For Pete’s Sake
I knew my husband Pete was bisexual when I married him. If I’m honest, that’s part of what attracted me to him in the first place. I was a college junior when we met at a frat party, and the moment I saw him, I thought he was cute and queer, and since I liked gay boys, I chatted him up.
Pete had pale blue eyes that looked like crystal, they were so clear. The centers were as black as his hair, which fell in casual waves around his high forehead. His lips were ruddy, his cheeks pinked with booze. I was tired of getting hit on by drunken freshmen, and since I didn’t think the frat house was his type of place—he was the only gay guy I’d seen all night—I sidled up to him and hollered over the loud music, “I’m Sheila.”
“Pete,” he said, shaking my hand.
His gaze didn’t drop to the front of my sweatshirt but instead locked onto mine, and I found it difficult to look away. I felt a slow grin spread across my face; I liked him, a lot. Probably more so because he obviously wasn’t interested in me like that. Leaning closer, I pressed my breasts against his arm and asked, “Do you maybe want to go for a ride or something? It’s a little loud here, don’t you think?”
Downing the rest of his beer, he draped an arm around my shoulders. “How’s Denny’s sound?”
Good to me. It was getting late and most everything was closed, so we found a booth near the counter and ordered coffee and eggs. His eyes sparkled every time he laughed, and he had an endearing way of licking his lips whenever the hot bus boy walked by our booth.
I wasn’t ready for the evening to end, so when we got back to campus, I invited him up to my room. I worked as a resident advisor to help pay my tuition, so I had a single room, and it was late enough that none of the girls on my hall were up to see me sneak in a boy against the rules. Still, I had an excuse all ready—he was only a friend and, besides, he was gay.
Which was why I was totally surprised when he kissed me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, pushing him away as I backed up. My legs bumped the edge of my bed and I fell back onto the mattress.
Pete took this as an invitation and climbed on top of me. “Whoa, what?” he asked, claiming another kiss.
His weight was welcome above me, warm and heavy, his d**k hard through his jeans where it pressed against my thigh. One hand cupped my breast through the college sweatshirt I wore, his thumb rubbing my n****e erect. I had both arms between us, my fingers curled in his flannel shirt, but I just held them there, keeping him at bay while I tried to think. The coffee from Denny’s had made little dent in the buzz from the alcohol I’d had at the frat party, but I was still pretty sure this guy fondling my boob and rubbing against me wasn’t really into girls. My gaydar was never wrong.
Still, his hands made my body sing, so he seemed to know what he was doing. When I didn’t protest again immediately, he kissed my chin, then worked his lips down my neck and around to my ear. His breath was hot and urgent, and the heady scent of his sporty cologne filled my senses.
When his knee came up between my legs to press against my p***y, my arms locked and I managed to get some space between us. “Wait,” I said.
“Do we have to?” he murmured into my neck.
My body agreed with him, but my mind wasn’t quite so sure. I moved out from under him and he fell to the bed with a frustrated groan. Then he propped his head up with his hand and looked at me. “What is it?”
His thumb still strummed my n****e, which now stood hard and erect through my sweatshirt, as if I weren’t even wearing a bra. I held my breath as I looked at his disheveled hair, his sexy eyes, his pert mouth. I didn’t want to ask—I wanted him, gay or not, and if he wanted me, too, then thank you, Lord—but I had to know. “I thought you were gay.”
I expected a laugh, or an angry, “What?!” Anything to put me at ease and get back to where we had been moments before. Instead, his smile widened and he told me, “You’re good. Actually, I’m bi.”
I pulled away from his thumb and the magical things it was doing to my breast. Pushing myself up into a half-sitting position, I frowned at him. “No, you’re not,” I said. “That’s what guys say when they want to sleep with as many people as possible.”
“No, I’m bisexual,” he assured me, grinning. His hand reached for my breast again and, as much as I knew I should’ve moved out of reach, I enjoyed his touch too much to make him stop a second time. “I like girls and guys. Right now I like you.”
“So, what, you’re into threesomes and s**t?” I asked.
“Not necessarily.” He slid closer and propped his chin on my arm to look up at me. From this angle, his sexy eyes became adorable, like a puppy dog’s. “I like who I like when I’m with that person. When I’m in love with a woman, I’m not looking at anyone else—male or female. And when I’m with a man, it’s the same thing. I’m a one lover kind of guy.”
I didn’t know if I bought that. “Then you’re one in a million,” I muttered. “Everyone’s always looking for something new.”
He lowered his voice and purred, “Right now I’m looking at you.”
I shouldn’t have fallen for it, but he was cute. So when he scooted closer, I didn’t pull away, and I let him ease his hand up under my sweatshirt to brush over the silk of my bra. My n****e felt like a diamond in his palm. I lay back on the bed while he pushed my sweatshirt up around my neck, and I sucked in my breath as his tongue tickled over my flat stomach. He kissed my navel, then kissed his way to my bra, where he licked my n****e through the black silk bra I wore.
My whole body fizzled with delight. My hands were held out of the way, pinned above my head by my sweatshirt, and I couldn’t see him over the bunched fabric, but I felt his breath warm my skin. I felt his tongue dampen my bra, sucking the material as he toyed with my n****e. I felt his teeth bite at my, playful and quick, until my panties felt sticky and wet. I moaned and writhed beneath him, thrusting my shoulder to push more of me into his mouth.
Then he turned his attention to my other breast, teasing and licking and pinching until that n****e was as hard as stone.
His hands cupped the waistband of my jeans and I moved my hips, trying to draw him down. With both n*****s erect and throbbing, I wanted his attention lower, where my clit pulsed with the beat of my heart. Still, he took his time, kissing his way back down my belly to my navel, then slowly unzipping my jeans to kiss my pubic mound through the flimsy satin panties I wore. His tongue flicked out to dart beneath the panties and taste my juices. I felt it glance over my labia, then dip between the folds of my flesh to taste my c******s. I cried out, “Yes!”
He nosed my panties aside and delved in, his tongue pressing flat between my labia lips, making me wetter than I was already. “Yes!” I sighed, trying to spread my legs apart, but my jeans were still pulled up around my hips and I couldn’t open my knees any wider. “God, that’s it, that’s it, that’s…”
Words failed me as he nipped at my clit, sending shivers of pure delight down my spine. I moaned as he pulled my jeans down to my ankles and sank to kneel before me on the floor. His arms wrapped around under my knees, holding them open. He nosed aside my panties and bit, licked, and sucked my p***y, his tongue doing delicious things to me. I shucked off my sweatshirt and cupped my breasts, squeezing my n*****s in time with his ministrations. “Yes!” I gasped as his tongue pushed into my tight hole; I contracted my muscles, trying to draw more of him in. “Yes! Yes!”
Suddenly there was a loud banging on the wall by the head of my bed. I pushed myself up on my knees and looked at him, his gaze finding mine. His mouth was open, his tongue frozen where it had pushed into me. For a long moment we stared at each other, not daring to move or make any sound, not even daring to breathe.
Then I giggled, and he snickered, and the next thing I knew, he was in my arms again, his body fully clothed against my nakedness. I kept some condoms in my shower kit—the college health center provided all students with them—and, as he undressed, I retrieved one. Back in bed, both naked now, his hands retraced the paths his tongue had made on my body, and he held me tightly, staring into my eyes as he entered me. I bit his shoulder to keep silent, and we moved with a furious pace that brought us both to a quick release.
Three years later, I married him.