Chapter 1

She and He and Him Box Set

4 Gay/Bisexual MMF Erotic Romance Stories

By Shawna Jeanne

For Pete’s Sake

She Said Yes!

Swing Both Ways

Turning ThirtyFor 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 dick 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 nipple 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 pussy, 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 nipple, 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 shit?” I asked.