1. A Question of Gender


    Date: 10/30/2017, Categories: Bisexual, Author: marlowe, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    voice, choking back a lump in his throat. “Laced with a dozen paracetomol tablets, if I was a betting man,” he muttered silently. “Well, how do you like it?” Sarah teased, smiling at his nervousness, her face smeared with black mascara and red lipstick, nonchalantly patting a hand on the pillow and adjusting her weight on the bed. He stood up. He sighed. He sat back down. He stared into the face of a circus clown smiling with comical amusement. He lowered his voice to a furtive whisper, his questioning eyes demanding answers. “What the fucks going on. He must know I’ve been shagging his woman and all he wants to do is make me fucking coffee?” The funny face of the clown looked back with a teasing smile, a throaty chuckle making her tits wobble, lifting her shoulders in playful defiance, a question forming behind her teeth. “He wants to know how you like your coffee.” “Strong and black with no sugar,” he sighed. The haunting sound of footfalls echoed up the creaking stairs with agonising slowness, the cold reality of confrontation hanging in the air, shuffling nervously on the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists, scanning the room for a weapon, catching sight of Sarah’s crutches lying on the floor next to the bed, staring at the door, watching and waiting, the cold chill of fear washing over him, hairs standing on the back of his neck, goose pimples on every part of his body, his brain radiating assertive hostility, his mind conjuring images of a violent man with the ...
    build of a gladiator carrying an axe with only one thing on his mind. A gentle tap on the door got him to his feet. “Come in,” Sarah invited, sitting up in bed and pulling the duvet up, aware of the scratch marks on her tits and a couple of large hickeys developing on her inner thighs. “Speed, this is my friend Mark,” she announced with a sweeping hand. “We met last night in the Cavendish Club. He’s been a complete gentleman.” There was an eerie silence for a few seconds with both men locked in eye-to-eye contact until the short skinny man with enormous ears and big feet eventually placed the coffee cups on the bedside table and offered a friendly hand. Speed left the room to take a shower. He breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah confessed. “My relationship with Speed is extremely flexible,” she said, interrupting the coffee cup touching his lips. “We have no secrets or hidden agendas. We both have other sexual partners, and we both like to indulge in group-swapping. Swinging, we like to call it, or social interaction with like-minded people who want to engage in sexual activities with other couples. We are both committed swingers,” she said confidently, forcing a smile and lifting the cup to her mouth. He sipped his coffee, searching for responsive words, but there wasn’t a lot he could say. “Really,” was all he offered “We are members of a private swingers club in Sunderland, ‘The Brandling Club.’ Have you heard of it?” she enquired, removing a smear of red lipstick from the rim of ...
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