A Happy Trouple
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/Ma, Consensual, BiSexual, Fiction, Humiliation, Rough, Group Sex, Anal Sex, Analingus, Double Penetration, Fisting, Oral Sex, Spitting, Squirting, Water Sports, Size,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - After breaking up with his girlfriend, Leo hooks up with a bisexual couple and his wildest dreams come true.

Breaking up is never easy, but sometimes it’s inevitable and absolutely necessary. I wasn’t happy when Brit and I broke up, but I think both of us were relieved that our one-year-long relationship had finally come to an end. We were still young and could move on to find what we were looking for. In her case; she probably needed a mature guy to start a family with. Someone to marry and divorce a couple of years later. Me, I wasn’t looking for a woman to boss me around. I just wanted to have hot, crazy sex and make my sexual fantasies come true before I got too old or too attached to someone. Sex with Brit was really nice when we first met, but pretty early on she confessed that she really wasn’t into trying new stuff or even repeating some of the old stuff that I really liked. On the other hand I was, and still am a bit of a freak; besides my already unconventional sexual orientation and fetishes, I always love trying new things.

The first time Brit and I had sex, was on the eve of my eighteenth birthday. A month later I moved in with her. She was my very first sexual partner, and I fell in love with her; or so I thought until she gradually grew cold and distant. By the time I was nineteen, I was pretty sure that she would never give me a blow job or a hand job, and she would definitely never give me a rim job, finger my butthole or peg me with a strap-on dildo. Yes, I love that kind of stuff. I will explain a bit more soon. Anyway, maybe having regular sex once or twice a week should have been enough for me, but I started to have second thoughts about our romantic and sexual compatibility when she started to complain that I took too long to climax when I was inside her for more than two minutes.

Are you done yet?” Huh? Really? Is it me? Am I doing it wrong? Too much? Too little? Too me? Those four words make up one demoralizing sentence; a sentence that shatters your confidence and makes you feel incompetent, helpless and impotent. Those words were actually spoken by my beloved girlfriend on more than one occasion.

Brit was five years older than me. She was married and divorced once before she met me. Her mentally abusive ex used to take her for granted and cheated on her with one of her best friends. When I look back, I realize that I was the rebound guy. She was way too damaged, and a bit too young for my taste. Here comes the truth: I like having sex with older women, and older men. I can’t help it. My sexual attraction, and obsession with MILFs and FILFs probably has something to do with my parents never showing me any love and attention. Even as a kid I had crushes on my male and female teachers in school, which is by the way how I met Brit. She was my English teacher in my last year of high school. I totally admit that I am screwed up, but Brit was screwed up in a bitter, vengeful way. She probably should have been with someone older and more experienced who would reciprocate her feelings of anger and bitterness. Preferably a mean, uncaring premature ejaculator. Now I’m being mean. Brit was a good woman, but not so good to or for me.

Why was I even with her? Obviously; because she was crazy, and she was hot. She was crazy hot! Close your eyes and picture the hottest Swedish blonde you can imagine. Did you do it? That’s not Brit. Brit is that girl’s much prettier sister.

The night we broke up, I was fingering her pussy and rubbing her clit as I held her tightly and whispered an ad-libbed erotic story into her ear. I did that for her once in a while right before bedtime and she obviously loved it, because she usually creamed all over my fingers, a lot. In most of my stories I would bring in a black dude with a huge dick, and a hot blonde with nice tits to fuck her in a threesome. Sometimes there were two or more muscled hunks and hot girls doing her in a sweaty orgy. Funny thing is that even in my own made up stories, I always had to sit back and watch her get fucked raw by her imaginary partners. She was so selfish that she wouldn’t even allow me to have sex with characters in a fantasy that I was making up and whispering to her while I masturbated her generously.

“That big, black cock is pumping your pussy really hard,” I whispered to her. With my left arm wrapped around her shoulder, and my left hand tweaking and pinching her left nipple, I pulled her hot body into mine as tightly as possible. With two fingers of my right hand I jabbed her pussy hard and fast while I rubbed her clit with my thumb.

“Oh!” Brit whimpered, writhing on the sofa next to me. “I love that big, fat cock. He’s fucking me so good with his black dick. Make him fuck me harder.”

“Watch out, his friend is about to slap your face with his cock!” I continued, sliding one more finger into her creaming pussy; then I licked her earlobe and whispered, “Now the girls are sucking on your tits and spanking the dude’s butt, making him fuck you even harder.”

“Oh,” she sighed as she thrusted her crotch upward, taking my fingers deeper inside her ... and then she came.

After she recovered from her intense orgasm, she confessed to me that she wouldn’t mind having a real black dude and a girl fucking her brains out in front of me. When I told her that it would really turn me on to watch her have sex with a black guy, she got all excited. But when I continued to say that I also really would love to play with that dude’s black dick, and even let him fuck me in the butt, she blew a fuse, called me names, hit me in my face with a black rubber dildo and told me that we were over and done. In retrospect, I really don’t blame her for reacting the way she did. I probably should have prepared a speech about the birds and the bees and how sometimes a bird wants to do it with a bird instead of a bee. Well, that speech wouldn’t have made any sense, because explaining the mechanics of reproduction and sexual relations using the birds and bees metaphor is way too complicated and it is definitely easier to use human beings to explain the magical world of sex to a child, or to an angry woman armed with a dildo.

“You probably bought this fucking thing for yourself,” she yelled at me angrily after she dildo-slapped me pretty hard one more time.

I stood there startled, watching her beautiful, angry face as it turned red, and then she screamed, “Oh my God! You did buy it for yourself!”

A heavy, rubber dildo really hurts when it’s swung at your face by an angry blonde. She probably would have exploded instantaneously if she knew how many times I had jerked off with that thing inside me when she was out partying with her friends.

“Oh my god, you’re gay!” she scuffed when she finally cooled her head a bit. “I should have seen it. I should have seen the signs. You’re a pretty boy, dress well, keep in shape, watch your figure, obsessively clean everything and love eating pussy!”

“Wait a second,” I chuckled. “Eating pussy makes me gay? I care about you. I love eating your pussy because I know you love it.”

“But you’re too fucking caring!” she said, shaking her head. “You have to make me come every god damn time we have sex, and you’re too good at it. Only a girl, or maybe a sissy looooves to eat pussy the way you do!”

“What about you?” I asked as calmly as I possibly could. “You just said that you wanted to have sex with another girl. Does that make you gay?”

“I have done it with another girl!” she blurted, and before I could react or ask her who she had done it with she added, “I did it with Ellie, right after my divorce and before I met you. You eat pussy so much better than she does!”

I didn’t know what to say. My girlfriend had just admitted to having had sex with her best friend. I was shocked, turned on and flattered by her compliment; although I doubt that it was actually meant as one. Then I felt betrayed, and mad at myself for being a rebound, cuckold idiot. I could get mad at her and make a big deal out of her hypocrisy, but at that point I had already realized that nothing I said or did would make a difference; because our unhealthy relationship was definitely over.

“So,” I finally managed to say, clearing my throat. “You are actually bisexual, but you are pissed at me because I think I am bisexual?”

“Girls are different,” she said, pouting her lips and shaking her beautiful head like a spoiled little girl.

“If I am gay,” I said with a grin, “then you must be a lesbian!”

“No!” she insisted.”Girls are different!”

“Different how?”

“They just are,” she insisted. “I mean ... you ... you like sucking cock? Taking a dude’s dick up your ass?”

“I’ve never done it,” I replied. “But the thought of it really turns me on! I know, and you know that I love having sex with women, but I really want to have sex with a guy at some point. I really want to at least try it once, and sooner than later.”

“You’re just a fucking pretty, sissy ... kid,” Brit said, losing her calm again. “My friends, my mom, they all said I was crazy for being with you. They were right.”

Of course they were right. What kind of sane woman would have an affair with her eighteen-year-old student and have him move in with her after only one month?

“What does being younger than you have to do with me liking men?” I asked, not expecting a logical explanation. Brit just scuffed and looked away.

“Suit yourself,” I said bitterly. “Go find yourself a straight dude who doesn’t give a fuck about you!”

“So you confess that you’re not gay?” she asked as she slumped down in a chair.

“I’m not gay,” I said, “but I’m not straight either. Or maybe I am both. I want to have sex with men and women, preferably at the same time. That’s what I think about when I’m having vanilla sex with you in the dark.”

“Wow!” she exclaimed with a self-righteous smirk. “Not gonna happen. Not with me. Not in this town. You should move to a gay city or join one of those filthy dating sites to find a girl and a guy to fuck you at the same time.”

That was the best damn advice that anyone had ever given me ever. I didn’t want to move to a gay city. What is a gay city anyway? San Fransisco? Sydney? Sodom? None of those cities are close to Sweden, or even Europe. But she was somewhat right; in rural Helsingborg there were no gay friendly bars or swinger clubs where I could go and find myself a bisexual date. The other option was to hookup with like-minded people online; which by far was the easiest and more viable option without having to move to another continent or traveling back in time or into the future.

At that moment, when I finally confessed my deepest secret desires to my soon to be ex, and I heard myself say what I really wanted, I realized what I needed to do. Neither my absent father, nor my uncaring mother had ever sat me down to talk to me, or give me any advice. Now my morally superior girlfriend had inadvertently shown me the path to happiness and freedom. Again; I am not implying that Brit was a bad person, she just wasn’t the right one for me. Luckily she agreed that I wasn’t right for her either and that made our break up much easier on both of us. About an hour after our very final fight, I packed my stuff in a suitcase, kissed and hugged her, and then left.

If you’re bi, poly, metro, pan ... or just simply know that you love pussy and cock like me, be true to yourself and don’t worry about what people think and say. If they say you’re a sinner or a freak, remind yourself that you are not alone. One doesn’t wake up one day and decide to be bi or gay just to spite the great, omniscient creator. Those who think you’re a sinner, or a freak of nature; they really need to pick up a couple of books other than those recommended to them by their local deity. People don’t know what to think of you, because they can’t immediately put you in a category that they are comfortable with.

Right. Next time your read this; you have my blessing to skip over these preachy, thinky parts. Now, where were we?

All right, so I knew that I couldn’t change Brit’s mind. I couldn’t and can’t change anyone’s mind who already doesn’t have an open mind. I just had to be true to myself and try to find some sort of balance and happiness in my life. I was done with Brit’s bullshit. I was done feeling guilty. I still remember the sound the door made when Brit slammed it behind me. It was the sound of hope.

I was finally free.

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