The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  She nodded, and I ran my tongue around the already-swollen nipple, then gently closed my lips around it and began sucking on her breast while Chloe continued licking her clit. Jessie just closed her eyes again and luxuriated; Chloe and I both pride ourselves on our technique, and maybe Jessie had been fantasizing about this too. I moved my head to Jessie’s other breast and began sucking on that; it was firmer and a little larger than Chloe’s, but the best thing about it was knowing that I was pleasing two women as well as myself, that Chloe was getting off on watching me feasting on this sweet white flesh.

  I kissed my way down Jessie’s belly until Chloe and I were almost cheek to cheek. She turned her head and gave me a quick kiss, her mouth wet and delicious. Then she moved aside, stroking Jessie’s labia with her fingers while I began circling her clit with my tongue. Jessie looked at us, gave us a slow and slightly dazed smile, and closed her eyes again. I applied a little more pressure to her clit, a little suction with my lips, easing the pace along from languid to leisurely, watching and listening for her reaction. She remained silent, almost as though she were in a trance. I licked and sucked more vigorously, my beard rubbing against her cleft and her thighs; still not a sound. I continued until my neck was sore, and looked up uncertainly at Chloe, wondering whether I should stop. She shook her head slightly, and I resumed tongue-lashing Jessie’s clit until suddenly she began shaking her head, flailing her arms about and drumming her heels on the bed. I moved my head out of harm’s way and rubbed her clit with my thumb as she arched her back and writhed. It was like holding an earthquake in my hand, and I watched in awe as she subsided back into her trance. Chloe kissed me, then bent over and began sucking my cock. I lay down next to Jessie, sitting up against the bedhead, and Chloe straddled me; I kissed her lips, her neck, and sucked her breasts as we fucked. With Jessie’s orgasm and afterglow as an aphrodisiac, a catalyst, we were so aroused, so intent, so overwhelmed by all the sex that had happened on that bed, so absorbed in each other and oblivious to anything else, that we barely noticed as Jessie opened her eyes and watched us, then climbed off the bed and staggered towards the shower. I don’t know how often Chloe came, but we were still fucking when Jessie returned and began picking up her clothes, still fucking when she dressed and walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Even after I came, we just held on to each other, basking in the afterglow that filled the room.

  I do feel slightly ashamed about our having lied to Jessie. You see, Chloe had told her I’d be home late, not early.

  But my real guilty secret is that I’m sitting here at the office, reminiscing and writing erotica on the computer, while my boss thinks I’m working. Please don’t send him a copy of this book!

  THE IRISHMAN

  Mariah, Bellvue

  Two of my friends and I were drinking one night and got talking about the best cock we ever had. I would never have told them this if I hadn’t been half smashed but they loved it.

  Patrick was the most delicious man I’d ever known, pure porn. With black curly hair, blue eyes like jewels, big powerful arms, he was a burly beautiful Irishman.

  His wife, my first cousin, had passed away after a two-year illness during which time I watched that man work himself to distraction doing everything he possibly could for the woman he loved.

  I couldn’t help but be aware that this was an extremely virile man who had not had sex in at least a year and a half. Sometimes I would see him looking at me in a way that was pure sexual hunger. But then he would quickly look away and I felt sorry for him that he was feeling unnecessary shame.

  For weeks after she passed I saw that he was always being careful to keep his eyes off me and I was beginning to see that this man’s suffering had gone on far too long. Something had to be done.

  Sometimes he would drink too much and fall into his bed in a deep sleep. This particular night I slipped into his room, took out the handcuffs I’d bought that day and deftly cuffed his wrists to the rungs of the headboard.

  Groggy, it dawned on him that he was tethered and he began to fight wildly until he saw me standing there in a white lacy little short thing that covered almost nothing.

  Wide-eyed, he said, “Mariah, my God, what are you doing?”

  “Patrick, please don’t fight this,” I said. “I’m doing something for you, something that’s long overdue.”

  “What are you talking about? Let me loose!”

  “Don’t make this hard on yourself, baby,” I said. “I’ll let you loose when I’m finished.”

  He was wearing only boxer shorts and I could see that his cock was jammed up against the fly making a tent. The poor guy couldn’t help it. He hadn’t had sex in two years and was staring at a beautiful woman (if I do say so myself) wearing almost nothing. With the excitement of what I was doing, my nipples were turgid, my sex throbbing.

  “Let me loose, Mariah, don’t do this.”

  Gently I pulled down his shorts and it was interesting that he didn’t kick at me. He could have, but being the old-world gentleman that he was he would never kick at a lady, even now.

  His very large stiff cock was standing straight up and I could see that he was embarrassed.

  “I can’t – Elizabeth,” he said, and it really sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

  “Patrick, darling, Elizabeth loved you and you did everything for her you could do. She wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

  “Please, Mariah, I can’t,” he whispered.

  “You’re not doing anything, sweetheart; I’m doing it, so you don’t have anything at all to feel guilty about. You can’t get free and you have no control over what I’m about to do, so you may as well just lie there and enjoy it.”

  The look on his face was excitement, and maybe a little fear, I’m not sure. “It’s not your fault, baby,” I said. “I’m the villain here.”

  I sat on the bed taking his beautiful rigid cock in both my hands, and bending down I sucked the full wine-coloured plum into my mouth.

  With a loud gasp, almost a scream, he stiffened, his hips coming up off the bed. “No, baby, please,” he moaned and I knew he was in ecstasy.

  I continued to suck the plum, encircling it tightly with my tongue, now sliding my lips over the long shaft all the way down to the nest of dark hair, then back up and down again, a little faster, a little faster, my lips gripping it hard, my tongue circling, the suction powerful.

  Now he was screaming, trying to pull away because he was about to come and was trying to keep from letting it erupt into my mouth.

  No, you sweet, delicious man, you’re not getting away, I thought, holding tight as he lost control. Hot semen was squirting in powerful spasms, his whole body was shuddering and he was groaning like he was dying. And I was still sucking it out, drinking it in, loving it. I love the taste of a clean, healthy man’s come. There’s nothing like it.

  “Mariah, what have I done?” he murmured, like he had committed some horrible crime.

  “You haven’t done anything,” I said. “I did it. Do you think you could have stopped me?” Even as I spoke I was fondling his cock and balls, caressing him. I lay down on top of him and rubbed my big breasts against his hairy chest, kissed his throat, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, and his head turned, his open mouth seeking mine. His sweet mouth was so sensual and I opened it with my tongue, kissing him roughly.

  He moaned and I clasped his cock, which had another powerful erection. “Patrick, sweetheart, I’m going to climb on top of you and fuck you, baby, so don’t try to fight me because you can’t stop me. I’m going to fuck the hell out of you and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to keep it from happening.”

  The poor precious man was groaning, his hips pushing up at me. Climbing on top of him I straddled him and, opening my sex, I took his cock in my hands and placed it in the opening. Gently I slid down on his big long cock and it was so damn big it was hurting a little, but I was able to take in almost all of it.

  I began to pump my hip
s up and down, slowly at first because it was so damn good I was very close to having an electrifying orgasm. But this was not for me; it was for him, and I was going to fuck him until I had drained him of every ounce of that stored up come. Now I was able to move faster, driving my sex down on that pulsating cock, pushing it deep into me, and Patrick was gasping, groaning, pushing up to meet me.

  “Oh God, oh God,” he whimpered, his body shuddering, jerking again, and I knew he was coming. He let out this loud gasp, stiffened, pushed into me, and I could feel him ejaculating, filling me up. With every electrifying spasm, he screamed, pushing into me until he finally went limp.

  Somehow I knew there was still another orgasm in there. I got up and cleaned myself up a little while he lay there cuffed to the bed.

  “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, like he was ashamed for coming like that.

  “You’re going to be a lot sorrier, sweetheart, because I’m not through with you yet,” I said, laughing.

  I took out a slender phallic-shaped vibrator, plugged it in and went back to the bed. I greased it with petroleum jelly and laid it aside for the moment. Gently I began to massage his cock and balls again, kissing, sucking playfully at the head, then sucking more in earnest and after a while that beautiful cock was standing at attention again. Continuing to slide my lips down on his cock, I picked up the vibrator and began to gently insert it in his rectum. When he realized what I was doing he began to fight me, yelling for me to stop, and when he tried to push my hand away with his foot he inadvertently opened himself up and I went all the way into him. Flipping the switch, I turned it on.

  “Aghhh,” he screamed, and suddenly his cock stood straight up as hard as a wooden club.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he was screaming, and his cock was squirting come into the air covering us both.

  I was so damn turned on watching him shooting off like that. “Well, baby, I think I’ve pretty much drained you,” I said. “I’m going to let you loose now and you can beat me up if you want to.” I removed one cuff and then the other. “I hope you can forgive me,” I said.

  “Just a minute here, little girl, you’re not going anywhere,” he said. He was a very strong man and in a moment he had me cuffed to the bed. I was scared as hell, not knowing if he was mad or not, not knowing what he was up to.

  With me lying there helpless those beautiful blue eyes were looking down into mine. “Now you’re going to get your punishment for being a bad girl,” he whispered. He kissed me hard on the mouth, then his lips brushed down my throat to my breasts, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, pulling them, being rough, hurting me in the most delicious way.

  “You thought you had drained me, honey, not even close,” he murmured. Pushing my thighs open roughly, he buried his face in my sex. Seeking and finding my clitoris with his tongue, his lips and tongue sucked it so hard I screamed, the tingling spasms setting me on fire. But he was relentless, his tongue going deep in me, probing as he sucked, and I was coming so hard I felt I was dying. The shocks were radiating out from my sex in electric waves and I thought surely my heart would give out.

  Weak and trembling I said, “Patrick, you can let me loose now.”

  With a devilish laugh he said, “Oh hell, no, little girl, not a chance. I’m just getting started. I’m going to fuck you till you cry, till you beg me to let you loose.” As he said this he was mounting me and, shoving my legs apart with his knees, he went into me deep, hard, pumping in me like a flawless machine.

  “I’m going to fuck you for every day of my life I did without,” he said, grunting, slamming into me, stroking hard and fast, and I could feel a vaginal orgasm building in me to another volatile climax.

  “That’s a good start, baby,” he murmured and then kissed me roughly, biting, pulling at my nipples. Everything this gorgeous Irishman was doing was driving me mad with desire.

  “Let’s see how you like this,” he said, laughing.

  When I saw he had the vibrator I screamed, “No,” and tried to twist away from him, but he threw himself on me and held me down. Pulling my leg up, he pushed the thing all the way into me with me screaming for him to stop.

  “Yeah, baby, I’m going to stop just like you did,” he said, turning it on. Then, holding it in, he climbed on me and drove his rigid cock into me again. I was humiliated, trying to push the vibrator out, but he was holding it in, thrusting in me fast and deep, my whole insides vibrating.

  “Hot damn, that feels good,” he said, and when I stopped fighting and gave in to it, I never felt anything that felt so rapturous. I was moaning and groaning and wailing like a crazy person and he was fucking me like a wild man.

  This time when I started coming it was a long protracted orgasm, and deep vibrating thrills were washing over me in waves that I thought were killing me. And somewhere in my dreamy, ecstatic state I felt him stiffen, drive into me, and he was gasping, pumping hot sperm, digging his fingers into my bottom, pulling me tightly to him like he was trying to drive that cock all the way to China. Finally he reached up, unlocked my cuffs and went limp on me as we drifted into a deep sleep.

  There was more of the same when we woke up, but you get the picture.

  P FOR PANTIES

  Poulose, Boxboro

  “The degree and kind of one’s sexuality reach up into the ultimate pinnacle of one’s spirit”– Nietzsche

  I vividly remember the sowing of the seed that flowered into my obsession with panties. It happened one bright golden sunny spring morning in my backyard. The bell in the nearby church had just tolled the Angelus, and the shadow of the church steeple, cast by the setting sun, fell upon me. My younger sister had recently been toilet trained and I heard my mother ecstatically croon over her to a visiting aunt, “See how cute she looks in her panties!” No one had ever crooned over me like that and the incident struck me deeply. I was five and little to know that over the next twenty-five years I would be fascinated with panties, and that it would take Rose, Kurt and an unforgettable night with them before I would be rid of my obsession.

  My obsession was triggered off many years later, when, at the local laundromat, I opened the door to the dryer and found in it a pair of white panties. Luminous in the reflected neon lights, it seemed magically alive, dancing and beckoning to me from the dim interior, mouth-wateringly perfect, white, soft, silky, scanty, petite and feminine. A few days later, I mail-ordered my first pair of panties and from this modest beginning gradually acquired a near perfect collection of panties and briefs.

  Ten years later, one snowy winter, depressed by the early darkness, the snow and the cold, I visited the local Sears to buy some socks. I walked through the women’s lingerie section and entered the men’s area. Against the eye candy of lingerie in the women’s section, the men’s underwear looked like white burlap sacks. The bright neon lights and the deathly whiteness of the vests hanging around me matched the swirling snow outside. The store was cold – they seemed to have turned the heating off. My spirits sank deeper.

  I found the socks section, bent down, rummaged through the bin and picked out half-a-dozen khaki socks. I straightened up when suddenly I saw hanging before me, against a layout of white vests, the most gorgeous pairs of men’s briefs: one a shimmering gold and the other a metallic ruby red. Contrasting against the white background, they seemed to float in the air. Awestruck, in a trance, I walked to them and picked them up.

  Quickly I buried them under the socks. They must have turned the heat up with a vengeance because I was now warm and sweating. I furtively glanced at the cashier as she rang it in. She had shoulder-length blond hair and a nice saucy look in her eye. I blanched, fearing the worst, but she caught my eye and smiled at me. I saw the flash of a jewel on her tongue.

  She rang in the socks, and I braced myself as she picked up the ruby-red briefs.

  “Mmm,” said this angel, light rays flashing from her mouth as she spoke. “Are these for you? They suit your colour!”

  I blushed and mumbled
, “Yes.”

  To my surprise, she looked at me with frank enthusiasm and said, “I hung them out this morning. I really like them and thought they would brighten up the place on a snowy day like this. I bought a pair myself for my boyfriend, but he won’t wear them – claims that they’re sissy.”

  I nodded weakly, and mumbled, “I see.” Quickly I signed the credit card slip.

  As I was about to leave, she said, “If you need help trying them on, give me a call. My name is Rosalina, but my friends call me Rose. I work here most days.”

  Speechless, I left.

  Spring came by and finally I summoned up the courage to call Sears and asked for Rose. In a surprisingly short time, I was connected to her. “Hi!” I stammered. “I don’t know if you remember me – the guy who bought your briefs? You offered to help me try them on?”

  To my delight she enthusiastically replied that yes, she did indeed remember me. She asked could she help me. Yes, of course she could. She asked if she could bring her boyfriend along. “Sure!” I said, not knowing what else to say. We agreed to meet at my apartment the evening of the following Saturday.

  Time went by on leaden feet, but finally it was Saturday evening and a few minutes after eight, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Rose and her boyfriend at the door.

  “Hi!” she said. “Meet my boyfriend Kurt.” Kurt was about my age and height, with shoulder-length brown hair, blue eyes and a somewhat sad, frozen look on his face. For some reason he looked familiar. I felt I had known him a long time ago. We shook hands and nervously I ushered them in.