He wanted someone sweet and innocent so I was wearing cream stockings with matching bra and panties and a floral dress that made me look like a Sunday school teacher. I knocked on the bedroom door.
I was expecting some fresh-faced kid but the man lying on the bed must have been late fifties, early sixties. He wasn’t bad-looking and still in shape but I had to hide my shock. I was curious about his story but already knew better than to ask.
He pulled back the bedclothes and patted the space beside him. I climbed in, not sure whether to touch him or just lie there and let him make the first move.
“I’ve never done this,” he said, his voice soft and gentle, with a bit of a Northern burr. “I’d like you to show me what to do. Please.”
I reached out and stroked his face. “Do you want to touch me?”
He nodded.
I picked up his hand and placed it on my breast. “Let’s just take it slow.”
His bottom lip quivered. I didn’t want him to spend too much time on my breasts as too much attention would set the milk flowing and I imagined that would kill the mood unless he had a suckling fetish.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
He nodded, swallowing loudly and licking his dry lips. I stroked his chest, taking time to play with his nipples. I leant down and teased them with my tongue.
“Stop a minute.”
I froze, not sure if I’d displeased him or if he was having second thoughts.
“I’m rather excited. I’m not going to last long and I was hoping my first time would be something special.”
What can I say, I liked the guy, felt sorry for him. “I can imagine, you’re nervous and eager. Whatever we do, you’re going to be quick, so how about I bring you off and then we can take our time, properly?”
He gave me a grateful smile. “OK.”
I reached down and took hold of his prick, a quite substantial one by the feel of it. “You’ve got a lovely cock there, shame to keep it to yourself,” I whispered in his ear, my hand stroking leisurely.
“Holy mother . . .” He groaned and fell limp. I handed him a tissue.
As he recovered his composure, he told me his story; turns out he was an ex-priest who had recently lost his faith and now wanted to experience all that life had to offer.
“I’ve always wanted to try something. May I?”
“What is it?” I asked, now wary.
He hesitated and took a deep breath. “I’d like to taste you.”
It was my turn to hesitate. I couldn’t imagine he’d know what to do so I would just have to let my inner actress take over and pretend I was enjoying the experience. Within a few minutes of his head between my thighs, I was groaning for real. His tongue was bringing forth shivers of excitement. Every few minutes he would break off and ask me if he was doing all right until I placed my hand on his head and pushed him back down.
“Don’t stop, you’re doing just great.” And he was and it helped that he looked like an eager puppy trying to please. As his tongue stimulated my clit, I felt the shudder of my impending orgasm and groaned out with real satisfaction.
He sat up with his engorged cock all ready for another round of attention. I tossed him a condom.
“I think you’re ready.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked, closing his eyes as he said “fuck”, relishing the act of saying out loud a forbidden word.
I again stroked his face and he opened his eyes.
“Yes, I want you to fuck me.” I lay back and spread my legs.
He knelt between my knees, looking unsure.
I gave him an encouraging smile. “Just slide in, the rest will come naturally.”
As his cock inched its way in, he let out a long sigh of pleasure and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I never thought I would ever get the chance to experience this.” He smiled and leant in to nuzzle my neck.
If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that we were just a normal couple giving pleasure to each other. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he pushed in hard.
He kissed my neck, squeezed my breasts and fucked me as though he’d been doing it for years. Maybe he had, and his virginity and tales of priesthood were just part of the game. I didn’t climax again but it wasn’t unpleasant. He held me tight, almost squeezing the breath from my lungs. When he came his whole body shook with pleasure and emotion. He put his arm around me and I rested my head on his chest.
“I can’t thank you enough.”
I ran my hand through the blond curls on his chest. “You’ve nothing to worry about; you did just fine, more than fine.”
He picked up my hand and kissed it.
Fifteen minutes later, I was standing outside one of the bedrooms on my way to see “Mummy’s boy”. It was easy money but he gave me the creeps. I walked in. He was sitting on the bed in some kind of grown-up romper suit. I was wearing the same pink negligee and kitten slippers.
“Are you having a nap again?” he asked before sucking on his thumb.
“Yes and I don’t want disturbing.”
I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, squinting so I could keep an eye on him. It didn’t take him long before he was laid at the side of me. He reached over and pulled out one of my ripe tits. He sucked hard. “That’s a good boy, you’re a hungry little lad, aren’t you?” He suckled a little longer before climbing off the bed and walking around to the other side, his arousal plain to see in his powder-blue romper.
He lifted up the edge of my nightgown. I watched as he touched his little hard dick. He leant over and kissed my pussy before pulling down my hem. He began sucking on my other breast, lapping up all the milk. I could see he was getting sexually agitated.
“You have an awfully large swelling, do you want me to rub it better?”
“No!”
Before I could stop him, he was laid out on top of me, rubbing himself frantically against me, trying to get relief.
“Get off me now, before I tan your backside black and blue.”
At the sound of my stern voice, he shuddered, cried out and rolled off me, curling up into a ball and sucking his thumb.
I’ve never seen the virgin priest or the Mummy’s boy since but I’ve a few regulars that I’ve come to like, particularly the Star Trek fan. Strapping on the latex cock never fails to get me off. I’ve stopped beating myself up about my job; I figure I’m doing mankind a service. And if I get a bit of pleasure now and then, who am I to complain?
Two’s Company, Three’s A Crowd
Petra, London
My name’s Petra. I’m twenty-three, decidedly single, and I want to tell you about what went on one day while I was away on holiday with my mates Vicky and Liz.
The three of us work in advertising sales for a newspaper in London – although I’d better not tell you which one! We’d all been away together before: we get on really well and we’re all pretty much up for a laugh. So last summer we booked a fortnight in Hisonaru – or Turkey’s answer to Blackpool.
Four or five days in and things were going fairly well: the weather was good, the resort pretty and the nightlife lively. So the “sea” and “sun” were fine but the “sex” was quite frankly non-existent. I’d been chatted up – propositioned would have been a better way of putting it – a few times. But to be honest I wasn’t that drunk or desperate – although it was getting close – and the guys most definitely were.
Anyway we all went out for a BBQ night. Vicky and Liz got lucky and pulled a couple of guys – I guess they preferred bottle-blondes to natural “chestnut”. They got invited back to the boys’ hotel. Obviously they asked if I minded and if I’d be OK and equally obviously I said “no” and “yes”. And so, around midnight, I made my way home alone.
I had a really good night’s sleep and the girls were still gone when I got up. They eventually stumbled in around mid-morning, decidedly the worse for wear, and announced they had to get some sleep . . . and would probably be meeting up again later.
I wasn’t best pleased and damned if I was just going to sit around waiting for them so I packed a bag and headed off down to the beach. I wasn’t really in the mood for crowds so I walked around the headland and found a fairly quiet – though by no means deserted – spot, spread out my towel and lay down to do some serious work on my tan.
Although I’m auburn, I’ve got a good natural skin colour – which was already bronzing nicely – and, so long as I use some good lotion, I don’t really have to worry about burning. I’m five feet six inches in my stockinged feet and with a pretty curvy 36-26-38 figure. I know my boobs are my best features – guys tell me often enough.
While I was getting comfortable, I had a look round from behind my sunglasses: most of the women seemed to be topless and there were certainly some people who were nude. It’s not particularly my thing, but equally it doesn’t worry me unduly.
I’d been there about an hour and was just drifting off in the hot sun when I felt a shadow over me. Cross at being disturbed, I opened my eyes to see two young men silhouetted at my feet and staring down at me. “Nice tits,” said one, and whistled appreciatively.
“Yah. Great rack,” replied the other in decidedly plummy tones.
I know I was still feeling irritated with Vicky and Liz – for scoring when I hadn’t, if nothing else – and more than a little horny myself but to this day I don’t know what made me say it, but I did: “Boys, you’re in my sun but, if you don’t have anything better to do before you go back under whatever rock it was you crawled out from, then you can put some lotion on them for me . . . so long as you’re gentle.”
There was a stunned silence and they stood there looking sullen and stupid and open-mouthed until I broke it: “Well, I’m getting bored, so either get on with it or f**k off.”
“Look,” one of them began, “we’re really sorry and we didn’t mean to upset you . . .”
“Sorry’s not good enough,” I interrupted. “You’re either in or out. Three, two . . .”
“Wait, wait, wait,” the other one said. “You’re not going to call the police or anything?”
“Listen, I told you, all I want is some suntan lotion rubbed into my tits. Yes or no?”
They looked at each other and rather nervously knelt down on either side of me. I squeezed a large dollop of Ambre Solaire into their hands and just lay there. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
They finally took the hint and began massaging the thick cream into my boobs; and when I didn’t yell “rape” they actually started to enjoy themselves . . . so much so that I had to warn them not to venture any lower than my belly button. It was great feeling not one but two pairs of hands on my boobs. They hit some sort of rhythm, kneading each one with just the right amount of force, and pulling and stretching at my delicate nipples. It didn’t take long before I knew that enough was enough. “OK, thanks a lot, boys. On your way.”
And they immediately got up and started to walk off towards the town. “Try not to let everyone see what a good time you were having,” I called mockingly after them.
But as I settled back into the sun I had to admit that I had really enjoyed the experience; and the heat and the moisture between my legs told me that it had turned me on as well. I had another surreptitious look around and could see there were still a fair number of naked people on the beach, so I eased down my bikini bottoms and shimmied them over my ankles and feet. I’d had a Brazilian before I came away and so my pussy was bald save for a “runway strip” of neatly trimmed ginger hair that started at the top of my slit. I’ve also got a small gold ring through my clitoral hood that makes me very, very sensitive. I knew the very last thing I needed was to get sunburnt “down there” so I slathered on some more of the Ambre Solaire . . . which only made me feel even more randy. I slightly parted my legs and the feel of the sun caressing my totally naked body was decidedly erotic.
I dozed and drifted for I don’t know how long. Nor do I know what finally made me open my eyes when I did, but there they were. “Well, hello, boys; back, I see. Do you want to finish what you started?”
They gawped.
“The lotion, boys; the lotion,” I said, very slowly and distinctly. “You can finish what you started. You can do down between my legs but, I swear, if you actually touch my pussy I really will cry ‘rape’. Do you understand?”
They obviously did because they got down on their knees and did all over my front, and that felt really good. They also admired my clit-ring and both of them said they had never seen a girl with a piercing “down there”. So I rolled over and got them to do the other side – and feeling the warm oil trickling down between the cleft of my buttocks felt every bit as good.
So when they eventually asked if I’d like to come back to their hotel I couldn’t think of a single good reason to say no. I climbed back into my bikini, wrapped my sarong around my waist and we set off along the beach, away from town and around the headland. Their hotel was a real beachside surprise: one of those modern, terraced designs and very obviously much better than where we were staying.
It was cool enough in the air-conditioned lobby to bring up goose bumps on my arms and we caught the lift up to their room. It was nice, though not spectacular, but it did have a large, completely private balcony looking out over the beach. There was a good-sized stone table, sitting on a central plinth, with two matching benches. We’d been formally introduced by this stage: Kit and Seb were a little younger than me and at a decent redbrick uni together, studying Business Management. And, yes, they really were just a little “OK, yah” for me, but to be honest at that precise moment I really didn’t give a damn. Kit cracked open some very cold Efes beer from the well-stocked fridge and we all went out onto the balcony to enjoy the view.
There was an awkward silence.
I kind of realized that, if I didn’t do something, nothing much was likely to happen. So I took a slug of my beer, and my courage in both hands, and said, “I know, let’s play cards. Strip poker anyone?”
The boys were more than happy with this. Obviously none of us was wearing much to start with and so it didn’t take long for us all to end up naked . . . and I could tell the boys were pleased to see me. Neither of them was spectacularly well-endowed – I’ve had bigger and better. Kit’s cock was reasonably long and thin while Seb’s was shorter but quite impressively thick. Just having two cocks standing to attention in front of me was enough to get me even more turned on.
Sitting on one of the benches I picked up my beer glass, squeezed as much of my right tit into it as I could manage, then tipped the glass horizontal and just sort of swirled it. The shock of the cold and the feel of the beer fizzing against my sensitive skin was enough to make me gasp and my nipple certainly sprang to attention. I repeated the trick with my other boob, feeling like some sort of slutty lap dancer. “Don’t just sit there – lick it off,” I ordered.
Kit and Seb dropped to their knees on either side of me and began to lap enthusiastically all over my boobs: I have to admit it felt pretty good.
They played for a while and then I climbed up to sit on the table itself. I gave my boobs another cold shower, but this time making sure lots of the beer ran down my chest and between my thighs. The boys didn’t need telling a second time: they started off on my boobs but quickly worked their way down until they were lapping at my puffy outer lips.
I was already pretty hot and wet and my pussy soon opened up under this twin-tongued assault. The first time one of them touched my clit I shuddered as if a little electric shock had rippled through me. If it wasn’t an actual orgasm it was pretty damn close and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to last long . . . at least, not first time.
I’d been out on hen nights and seen a few blue movies. Yes, boys, we do watch porn too; just not the sort you do. I’d certainly never had a threesome – although I confess it is something I’ve thought about – but I had a few ideas about what was involved.
“Have you got something we can put on this table?” I
asked. “It’s a bit cold and hard.” Seb very quickly produced the sort of thin mattress you have on camp beds and it seemed pretty much a perfect fit for the table. I wondered idly if they were quite as young and innocent as they made out.
I climbed back onto the table and got on my hands and knees, thrusting my butt up into the air. “Kit, fuck me; and, Seb, come round here at the front,” I ordered.
Kit slipped easily inside me and drove right up to the hilt. It felt good, fucking good. And I took as much of Seb’s cock into my mouth as I could and then began to flutter my cheeks around it in the way I know drives men mad.
It’s difficult to explain, but I know now there is something about anonymous sex that makes me feel incredibly wanton and, yes, aroused. I knew there was no chance of me ever seeing these two again; we’d only met a couple of hours earlier and I barely knew their names. Yet here we were, fucking, and I just felt that I could say or do anything I wanted, anything at all, and it wouldn’t matter. That’s a very sexy feeling.
Kit began ploughing in and out of me, each long stroke caressing the walls of my pussy. I could feel how rock-hard he was and guessed he probably wasn’t going to last long. Seb was trying to fuck my face but I grabbed hold of his balls and squeezed just hard enough to let him know he needed to keep still.
After just a couple more minutes Kit grabbed hold of my hips and drove himself into me up to the hilt. “I’m sorry, I can’t hold on anymore. I’m coming,” he moaned.
And as his hot spunk started to jet into me I could feel answering contractions from my pussy clenching and squeezing around his shaft. “Oh, Christ, yesss. That’s so goood,” I crooned.
Kit started to soften, slowly slipped out of me, and I gently pushed Seb away from me. “Half-time. Change ends,” I told the boys as I rolled over onto my back with my head just hanging over one edge of the table.
Seb climbed up onto the table and positioned himself between my parted thighs. Once he was inside I locked my ankles around his back – effectively stopping his thrusting. Kit came and stood behind me. I tipped my head back until I was able to take the whole of his now flaccid cock into my mouth . . . and I savoured the mixture of both our juices. I’d done this before and it’s a great way of deep-throating a guy.
The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions Page 2
