The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  We were both panting heavily when I got unsteadily to my feet; both bright-eyed, red-cheeked and beaming sluttily. We tried to tidy ourselves up before we slid out of the cubicle, but the first glance in the mirror over the loo’s sinks showed me exactly what we looked like: two very naughty girls indeed.

  Cass smiled at me as she finished doing up her fly. “Back to mine, then?” she suggested.

  I nodded fervently. “Fuck, yes.”

  She grinned, and we made for the door. The film we’d paid to see must just have been finishing, because we passed a handful of people heading towards the loos as we left. I held the door for one woman, my cheeks heating up all over again as I thought how close we must have come to discovery.

  “Thank you,” she said, and I know she had absolutely no idea why Cass and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  I suppose I’m pretty glad of that, really!

  TWO’S COMPANY, THREE’S PERFECT

  Colleen, Loughborough

  The situation with same-sex marriages seems to change by the day, not just in legal terms but in attitudes. For years I’ve been living with Alison and we always discussed marriage. Now that’s all changed.

  It involved Charity – the girl not the good cause. Ali met Chas at work. I knew something was up because she talked about her new best friend all the time, to the extent I got miffed and decided to have it out with her. I asked her point blank if they were having a relationship.

  “I was hoping you could answer that,” Ali said, which confused me. I think it was only then she realized what I thought. It made her laugh and she grabbed my face and gave me one of her heart-stopper kisses; they always get to me.

  She told me she loved me and I had nothing to worry about, which answered my questions in part, but confused me too. Then she dropped the bombshell – she wanted to talk about this interloper coming to live with us in a three way relationship, adding I’d like Charity. We’d already said we weren’t the jealous types but that’s easy to say when you’re not faced with it.

  Rather than talk about it there and then, which would have been my choice, Ali took unfair advantage of me and we ended up in bed together as scissor sisters. I love that. She was casually trying to suggest how much fun we could have as a threesome. Each girl has two breasts, she said, so that would be two mouths, one for each breast, suggesting one of us would be the receiver and the other two the givers. She then pointed out that each girl has two hands and two sets of fingers, and, with one being the giver again, both her hands could be occupied on (and in) the others. For oral sex she painted this scene of a love triangle, with each sucking and licking the next in line, and she said she imagined that whatever number one did would cause a reaction in number two, and that reaction would pass through to number three and on back to number one again, each time increasing the sensation until we drifted off on a spiral of mounting lust. She sounded very convincing at the time. I had to point out that if we tried our current scissors position someone would end up going hungry but she had an orally-based argument for that, too.

  Then she hit my weakness. I like being used and abused, in a fetishy kind of way. I like it when she holds me down and I love it when she ties me up. I think it’s based on having all my choices taken from me. Imagine, she proposed, if I was tied up and maybe ordered to suck one girl’s puss while the other licked mine, and all I could do was obey.

  I could imagine that very easily, and when Ali grabbed some of our special cords and gave me a demonstration of the possibilities, I just caved in. As if to underline it all, she told me that Charity told her she’s a squirter. I’d heard of that and even seen videos on the Internet, but I was never sure they weren’t all faked. Let me assure you right now that Chas is a squirter and it’s no fake, as I was later to find out.

  Ali kept me there for a couple of hours and just about drove me mad with her probing fingers and wicked (really wicked) tongue. After just half an hour of that treatment I’d have agreed to anything, but after all that time I was just liquid.

  The following morning, a Friday, arrived like a slap in the face. The previous night, spurred on by visions and possibilities, gave way to the morning’s doubts and concerns about jealousies. Wasn’t I enough for Ali? That was the main one. Was she enough for me? I had to ask myself.

  But she was as breezy and cheerful as ever, though she knew where my mind was. Just before we went our separate ways to work she held me before I got in my car. “Just keep open minded,” she said to me. “If you don’t like it or really don’t want this, we’ll forget the whole thing. I love you far too much to risk anything.” And she drew me into another one of those kisses.

  I was well aware of the creep next door watching us through his window. Maybe we shouldn’t be quite so blatant in public but the creep asks for it. I whispered to Ali that he was watching and she said why not give him something to watch. The next thing I know she’s got her hand up my skirt and all my legs on show. Then, as I got in my car, she put her fingers to her lips and licked them, looking right at him, and made that “wanker” movement with her other hand. By that time he probably was. Wanking, I mean. Ugh.

  Off I went to work, knowing Ali would go out to her work and meet up with the mysterious Charity again. I suppose I formed various preconceptions about Charity, her name not helping. On the one hand it sounded like a church-fete, God-squad name and on the other I couldn’t help thinking of the character in Emmerdale on TV (not that I’d throw her out of bed!). I guess Ali anticipated I’d be at work, worrying, and part way through the morning I got a text from her. Charity’s photo was attached, sitting in their office drinking coffee. No doubt about it, she was a looker, and, whereas I’m sure Ali had been trying to put my mind at rest, it actually made me feel even more insecure.

  At home later that day we met for the first time. I was home first, as usual, and Ali arrived maybe ten minutes after with Charity following her. You could have cut the atmosphere with a blunt knife. She was as nervous as I was. Ali introduced us and then skipped off to make coffee. Chas and I sat opposite each other, wishing the ground would open.

  She opened the conversation by apologising. She didn’t want to intrude on our relationship, but she was new in town (she’d just been transferred from the Midlands, she said) and didn’t know anyone, so Alison had adopted her. That’s so typical of Ali; picking up life’s strays. I asked her about relationships and she started to tell me. Her father had left home when she was a kid and her mother had died from breast cancer earlier that year. I made all the expected sympathy noises and she went on to tell me about a relationship she’d had in the Midlands that had broken up very acrimoniously and was the reason for her taking the transfer. It was clear from her attitude she was hurting. I went and sat next to her on the sofa. As more and more poured out, the tears started to flow, so, whereas I’d been ready to punch this girl’s lights out earlier on, I found myself putting my arm round her and drying her tears as her whole body shook with emotional pain. Now I understood why Ali had been drawn to her and, ironically, the name Charity started to take on a new meaning.

  And it was me who kissed her.

  I’m not too sure how that happened. OK, I was comforting her and being as kind as I could, but all of a sudden that lovely, tearstained face was looking at me like a complete lost soul and . . . and I kissed her. Full on the lips. Naughty me.

  She thanked me afterwards. Genuinely. I was only the second person to show her a spark of humanity in weeks, she said, Ali being the first. So I kissed her again, moments before Ali chose to come back in the room. Maybe she was outside listening, knowing I’m as big a sucker for a sob story as she is.

  “Getting along OK?” she asked, a stupid grin on her face.

  She sat opposite and made some remark about being three special people; I can’t remember it all. She kind of took over a bit then, kneeling in front of us and urging our faces together and as we kissed Ali eased her hands up our skirts and started to stroke us
both. I didn’t need to look down to see she was doing the same to Chas as to me; I could sense it from Charity’s gasps and soft moans. My thighs just fell apart to allow her access and I guess Charity did the same, because before very many minutes had passed we were both filled with her fingers, which she’s bloody good at. We’d done all that talking the previous night about the combinations possible with three and here we were with another. I was kissing and cuddling (OK, I had my hands all over her boobs, and hers were all over mine, thanks to Ali taking time out to open our shirts and undo our bras) and below my waist I was being expertly masturbated by my lover while she did exactly the same to our new friend. Reaching what was very close to a mutual orgasm when all you have to do is kiss and hold a sexy, lovely woman has to be one of life’s great pleasures.

  Ali let us recover for a few minutes and declared it was her turn. She stood and stripped while we watched, then leaned forwards and offered us a breast each. OK, I realize now she was exploring the two-on-one positions to convince me it was good, but who cared then? While Chas and I suckled her nipples she pulled our hands to her, and I ended up with the strange sensation of exploring familiar depths but with another pair of fingers alongside. Ali was standing there looking like those Indian dancers with her legs apart while we played around in her wet puss and thumbed her clit.

  I don’t remember how we ended up on the floor and morphing into what we call a 696 – I’m sure I don’t need to explain what I mean by that. I love doing a 69 with Ali, but this was pretty much as Ali had suggested it would be, with each of us enjoying sensations both ends and this accelerating, jerky feed-forward of reactions getting us more and more heated. It started with me licking Ali, Ali licking Chas, Chas licking me, but we deliberately changed now and again so we tried all combinations. Ali’s still the best, but Chas is learning. That’s when I experienced first-hand Chas squirting. She doesn’t do it every time and the amount varies from hardly noticeable to sufficient to have to swallow it. It doesn’t really taste of anything – it’s certainly not pee – so no complaints from me; I just wish I could do it.

  Several orgasms (each) later, we rested, our coffee gone cold. Ali suggested some wine instead.

  “You can stay the night?” she asked Chas, glancing at me for permission. I nodded. I said I needed a shower before anything and we all ended up in the shower. Thank God it’s a big one. It was a real threesome by now, with nobody caring all that much who was doing what to whom, but none of us felt left out. We went to the bedroom and sat on the bed to drink the wine. We only had two bathrobes so Alison didn’t bother, the brazen cow.

  Then she announced it, much to my embarrassment.

  “Colleen likes being tied up,” she said.

  “Ali—” I started.

  Please, ground, swallow me up.

  “Me too,” said Chas.

  Maybe Ali can pick ‘em. Had she already found that out, I wonder?

  Ali joked that Chas’s confession could make things awkward. If I liked being tied up, and so did Chas, then who would want to do the tying?

  “I know,” she joked, “I will.”

  This set-up situation led to one of the most erotic and exciting things I’d ever experienced, and I still love it. After telling me to take off my robe, Ali tied my wrists behind my back and then did the same to Chas. She pushed us face to face so our boobs were crushed together and she used more of our ropes to tie us in that position. It felt delicious, and kissing with Chas was the natural thing to want to do as Ali got on with her macramé. (That was a joke, btw, I meant . . . well, you know what I meant.) We found ourselves tied together by our bodies, necks, knees and feet, and, because of Ali’s desire to get us close as possible, we ended up with my right thigh between Chas’s legs and hers between mine, meaning we could rub each other.

  Some weeks ago we’d bought some of that non-sticky PVC bondage tape from eBay – it sticks to itself by static but doesn’t have glue so doesn’t stick to skin or hair. We’d never used it, but Ali was about to. She pushed us together in a kiss (no complaints from me) and the wound the tape around our heads, so tight we were stuck in that kiss. We couldn’t break free a millimetre, not that I especially wanted to. It pretty much cut out all vision, too, though not all light.

  Ali was totally merciless. As we stood there her hands were all over us, reaching between to delve into our labia and rub our clits and mashing our boobs together. She got a couple of toothbrushes (we change them often so usually have new ones in the cabinet) and pushed one slowly up my bottom after having lubricated it first (in herself, she told me later) then did the same to Chas. I’d never really had any desire for any kind of anal play, so this was a new (and exciting) variation. It had another side-effect, too, of emphasising we couldn’t do anything to stop her doing what she wanted. All the time the only way to communicate with anyone (apart from our moans and groans) was by letting my lips and tongue play with Chas’s lips and tongue.

  I can’t remember how many times Ali made us come. Who was counting anyway? When she decided to let us go, after again announcing it was her turn, it was only enough so that we could lie face-down on the bed between her legs and take it in turns on her clit, our hands still tied together behind us.

  We all slept in our bed that night. I didn’t need any more selling. What we’d done was incredible, but it was also mostly sexual. Relationships have to be based on more than sex. With it being the weekend, we had nowhere we had to be, so we all talked it through. I’m still amazed there were no jealousies. We went out that day and bought a super king sized bed, and we spent the rest of it lazing in the garden, our brief bikinis always bound to attract the attentions of our wanker-in-residence. It was probably made worse because Chas didn’t have a bikini with her so Alison lent her some of her underwear – all clean and everything. I gave her a strange look because we both have plenty of spare bikinis that would fit Chas, but she just grinned and Chas picked up the mood, too. The bra and thong Ali produced for Chas were little more than tiny scraps of cloth and I admit they made her look gorgeous, so I can’t blame our neighbour for spying.

  He’s probably used to us now. We all leave for work and all kiss before we do. Chas and Ali share a car so we were able to get rid of one, and every day we eat, chat and sleep together. Each day brings new experiences and, rather than my expected jealousy, each day brings us closer together and makes us more of a unit. We laugh a lot and occasionally cry a lot – if you could witness three naked lesbians running with tears over some weepy flick on TV you’d want to laugh. We experiment, too. I’ve grown to like tying Chas up and she likes to do me, and one time we ganged up on Ali and roped her to the bed, choosing that position to try what I’d always reckoned she’d be capable of – taking my whole hand inside her.

  If one of us is away or unwell, the other pair commiserates and carries on regardless. To an extent it takes pressure off and eases the tensions of periods.

  We get more daring, too. After experiencing Chas’s outflow when she comes, I plucked up the courage to try pee play. We were in the shower and I was licking her while Ali sat on the loo openly masturbating at the sight of us. Chas asked Ali to move because she needed the loo and Ali said she was too comfy so pee in my mouth. Chas started to say please, she was bursting, but I looked up at her and said yes, do it, on me and in me, and opened my mouth wide as she let go. I didn’t swallow, well, apart from trickles I couldn’t avoid, but it’s not unpleasant when it’s fresh. The sight made Ali go off like a firecracker, too, and she’s tried it on me since.

  We’ve done that two-girl tie a lot, with me bound to Chas with the PVC tape locking us into our kiss, but Ali’s changed it now – she ties our wrists in front of us but round the other’s back, so we’re effectively pulling each other together. That leaves our bottoms exposed, not just for the toothbrushes but for a garden cane Ali likes to use on us. There’s something very kinky about kissing your lover and getting caned when you least expect it, or feeling her reaction throu
gh the kiss and her body when she’s on the receiving end.

  We occasionally play silly games. One we like is for us all to wear a blindfold and go down on the others. We have five seconds to guess who we’re licking. It’s not difficult but it’s not a real game, it’s just an excuse for fun.

  I wonder if they’ll ever allow marriages for same-sex threesomes?

  WET DESIRE

  Helen, Northamptonshire

  The circumstances in which I met Lacey were unconventional to say the least. When I was invited to a party by an intimate acquaintance of mine, I never imagined that the experience would awaken a desire so primal that it would never be satisfied. I had been seeing Chris on and off for a while, casually meeting for passionate and tempestuous sex, usually stolen away in the middle of the night because work meant that was the only time we were both available.

  Those stolen nights of passion were exciting, mischievous yet largely unsatisfying; when he left I always wanted and needed more. When he suggested that I accompany him to a discrete gathering of select people for a little adult fun I had no idea what to expect. I was excited and terrified at the same time; the fear of the unknown seemed to far outweigh the excitement on offer and yet I felt compelled to agree to accompany him. I’d heard of swinging, who hadn’t? Didn’t we all have a strong image of a flock wallpapered sitting room where middle-aged couples threw car keys into a glass bowl before drawing out a set and swapping wives for the evening? I hoped I wouldn’t end up with someone I really wasn’t turned on by.

  We arrived at the secluded house and Chris led me to where people were sitting under a gazebo, smoking. I tried to appear relaxed and friendly and after exchanging pleasantries we were instructed to go on inside and make ourselves at home. It wasn’t as I expected. It appeared to be a normal house party where at least thirty people were gathered, chatting and socialising in a very relaxed atmosphere. Chris fetched me a drink and I was beginning to think that perhaps he had been teasing me by insinuating the party was anything more than just a gathering of his friends. I accepted the wine gladly and before long its warming, mellowing effects were flooding my body and I began to relax. There were few women at the party as far as I could see and the gentlemen present all appeared to be considerably older than I was, I could easily have been the youngest person in the room at thirty, and some of the men looked closer to my grandfather in age. The women, all five of us, seemed younger, but still the other four appeared to be no less than twenty years older than I was. It unsettled me a little and I felt obvious as the youngest person there, but with Chris’s arm wrapped around my waist and a second glass of wine flowing through my veins, I felt ready to partake in the evening’s festivities.