Cute Girls

*Promiscuous*

“Kelly and Tom meet other girls

14, if you are following from the beginning.”

I don’t pretend to be an expert on bisexuality in women. I have only my own two years of experience to draw on, some erotic fiction, a few scholarly articles that are not as much fun to read as you might think, and conversations with other women.

For one thing, labels are horrible and rotten and misleading and don’t do a thing to truly define lovemaking between two people.

Sex between two people. Or three.

Love.

Still, as much as I abhor the very idea of being labeled because it seems ultimately judgmental, I muse about how definitions can refine and illuminate the behavior of others. And my own too, I suppose.

My friend, Amy, is bi, but no way, ever, is going to date another woman. All of her “relationships” have been with men, including her current one. But she likes to fuck other women. My first girlfriend, Lindsay is lesbian. As much as our boyfriend Tom and I loved her, she really only had sex with Tom occasionally. They fucked a lot when we first formed our ménage, which was difficult for me to watch the first eight or nine times. I was still dealing with issues of jealousy and doubt and a little self-loathing. Seeing the man I loved fucking another woman was scary. As scary as loving that very same women. Even later though, I always got a chill when I watched him enter her. As our relationship lengthened, however, I eventually noticed I did most of the fucking of Tom and Lindsay did more licking with me. She was sleeping with other women the whole time we were together too. She left us for her first lover, Jan, and they seem happy together. Jan has a mullet.

It broke my heart, but they seem happy.

I am happy now too. Happier, because my doubts and insecurities resolve themselves rather than arise from my current relationship, that with Yana and Tom. I guess I am simply a bisexual woman. I love making love with Yana, licking her, feeling the smoothness of her skin on my own, taking her nipples into my mouth and teasing them with my tongue, slipping my fingers inside of her, even my whole hand, and making her cum. And I adore the sensation of Tom’s cock in my cunt, my ass, and my mouth. I revel in the roughness of him, so different from the softness of Yana, tempered with the gentleness that defines him as a man. I want and crave them both: a woman and a man. I want to be fucked until I can’t walk. I want to spend hours cuddling, licking, stroking, fingering, and cumming. I want it all.

I must also be a promiscuous woman. After Lindsay left us, Tom and I grew even closer, and I came to understand that he genuinely loved me, not simply that he loved having two girlfriends who fucked each other. We finished the summer awkwardly, but contentedly.

I missed the sensation of making love to another woman after Lindsay left. I craved it. With Tom’s love, knowledge, and support, I went to another party at Jeni’s while he was on one of his river trips. I had been photographing her for months, and she asked me to come again to one of her soirees, even knowing I had a boyfriend. And she knew all about the whole Lindsay thing. Jeni’s parties are more correctly lesbian orgies. I had a blast. Amy had been invited as well, and we made love together for the first time there, though we had come kind of close once before. In my imagination, we had already made love. There were only two other women there, Courtney and Sierra, a small summer affair, but being with them all was both uninhibited and passionate.

The first couple of threesomes Tom and I enjoyed post-Lindsay were with girls he met playing in the bars. That first one, I still remember, was strained and odd. The girl had been flirting with him all night, during his breaks, trying to get his attention from the floor while he was on stage. I showed up for his last set, having just gotten off my own shift at the restaurant, and he introduced me to her over her shoulder by saying he could only sleep with other women if his girlfriend said it was okay.

She turned and looked at me. I looked back. She was pretty and blonde, shorter than I, but with a cute figure. I raised one hand and waggled my fingers at her in greeting. Tom and I had talked about this: the possibility of finding a woman to invite into our bed, about possible threesomes, who they might include, but this had come up so suddenly. Biting my lip, I took a deep breath. I could do this. I could be with her. I took another deep breath and tried to calm down my sudden anxiety.

“You’re the girlfriend?” It was almost an accusation. I nodded.

“Would you be there too?” she asked. She was checking me out, I understood, looking me over. Was I pretty enough to be attractive to her? Dropping my hand to my chest, I opened, slowly, with extreme deliberation, one button of my blouse and ran my nails up and down the bare, exposed flesh between my breasts.

I nodded. “Yes.”

Drawing close, she whispered, “You’d go down on me?” Her voice was low, full of curiosity.

My fingers rose from my chest to her face, lightly, barely touching, tracing the line of her jaw with their tips before they curled under her chin. “Yes.”

“I’ve never been with a woman,” she said, but I didn’t take it as a rejection so much as an invitation.

I closed with her, rolling my shoulders to let her feel my breasts touch her. My bra was in my bag, where I had put it after taking it off when I left work, and she felt only the softness of me under my blouse as I touched to her. We both shivered with the contact. We were going to fuck. Odd, just knowing that, standing there in the crowd of people.

The two of us stayed together there, bumping our bodies as Tom played his final set. We got to know one another a tiny bit. I learned her name. She felt giddy and reckless at the very idea of what we were about to do, anxious. I was feeling superior as the experienced one of us. Each time we touched, the contact became more intimate, until I turned and pressed close to her, simply holding her breast under my hand and running one of my legs between hers. She looked up at me with eyes thick with desire.

“Look around,” I whispered. “They know.” I didn’t know if anyone really knew or cared, but it daringly fun to imagine they did. The girl moved against me, especially on my thigh. She wore jeans, but I had on a skirt and my bare leg felt the heat of her. An eternity seemed to pass before Tom finished playing, packed up his guitar and joined us.

I drove the Jeep, giving Sally and Tom a chance to catch up on the time she and I had spent in tactile flirtation. Waiting at the first light, I opened the remaining buttons of my blouse and Tom lifted Sally’s hand to touch one of my breasts, naked and exposed in the late night air. Her hand was clumsy and heavy at first. The two of them were making out like crazy, and Sally was practically fucking him through their clothes as she ground on his lap on the passenger side of the Jeep. Tom had Sally’s top off and her bra undone before we got home. I even managed to touch her a few times between changing gears. It was after 1:00 in the morning and no one in our neighborhood was up, but it was still a little thrilling to walk from the Jeep into the house with my blouse open. Sally wrapped her arms over her naked breasts, her bra dangling awkwardly above them as she practically ran to the door.

Tom insisted on kissing us both on the darkened front porch before finally opening the door and letting us all in. Sally lowered her arms in the relative shelter of the roof, her bra slipping off as she did, and I moved to her, brushing my bare chest over her full breasts as I kissed her for the first time. She was tentative, afraid. I clung to her lightly, not pressing her, and let her relax into a same-sex kiss.

Wrapping his big arms around the two of us, Tom joined our kiss, sharing our mouths, before he ushered us inside, through the living room and into the bedroom. I mean, it wasn’t like we didn’t know why we were there, and Sally and I were already half-naked. In moments we were all totally naked, Tom and I helping our new friend out of her clothes and striping each other. Before he fucked her, I’d took him into my mouth, getting his cock harder than it already was, running my fingers between her legs, going in her as I sucked him, finger fucking her, getting her ready for my boyfriend’s cock. She was wet when I touched her, and her scent was thick. With poise and experience, I teased her clit before moving inside her, and I curled my fingers up high against her and she cried out hotly. I smiled around Tom’s cock, knowing she was eager.

Her pussy was slick and easy under my fingers. They went into her in a fluid rush. Thick lipped, fleshy, her pussy was so different than Lindsay’s. I fucked her. I liked that I was fucking her.

Easing Tom’s cock from my mouth, I slipped from between her legs, Tom fucked Sally hard and fast as she and I made out and played with one another’s breasts. I felt that familiar chill again as I watched his cock go in and out of another woman, but it was a chill that also made me wet.

I had actually put his cock into her. I held it to her pussy lips, moving the head of it up and down, coating it with her cream until she lifted her hips and he slid into her. My fingers opened off of his shaft as he pushed into her, then drew back, only to push in again, deeper this time, then out again, his cock looking shiny and slick. In and out his hard cock moved, fucking that other woman. I came up onto my knees and kissed him, moving my body in time with his.

I gave his cock this other woman’s cunt to fuck. I did: Kelly. A rush of empowerment overwhelmed me, and I touched my clit and rode my fingers to orgasm as I kissed Sally.

Lying down again, I draped across her, blanketing her with my hair, feeling her move as she fucked my boyfriend. She and I kissed more, with eager passion. She was still shy at first, but the cock inside her was delighting her. Sally’s lips parted, her tongue eager to find mine. We kissed as they fucked.

Coming away, I lowered my mouth and flicked her nipple, fondling her and caressing her too. Sally murmured to me, happy to be fucking Tom, intrigued to be making out with me. I slipped lower still and kissed and licked her breasts. Hers were so much softer than mine, looser. I was fascinated at how different they were.

I was so hot and wet, feeling her body move under mine as Tom fucked her, her body bumping to mine, stiff nipples responding under my tongue when I licked and sucked them. She came twice before he “finally” pulled out of her and started fucking me. I took him in my mouth, getting my first taste of her cream from his cock before getting on my knees between her legs and licking her as he took me from behind.

His prick moved in and out of me deeply, lifting me with each thrust. I rolled my hips, tossing my head back in delight as he made love to me. My hair splashed over my back and shoulders before falling over Sally’s thighs. I shook under his presense, filled each time he moved into me, feeling him bumping to me each time he went fully inside.

That had been what we had done most often with Lindsay: Tom fucking me from behind as I licked her. Sometimes he fucked one of the other of us as the un-fucked one straddled the fucked one’s face. More rarely, one of us sat on his face as the other rode him. Lindsay and I played in lots of other ways, of course, with 69 being a pretty popular little activity while Tom’s cock was recovering. Or when he was asleep. Or not home. Or in the other room. I found myself thinking of Lindsay as I licked Sally.

She wasn’t a real blonde was one of the first things I noticed, but she tasted nice and came like crazy under my fingers and tongue. Her bottom turned out to be kind of big, and I tried to cup both cheeks in my hands as I ran the tip of my tongue around and around her clit, teasing her before pursing my lips and pulling her into my mouth. I massaged her with my lips as the suction held her tight to me, then relaxed them and let her slip away. I moved one finger into her, curling it up again and pressing and touching her just there to make her shiver and coo. That big ass of hers slammed up and down off the mattress as she got more and more excited from my licking, and Tom started to pound into my pussy even harder. When Sally came, her body burned rigidly, then melted, and the poor girl just collapsed into the bed.

I laid my head on her tummy, my hair flowing all around over her naked skin as Tom brought me to my own orgasm. His big hands held my hips and drew me back onto him, knowing he can fuck me harder from behind and doing so. I sang as I came, filling our bedroom with lustful sighs and whimpers of love and delight. Sally petted my head softly as I cried out and gasped more loudly that before and clutched the sheets under my nails and came.

Sally didn’t feel like licking me, although we did some kissing and mutual fondling during after play. “Maybe next time,” she had suggested, but I somehow knew there wasn’t going to be a next time with Sally. She asked Tom to drive her back to her car rather than spend the night.

I thought about what we had just done as I waited for him to come back home. We had just had sex with a strange woman. Just sex. It wasn’t at all like making love with Lindsay had been, but it was fun and all, and I liked being intimate with her. I didn’t even think it mattered that she hadn’t wanted to lick me. The sex was just different. Tom and I made love to just one another one more time when he returned. Coming to my bed, with its mussed sheets that smelled of sex, he lay beside me and we kissed and caressed lovingly before I slip on top of him and once more slid his erection inside of me. I rode him, rocking and thrilling to his touch and the pleasure he gave to me. Oh, the joy of having him inside of me, making love, true love, as we kissed and touched and came together in the early morning hour.

After Sally, there were a few more of the girls from the bars. Certainly not all of the girls who flirted with Tom took him up on his offer to sleep with us both. Suggesting a threesome was a quick way to end a conversation with some. We felt powerful and sophisticated though, Tom and I. There was nothing on the line, you know? And there were a few women who, I let him know, would simply not be welcome in my bed, for one reason or another. I don’t mean that there were really all that many girls throwing themselves at Tom when he played his guitar in the bars, but he said that having a girlfriend actually did seem to make other women more interested. I think it is simply that he appeared confident, assured, and handsome and didn’t have that homely I-need-to-get-laid look that makes so many guys just so unattractive.

One of the more fun of these other women was the Runaway Girl. She had been coming on to Tom for about a week, he told me, following him from bar to bar. Maybe she’d even heard about me. Did we already have a reputation? I hadn’t been able to make it down to the bars he was playing because he had the car and they were all too far away for me to walk. He said she was really cute: another blonde, tall and busty.

(Hearing him say that confused and worried me. Every girl we slept with had bigger boobs that I have. But I’m small. Was he suggesting that he liked bigger boobs, or did he think I did? I had already met Yana by then and gone on and on about how amazing her breasts were to him, so maybe he thought big ones turned “me” on. We eventually had that talk and got the whole boobs thing resolved. Still, for a small-busted girl, that kind of question can heighten her insecurity.)

I managed to be at the bar on a night when I wasn’t working. Between studying, waiting, posing and shooting, I was a busy lady. I dropped off Tom to set up for the show, went to study a bit and dress, then I returned later with the Jeep. I was more that ready for Miss Big Ones. My hair was perfect, my outfit suggestive and sexy. I think the thigh high boots may have been a bit much for her. Anyway, she took one look at “the girlfriend” and ran away. Literally. Out the door with a long, shuddering look back, then gone into the night. It didn’t matter. Another girl there seemed to find me quite interesting. Was the word out on me? I saw a slender, dark-haired woman at the stage with Tom, nodding toward me. I waved and smiled. She returned the smile. I found her interesting too, all night long.

About a week later though, Tom said the Runaway Girl had shown up again, asking where I was. I immediately suspected she was trying to get him into bed without me, but he said that wasn’t the case, she seemed interested in me too. I was not convinced, but I was able to come to see him play next because he was working downtown at The Beaver Den that week and I could walk there. I toned down the killer girlfriend look and just strolled in and stood near her as she sat at the bar and drooled over my boyfriend, and waited for her to notice me.

When she did, I sidled up next to her and wedged myself into the space at the bar on her left. This time, it was different. I almost felt like I was picking her up myself. I had never ever just picked up another woman, and I found it fun to be flirty and sexy with her. Sally, Alice from the week before, they were already Tom’s conquests before I entered the picture. Runaway Girl was too, in a way, but I was going to seduce her, such as it was.

Runaway Girl was about my height, 5′9″, but much more fully fleshed. Tom was right; she was busty. I tried on her bra, later, just to be silly, and got lost in it.

Like Tom, Runaway Girl was a grad student. She told me she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of me since the night Tom told her sex with him included me. She had seen me around campus even before then, she went on, and thought I was really pretty, though she was straight. A tiny bit bi-curious. I could appreciate that. I used to do the same: notice pretty women, though I thought of myself as straight, just a year earlier. I was flattered, and flattery makes me bold.

I moved closer to her, finding lots of ways to touch her, to be intimate, even there in public. Fingers brushed a lock of hair from her face. Breasts grazed her arm. It was noisy and crowded in the bar, and we really should have been listening to the guitar player, the one we were both going to bed with later, but he was somehow forgotten in our attention to one another.

I leaned into her as she perch on a high stool, feeling her huge boobs brush under me as I did. “I’m going to go into the ladies’ room now and take off my panties.” I wanted to appear daring, in control, and sexy. I wanted to intimidate her.

Her eyes got huge. “Why?”

Why? Because it was daring and sophisticated, wasn’t it? I couldn’t actually think of words to explain it to her if she didn’t just know. I let my smile answer, drawing away from her slowly, fingertips running down her arm, until our hands touched, almost clasping until the touch fell away. I turned and headed to the back hallway, very pleased with myself, flicking my hips and making my short skirt swish.

She followed me.

I had planned to just go into one of the stalls and slip my panties off and return to her at the bar, but Runaway Girl’s coming along changed all that. Instead of just flipping up my skirt and shimmying out of them, I now felt like I needed to put on a show. That excited me. Lindsay had discovered I liked to show off, even if I had to be drawn into be daring. Well, she was gone. I had to be strong and risqué on my own now. I could. I liked knowing I would. We waited for the two women already in the restroom to leave, then I propped my bottom against the counter and lifted the hem of my skirt. Runaway Girl’s eyes locked onto my naked thighs as more and more of me was revealed. She seemed to be holding her breath. I hesitated, letting her see my panty covered crotch and the way the gusset closely hugged my bare lips, my cleft obvious and visible, even my ring. I was apprehensive that other women would come in, but I held my skirt up anyway, trying to breathe slowly and seem confident.

Runaway Girl hugged the wall opposite me and breathed fast. Her hands flattened against the wall, and she bent her knees and slid down just a little, her mouth gaping, eyes half-lidded. Looking at her, feeling strong and in control, I held my skirt up with one hand and tugged down my panties with the other. As they cleared one hip, I transferred my hands and brought the hip band down the other hip.

“Help me,” I whispered.

Runaway Girl shot off the wall, squatting between my legs and reaching to bring my panties down my long legs. I stepped gingerly free of them, lifting one leg, then the other, knowing as I did that Runaway Girl was looking directly at my bare pussy, seeing the ring in my clit hood, and inhaling my arousal. And I was aroused. Flirting and teasing, now stripping off my panties for her. I wanted her tongue on me. I parted my legs.

“Kiss me,” I hissed.

Her eyes flew up to mine. Gingerly, I touched her chin, leading her lips to my mound. Her lips were warm and dry on my skin. I yearned for her to lick me, to dip her head and run her tongue over me, but we were in the ladies’ room at The Beaver Den and were likely to be interrupted at any moment.

I stood, letting my skirt fall again, and urged Runaway Girl up with a gentle touch on her shoulders. We were still alone, so I drew her close and kissed her. Her mouth opened at my touch and I knew she was mine. It thrilled me to know I had seduced her, even if I hadn’t really. Holding her close, I whispered to her, “You’re going to lick my pussy, aren’t you, love?”

All Runaway Girl could do was nod and murmur, “Yes.”

“And Tom is going to fuck you in the ass while you do and you’ll love it.”

“My ass?” she asked, gasping.

“Yes,” I said, my voice commanding. I didn’t care where or even if Tom fucked her. I was just heady with the feeling of control.

“Yes,” she breathed

We were interrupted by a group of girls coming in. They made faces at us, seeing us standing close together, almost kissing. I just smiled. I took Runaway Girl’s hand and led her back to our place at the bar to wait for Tom to finish his set. I was wet and excited, wearing that short skirt with nothing under it, nothing under my blouse either. I couldn’t wait to have this pretty girl between my legs. She had taken her stool again, and I ran my fingers over her leg as I stood beside her. Had she been wearing a skirt, I felt sure I could have slipped my hand right under it and all she would have done was open her legs. She held my damp panties bunched under the fingers of one hand.

“Do you have a car?” I asked her, suddenly unwilling to wait for Tom any longer. It was midnight. When she told me she did, I crossed the floor between songs, and told Tom that we would see him at home. Runaway Girl and I slipped out.

We made out all the way home, which wasn’t far, her driving terrible as I fondled and kissed her. She was excited and yearning. Flying into the house, we kissed and groped each other across the living room and into the bedroom. We stood together next to the bed, touching each other and kissing, unhurried yet eager too. I helped her out of her clothes, baring bits of her skin to touches and kisses and licks. I got off my own clothes too, with grace, two little bits of practically nothing, matching her as she was exposed so that she would not feel uncomfortable at being naked while I was clothed. Getting her bra off was an adventure. I had her naked and panting against the wall, biting her lip and pressing my slight body to her fuller one when she surprised me by asking if I would put those boots on for her. I mauled her heavy boobs, lifting them and letting them drop in wonder. Smiling, marveling at how odd the world is sometimes, I slipped into the boots, stretching them all the way up to my thighs, then folded back the covers from the bed and crawled to its middle, reaching up and grasping the headboard as I opened my legs and invited Runaway Girl between them.

She was divine. Her tongue touched to me and a shot blasted through me. My fingers tightened on the headboard, gripping hard as the tip of her tongue sharpened and flicked my sex. At first tentative, she grew bold as I cried out with happiness and pleasure.

I could smell her too. Her scent mingled with mine, heavier, muskier. The air was full of her. When we had stood and kissed and undressed, her skin was so soft on mine. She licked me at I tensed, cumming quickly, gripping hard on the headboard. I cried out, and that only made her more eager to please me. I selfishly let her. Fingers slipped inside of me, fucking me, as she lapped slavishly, bringing me to orgasm once more. My fingers tightened.

I was totally blissed out and barely hanging onto the headboard any longer when Tom finally got home. He was out of his clothes quickly. Runaway Girl stopped licking me long enough to say hello before going back down. I was in awe. I had cum half a dozen times and more, and she was still doing me. He smirked to se me in bed with my boots on—again.

It was so unlike me, really. I am usually much less assertive sexually. But telling Runaway Girl what to do and just lying back and letting her fuck me was so divine. I think that up until that point, I had never just let someone do me without worrying about how he or she was going to cum since I lost my virginity. I suppose I knew Tom was going to fuck her silly, and I let that knowledge just take me away from the responsibility for her orgasms.

Fuck her silly is an understatement. After I first took him into my mouth, then held his cock to her cunt to lead him into her as was our way, he and that other woman were all over the bed. He was behind her, on top of her, beside her. She was on top of him. She was on top of me, wrapped around me, and hanging off the bed, fucking.

The Runaway Girl just loved fucking. I’d never seen any of the other girls show such exuberance and undisguised lust while fucking. I wondered if I did. I wanted to.

Somewhere around dawn, we two, Runaway Girl and I, found ourselves in the classic soixante-neuf. I was nearly exhausted, and she was too, but we were on such a sexual high at that point that we just didn’t know how to stop making one another cum. Our kissing and licking was slow and unhurried, our orgasms milder but sweetly intense. Tom had fallen asleep somewhere around three. About four, he roused himself enough to fuck us again, and then he was a goner.

At dawn, she and I boldly stole into the back yard and stood naked together to watch the sunrise. A blanket draped from my shoulders around us both as I held her from behind, those big ones held in each of my hands.

We entertained her again, and again the sex was wild and spirited and exciting. There was little else however, though I tried to draw her out. It became evident that Tom and I had little in common with her, whether politics or movies, or majors, or background. Runaway Girl didn’t run then so much as she faded. It had just been sex, and we understood.

At this same time. I was photographing women who posed for me without their clothes, some of whom now and then flirted with me. Amy was the first of my models Tom and I slept with. There were others: Caitlin of the piercings and webcam; Tracy who was the first to bring one of those strap-on things; Cheryl who did a very interesting thing to me with her hand. Some were shy, some assertive. Tom and I fucked them, and they fucked us, basking in sensation. Promiscuously. A few times, the sex was between one of those other girls and me without Tom, and that was fine too.

Our true third—our lover—was hovering in the wings, waiting, trying to make up her mind. She was even fucking Tom already, because I had suggested she do so, though I had forgotten I had. We were growing, learning, becoming happy with who we were—and we were about to be even happier.