She said nothing as the cucumber’s rounded tip met my slit. I thought it would be cold, but it wasn’t. I think being inside Mina’s pussy had softened it up, too, because when she started pushing it into me it didn’t feel as deathly huge as I thought it would.
“Play with yourself,” Mina instructed. “Touch your clit, my lovely.”
My tender bud was so engorged with arousal that I actually gasped when I touched it, arching off the ground.
“Stay,” Mina commanded, pressing down on my lower back. Her hand was so hot I wouldn’t have been surprised if it left a brand on my flesh.
I could feel the cucumber pulsing in my cunt, opening me wide, and I tried not to think of what Mina’s pussy had looked like when I’d forced that same veggie into it. I couldn’t imagine being stretched that wide. I couldn’t believe it was happening to me.
Even so, I rubbed my clit and growled, “More!”
My pussy was unbelievably sensitive, my lips thick and wet, my clit throbbing, begging for release. Mina put more pressure on the cucumber and I felt its smooth curve opening me wider. My fingers whacked the monster as I scoured my bud, lifting one shoulder and crushing my cheek into the soft ground. I wished I could open up my blouse, feel the soft flowers and grasses caressing my naked nipples while Mina screwed me, but my breasts were pressing down too hard. Anyway, I was too turned on to be coordinated.
That’s when Mina started twisting the cucumber inside my cunt, just like I’d done to her. It entered me deeply, and it felt so foreign, so unusual, so unabashedly huge that I wasn’t sure how I could handle its girth.
“Come for me,” Mina chanted as she turned the cucumber. “Come, my lovely.”
She was juicing me like an orange, and it felt so oddly wonderful that I knew I’d find my orgasm if I just kept stroking my clit.
I was right.
Shocks erupted through my belly, streaming down to my tits, exploding like fireworks. I lost all control at that point. Without fear or reservation, I bucked back. Mina held steady, driving the mammoth cucumber into my pussy as my orgasm took over.
Up on the rooftop, I grunted like an animal, like I wasn’t human anymore. “Awww yeah, fuck yeah fuck yeah fuck yeah!”
My voice was dark as gravel. I didn’t recognize it, except that it resonated in my chest like a canon blast. When I squeezed my eyes shut, galaxies exploded against the darkness of my lids. My skin was on fire, and that fire blazed through me until the only sensation left was the stretch and pull of a massive cucumber lodged in my snatch.
I lost track of time until Mina carefully slid the monster out of me. My pussy ached for it, but I knew I couldn’t bear any more. As it was I’d be feeling my distension for a week, at least.
Mina stretched out beside me and licked my pussy juice from the cucumber’s dark green skin. It was quite a spectacle, and my clit started pounding again as I watched her. I was just about to touch it when she said, “Back to work. We’re late already.”
A deep flush consumed me when I saw the grass stains across the front of my blouse. How was I going to explain that away at the office? My heart started thumping again, and my knees went so weak I didn’t think I’d be able to stand, until Mina helped me to my feet.
Before edging into the dark stairwell, Mina shielded her eyes from the sun and asked, “Would you do it again?”
My pussy was swollen and sore, I had grass stains on my boobs and my panties were soaked through with juice. Any sensible woman would say no, but the word stuck in my throat and before I knew it I’d said, “Any time.”
On our way downstairs, I asked Mina, “What are you going to do with that cucumber?”
She held it tight and said, “Slice it up, add some tomatoes, red onion, Greek dressing – makes a nice salad. I’ll bring some for lunch tomorrow, if you’ll share it with me.”
What could I say? “Yes, please.”
My mouth was watering already.
PEACHES AND CREAM
Ellen, Gloucester
I’m married now but my husband wouldn’t dream that my first sexual experiences were with girls. This one was a particular high point. After Clea, lesbian loving was never the same again – nor was my pussy. I had gone over to this girl’s to work on an essay and had been invited to stay the night. We were in our first year at university and still living with our parents in holiday time. We had shared a bottle of Curaçao over our essay, both lying on her bedroom floor, a mix tape grinding out electronica in the background. By ten o’clock we were both woozy and blue tongued. She had been playing with my curly hair and we had grown nearer and nearer each other on the mat, feeling each other’s warmth. I had spent a lot of time looking at the way the bedroom floor squashed her breasts against her, bending them out of shape and making them squeeze out of her top. Before I knew it we had bumped noses and the next minute we were necking, her hand in my sweater, my hand down the back of her jeans, stroking her soft, full crease. I was getting into arses and had begun to crave the secret heat that women kept in the seat of their pants. She lapped her tongue inside my closed mouth, making my nipples swell. My cunt throbbed like an idling engine.
After about fifteen minutes heavy petting we were both flushed and breathing thickly. Clea kneeled up and pulled off her sweater. She wore an ordinary soft, white bra through which poked the tips of her large, wide nipples. She laid me on the bed and tugged off my jeans. I was going to get my cunt eaten out and trembled with anticipation. As she wriggled out of her cords I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my lemon yellow knickers and peeled them off. The gusset was already shiny with my oozing oil. I imagined how good it would taste to her. I lay back and spread my legs wide, gagging to be licked.
She stopped.
“Ugh!” she said.
“What?” I asked, closing my thighs.
“Fuck, you’re all hair!”
For a moment I wondered what she could be talking about, but then it occurred to me she was referring to my pussy. I had luxuriant hair down there, dark brown and thick, it grew in curls of which I was very proud. Past lovers had twined their fingers in it and used it to hold apart my lips – one even threaded beads into its chestnut coils, which rubbed in the most unusual way as she ground her pelvis against them.
“Of course I am – everyone has pussy hair. It’s perfectly normal.” I sat up on the bed, still in my T-shirt, my bare legs on her duvet, my tuft bristling and showing between my blushed thighs.
Clea smirked and in one smooth, sensuous movement, dropped her knickers and stood before me in just her bra. My eyes nearly fell out. She was completely smooth. Completely. I had never seen anything like it. You could see everything: her soft underbelly, her taut loins, the small, slight crease of her outer lips, the pale pearl of the inner lips, hiding away. I asked her why she did it and she replied that she had always done it.
“Feels snazzy,” she said, wagging a long tongue at me. “If you’ve never licked a baldy cunt you’ve never lived!” I wanted that long tongue up my hole. I wanted it to squirm its way between my buttocks and write “Clea was here” on my perineum in silver loops of her perfumed spittle.
“I’m not going down on you with all that wuzzy,” she remarked. I was hurt. Half of me wanted to pull my pants up and get the hell out of there, but the other half was looking at Clea’s smooth, nude pussy and wondering what it would be like to lap its sweet, bare, pinkness.
“Let me shave you,” she suggested.
“No. Are you crazy? You’ll cut me.”
“No I won’t. Look. I didn’t cut myself!” She sat on her desk chair and splayed her legs.
I looked. I do like looking at cunts. Her lips were pale pink and faintly serrated. There was neither hair nor mark. She shifted forwards with a grunt, opening her buttocks. Her anus was hairless too, pink-puce, without a blemish. I leaned in and let my tongue rest on the little bull’s eye. She shivered and eased away.
“Shave first,” she said.
“No way,” I replied.
“Look. I’ll show you,” said Clea. She removed her bra, letting her warm, soft tits loll against her ribcage. I could smell their secret warmth. She leaned over and, taking something from her desk drawer, walked, naked as she was, out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Under the striplight I found her blowing up a pink party balloon. Where she got the balloon I don’t know. It occurred to me that she had prepared. Either that or she had done this before. She took an everyday can of shaving cream from the bathroom cabinet and squirted a tennis ball sized blob onto the balloon’s bulge. Using her fingertips in a way that made me cream between my legs, she spread the shaving cream evenly over the rubber’s indecent curves and before my eyes, she shaved that balloon smooth, sud by sud, drawing lines through the white until all the foam was gone. Not once did she nick the rubber. I began to touch my clit, just a little, back and forth, just warming her up.
“All right,” I murmured.
“Great,” she purred. She filled a bowl with hot water from the tap and picked up a razor, soap and brush. It was a gentleman’s badger-hair brush and through my head flashed the words “badger”, “beaver”, “pussy”, “stoat”. Funny that something so hairy should be used to remove hair. I pulled off my T-shirt, letting my full breasts bounce in the steamy air, and sat on the loo.
“No,” said Clea, “back in my room. If my folks get back we can turn out the light and pretend to be asleep. We don’t want my dad walking in on me hunkered over your gash, scraping off your wool.”
Filthy talk like this makes me hot and I could feel a bloom of peach-juice between my legs.
Back in her bedroom, Clea put on a low lamp. She laid a large bath towel over the bed and, without bidding, I sat on it with my back against the wall and my thighs wide.
“Spread wider, honey,” whispered Clea. I opened my legs even further, putting my hands behind my knees, stretching my cunt wide. I moaned with pleasure as the sticky lips were pulled apart, letting the air reach my coral. The tendons strained at the tops of my thighs. I could smell the easy musk of my own overheating pussy and this made me hotter still. She took a pair of hairdressing scissors from her bedside table (convenient?) and cut my bush down, auburn curl by auburn curl, each time with as much love and care as a Victorian sweetheart would use to take a lock of hair from the temple of his beloved. The curls went in the bin but I noticed that one, a corkscrew ringlet of especial beauty, shot with an electric thread of copper, she dropped into her bedside cabinet. Filthy bitch, I thought. I wondered how many other curls it was sharing a bed with. Would she wank over that? Put it on her tongue? Sniff it? Stroke her clit with it, softly, softly, until she came, shuddering?
Soon Clea’s careful scissors has sheared me down to a close matte of hair. Each snip had revealed more of me, my fattish clit now peeking out from between short bristles, over the slight prominence of my mons veneris and matching in rosiness the flushed magenta of my slight and crinkled labia. She blew lightly over my crotch, making me sigh, and replacing the scissors, squirted foam into her hand. The feeling of a handful of shaving cream, cold and silky, right on my cunt, was indescribable. I cried out as she massaged it indiscriminately into my now-short pussy hair, rubbing it into folds, across the clit, into the hole, her hands smearing my buttocks and playing with my anus.
Then the shaving began. The feeling of aroused dread as I watched her draw the razor between my legs was something entirely new. My cunt juices made slick patches in the foam, like fruit juice oozing through whipped cream. My whole pussy looked like a cool, luscious trifle of peach and white, ripe to be eaten. Clea whispered to herself as she shaved patch after patch – “there’s a good girl”, “there’s the little clit”, “pretty pussy”, etc, until it was all I could do not to arch my back and cram my cunt into her open mouth. Her lips were often inches from my crotch, her tongue involuntarily flicking just within her mouth. I knew she was aroused, too, as she opened and closed her legs, squeezing her thighs together. It took nearly fifteen minutes to shave my pussy close and by the end I was faint with expectation. I needed sucking or fingering or something pretty soon, but no.
“On your knees,” demanded Clea.
I did as I was told, wobbling on the bed. I bent and arched my back, blooming out my pale buttocks and parting my sticky thighs. I prayed she’d lick me, finger me, stick her hand up my pussy, anything but, no – I heard the ball bearing rattle and cool foam hissed out, lathering my perineum, anus and crack. Her hot hands followed, smearing the cream over my whole rear end. The smoothing action was particularly nice and made my arsehole twitch with joy, Clea’s finger rotating on my pucker-bud like it was a computer mouse. I cried out with desire, my tongue hanging from my mouth, my cunt muscles working towards a thrumming come.
The razor arrived. I felt the blade edge towards my anus, the lightest touch, like a little silver tongue. Clea shaved smooth the soft, soft hairs around my secret hole and the ivory channel between my buttocks, even drawing her razor softly down the sensitive bridge of my perineum. I arched my back and parted my thighs further, the shaving driving me towards a precipice of abandon.
Just as I was sure it was licking time, Clea started to lather my buttocks, smoothing creamy foam all over my quivering pink globes from the tops of my thighs to my hips. I could not believe it when she began to shave my bum cheeks – a completely new sensation, the fine-as-glass down I had had since puberty vanishing to bring a new kind of nudity. First one pillowy cheek, then the other. Just as she rinsed the razor for the last time, I heard the heart-stopping sound of a key in the door. I froze and clenched my buttocks.
“Your mum and dad?” I hissed.
“Sh!” said Clea and to my utter shock, eased what could only be the long, smooth wooden handle of the shaving brush into my well-soaped anus.
I gasped in shock and bit my lip. “What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed. My arse was slippery with soap but, although slender, the softly-contoured intruder burned slightly. I had never put anything in my rectum before and the new the sensation of being stretched like this was a bit mind blowing. “Ga-aag,” I remarked.
“Sh! Sh!” spat Clea, wiping last trails of suds from my arse cheeks. Twin footsteps climbed the stairs.
“Are you still awake, Clea?” her mother’s voice called.
“Just—” Clea replied sleepily. She half withdrew the wooden dick-handle from my bottom and screwed it back in again with a sadistic twist.
I moaned silently into my own chest. I had never experienced the bruised claustrophobia of danger-sex before. It was a drug. Fuck me, I thought. Fuck my virgin arsehole.
“Nice evening?” called the mother. She was right outside the door.
“Lovely,” murmured Clea. “My friend’s here. We’re just dropping off.”
Clea’s mother continued to chat through the closed door as Clea bum-fucked me slowly but purposefully with her soapy brush handle. I had often wondered what people saw in butt business but at that moment I realized that it is not so much the mechanics of it (although it felt nice, in a dark, weird kind of way,) but a kind of rejoicing in the wrongness. It is so grubby, a filthy hallmark of risk and transgression that just reeks of desire. I rocked my hips and fucked back on that tidy handful of wood, feeling my sphincter open and close. I groaned as I felt my orgasm (entirely unexpected – I mean, an anal orgasm?) throb gently through my arse and clitoris, shimmering down my legs.
“Oh, oh, fuck Clea!” I breathed, biting her duvet.
“Night, Clea,” called her mother.
“Shit, oh fuck me I’m coming,” I whispered. “Oh my fucking arse!”
“Night, mum,” replied Clea, withdrawing the brush with a pop. The dirty bitch sucked that wooden handle. I mean sucked it, all soapy and arsey and warm. I was so aroused I thought I’d piss myself. When we heard her parents’ light click we got to work.
To keep my moans low, Clea offered me a choice of gag: my knickers or hers. I chose hers, relishing the feel of the cotton as they were bunche
d into my mouth, savouring the tang of salt and spice against my tongue from the day-old gusset. She made good use of mine, stuffing them up her cunt with two fingers. “To soak up the froth,” she said crassly. “I get drippy when I lick.” She had such a foul mouth. I loved every word.
She arranged me on all fours and knelt behind, running her tongue over my shorn cheeks. I trembled with the sheer horniness of it. The feeling was incredible, like the touch of the ocean on a warm day. When her tongue found my anus I moaned softly into the gag. She rimmed me roughly, circling the ring, stabbing at the hole and then, with surprising muscularity, forcing her tongue up my arse, until she was licking inside, undulating with a flame-like ripple. I heaved with emotion, pushing my anus out at her trying to get that hot tongue further up my bum. My face burned with degradation but my cunt was on fire.
Her tongue slipped from my rear and slithered down my dripping pussy, licking the lips until she reached my bare clit. She toggled the swollen bud, easing her thumbs into my nude cunt, opening the shorn vulva until my coral gaped. The feel of her thick tongue lapping me from behind rocked me into another orgasm. I grunted into the gag, my throat burning from repressing screams as she flicked my clit like lightening with her straining tongue. I collapsed onto my front and she flopped down beside me, laughing. Her kiss was a slobbery mess. I tasted clit, come and, like a faint spice, my arse, just a grace note, like pencil shavings. Her painted fingernails slipped stickily between my labia and found my throbbing clit.
“Oh shit,” I mumbled. A gentle rhythm became faster and harder as she masturbated me, rubbing my wringing folds to a shaking orgasm. As I came she flicked my bean hard, like a tiddlywink.
“Ow! Uh! Uhhhh!” I cried, as the pain exploded into joy.
“Time for a boy-job” she laughed. She pushed my thighs apart and went down, taking my clit into her mouth and sucking it under immense pressure, in a tiny parody of a blow job. She shivered her tongue over the tip until, after what seemed like hours of pleasure, I trembled into a shuddering climax.
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions Page 6
