He was watching us, his jaw tight, his own dick making a pretty decent tent in his pants. He wasn’t touching himself. He was just watching, hypnotized.

Carla dropped to her knees in front of me, fumbling with my belt buckle. “I wanna taste you,” she slurred, all hot breath and hunger. She got my jeans open and my cock sprung out, already leaking. She didn’t waste time, just wrapped her lips around the head and went to work. It felt good, wet and warm, but my brain was somewhere else. Marcos moved behind her, pulling her shorts down, and started eating her out from behind. The room was filled with the sounds of her sucking me, him groaning into her pussy, and the wet slap of his tongue.

I let my hand drift from Carla’s head, down her back, my fingers trailing over the sweat on her skin until I was right there, right next to his face. I could feel the heat coming off him. My fingertips brushed his arm. He flinched like I’d branded him. He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me, his lips glistening with her. His eyes were wide, dark, full of a war I knew all too well. Fuck it. I moved my hand, not to his arm this time, but lower. I palmed the thick bulge in his jeans.

He gasped, a sharp, ragged intake of air. His whole body went rigid. For a second, I thought he was gonna bolt, throw a punch, something. But he didn’t. He just stared, his chest heaving. Carla popped off my dick, a string of spit connecting her lip to my shaft. “Yeah, baby,” she moaned, looking back at him. “You like watching me, don’t you? You wanna play too?”

That was all the permission I needed. I unbuttoned his fucking jeans, my hands not even shaking, I was so sure of this. I pulled his zipper down and his cock sprang out. It was thick, uncut, and rock hard, pulsing in my hand. He let out a groan that came from the very bottom of his soul, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. He didn’t say a word. He just watched, his eyes glued to my hand on his dick as I started stroking him.

“Suck it,” Carla whispered to me, her eyes wild with lust. “I want to see you suck his big cock.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I got down on my knees, pushing her gently aside, and took him into my mouth. The taste of him, salt and skin and pure man, exploded on my tongue. He was bigger than I expected, and I had to work to take him deep. His hands came down and tangled in my hair, not pushing, just holding on for dear life as his hips started to thrust, shallow and desperate. He was mumbling, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” under his breath, like a prayer.

This was it. This was what I wanted. The straight guy, completely coming undone in my mouth. Carla was kissing his stomach, licking his balls, watching me devour her man. The next move was obvious. I turned around, presenting my ass to him, looking at him over my shoulder. “Your turn,” I grunted. “Fuck me.”

He didn’t hesitate. He spat into his hand, slicked up his cock, and positioned himself. I felt the broad head of his dick probing my crack, searching for my hole. He was clumsy, frantic, all that pent-up energy with no direction. He pushed, and there was a blinding second of pain, that sharp, breathtaking stretch that makes you see stars. I gasped, and he froze.

“Don’t stop,” I growled. “Just fucking do it.”

He lined up and just drove it home, pushing with everything he had. There was all this pressure, a burning ache, and I was just about to tell him to slow the fuck down when his head slipped past my ring and his full length drove into me all at once, burying himself to the hilt. I cried out, a strangled sound that was half pain, half the best fucking feeling of my life. He started pounding into me, no rhythm, just pure animal need, each thrust shaking my whole body. Carla was underneath me now, taking my cock back into her mouth, sucking me hard while her boyfriend reamed my ass.

He came inside me fast, with a guttural roar, his body shuddering violently. He pulled out, collapsing on the bed, looking dazed and completely fucking wrecked. But it wasn’t over. After a few minutes to catch our breath, Carla laid back and pulled him on top of her. He slid into her, starting to fuck her in a slow, missionary rhythm. I watched his back, the muscles working, his ass clenching with every thrust. I moved behind him, my hands on his hips. I spit on my fingers and started rubbing his hole, just a little pressure at first.

He tensed up, but he didn’t stop fucking her. “No,” he muttered into her neck. But his body was telling a different story. He was pushing back against my hand. I spit again, working one finger inside him. He was so tight, but he opened up for me with a low moan. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. Carla was egging me on, “Yeah, do it, fuck him while he fucks me!”

I slicked up my cock again and pressed against him. This time, when I pushed inside his ass, there was no resistance, just a hot, tight welcome. He cried out, his whole body seizing up, but he kept moving, fucking her while I fucked him. It was the most depraved, beautiful thing I’d ever been a part of. I grabbed his hips and pounded into him, matching his rhythm, our bodies slamming together in a sweaty, messy chain of lust. I came inside him, and a minute later, he emptied himself into her with a broken groan.

After, we were a mess of limbs and cum on the soaked sheets. He was silent, withdrawn, already pulling away mentally. He got up without a word and went to the shower. Carla just giggled, tracing patterns on my chest. But I couldn’t stop staring at the bathroom door. That wasn’t just a bi-curious experiment for him. That was a man who had been starving for dick his whole life and finally got a taste. He wasn’t exploring with his girlfriend. He was using her as a shield to get what he really wanted. And fuck, I was happy to be the one to give it to him.