WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Valerie Tibbs
Menage © 2009 habu
eXcessica publishing
All rights reserved
THIS PAGE LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK
Menage
by habu
Table of Contents
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Surrogate Loving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Cynthia’s Box . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
New Year’s Gala Indeed . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
Anniversary at Big Dick’s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..41
Pleasing Marian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
The Golden Triangle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
Purloined Tryst . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
Can He or Can’t He? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..86
Simmering Guilt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
Jules and Jim and Juliet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
L.A. Tours . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
Perfect Harvest Year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
The Yellow Cadillac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
The Picnic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
Winging Away . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
Encountering Mrs. Rich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Springing the Honey Trap . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
Ada’s Men . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180
To a bisexual sex is sex is sex. The sex of the partner or partners is not as important as that they arouse in a way that can lead to sex. Stories that appeal to these folks are not as easy to find in the literature as those targeted to readers with straight—or even gay/lesbian—preferences. This eightteen-work anthology brings together, for the convenience of interested readers, the combined mix-and-match sexual partner stories and themes of prolific eXcessica author habu under one title. Included herein are separate stories of varied couplings along with extracted scenes of bisexual encounters from various habu published novels. So, pick out your favorite hot boy or girl or boy and girl—or boys and girls—partner(s) and enjoy the ride. This one is for you.
“It’s no use, I can’t; I simply can’t.”
“But we’re almost there. This time, we’re almost there, Kyle,” I said, trying to keep the pleading tone out of my voice, nearly overcome with the passion of the moment and not wanting to stop here.
But stop here we did. This time Kyle had managed to suck me hard after what seemed to be an interminable time of preparation through fondling and kissing. And I was just maneuvering him to my lap—to setting his well-prepared and opened ass on my throbbing cock—when he froze again. I could feel the tension in his body, the stiffening of his muscles. And I could almost feel his ass close tight around the thumb I had in it to prepare the way for my cock.
He turned over on his side in the bed and I could tell he was fighting hard not to break out into sobs. I know I was trying just as hard not to show my utter frustration and disappointment.
“I’m so sorry,” Kyle whispered. “I want you; I really do. I just can’t will my body to carry through with this. It’s no use. We’ll simply have to stop trying.”
“Shush, shush, baby,” I said in my most comforting voice. I laid down behind Kyle and drew him to me in my embrace. I pulled him close to my engorged cock so that it ran up the small of his back, letting my cock tell him in no uncertain terms how badly I wanted him.
I wrapped my arms around him in a close embrace, waiting, hoping that he would lose the tension and he could make another try to permit me this ultimate intimacy. We were lovers in every sense but this, but we both needed this final melding of our bodies. I needed to fuck Kyle.
I would fuck Kyle. I just had to find a way. We just needed to get across this barrier of his mind and body resisting my possessing him to the fullest.
I stroked his body until I could feel the tension draining out of him. His breathing told me he was near sleep. I took my hand and pushed my cock to his crack and I started to slowly dry fuck him across his crack, letting the side of my cock rub against the rim of his ass, trying to bring him into the mood.
But I felt him tense right up again. “I can’t do it, Clem, I just can’t. I’m so sorry.”
“There, there,” I shushed him, returning to stroking his body, trying to release the tension once more.
“Do you think a surrogate would help?” I asked after a lengthy time of calming him down once more.
“A surrogate? What do you mean a surrogate?” he asked with a dreamy whisper.
“A woman, maybe,” I said. I wasn’t quite sure what I was saying myself, but he was showing interest at this idea, so it was something for me to try to develop. “Perhaps I could feel as close to you if I watched you fuck a woman and maybe was permitted to do some fondling while you two were doing it.” I had no illusions that this would be enough for me, but it was at least another way to approach it.
“Maybe,” Kyle said after a few moments of silence.
At least it was a beginning. I stroked and kissed his body until he drifted off to sleep, but I made no further attempt to take him. There was hope now of the possibility of another approach to my goal. I would fuck Kyle. It was just a matter of developing a new approach.
Over the next week I thought about the problem with a good bit of intensity. I don’t know what made Anna pop into my mind, but there, suddenly, the possible solution to the problem was in my mind. I knew that Kyle would react well to Anna, and I knew from previous experience what Anna liked. With luck all three of us could get what we wanted. Kyle clearly wanted me to fuck him—he had said so constantly—he just needed his mental and physical barriers lowered. Yes, I thought, a surrogate could be just what we needed.
I had no trouble convincing Anna to be our surrogate. She was an accommodating lass who loved to be stuffed, and I had been with her before in the arrangement I was planning. She would have no illusions what her role would be; she just appreciated thick and deep cocking from handsome men, and both Kyle and I could give her what she wanted in that department.
And Kyle proved to be taken with Anna too, just as I knew he would be. On the designated evening, we gathered for a brief period of shared wine and foreplay in my living room and then I sent Kyle and Anna off to my bedroom to become much better acquainted. I told Kyle that I would be joining them after he had gotten comfortable with Anna and to the extent that he could remain comfortable with me giving them both attention.
I waited for twenty minutes and then I stripped down and climbed the steps to my loft bedroom. Anna was still on her knees between Kyle’s thighs, sucking his cock big, and he was playing with her tits with one hand and had his other hand stretched across her back and a finger searching between the crease between her butt cheeks. They were both fully naked. I sat on a chair well within sight of Kyle and kept my eyes locked on his, while I stroked my cock and Anna rose up from the floor and straddled Kyle’s thighs. She took his cock in her hand and guide it inside her and then she moved up and down and back and forth on his joystick while sitting in his lap.
After Anna had gotten Kyle really worked up and Kyle had taken over the pumping of her cunt with his cock, I came onto the bed behind Kyle and rubbed his shoulder muscles and his nipples while he and Anna were pumping each other. I let him feel my engorged cock in the small of his back, and he alternated between kissing Anna’s lips and mine.
When Kyle was obviously comfortable with this sharing, Anna, as prearranged with me, came off of Kyle’s lap with one leg and, without losing her encasing of his cock, brought both of them down on their sides. I then moved behind Anna and entered her ass with my cock. I had done this before with Anna, and she moaned her welcome of this double penetration, Kyle pumping her cunt and me pumping her ass.
The woman Kyle and I now were sharing was compliant and flexible and moaning loudly, sandwiched there between us. She was languidly writhing between us, satisfied with the double filling, not caring that my intention was that we would actually be making love to each other, Kyle and I. I took Kyle’s hand and placed it covering the root of both of our cocks, so close together, both buried inside the trembling Anna. And I held it there with my hand, making Kyle fully feel where the three of us were joined so intimately.
Kyle could feel our cocks together, so close together as they gently stroke in and out of Anna. His hand was rubbing against both cocks at the root, with my hand covering his, Kyle and I sharing our sharing of the woman—and each other. Kyle obviously found this arousing, as I had intended him to do. His free hand wrapped itself around one of my firm butt cheeks, pushing me in and out, giving me the rhythm of my fuck inside the woman’s ass. My other hand moved to between Kyle’s chest and Anna’s, bringing her nipples against Kyle’s, rubbing and tweaking them together.
I held Kyle’s eyes in mine and I could see the rising passion and lust in his eyes. He was melting to me with the help of the surrogate woman. I moved into a lip lock with him over Anna’s shoulder. We were both searching deeply each other’s mouths and tongues.
Anna cried out and went rigid as we both ejaculated inside her, simultaneously, and our cream flowed out of her ass and cunt and met and mingled under our finger-laced hand.
We all lay there panting. Kyle started to move away, but both Anna and I held him there with us and we started the dance of love all over again. Both Anna and I focused on bringing Kyle back to arousal with our hands and lips, and within a short time, Kyle’s hips were in motion once more and I could tell from Anna’s sighs and moans that his cock was once more alive and stroking inside her.
I left Anna then and came around to the other side of Kyle and tongued his ass as he pumped the surrogate woman. He hardly seemed to notice; he didn’t object, even if he noticed when I started to finger fuck him in rhythm with his fucking of Anna. What I had set in motion had successfully taken his mind off of my fucking him.
He didn’t tense up at all this time as I entered him with my cock and ran slowly in all the way to the hilt. He was in full rut now, enjoying his second go at Anna and even more aroused at my lovemaking inside his ass.
When Anna had seen that I had successfully breached Kyle’s defenses, she left us, as prearranged, and Kyle and I continued making love, me stroking his ass deeply and vigorously with my cock and turning him in various positions, for the next half hour or more. He was moaning and groaning his love for what I was doing with him, with no evidence of the fear or tenseness that had previously plagued us, and I knew that we no longer would have trouble with me fucking him deeply and hard—all thanks to our surrogate, Anna.
Cynthia’s Box
I held her up against the corridor wall with my hands supporting her hips. The bunched-up silkiness of her shiny black skirt made rustling noises, as my dick rubbed back and forth below the folds, making probing thrusts deep into her. Judith was panting heavily and making little mewing sounds as I thrust again and again, each time reaching a new depth. Her thighs perched on my hips, her long fingernails scrabbled at the cardboard of the stacks of boxes on each side of us in the back corridor of the art center, and her head was flopped down on my shoulder. I felt her shuddering start just as I felt I could not hold myself in check anymore, and we both gave little animal cries as our juices flowed and mingled inside my Judith, my wife, my wanton sexual charmer who became so wondrously aroused and arousing when we stole moments of deep passion in dangerous environs.
A few afterglow kisses, murmurings of affection and fulfillment, and the rearrangement of our formal clothing and, via different paths, the successful architects were back working the crowd in the center’s main hall. If any of the guests recognized the flush and lazy smiles and languid movements of postcoital liaison, they did not mention it—at least not to the honored host and hostess. There probably were at least two there that evening, however, who recognized it and were irrevocably drawn to it.
An hour later, the crowd was beginning to thin out when I noticed Cynthia circling Judith. I had heard rumors about Cynthia Standall, and I felt an immediate lurch of protectiveness toward Judith. I’d heard that Cynthia—and her husband, Thad, for that matter—were sexual predators, who, thanks to their millions, were used to getting what they wanted.
As I watched Cynthia corner Judith near the shadows of the stairs to the gallery mezzanine and clink glasses with her to the delight of both, my first instinct was to fly to Judith’s side and assert my recently solemnized position in her life. But people were leaving, very important and influential people were demanding one last short conversation with a member of the architectural team of Caldwell and Parnell. This opening of drawings and perspectives of Judith’s and my considerable architectural projects in this rich little ocean-resort town was our first, an event that marked our ascendance to acceptability by the wealthy “first towners” of Winston Harbor. Tonight had been a huge success, as Thadeus Standall was making quite clear to me, in urgent whispered tones, his handsome, expensively creamed and massaged face leaning down to mine and his perfectly capped and whitened teeth and diamond cuff links flashing in the overhead lighting as he held my elbow in with his long, manicured fingers.
“What, right now?” I answered with surprise at the suggestion he was making while I waved the Thorndikes through the door into the warm, star-clad night.
“No time like the present,” Standall said with a big smile. “What you’ve put on display tonight has convinced us that you and your wife would be perfect for the addition we want to make to Cynthia’s Box.”
“Cynthia’s box,” I said in embarrassed confusion, as I searched his face to see if he was joking. Probably because of my last thought of what his wife was up to—indeed to what she and I had so recently been up to—I’d jumped to a conclusion about what he was referring to. But I knew that couldn’t be right. Standall was looking intensely into my eyes, trying to convey I know not what.
“Yes, our ocean house up on the bluff at the headland,” he was saying, showing me those big pearly teeth again. “We call it Cynthia’s Box. We had it built in our cubist period, and now we want to add a wing that will soften its lines without destroying its character. We love what you did with the Winston Harbor community center, and we can’t wait for you to see our house and give us some first impressions on what you can do for us.”
“We’d love doing that, of course,” I said, while my mind was already racing, calculating how many zeros I could flip on the backside of a project estimate and not queer a gigantic deal like this. “But we can’t leave the opening just like that. All these guests. . .”
“All what guests?” Standall asked with a hearty laugh. “It’s well past closing of the exhibit, and all of your guests seem to be gone now. You don’t have to pick up the glasses and do cleanup duties, do you?”
I looked around, and sure enough, Standall and I seemed to be alone in the vast gallery. The waiters were already moving around and picking up glasses and napkins and hors d’oeuvre trays and just then the lights went out in the mezzanine.
“Well, OK, that would be great,” I said weakly. “If Judith doesn’t think it’s too late, of course. I’ll have to track her down.”
“Oh, your wife has already left with mine,” Standall said. “They’ve gone ahead up to the house. Your wife seemed to love the idea. They’ve taken our car. I’m sure you won’t mind driving me up in yours.”
My wife had had a bit too much to drink tonight, I’d noticed, especially from the pitch of her giggling when we were making love in the dark corridor. And now she was already in the clutches of Cynthia Standall. After this fact hit me, I couldn’t get Standall out of the gallery and into my vintage Mercedes 190SL sports convertible fast enough.
As I was speeding up into the hills overlooking the ocean, the top down on my two-seater Mercedes, my mind was racing concerning the moves Cynthia Standall might already be making on Judith. I was so much obsessed with these thoughts that I didn’t for a minute consider the other possibilities in what might be at play here. Thus, it came as a great surprise as I was driving along and approaching the foot of the hill up into the “first towner” section of huge ocean-view homes perched on the heights when Standall put his arm around my shoulder and his hand in my lap and started feeling up my basket.
“What are you doing?” I asked dumbly. It was obvious what he was doing. He was measuring my cock through the thin material of my summer tux pants.
“I like to know whoever I’m working with really well,” Standall said in a hoarse voice. “Really well. We will need to be special friends if you are going to be redoing my house. Just relax,” he continued. “There, that’s a very nice tool you have. And it seems to be responding nicely.”
“Mr. Standall. Thad,” I said plaintively. “I don’t know . . . I don’t want . . . You’ll have to stop this. I’ll crash the car.”
“No need for pretense. I know you fuck men; I’ve seen you in the sauna at the racket club.” Thad was nothing if not direct. “Surely you don’t find me unattractive.” Egotistical bastard he might be, but Standall wasn’t wrong about that. I did indeed find him attract, as my hardening dick attested to.
He had my zipper down, and long, sensuous fingers had dug through the opening and encased my cock. I was trembling all over. I didn’t want this, but with each stroke of my cock, my body was telling both me and Standall that I did, in fact, want this.
“If you don’t want to crash, pull over,” Standall said in a husky voice. “There’s a small park just ahead, right before you have to ascend the hill. Pull into the parking lot there and over to the far end.”
I did as he told me to do, while he was unbuckling my belt and pulling my pants and briefs down to my knees. I stopped the car at the far end of the small parking lot, close under a tree and turned to him to try to find some way to reason with him, but when I turned my head, he had his lips on mine, forcing my mouth open and running his tongue into my mouth. He was stroking my cock with one hand and the other was buried in the hair at the back of my head, holding my face to his.
I had kissed a man before, but never one with lips and a tongue this insistent and powerful. His hand came off my cock and started frantically unbuttoning my tux shirt and vest. That done, his fingers flew to my pecs and nipples, and then moved down my belly slowly, his lips now following ever slowly behind—finding my nipples and sucking them erect and then tonguing down across my belly and pubes and swallowing my cock in one slurping gulp. His hand continued on down to flipping my shoes off and then pulling my pants and briefs down to and off my feet. All the time he was searching my dick head with his tongue, pushing the tip of his tongue into my piss slit and then pulling off and rimming where the glans met the skin of the cock shaft.
He deep throated me several times, and then wrapped his hand around my engorging rod while his lips made their journey back up my belly and ribs to my pecs and nipples, and then back to my mouth for a deep kiss. I was sighing and moaning. I’d been serviced by other men in college—and as he noted in the sauna at the club—but never like this. One of my hands almost inadvertently went to feeling his well-muscled torso through his tux shirt and then to unbuttoning his shirt and finding his heaving pecs and erect nipples.
“In the back,” he commanded in a low, husky voice, as he broke away from the kiss.
“The back?” I asked dumbly. “There is no back.”
“Up on the tonneau cover,” he was saying. “Now!”
I obviously wasn’t fast enough in figuring out what he wanted, because he was lifting me out of my seat with hands under my arm pits, and he set me down hard on the leather convertible top behind the seats. My legs now were draped down into the passenger seat, and Standall was standing above me, stripping his clothes off. It was obvious that he spent more time in the gym than in the board room, because he was one mass of muscle, and the muscle hanging between his legs took the prize in the set. Once stripped down, he settled his bulbous butt cheeks on my thighs and wrapped a hand around both of our cocks, sandwiching our tools together. I was a respectable size and length, but his cock was both longer and thicker than mine.
After a few minutes of dick-to-dick bliss, he pushed me down on my back on the trunk of the Mercedes, and I watched as he went up on his knees and, first, produced a condom packet from somewhere and opened it and rolled the condom on my cock and then produced a tube of lube from somewhere else and greased up both my sheathed rod and his asshole. Then, he brought his pelvis over my hips and slowly descended his ass onto my cock, slowly, ever so slowly, burying my cock inside him deep and then beginning to stroke, fucking himself on my rod. I just laid there and watched the show, feeling and delighting in the undulating sensations of his tight ass canal, as his huge, hard cock flapped up and down on my belly. At length, I took his cock in one hand and cupped his balls with another, and we both groaned and gasped to our separate climaxes.
When we were back in our pants, not bothering to put our shirts back on, and somewhat straightened up, I put the Mercedes in gear and started racing up into the hills again. Who knows what Cynthia Standall might have had time to do with and to Judith while I was being blindsided by Thad Standall. It just might be that Standall had arranged all of this just to do me, but I’d seen the feline look on Cynthia’s face when she had cornered Judith by the staircase at the gallery, and that look very much worried me.
When we swept into the forecourt of the Standall cliffside mansion, there were no lights on in the house. My first inclination was to storm up the front steps and kick down the door and run from room to room in the vast house, fearing what I might find. But Thad Standall turned me and pointed to the big black Bentley at the side of the courtyard. One of the back doors was ajar, and a light glowed in the interior. A burly, black chauffeur was leaning his butt against the driver’s door and had a big, sloppy grin on his face.
“I don’t think the women have made it to the house, yet,” Standall said with a laugh. “Shall we check out the lay of the land?”
The lay of the land turned out to be the lay of my wife. The women were sprawled out on the deep cushions of the Bentley’s back seat. Both were naked, their clothes scattered about them. Cynthia Standall was close beside Judith, with one of her long, shapely legs draped over one of Judith’s legs, holding Judith’s legs well apart. The blondness of Cynthia was contrasted well with the deep brunette of Judith. Both women were voluptuous, with tiny waists, good firm, flared hips, and fair-sized breasts that were taut and firm and well-rounded, without being pendulous. Cynthia’s lips were on one of Judith’s rosy quarter-sized nipple aureoles, and one of her hands was holding a pulsating vibrator to Judith’s clit. Judith’s back was arched in ecstasy, and when she saw me, she waved a friendly wave of assurance that nothing was happening to her that she wasn’t enjoying.
As we watched, Thad Standall standing close behind me, his protruding basket pushing at my butt and his hands on my pecs and nipples, Cynthia moved the vibrator a tad until the tip was positioned between Judith’s cunt lips, and then she slowly pushed the vibrator in. Judith twitched and moaned, and she pulled Cynthia’s head up to hers and they kissed.
I felt frozen, unable to move, not fully comprehending what was happening. But, with an animal sound, Thad Standall was on the move. He was stripping off his pants again as he shortened the distance between where we were standing and the open door to the Bentley’s backseat. Briefly there were three people in the backseat and then I saw Cynthia exit and start moving toward me with a smile. Before she reached me, I saw Thad Standall go down between Judith’s open legs with his knees and pull her hips up to his pelvis with his hands on her buttocks. Judith had her hands on his shoulders and she was arching her back. She threw her head back and was moaning what clearly was “Yes, yes, yes,” as I saw Standall entering her cunt with his big, thick cock. Then Judith was hidden from my view, by Standall’s broad, rippling-muscled back and firm, pounding butt cheeks. The Bentley was rocking now, and Judith was being very vocal about how much she was enjoying being deeply fucked by a horse-hung stud. She clearly didn’t want any protection or help from me, and I would have felt somewhat deflated, if Cynthia Standall hadn’t reached me and was kissing me on my lips and nipples and feeling my rising cock through the now-damp material of my pants.
The chauffeur walked across the courtyard and opened the front door to the house, started turning on the interior lights, and disappeared from view.
“Come, let me show you where we want the addition added on to the house,” Cynthia said gaily, as she took my hand and started pulling me toward the house. “I think Thad and beautiful Judith will be occupied for a while.”
And then, when we reached the door, Cynthia said “Welcome to Cynthia’s Box,” with a throaty laugh. I had to admit that Cynthia had a very nice box, and, considering what Judith was enthusiastically engaged in at this moment, I didn’t plan on waiting too long before I explored that box of Cynthia’s and saw what I could do to fill it for her.
* * * *
Having enjoyed the charms of my wife, Judith, only to turn her willingly over to some vigorous swordsmanship by her own husband, Thad, in the back seat of the Bentley parked in their front court, the maddenly naked Cynthia Standall turned her full attentions on me.
She took my hand and pulled me through the entrance into their cliffside mansion. She gaily ran me through the house and into what must have been the master bedroom and beyond. We stepped through a bank of open sliding glass doors onto a large flagstone patio in somewhat of a triangular shape, with the glassed wall of the house creating one side to my back, the rise of cliff above on the left, and a low rock wall on the right, beyond which the mountain abruptly plunged down to the lights of the city below and the ocean beyond. The long arm of an L-shaped pool stretched out before me and then made a turn toward the right and ended in an invisible barrier cut between the rock walls, making it appear as if the pool cascaded down the side of the mountain cliff. And for all I knew from my present perspective, it did. A couple of pool deck lounge chairs were positioned on the patio in the crook of the L, and on my right, between where I was standing and the rock wall, was a rope hammock suspended on a sturdy freestanding frame. Muted lighting around the patio and in the pool itself gave the area a mysterious air, and the twinkling lights of the city below beckoned me to dive into the pool, take that turn to the right, and just swim on over the edge of the cliff.