I did my routine: dancing, swaying, strutting and performing unnatural acts with a pole, while desperately wishing that my personal trainer had been tougher about making me stretch and that I’d asked Morgan exactly how I was supposed to get my leg into that position.
She’d held my hand through the Brazilian and helped me pick out a G-string at Frederick’s of Hollywood, but now I actually had to dance the dance. My sluttiest skirt and blouse were strewn about the stage and that G-string was the only thing between me and total nudity as I flaunted myself in front of an imaginary crowd of men, all of whom were dying to get their hands on me.
“That’s enough. Get your clothes on and come down here.”
It was better than “Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” or so I thought until I found myself sitting at a small table waiting for a judgment from this kid who paid more attention to his cigarette than he did to me, even though my shirt was barely covering my tits. He let out two long streams of smoke through his nose like he was daring me to choke.
Jason Baron. He wasn’t actually a kid, except I was old enough for twenty-two to seem pretty damn young. He definitely needed a shave and couldn’t have gotten too much sleep before coming to see me. His hard grey eyes gave me the once-over, as if he hadn’t been able to see enough when I was shaking my ass on the stage. Finally he shook his head and took a drink from the beer in front of him on the table.
“You’re an actress, right?” His voice sounded like he’d spent the night yelling over the high-decibel speakers and smoking.
“Yeah.”
“You can’t act this stuff, you know. If you’re up there thinking you’re too good for it, they can tell. They’ll either ignore you or try and drag you down to their level. Either way, I don’t want you on my stage.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, trying not to show how much it hurt to be rejected for a job I didn’t even want.
“Nice tits though. The body’s good.”
I actually considered thanking him.
“Have you thought about implants?”
Every time I didn’t get a part.
“How old are you?”
“I’m legal.”
“You were probably legal before I was born.”
He started putting out the cigarette in an ashtray and then stopped. The eyes suddenly focused and narrowed. He’d just heard my voice and for once in my career, it wasn’t the end of the interview.
“Have you ever done phone sex?”
I shook my head.
“You still want a job?”
“How’s the pay?”
“Better than this. Make up a fantasy right now. You and me. Go!”
You can do this, I thought. Just like improv. class. Never mind the fact that he’d just seen me naked. I looked him up and down. He was wearing tight jeans and a black T-shirt. Wiry body, sexy lips. Kind of hot-looking once you got past the stubble and dark circles under his eyes. He could probably have any of the dancers whenever he wanted, so what kind of fantasy could be kinky enough? He still looked like a kid to me . . . a kid making out in a car.
“We’re in a car,” I started. “In the rain. Pouring rain. Pounding on the roof. Parked up in the Hollywood hills. The windows are already steamed up. I know the lights are out there, but they’re blurry. Front seat’s all the way back and you’re on top of me and we’re . . . um, necking, you know? Really hot and heavy. You’ve got your mouth on mine and you’re just, just . . . devouring me. Mmmmmmm. Feels so good.”
I thought I’d be embarrassed, saying that stuff out loud, making noises. I couldn’t even understand why anyone would call those numbers. I thought it would be totally fake, but it didn’t feel fake at all. It felt a little too real.
Jason was looking at me, mouth half open, cigarette stuck in mid-air. He gestured for me to go on.
“So . . . um . . . you’re on top of me. I can feel your cock through your jeans, wanting to get out, wanting to get inside me. You’ve got your hands under my skirt, on my thighs. One hand in my panties. You slide a finger inside me, and I’m so wet. You can tell how much I want you.”
I was panting now, feeling myself in the scene, right down to the sweat and the smell. My legs were starting to shake. I tried to pound a hand against the table to let out some of the tension, but I couldn’t because Jason had grabbed my hand and was squeezing my fingers, his own hand trembling as he bit down on his lower lip and kept looking into my eyes.
“Oh my God . . . Please . . . I need more. Need you now. Please, put it in me. Please. I’m begging for it, but you keep teasing. More rain coming down. I’m breathing so hard I feel like I’m gonna pass out. You’ve got one finger all the way inside me. Oh my God. So close. I hear your zipper and you’re moving up a little so you can . . . oh . . . oh .. . God! You push your cock into me. Oh God . . . so big . . . you’re filling me up. I’m squirming under you. I hear the thundering outside. Thunder and lightning and, oh God . . . I’m screaming. You’re pumping into me, deep, harder, please, please, I, oh, oh, so good. I’m coming . . .”
I couldn’t take it any more and I didn’t care if I got the job or what else happened. Jason was looking at me like one of us was crazy. I put my other hand between my legs, finding my own pussy so wet it was hard to get any traction. I needed to get three fingers inside just to feel anything. I noticed that Jason had reached down and opened his jeans. He was stroking himself, hard and fast. I kept talking, telling him how hard he was fucking me and how good it felt, until I saw his teeth clench and his nostrils flare and he finally had to close his eyes and that was when I pushed down hard around my fingers and clenched my muscles. Jason was grunting and groaning and still squeezing my hand so hard it should have hurt but all I could feel was the overload of pleasure hitting my cunt and making me scream so loudly I knew my throat was going to hurt for days.
I opened my eyes to find Jason staring at me, his face flushed and beads of sweat on his upper lip. He slowly released my hand, leaving me to massage it back into feeling, while he zipped himself up and lit another cigarette.
It was hard to tell if he’d actually been affected by my performance or whether this was just a typical day at the office. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a business card with an address on La Cienega.
He had to take a breath before he could speak.
“I think you’re a natural.”
BEDSIDE MANNERS
Steve, Bayswater
The first time I ever got to fuck a beautiful pair of tits happened when I was a medical student and, in a strange way, I owe it to the most boring professor I ever had, an old Scot with a voice that could have been used as a sedative.
“One of the more awkward jobs a doctor faces is asking clients about their sexual histories,” he droned. “To make sure you know how to do this, your assignment for next week is to interview somebody and get his or her complete sexual history – everything they’ve ever done, and how, and with whom. Rather than inflict you on the general public in your current state of inexperience, I’m going to assign you each a partner from this class.”
I suspect I turned pale when he paired me off with Suki, a petite but exquisite Singaporean girl who was so prim and proper that she’d been nicknamed China Doll. The idea of describing my (rather limited) sexual experiences to her was terrifying, and the only consolation was the thought that interviewing her shouldn’t take more than a minute. We agreed to meet in her room in the girls’ dorm wing the next morning, during a two-hour break in our timetable.
Her room looked as neat and tightly controlled as she did. We flipped a coin to see who had to speak first, and I lost. She sat there impassively as I recounted my adventures and misadventures, jotting down notes, and after twenty minutes I’d ground to a halt.
“Let’s see if I have this right,” she said, looking down at her notes. “No current lover, three partners over the past four years, cunnilingus with two, fellatio from one, no anal sex, condoms used every time?” I nodded and tr
ied not to blush. “Before that, quite a lot of breast-fondling and masturbation?” Another nod. “OK,” she said, sitting there primly. “I’m afraid I haven’t had as many partners as you,” she began. Surprise, surprise, I thought. “Only one,” she continued, and gave me a detailed description of what she and her lover had done.
I managed to keep my composure until she started to talk about tit-fucking. I would have blushed if the blood hadn’t rushed to my cock instead. I’d seen some boob sex in porn movies, but didn’t know people did it in real life. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Not when we used a little lube,” she said, with a slight smile.
“Do you come – I mean, have an –”
“Sometimes,” she said. “Even when I didn’t, I loved watching him ejaculate. It was something I’d never seen before; censorship is very strict in Singapore, and my family is even worse. David and I had to be very secretive, and I had to play the demure and dutiful daughter in public in case my parents ever found out.”
“You certainly had me fooled,” I blurted out.
Her smile became larger. “Unfortunately, David and I broke up months ago and, since then, the only thing I’ve had to hide is how often I masturbate. I have a good collection of magazines I can’t take back home, and a vibrator, but I stopped using that because it interfered with the TV reception in the room next door.” She looked down at her notes. “Do you have any condoms?”
“What? No, I . . .”
“Pity,” she said, “because reminiscing like this is making me horny as hell – and I gather you’re feeling the same way.” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. “We could suck each other off,” she suggested, “or would you rather fuck my breasts?”
She removed her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse, then unfastened her bra. Her bare boobs looked enormous on her five-foot frame, and they were beautifully shaped, with long dark nipples – already swollen – surrounded by the tiny areolae. A moment later, one was in my hand and the other in my mouth and I discovered that they tasted even better than they looked. She reached for my swollen cock, stroking it through my jeans, then began undressing me. She wiped a drop of pre-come off the eye of my cock, and tasted it, then slipped a finger into her pussy and then into my mouth. A minute later, we were both naked on her bed and she was straddling my face, almost drowning me in pussy juice. I watched as she played with her breasts and tugged on her nipples.
“Can you lick them?” I asked.
She grinned. “Make me come first,” she said, “and I’ll show you what I can do with them.” She reached over to the night-stand and grabbed a bottle of lotion, and I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked until she began gasping. She stuck her tongue out and pushed her boobs up to her chin, and managed to lick her nipples as I worked on giving her her second orgasm. Then she rubbed the lotion into her cleavage and climbed off me. “Sit,” she commanded, and knelt between my legs, wrapping her breasts around the shaft of my cock and running her tongue around the glans.
As I’d told Suki, I’d never had unprotected sex before, had never felt so much wonderful woman flesh around my naked cock, and tit-fucking her felt better than I could have imagined. I tried to hold off, but soon my come was spurting out like a geyser, splashing onto her hair, face, chin, and tits.
She licked off as much as she could reach, then lay down on the floor and began slowly rubbing her clit and her breasts. “If you want to go and get some condoms,” she said lazily, “we still have an hour before class.”
I haven’t seen Suki since we graduated, but I haven’t lost my taste for tit-fucking and talking dirty. I always carry condoms, but when I meet women with big, soft, fuckable breasts, I sometimes pretend I’ve run out, and suggest alternative forms of safe sex.
TOP OF THE CHARTS
Nick, Costa Mesa
When I was a kid in high school, I used to indulge in what I thought were some rather risqué behaviours. What comes to mind immediately is masturbating in my backyard. Always after school, when no one was home, and always behind the closed gate, but it was enough to make me feel I was getting away with something.
It started with just unzipping but eventually escalated to taking my pants off and, finally, getting completely undressed. A porn magazine and a little hand cream got me going, but the real object of my activities was a cute little cheerleader I shared a class with.
Carol wasn’t the most popular cheerleader on the squad. That was Rayanne, the perky, bubbly, effervescent nymph who got all the guys’ dicks hard. Mine included. But I’m partial to a more ample physique. Besides, I didn’t sit next to Rayanne in English. As a result, it wasn’t Rayanne who’d lean over, periodically, and ask for help. Like, figuring out the differences between Elizabethan and Spenserian sonnets.
“Oh, Carol!” Sedaka sang.
Like anything, though, the backyard jerk-offs got old, and I moved on to more adult, and more tangible, pursuits. Some having nothing to do with sex.
I mention this because, a couple of years ago I received a letter announcing the thirtieth anniversary of my high school graduation. Which got me thinking of all the people I really wasn’t all that interested in seeing again. I didn’t much like them, frankly. That’s why I’d never gone to any of the other reunions. Then, one night I couldn’t sleep, so I left my wife in bed and went into the backyard for a smoke.
The night was cool. Cool for mid-June, anyway. A slight breeze filtered under my shorts. That prompted me to recall what a turn-on it had been to masturbate outside. Which brought to mind Carol. My cock started to stir. The end result was I walked over to the side of the house and pulled my pants down. A few minutes of remembering her athletic legs disappearing under the little uniform skirt, and the way the mascot laid his head so perfectly across her large, round breasts, and I was releasing a healthy volume of ejaculate on the concrete.
The thrill might be gone for B.B. King, but it was certainly back for me. I decided I should have trouble sleeping more often.
I’d been engaging in my nocturnal emissions for a couple of months when, one night, just as I was about to release, I was startled by a noise. I stopped in mid-stroke, the urge to orgasm suddenly suppressed, and got as quiet as I could. Although I was certain my heartbeat could be heard across the street.
“Don’t stop,” a voice whispered from the other side of the fence.
Shit! I grabbed my shorts and held them in front of my now limp cock.
“Please, don’t stop,” the hushed voice said.
“Who is that? Sheila?” I kept my voice low.
My neighbour’s head popped up above the fence. “Please?”
“Jesus! How long’ve you been watching?”
“You mean tonight?”
“Crap.”
“You embarrassed?”
“Whaddya think?” I wanted to put my shorts back on but that would have meant taking them away from my crotch. Nowhere to run to, as Martha and the Vandellas so aptly put it. What I really wanted was to melt into the wall.
“You have a nice cock.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I like watching you.”
“Um, how long –”
“A few weeks. Does Lucy know you come out here like this?”
“No. Does Gavin know, I mean, does he –”
“No. Hold on. I’ll come around.”
“No! Wait!”
Too late. Her gate opened and closed quietly. A few seconds later, my gate opened and she padded over to me. It happened so fast, I was still holding my pants over my dick.
Sheila and Gavin were in their late twenties. Really eye-catching couple. Both very attractive and very friendly. We often exchanged pleasantries across the fence separating our driveways. When she came through the gate, it looked like all she was wearing was a long T-shirt.
“You shouldn’t’ve come over.”
“I had to. This way we can keep our voices down.”
“No. You shouldn�
�t be here at all.”
“It’s OK. Gavin is fast asleep. I assume Lucy is, too.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point. I’m naked, and . . . and you’re practically naked.”
“I’ve been watching you all this time. I’ve seen all there is to see. Here, lemme take this off.”
“Sheila, wait –”
In a flash, she had the shirt over her head. Her breasts were as gorgeous as I’d imagined them. Her freckles just visible by the light of the street lamp at the corner. In another second she’d stepped out of her panties. Unlike me, she made no attempt at modesty. Her pubic hair, neatly trimmed, drew my eyes to the shadowy space between her legs.
Suddenly The Archies started echoing in my head: “Sugar. Ah, honey, honey!”
“Come on, Nick. Lemme see.”
I tried to think of a good argument but none came to me, except the embarrassment of being flaccid and small. She anticipated what I was thinking.
“Of all the things I’ve seen you do, the sexiest is when your cock starts out soft and you play with it until it’s hard and standing up straight. I imagine it getting hard in my mouth.”
“Christ, Sheila.”
“You really want me to go?” She started to pick up her clothes.
“Yes. No! Wait a minute. It’s just that you, I mean, you caught me, I was, you know, you took me by surprise.”
“Sorry. I was doing some gardening this afternoon and I guess I didn’t quite put everything away. I kicked a flowerpot. Usually, I keep really quiet. Then, when you go in, I make myself come before I go inside.”
“You watch the whole thing?”
“Yeah. Can I touch you?”
“I don’t . . . I mean, do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I’ve been wanting to know what it feels like for so long. Please?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, why not?” The first touch of her hand was like a silk scarf around my cock. Her skin was at once cool and warm. I responded accordingly.
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions Page 4
