I had a friend once, Michel, who was bisexual like me, but you’d never have thought he liked women sexually. He totally presented as gay. I mean… everything about him. Colourful, flamboyant, self-consciously fabulous. Also pretty hot. We hooked up a few times and once, in a post-coital haze after a rather excellent sixty-nining session, we lay there, naked quotation marks in his bed, we talked about women we’d had sex with and what we found most attractive about them. It seems a bit surreal to think of it now—his still half-hard cock, shiny from me sucking it just moments before, was inches away from my face; I savoured the bitter salt of his cum on my tongue as I told him about my penchant for dark-nippled women. He nodded in agreement but added he went entirely in the other direction, too. “Pale,” he said, “pink, especially when their skin is practically translucent. Nice, hefty breasts.”

He paused for a minute, thoughtful. “Yeah, I’d be one hundred percent queer,” he reflected, “if it weren’t for the fact that I just absolutely love tits.”

The very thought of it, I could see, was making him harden again. I felt his hand close around my cock and realized that blood was rushing to my cock too at the thought of firm, soft breasts, the nipples getting hard under my tongue. And then we were at it again, sucking and licking each other’s cocks.

I’ve had the opposite experience, too—turning on a woman by describing the sex I’ve had with men. Not everybody wants to hear about it; I’ve had more than one woman cut things off cold the moment they hear I’m bi. Some are just repulsed, so good riddance to them. Some will declare they don’t want that kind of competition, that it’s bad enough when they must worry about a guy being attracted to one-half of the human race. And some just realize that my proclivities are profoundly non-monogamous and don’t want to waste time on someone who’s most definitely not auditioning for the role of husband.

But then there’s that cross-section of the female of the species that is hugely turned on by the thought of two men together. In some cases, they immediately started angling for a MMF threeway, which, of course, I’m happy to oblige with if it can be arranged.

And then there was Simone. I dated her on and off in my late twenties. The sex was always pretty spectacular, and demanding to hear me describe getting fucked in granular detail was her love language. She was tall and extremely slim, just this side of skinny, but with elegant hips and absolutely exquisite breasts the size and shape of apples, tipped with dark, long nipples and wide areoles. Her hair was straight and dark brown, her eyes angular and so dark as to be almost black. All of her features were somewhat angular—a sharp nose and chin, wide, thin lips, and high cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass.

We had almost nothing in common beside the fact that she loved my cock and I loved her breasts and ass, and she loved hearing about me fucking men. And I loved telling her about it. Most of our “dates” were meeting for a drink, and then bailing for whoever’s place was closer when we ran out of stuff to talk about. I don’t think we ever ordered a second round.

But as soon as we were in the bedroom—or were bedroom-adjacent—or were just somewhere we could fuck without being seen—we entered that space where all the conversation was either filthy or wordless.

Weirdly, she never broached the idea of a threeway with a second guy, at least not for a long time. As I said, I’m always open to the idea; as time went on, I considered raising the possibility myself, but there was never anybody handy when the thought occurred to me. And we were pretty sporadic in our trysts, anyway… we’re go several weeks or months without speaking and then one of us would call the other, which always precipitated several intensely sex-drenched nights in a row. Thus sated, and with nothing much to say to each other otherwise, we’d go our separate ways until the spirit moved one of us again.

And then came the day when she had the perfect guy in mind for joining us. And when I say perfect, well…

It had been one of the longer hiatuses we’d spent from each other when she called and invited me to her place. Or rather, I answered my phone and she said without preamble, “I had a dream about your cock and need you to come over and fuck me.” Without hesitation, I cancelled the plans I had and immediately went over.

She buzzed me up to her apartment. Her door was unlocked. “In here,” she called from the bedroom.

I entered, finding her reclining on her bed, completely naked. Simone was one of those rare human beings who looked better without clothes, and didn’t need flattering lighting to look amazing. Stark naked under an equally naked bright bulb, and she’d make the gayest of men rethink their preferences. But the lighting in her room was flattering, and as I stepped through the doorway she crawled on all fours to the foot of the bed, beckoning. I somehow managed to shed my shirt and be halfway out of my pants in the three steps I took towards her, my cock hard and straining against my underwear. With something between a purr and a growl she reached one red-nailed hand out to grasp my waistband and pull it down.

“Ah, there you are,” she chortled at my cock. “I’ve missed you.” And without ceremony, she swallowed me to the hilt.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, most of the best cocksuckers I’ve been with have been men, but Simone gave them a run for their money. It was, she said candidly, a talent born from sheer enthusiasm—she loved sucking cock, and that hunger was always communicated with a throaty moan of pleasure that vibrated up and down my hard length.

I let my hands rest lightly on her head, stroking her silky hair as she sucked me, my head thrown back in pleasure. She had a busy tongue when she sucked—I could feel it squirming against the underside of my shaft when she took me deep, and she swirled it around the head on the upstroke.

When I could feel myself getting close, I grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her up to kiss her. Her lips, alluringly thin most of the time, were swollen from sucking. She gasped my head with both hands, growling into my mouth. Without much effort, I picked her up by the hips and threw her back on the bed—something I knew turned her on—where she landed with her legs splayed open. She let one hand come to rest on her crotch, her index and middle finger parting her labia and showing me her clit, already glistening and wet. Her other hand she raised to her parted lips, hooking her finger into her mouth like a wanton little girl.

I resisted the urge to dive between her legs and plant my face in her sopping pussy. Instead, I crawled up between her legs, kissing her flat belly, licking and sucking one of her nipples, and then the other before kissing her. She returned the kiss hungrily, lightly raking her nails down my back.

“How many men have you fucked since I last saw you?” she growled.

“None.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? How many have fucked you?”

“Two.”

She grinned. “Were they good?”

“One was good,” I replied. “The other was … spectacular.”

Her breath caught as my fingers found her clit. “Was he … big?”

“Very,” I affirmed, sliding a finger inside her. Great gods, she was wet. “Nice and long and thick. And he was a big guy—barrel chest, big biceps. Massive thighs.”

She shuddered. “Tell me more.”

His name was William. A client at the firm I was working at, in town for business. Not someone I had any dealings with, which was good, and I didn’t have to struggle with any ethics. We’d made eye contact through the glass wall of the main conference room, and it was like an electric current jolted through my cock. Tall, reddish-blond, beard, filled out his suit like a dream. Later that night, he’d come out for drinks at the bar around the corner from the office. Slipped his spare hotel room key into my breast pocket while I was standing at the urinal. And later that night, he fucked me like I hadn’t been fucked in a long while.

His cock… yeah, that deserves a story all its own.

Simone gasped and shuddered as I whispered all the gory details in her ear and my finger and thumb massaged her pleasure spots. I told her how thick his cock was, how it had stretched my mouth when I sucked him, how he’d thrown me all over the king-sized bed like I was a ragdoll, and fucked my ass mercilessly while stroking my cock until I came helplessly all over his and my bellies.

She came once while I was describing sucking him, then again when I told her how he’d bent me over the back of the room’s couch. I could feel her getting close again again when he pinned me to the bed and fucked me missionary style, his bearded lips rasping over my neck.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, fuck me now!” she cried. I obliged, thrusting my now-aching cock inside her, and she came again, her nether walls clamping down on me as her whole body spasmed. And then I started fucking her hard and fast while she bucked against me. After several panting minutes, I rolled her over and pressed her face into the pillow as I slid back inside her. Her ass and hips rose to meet my cock, and moaned, grinding back against me. I fucked her faster as she goaded me on. Is that all you’ve got? Come on, fuck me for real, fuck me deeper! When I was close I pulled out, and rolled onto my back as, with a red-lipped smirk, she clambered on top of me and rode my cock slowly. That was my favourite position with her: she put on quite the show, he long torso sinuously writhing, slick now with sweat, her perfect breasts bouncing as she teased my cock, pausing on the upstrokes with a little twist of her hips that looked even better than it felt.

She came one more time—she was prodigiously orgasmic—digging her nails into my chest as she arched her back. Right at the apex of her orgasm, I felt my own suddenly come on.

“Oh fuck!” I said, my voice strangled. With a throaty laugh, she pulled off me and brought her mouth down to my cock, sliding her lips around me as I came explosively, gasping.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned appreciatively, her lips milking me as she swallowed. She nuzzled my cock for a few seconds more, getting every last drop. “Christ, I love the taste of your cum,” she said breathlessly.

I never got tired of hearing that. William had been similarly appreciative, I recalled as Simone crawled up to nestle into my arms, purring. After all of his power-fucking, he hungrily licked all of my semen off my belly and chest, saying it was the best he’d tasted in some time. After we’d rested a bit, he sucked me off to get another batch.

I lay for a time with Simone, making her shiver pleasurably as I ran my fingernails over her belly and breasts.

“So,” she said finally, “I heard from an old friend recently.”

“What kind of old friend?”

She flashed a wicked smile. “This kind,” she said, grasping my half-hard cock. “But the kind I think you’d like too.”

“Ah. I was wondering how long it would be before you suggested a threesome.”

She pouted. “But it seems like something you’d like.”

“I would. I just mean—” I paused. “Never mind. What’s this guy’s name?”

“Jürgen.”

“Italian fellow?”

“No.” She looked at me blankly. “German, obviously.”

I suppressed a sigh, remembering why we didn’t have much contact outside of sex. “Right. What’s he like?”

That wicked smile settled on her face again, and I knew in that moment I’d agree to anything she wanted. One way or another, it would be something to remember.

***

Jürgen, as it turned out, was a few years older than me, and every inch the Teutonic god. We were of a height and build. But where I’m dark-haired, everything about this man was blond. Pale blond hair, cut short and stylishly, pale skin, high cheekbones, pale blue eyes. The only colour to speak of were his lips, which weren’t especially red—they just seemed so in contrast with the rest of his face. According to what Simone had told me, he had a body to die for and a gorgeous six-inch cock. Within seconds of meeting him, I knew I had to have him.

We all met for a drink about a week after my re-encounter with Simone, at a dark mostly empty bar. We sat in a corner booth and spoke quietly. Initial small talk told me I liked what I saw—Jürgen had a sharp sense of humour, and he made it clear he liked what he saw with me.

“Simone has told me a lot about you,” he said in a tone that made it clear precisely what the substance of Simone’s stories had been.

If I’d been expecting a stentorian German accent, I was disappointed. He actually sounded like he was from Boston or somewhere close to that.

“I wish I could say the same,” I replied. “Simone has been all mysterious about you.”

He laughed. “I suspect she wanted me to tell you myself.”

“Tell me what?” I glanced at Simone, who sat watching us avidly, her painted lips parted, obviously somewhat aroused just by looking at us in close proximity to each other.

He regarded for a minute with his disconcertingly blue eyes. “I am, like you, bisexual. But I enjoy men and women differently.”

“Do tell.”

“With women, it is just sex—straightforward, excellent sex.”

“Yes, indeed,” Simone murmured.

“And with men?”

“Well. I can do the standard thing with men, too. But if my male partner is willing, I like to… play a little more.”

Intrigued and more than a little turned on, I said, “Play how? What would you do with me?”

“A bit of bondage. Not BDSM or anything. Just… restraints. Tying you to a chair. So I can tease you. Edge you. With my hands and mouth. Until you are delirious, begging me to make you cum.”

I suddenly felt a little light-headed. “Which, I’m guessing, you’d refuse to do.”

He smiled. “For an excruciatingly long time, yes.”

I glanced at Simone. “What would you be doing all this time?”

“Watching,” she said, her voice a bit hoarse. “You have no idea what a turn-on it would be to watch him do that to you.”

“I think I have a bit of an idea,” I said. I looked back at Jürgen. “Where’s your gratification in this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” I let my hand fall beneath the table to rest on his crotch, finding a gratifyingly hard bulge in his pants. “After you finally make me cum, or I cum in spite of your best efforts, what’s your payoff? Do I get to suck you off? Or do you fuck me?”

He dropped his own hand beneath the table, pressing mine harder into his swelling cock. “That depends on you. Sometimes when I do this, the man is too spent to do anything. In which case I take care of myself. Which is fine. There is a huge satisfaction in draining a man like that.”

“I doubt he’ll be spent,” said Simone. “But even if he is, you’ll have me there.”

“Of course.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, and then looked at me mischievously. “Perhaps I would fuck her while leaving you tied up. Would that make you jealous?”

“Only jealous that your cock was in her and not me,” I said feelingly, making them both laugh.

“So?” asked Simone after a brief, anticipation-laden silence. “Are we doing this?”

I looked at Jürgen. Nodded.

He stood. “My place is just a block away,” he said.

***

The first bit was very businesslike. Jürgen showed us into his very neat apartment and poured us all a glass of wine. He then led us into the bedroom, where he’d set up something that looked a bit like a dentist’s chair beside the bed. Beside the chair was a drummer’s stool. Facing the chair, against the wall with the door, was a loveseat—Simone’s perch, I surmised.

My knees had started to weaken with anticipation.

Jürgen took a swig of his wine, then instructed us to get naked.

We all stripped, and stood for a moment, admiring one another. Simone was as I already described: long and lithe and perfect, standing hipshot and turning her head back and forth to see how Jürgen and I reacted to see the other naked. Simone hadn’t lied about him: he was very nicely built, with broad shoulders that tapered to a slim waist. His body wasn’t gym-built, but he was obviously in shape—it looked to me like a soccer player’s body. His main attraction was a nicely plump circumcised cock in a nest of pale pubic hair, not quite flaccid, but also with a lot of promise for when it got hard.

I met his eyes and saw a similar appreciation there. His gaze dropped to rest on my cock and a smile curled the corner of his mouth.

“That’ll do nicely,” he said, then looked me slowly up and down. “You work out a lot, I see.”

“Obsessively,” said Simone before I could respond.

“It shows.” Jürgen gestured at the chair. “Have a seat.”

I sat. The chair was quite comfortable, reclined to about forty-five degrees. The seat was open like a toilet seat to allow, presumably for ass play. Jürgen stepped around the chair when I was settled, fastening me into my restraints. A belt went under my arms, around my chest. He cinched it snugly but not overly tight. He bound my arms to the chair’s armrests, two belts on either side—at the wrist and elbow. My thighs and ankles he fixed to the pair of leg rests, which he then adjusted so my feet were just above the floor and my legs were open enough that he could step in between them.

I was becoming increasingly aroused as he proceeded, not least because I realized how helpless I was. How insane was this, I suddenly thought? I just met this guy tonight! But as he went he let his hands caress my arms, my chest, my legs. His touch lingered just long enough to suggest he wasn’t merely trying to excite me—he liked what he saw, and felt.

Meanwhile, Simone had settled herself on the loveseat immediately across from where I sat trussed to the chair, her mouth slightly open, one hand tracing the shape of her breast, the other resting on her inner thigh.

Jürgen stepped back to check his work. “How does that feel?”

“Pleasantly restrictive,” I said, my voice a bit thick.

He smiled, and retrieved a few items—a tube of lube, a torpedo-shaped buttplug, and a cock ring, the kind made of a length of rubber tubing. He stepped between my legs and looked down at my cock, which was now fully hard. “Very nice,” he murmured, and carefully, without touching my shaft, looped the cock ring down over my shaft, cinching it beneath my scrotum. “Too tight?” he asked, solicitously.

“Just right,” I rasped.

He held up the buttplug. “Your choice,” he said. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, please.”

He carefully lubed it up and, crouching between my legs, slid it against my hole. “Breathe,” he said, and pressed it past my sphincter.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, feeling my cock throb.

Jürgen stood. “And that,” he said, “is just to start.”

With that, he left the room.

Simone met my gaze. “You have no idea,” she said throatily, “how hard it is not to touch my clit right now.”

“Oh,” I said, my voice a bit strangled, “I have a bit of an idea.”

She licked her lips. “Your cock looks so delicious right now. I want so much to suck it.”

“Please feel free.”

“Now, now,” chided Jürgen, re-entering the room, a lowball of whiskey tinkling in his hand. “You, my dear, are just to watch for now. You promised.”

She pouted prettily. “If I must.”

Jürgen took a sip of his drink, and, sitting in the drummer’s stool beside me, placed it on the floor. “Well,” he said brightly. “Shall we begin?”

***

I know this series is supposed to be the cock chronicles, and so far I haven’t had much to say about Jürgen’s. And in truth, had we just had straight-up sex, I don’t know that I’d have included him. But I haven’t had many experiences like I had that night, either before or since.

It was, to give you the TL;DR, the most exquisite torture I’d ever experienced.

The cock ring was not, strictly speaking, necessary. Even if the whole setup didn’t turn me on, even if Jürgen hadn’t been a beautiful man with masterful cock handling skills, I was also treated throughout to the wanton sight of Simone fingering herself and writhing in ways that put even the highest quality porn to shame. (I think she came about half a dozen times while Jürgen edged me mercilessly.) But what the cock ring did do was exacerbate my hardness, and make my cock even more sensitive to his ministrations.

And, wow, those ministrations. He began by touching every part of me except my cock. He ran his fingertips up and down my legs, traced patterns on my arms, complimented me on my abs as he slowly ran his fingernail around each and every one… all the while, I moaned and whimpered, very quickly reduced to desperate need. Any thought I’d harboured about keeping my dignity went out the window well before he touched my cock.

Simone, needless to say, loved it, ramping everything up for me by putting on a show.

When Jürgen finally touched my cock, it was just to run his thumbnail up the underside, and I very nearly came just from that.

But then he knelt between my legs and feathered his tongue up and down my shaft, slowly increasingly the pressure until he was licking me like an ice cream cone. He kept that up, never actually taking me in his mouth, for an interminably long time, finally pausing when I felt my orgasm building.

I didn’t have to say anything. The magnificent bastard just knew. I thought I was good at sensing when a guy is close to cumming, but I quickly learned what an amateur I was.

After a pause in which he let Simone suck him for my benefit—this he did whenever he let me cool down, letting her suck him, or playing with her breasts, or making out with her, making sure I never really cooled down—he returned to the stool and proceeded to lube up my cock and do all sorts of magical things with his hands.

Oh, and remember that butt plug? He certainly did. Every so often when he escalated his stroking, he reached below the seat and gave the plug a gentle smack, which always made me cry out in ecstasy. It wasn’t long before I was begging him to make me cum—abjectly, pathetically, begging him. At which point he’d stop whatever he was doing and tweak my nipples, or kiss me deeply, or whisper Not yet in my ear before going and feeding Simone his cock for a few minutes.

I can’t be sure, because so much of it all was a delirious haze of agonizing pleasure, but I think he was rock hard throughout.

I really have no idea how long it went on. I was reduced to pleading, and cursing Simone every time I watched her cum anew. I’d say Jürgen took me to my limit, but I’m pretty sure my limit had long since disappeared in the rearview. I was in entirely new territory for me when Jürgen stood up from his stool and, kneeling down, adjusted the chair so I reclined until his hard cock was level with my face.

I didn’t need any more prompting, but swallowed him whole. It was a relief to be acting on his body, even if I couldn’t move my limbs. I sucked him deeply like a starving man, and was rewarded with a gasp and then a low, throaty moan. His cock was perfect for me: large enough to feel glorious in my mouth, not so large as to be difficult. His precum, which had been leaking copiously throughout, tasted lovely.

I felt his hands come to rest in my hair as he rocked his hips back and forth.

“Do you want me to cum in your mouth?” he murmured. “Or would you like me to fuck you?”

I broke contact long enough to rasp, “Fuck. Me.”

He made a few more adjustments to the chair, leaning me back and raising my legs, exposing my ass. He eased the buttplug out with an audible pop and positioned himself so that the head of his cock pressed against my hole. Simone appeared beside me, watching with heavy-lidded eyes, her hand caressing my chest. She kissed me, chortling in my mouth as I whimpered.

I gasped yet again as Jürgen slid his cock inside me. Slowly. He eased himself in, his hands resting on my thighs, fucking me in a leisurely, unhurried way that made my entire body tingle.

“Oh. Fuck,” I breathed.

“Mmm, you have a wonderful ass,” Jürgen murmured. “This is an exquisite way to end this. Simone said you would be amazing, and she didn’t lie.”

Simone chuckled and kissed me again, then dropped her head to lick my nipple.

“Great. Fucking. Christ.” I felt like one gigantic nerve ending tuned for pleasure. “Your cock feels so fucking good.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Would you like to cum soon?”

“It’s gonna happen one way or another if you keep fucking me like that.”

“Simone? I believe I promised you.”

Simone looked down at where my cock stood aching for release, visibly throbbing, a veritable river of precum trickling down my shaft. “Are you close?” she asked Jürgen.

“Getting there.” He increased his tempo slightly, his breath coming in shorter gasps. “Oh, fuck. Yes.”

He thrust deeply inside me, his legs going rigid, and gave a strangled cry. Simone leaned down at that moment and took my cock deeply into her mouth. I cried out too, joining Jürgen in an ecstatic chorus while Simone moaned around my cock.

I think I might have blacked out for a second as I felt my cock explode in Simone’s mouth. When I came back to my senses, she was still lapping at my shaft, a generous dribble of semen glistening on her cheek where it had escape her greedy mouth. Breathlessly, she leaned back, wiping her cheek and licking her fingers.

“Wow,” she said. “There was a lot.”

Pulling out of me, Jürgen started undoing all my restraints.

“That was…” I was at a loss for words.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It was.” The last of my bonds released, he took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. “Thank you,” he said.

I never saw Jürgen again. After that night Simone and I had one of our longer hiatuses; it was never quite as good with her after that, sadly. Having facilitated what remains a singular sexual experience, she was never as enthusiastic a lover with me, and I could never be with her without thinking of that night.

She did tell me, to my surprise, that that had been the only time she ever watched Jürgen work. I had assumed this was something she had done before; apparently, he’d told her about his little hobby, but resisted her entreaties to let her watch. Until that one time. I think he knew something she didn’t. I don’t know if she kept in touch with him after, but I have a sneaking suspicion he disappeared on her, too. Having, presumably, moved on like some wandering sorcerer of sex, traveling the world to edge men beyond the limit of endurance.

Well… probably not. But that would make an epic, and very erotic, saga.