The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  I loosened my grip around Seb’s waist, just enough to allow a little movement but not too much, and enjoyed the feel of his fat shaft inside my well-lubed pussy as I swirled my tongue around Kit’s cock at the other end.

  One of the great things about boys is that they have fast recovery time and when I could feel Kit getting hard again, and his cockhead just starting to nudge the back of my throat, I unhooked my ankles, spread my legs as wide as I could and gave Seb all the encouragement he needed: “Come on then, give it to me!. Fuck me, fuck me hard! I want to feel you come. Do it to me. Do it to me now,” I urged.

  Seb pistoned frantically, banging into my pelvis and grunting with each stroke until he exploded inside me and collapsed on top. I just missed out, but didn’t mind because it still felt good and I knew we were all looking forward to “seconds”.

  I gave them a couple of minutes while we were all collapsed in a sweaty heap and then told them: “Let’s go get a shower, boys.”

  The bathroom turned out to be more of a wet-room: light, airy, fully tiled and more than big enough for three, with one of those spaceship showers that fires water from about half a dozen different nozzles. I grabbed a bottle of expensive-looking shower gel and hit the “On” button.

  If you’ve ever showered with one partner you’ll know what fun it can be, but I discovered that with two it’s more than twice the fun. The needle-sharp water prickled my sun-sensitized skin. We all got lathered up and I ended up as the “meat” sandwiched between my two hunks. I could feel two hard cocks, one pressing up against my pussy and the other slithering between my buttocks. I also had my boobs squeezed hard up against Kit’s chest and that felt good too.

  When I’d had enough I switched off the shower, got a couple of big, fluffy white towels off the rack and threw one each at the boys. I stood with legs apart and arms outstretched. “Dry me!”

  The boys went to work, buffing me up with a will until I was all pink and tingly and feeling wonderful.

  “OK, enough, enough. Now I’m all dry I want you to clean me up, with your tongues, down there, front and back,” I told them. “And it doesn’t matter who starts where because you’ll both be changing places.”

  The boys sank to their knees and it was fantastic to feel two tongues, one in my pussy and the other rimming me – although I’d never thought of anilingus as “my thing” before. I knew there were traces of cum left in me, even after the shower, and they would be able to taste each other as well as me. I think it was Seb who discovered that he could flick my clit-ring up and down with his tongue. The feeling as the metal gently scrapes along the length of my bud is incredible, even on a bad day . . . and this was turning into a very good day.

  Within a couple of minutes I was screaming into one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. I was literally so far gone I would have collapsed onto the floor if the boys hadn’t held me until my legs stopped shaking. One of them was even sweet enough to ask me if I was all right.

  When I’d recovered enough to walk we went back out onto the balcony, all still bare-naked. I got Seb to lie on his back on the table and then I climbed on top of him. Kneeling across his thighs I gently lowered myself onto his shaft and sank down until I was fully impaled.

  “Don’t you dare move,” I warned him. “Just lie still while I get used to it or I’ll be coming again all over you.”

  I rested my forearms and elbows on his chest – to help keep him still – and then crouched forward until my tits were barely touching his chest and we were just able to kiss. I concentrated on the fabulous feelings I was still getting from my pussy and just kind of wriggled around, squashing my lips against his pubic bone, until I was able to “find” my clit-ring and use that to tease my bud.

  Barely moving, and with Seb’s stiff prick still filling me, I experimented with this novel form of auto-eroticism until I could feel another orgasm starting to build within me and began to drift off into that place where pleasure blots out everything else and feeling takes over from thinking.

  “Kit, I want you to do something that no man has ever done to me before . . . and I’m guessing you haven’t done it either,” I told him. “Get some lube if you’ve got it – aftersun, extra-virgin fucking olive oil, I don’t really care. Just get really lubed up and then I want you to fuck my arse. And I want you to take it very slow and gentle, OK?”

  Kit didn’t say anything but shot inside and came back a few seconds later with a bottle of something clutched in his hand. I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t really care – but it felt good when something cool and slick started to trickle down my crack and I could feel it start to pool around my pussy and Seb’s cock.

  Kit climbed up onto the table and knelt behind me and it felt even better as he started to knead and spread my buttocks, working the oil into them. While still keeping glued to Seb I arched my back and tried to get my backside up as high and inviting as I could. Even so I still gasped when Kit slipped a finger past my sphincter and started working the lubrication inside me.

  He withdrew his finger and a few seconds later I felt the tip of his cock nudging at me. He pulled my cheeks apart and pushed more insistently until, finally, just the head slipped in. I moaned, low and wordlessly, and he stopped immediately. “Are you OK?” he asked fearfully. “I’m not hurting you or anything?”

  “No, no, it’s fine, you’re doing fine,” I reassured him. “It’s just I told you this is completely new for me too. So just take it very slow and easy.”

  I kept very still, almost not breathing, and getting used to the incredible feelings and emotions welling up inside me. Kit did take his time and slid, almost imperceptibly, into me millimetre by millimetre until I felt his thighs buffer up against the back of mine. I felt fuller, more filled, than I ever had before. I’d read about people being able to orgasm solely from anal intercourse and now I’m sure it’s true.

  Once we all started to relax into it, things just got better and better. I found that simply by tensing and untensing my thigh muscles I was able to pump myself up and down on Seb’s cock . . . not much to be sure but enough to do the job. Kit, having bottomed-out – forgive the pun – began working his prick backwards and forwards in my arse. It was a completely different feeling from having my pussy filled: hotter and definitely tighter, almost painful, but in a pleasant sort of way.

  And then, suddenly, I could feel both pricks actually rubbing up against each other inside of me, separated by the little bit of me that divided my two holes. And I knew the boys could feel it too. And that was when everything went a little crazy.

  That one amazing feeling was enough to send me climbing up to climax. A silky sheen of sweat was starting out all over my body, plastering my hair to my forehead and trickling down from under my arms, over my breasts and onto Seb’s chest. I was starting to get the shakes again and every inch of my skin was ultra-sensitive with nerve pulses like mini electric shocks, centred on my tits and cunt and arse but radiating out around the rest of my body.

  And then I was begging and pleading and gabbling, “Just fuck me, for God’s sake, fuck me. Make me come. I need it now. Yessss, yesss. Ohhhh, God, yesss!” I hissed as a rolling tsunami of an orgasm threatened to sweep me away.

  Kit was the first to come. I think my tightness and friction were just too much for him, and I felt him pump deep into my arse. Roughly I pushed him away from me so I could sit upright on Seb. Cowgirl-style I thrashed up and down on him, like I was having some sort of fit, over and over again, squeezing my breasts, savagely pinching my own nipples and squealing as I did so as the pain just drove me deeper and deeper.

  And just when I thought I really couldn’t stand it anymore Seb arched his back like he was being electrocuted and exploded inside me.

  It was early evening as I gingerly walked back to the hotel. I was feeling sore nearly everywhere, but particularly between my legs, and I could feel a pooling wet patch in my bikini bottoms where I was still “leaking”.

  By the time I got in
Vicky and Liz were up at last and getting ready to go out and meet up with their boys again. I could tell they were a bit miffed when I said I was planning an early night.

  And I could tell they didn’t believe a word of it when I told them I’d just had a mind-blowing threesome with two rich guys. But when I showed them the picture on my camera phone they had to. You couldn’t see the guys’ faces but you could very clearly see mine – in fact you could see all of me – and the fact that I had a long, thick cock in one hand and a short, fat one in the other.

  Clothes Encounters

  Phil, Stratford-upon-Avon

  Before I go any further, I want to tell you I’m not a knicker sniffer. That is to say, I don’t go raiding laundry baskets for soiled underwear or anything like that. I’m a bit of a stickler about that, to be honest. I love the smell and feel of freshly washed women’s clothes. And, before you ask, I have no idea where my fetish came from; I’ve always felt that way. It’s vital, too, that I can imagine the woman who wears them.

  I do like to see women browsing and buying sexy underwear in stores. Not functional stuff, but sexy stuff. My favourites are when some girl or woman buys something sexy quite openly and brazenly; she’s proud of being so sexy; some lucky sod is going to benefit from what she’s bought. OK, with bras they tend to be quite functional in some ways – they’re as much about support and fit as anything, but the difference in my interest in a woman buying a sports bra versus one buying something black and plunging is great. Same with knickers – sports knickers, control garments, “big” knickers . . . ugh! Thongs, see-through panties and French knickers – fantastic. It shows attitude, you see, my favourites being the brazen “I don’t care who knows how fucking sexy I can be” types mentioned above and the “I’m buying this to turn on my guy but I don’t really want anyone to see” ones. Even better if you replace “girlfriend” with “guy” in that last one. In the first case there’s just a chance she’ll flash something when I happen to be watching and in the second I imagine myself either in the place of the guy or witnessing the two girls.

  And don’t get me started on suspender belts and stockings. Can there possibly be anything more sexy than a woman who wears them for her partner? Answer, actually, is “yes” – a woman who wears them for herself.

  So that’s me – kinky about sexy clothes. Not just underwear, but primarily that. I don’t want to wear them; that’s not my bag at all. Not quite “wear”, anyway, which I’ll get to.

  My job is fixing computers. I work for a company fixing them in people’s businesses and I moonlight doing them in people’s homes. I’ve lost count of the number of times when both have given me opportunities. In offices girls feel at home, I guess, and skirts ride up and blouses flop open and I get glimpses of their underwear. So many times I’ve invented a reason for going under a desk so I can get a better view up their skirts. I’m sure they must figure out what I’m doing, but none of them ever freak out. The best one was a woman who was chatting to her mate on the phone about a night out and she was talking about her boyfriend getting so horny he tore off her knickers. Then she proceeded to hike up her skirt and demonstrate. All to get me blushing, I guess. It worked.

  But in women’s homes, that’s the best. They trust me; maybe I’ve got a trustworthy face. More than once they’ve asked if I minded if they nipped to the local shop or picked up the kids. Mind? Hell, no. As soon as they’re out of the way I nip into the bedroom. Most women put the interesting stuff in top drawers, or the top two if they’ve got a lot. I take careful notice of where things are before I take a look. Some surprise you; they look dead respectable and they have all kinds of kinky clothes. I’ve found vibrators and handcuffs and sexy photos, you name it.

  And I suppose you’ve already guessed I can’t resist holding the sexiest items, usually wrapping one round my cock and wanking with them. I’d like to come in them but that’s just too risky.

  At other times I look on their computers and you’d be surprised how many have sexy pictures of themselves in underwear, naked and sometimes having sex. One married woman has lots of pictures of her with another woman, undressing, kissing and even fingering and licking each other. And they actually pay me for this. Maybe it’s an invasion of their privacy, but I can’t help it.

  I need to tell you about a woman I’ll call Jo (not her real name in case she reads this and recognizes herself). I was recommended to her by one of her friends and when I arrived she asked if it was OK for her to nip to town. I still wonder if the friend knew my secrets and told her, because she explained she needed to return something that was faulty, before bringing a sexy little black suspender belt out of a carrier bag and showing me how the fastenings didn’t line up. You can imagine how hot that got me. Then when I checked her computer she had loads of pictures of herself decked out in all my dream clothing, like she could read my mind. Stockings, suspenders, bras, knickers, basques, you name it. All taken very professionally. She went as far as topless but that was it. Her computer was in the bedroom anyway, so a quick check of the top drawer allowed me to find some of the stuff she was wearing in the photos. So I sat there, my cock in one hand, with a pair of her knickers wrapped round it, and another pair in my hand against my face, feeling the soft scratch of the material and smelling the fresh-washed scents and watching her pictures on the computer screen.

  I don’t recall ever having been so excited before and, sorry to say (or I was at the time), I just erupted into them without much warning. Well, I did feel it coming but it was just too sexy to pull away. Then afterwards I had wet, stained knickers to deal with. Washing them was not an option – she’d know. Hiding them at the bottom of her laundry basket would have been another, but when I found it, there was nothing in there – it was empty. All I could do was mop up my come and dry them as best I could, then put them back.

  The next time she called me I guess I must have looked guilty. She’d not paid me from the last time because I’d had to leave (well, needed to get away) before she got back from the shops. This time she met me at the door, ready to go out, and reminded me she hadn’t paid me last time and had left me something on the computer keyboard. I was expecting a cheque or some cash, but right there on the keyboard was a pair of her knickers. She’d found me out and didn’t mind. How sexy is that? On top was a handwritten note saying enjoy. I did too. This time I knew where I was going to spurt, and I knew she wanted me to. It felt fantastic and even though I tried to make it last I couldn’t hold back.

  That pattern went on for maybe six more visits. She never paid me cash and I never found any more faults on her computer. It was just a sexy game, with a different offering each time, and leaving her with wet knickers, a bra, a suspender belt and some stockings.

  Then one day I arrived and rang the bell before I noticed a note on the door, one of those Post-it things, saying to go in and there was something on the computer for me.

  I did go in, then called out hello but got no answer. I went upstairs, excited as to what today’s treat might be. There, her bum perched on the table top where the keyboard usually was, sat Jo, wearing a full-length slip, stockings, suspenders, a bra and some high-heeled shoes. She was holding the hem of the slip just above her crotch so her knickers were on view.

  “Hello, Phil,” she said sexily. “I’ve decided on a different method of payment today.” She reached down and pulled her knickers aside before adding, “It’s called Access.”

  As I watched her, she started to slide her finger up and down her opening, which was glistening under the lights.

  Well, inexperienced as I am, there was no mistaking I was on a winner. I put down my case and went across to her, but she put out her other hand and stopped me.

  “You have to earn it, Phil,” she said, then put a hand on my shoulder to push me down.

  I realized what she wanted – I wasn’t that dumb – but I’d never done it before. But I did it. I tried licking and sucking and she told me what worked and what didn’t, pulling my
face into her and moving her hips up and down, like she was fucking me. My hand had automatically gone to my cock but she noticed and said I had to stop. She didn’t want me to come too soon, she said. Good point.

  I had no idea if I was doing well, but after a while she stopped me and took me over to the bed. She lay back on it and started masturbating again while, at her suggestion, I took off all my togs. I think she was impressed with my hard-on. It’s not huge or anything but it sure was hard. Then I had to go down on her some more, licking her while she used her fingers at the same time. She made herself come – OK, I was licking her, but she definitely brought herself off – and I thought that’d be the end of it, but she wasn’t that cruel.

  “Stand up, Phil,” she told me, so I did, a bit embarrassed about my body because I could do with losing a bit of weight.

  She looked me up and down and straightened her clothes.

  “You really do like underwear, don’t you?” she asked, and I just nodded dumbly.

  “So, if you could choose,” she said, “where would you come? On my thong? My stockings? Slip, bra, where?”

  She never even offered to let me come inside her. I didn’t say anything because I wanted all of those, but no way could I manage all that in one day.

  “Can’t decide?” she teased after a while. “OK, then, tell me your favourites.”

  I swallowed my embarrassment and told her. I’d like to wrap my cock in her slip and wank with it. I’d like to come on her stockings and see it dribble down her legs. I’d like to do it into the crotch of her thong and then have her pull it back on, so she was wet from me. Same with her bra. Imagine my seed squashed on her tits by that bra.

  In the end she decided for me. She slipped off her thong and had me straddle her, so I was just above her waist and my cock was pointing up her body. The sexy cow then licked the crotch of her thong before spreading the only real area of fabric it had over my cock and holding it in place with both hands while she slowly wanked me. It felt so good just watching her do it and I knew I’d never last long. She knew that too, moving faster and faster as I jerked and trembled. I was so close but what actually finished me was when she pulled me forwards and put her mouth over the end, so she was sucking me through her thong. I just erupted into it. She took her mouth off and watched as my white jism oozed through the black. When I finished jerking she did the sexiest thing ever; she just leaned forward and licked, getting my come all over her tongue then putting it back in her mouth and swallowing. Fucking amazing.