The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  I DARE YOU, GIRL!

  Helen, Essex

  Jac and I always loved practical jokes, from our very first schooldays together. Nobody was ever safe, but we only ever meant it in fun. A few took the hump, but stuff them.

  I guess it was kind of natural that Jac and I would end up together. I knew I was lez from my early teens and she says she did too. It made us different at school, with a lot of girls cutting us dead, but some others were curious. Some wanted to get us back for the jokes we played on them by trying to split us up. Stuff them too. It usually backfired on them, anyway.

  I remember one time there was this bitch called Amy in our class who thought she was God’s gift. She was very pretty, I know, but she really was a cow attitude-wise. She started coming on to me when Jac was off sick for a few days, thinking she would move in and Jac would freak out when she found out, but I texted Jac so she knew what was going on, so we decided to play the joke on her. Amy sent me a note in Geography to say to meet her after school in the gym, and her mates were giggling and nudging, so it was obvious something was up. I texted Jac and we set a trap.

  After school I went to the gym and Amy was already there. She thought everyone fancied her (she was a right slag with the boys) and I guess she thought I would, too. I pretended to lock the gym door so nobody could walk in, even though I didn’t have a key. What Amy didn’t know is that Jac knew all about it and used her bike lock to lock the door handles together from outside. We figured Amy’s mates were supposed to turn up and catch us at it. We were right. Amy watched them come in and watched them go again when they realized they couldn’t get in. Me and Amy went to the back of the gym, where they store all the mats.

  I asked her why she wanted to meet and she said she fancied me, just came out with it. I said I thought she was straight and she told this big lie about knowing she was lez inside and fooling around with boys to make her mates think she was straight. Like, yeah.

  So I asked her what she was going to do about it and she asked me the same, so I just snogged her. She went all tense and kept looking out, expecting her mates, no doubt with phone cameras so they could catch us at it. With that in mind, I guess, she asked if she could see my tits, so I said she could if I could see hers. We both stripped off our school shirts and bras. She had nice tits, actually. She said I could touch them, and I thought, here’s a way to double the joke. She thought she was going to have pics of me posted on the internet, and the joke was there weren’t going to be any pics. But I got this idea that if I could show her how good lez sex can be, I could make her embarrassed about having lezzie feelings. I went to her and stroked her tits and her nipples. I think I’m good at that. So does Jac. And Amy’s all acting up and saying how great it’s feeling but I know it’s actually getting to her because she wasn’t acting anymore.

  She’s, like, kissing me back when I snog her and I’m pushing her down on the mats and I’ve got my hand up her skirt and in her pants, copping a good feel. She’s blathering all over the place when in walks Jac with her phone. Jack shot off a load of pics before Amy realized she was there. Now the joke’s on Amy because we’ve got pics and she doesn’t. She was bloody mad, I tell you. We chucked her clothes in the shower and turned the water on so I guess she had to make up some excuse when she got home.

  The next day Jac was back in school and Amy said she was going to do me at break. I mean, like, beat me up or something, but Jac just grinned at her and shook her iPhone to remind her we had the pics and not her, so she just never talked to us again. It suited us. A few weeks later she was up the duff and left school anyway. We laughed about it for ages and Jac teased me about finger fucking Amy.

  When we left school we both went to the same uni and managed to get in the same room in Halls. A whole new bunch of people to play practical jokes on. A lot of lez wannabes, too, like it’s the fashion all of a sudden, and a load of blokes leering and nudging when two of them make arses of themselves by snogging in the Union Bar or something like that.

  It was like paradise for us practical jokers, though. We’d set up truth or dare games and they’d always end up with everyone starkers and the wannabes having to do oral on each other or on us. We peed ourselves laughing at some of them, because they were just playing at it and all of a sudden they’ve got a real, live wet puss they’ve got to go down on for thirty seconds or something. You could tell them apart, too, when they had to go down on one of us because they’d be hopeless at it.

  We’ve always played a lot of jokes on each other, too. Or dares, more like. One of the problems we’ve found with that, though, is that it only really works once. That doesn’t stop us, but it does mean we have to keep coming up with new ideas, and that means more extreme ideas. For example, Jac dared me to lie in the bath while she peed on me, then added to the dare by saying I’d not open my mouth for it, but I did. But making that a dare the other way round was a cop-out. Already done, old news. Not that we haven’t added a bit of that to our sex life, mind you – it works well when we’ve been out on the lash because it makes you braver and it waters down the pee.

  Our dares moved on to doing things in public. Being in public meant going out without knickers and bras, then going out naked, then wanking in public. Then wanking each other in public and going down on each other in public. One idea springs off another. When I say public, we don’t do it where there’re loads of people, just in places where someone might find us. That’s part of the buzz. I guess the most freaked out thing we did like that was a 69 on the seat of a double-decker bus late one night. Someone came upstairs but we were at the front so we didn’t think they knew we were there and Jac dared me to carry on. What we didn’t know was that they could see us in the window reflection and they started taking their own pics. Then they had the nerve to say they thought we were disgusting when we got off the bus.

  We did some BDSM stuff, too. She’d tie me up and I’d tie her up for dares. We had games about how long we could stay tied up for, and we both managed complete weekends. She played a good one on me by leaving me tied up behind the sofa and inviting a couple of mates in for drinks. They didn’t know I was there, so I had to be dead quiet in case they looked.

  We went to Ibiza together last year. On the way over, though, we joined the mile-high club. I bet not many lesbians can claim that, but it’s so easy. For a straight couple they’d have to sneak in the toilet but, with us, all of a sudden Jac’s moaning as the stewardess goes by, saying she’s not feeling well. I asked her what was wrong and she just said to go with it. Anyway, this snotty trolley dolly said she’d get her some water but Jac says she wants to go to the toilets and can I help her there, so I do go along with it. Once we’re inside she’s all over me, snogging and getting her dress right off. (We both had summer dresses and not much else on because of the expected heat when we arrived.) She had me sit on the loo and she put one leg up over my shoulder so I could lick her. The dolly came back a few times to check she was OK and she starts making throwing up noises and I’m saying she’ll be OK while all the time I’ve got my tongue on her clit. Then it was my turn and she did the same for me, adding a few fingers for extra effect. We did get some odd looks when we came out, so maybe they guessed.

  In Ibiza, the fact we were in a quiet bit helped. A few metres’ walk out of town along the coast and it was all but deserted. We went skinny dipping a lot and I had my first-ever underwater come. Oral, too – Jac would take a deep breath and dive under and lick till she had to breathe again. I tried it but couldn’t hold my breath long enough. Nights were best, though. The hotel had a stupid competition for Miss Panorama. We dared each other to enter it and, as you probably guessed by now, we never turn down a dare. There were maybe ten of us in the running, but it wasn’t just a glam thing – the DJ made us do all kinds of stupid games. The last one, we had five minutes to go up to our room and put on the sexiest outfit we had – just an excuse for the blokes to gawp, I guess. I had a nearly see-through black top and put it on with just a black
thong bikini. Jac put on a baby-doll pyjama thing in cream. Then we had to dance round the audience and we were both, like, trying to outdo each other by being more daring. Jac kept flipping up the bottom of the baby-dolls until her tits kept showing underneath. Egged on by the DJ, I slipped off my thong until I was, to all eyes, dancing in a see-through dress with no knickers on.

  The bloody annoying part was neither of us won. This other girl called Kelly won. She was an amazing dancer, though; I bet she’d done pole dancing. Afterwards we all lined up for photos in front of the crowd and this Kelly was touching me up under my skirt. Jac noticed and took her to one side, telling her she could join us in a threesome if she wanted, but to keep her hands off me until then. Cute, huh? Anyway, talking to people the day after, it turns out this Kelly is, like, fifteen. If she’s not preggo by the time she’s sixteen, she’s either sterile or she really is lez. She didn’t take Jac up on the offer of a threesome, by the way.

  What else did we do? Oh, we did a 69 in a pedalo. Is that some kind of record? I was on top and I got really bad sunburn, so that kind of ruined the rest of the hols. We had to wait till we got back before we could start finding new ways to be bad.

  It gradually got more and more daring. Recently, it’s got a bit out of hand. We were at a party and she dared me to snog a bloke. I don’t get off on men at all and neither does Jac, but it was only a snog so I did it. On my turn I dared her to show the same bloke her tits. She did it. Then I had to take off my knickers and give them to him, so I did. This bloke, Jay, like Jac but with a y, wasn’t scared of us. He was enjoying our game for what he got out of it.

  Before we realized he was playing us at our own game, we got more and more extreme with our dares until we were playing with his cock. He dared us to go back to his room with him. I think he’s got loads of money because he had a fantastic apartment all to himself. Then the dares got very non-lez. Jac dared me to snog Jay. I dared her to touch his cock. She dared me to take it out. I dared her to rub it. She dared me to kiss it. I dared her to suck it. I nearly puked when I thought about it the next day.

  We ended up in a three-way snog, with him getting off on Jac and me kissing each other. We got off on making a show, so we started making out, rubbing each other off with our fingers and stripping all our kit off. OK, we were well pissed but somehow he managed to convince us to get on his bed and 69 each other while he slowly wanked his cock.

  We both knew where it was going and we didn’t want it, but we couldn’t stop it, somehow. It was Jac who dared me to let Jay fuck me and it was me who said only if she sucks him off afterwards. Ewww. Even writing about it makes me want to puke. But we did it. He got between my legs and rammed it in me and she took my mind off it by snogging me and doing my tits. She told me after that she was trying to work him up so he’d come quickly and she wouldn’t have to do her bit, but I’d still have insisted, no matter how revolting it was. Jay was up on us, though, because he held out. No way a man could make me come, anyways, but after a while she plucked up courage and he fucked her mouth till he shot his load. That was when she did puke, all over his expensive carpet.

  THOSE WERE THE DAYS

  Sally, Newcastle upon Tyne

  Back in the days of ra-ra skirts and Rubik’s Cube, I was introduced to my first penis and, to be honest, I wasn’t impressed. My first boyfriend, Stuart Foster, or Fud as he was known to his friends, picked me up in his bright yellow Mini, which had a black and white chequered roof. He mentioned something about a “pork lance” and as we drove down towards the old cricket field, I thought he must have packed a picnic. Looking forward to a bottle of Tizer and a sausage roll, I got comfy and enjoyed the journey.

  The sun had gone down as he pulled up in a passing place on a remote, leafy lane and he turned off the ignition. He licked his lips and leaned over and kissed me, grabbing my left breast. Fud was a lovely kisser, but it was only our second date and I felt like I was being mauled.

  “Woah, tiger!” I objected and he pulled back with a reluctant apology. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “Slowly would be nice,” I replied, so he slowly unzipped his fly and this huge wanger popped out from the slit in his Y-fronts. “My God!” I exclaimed.

  This was the first cock I had encountered and I didn’t know what to expect, but this certainly wasn’t it. My eyes must have said it all and he grinned and gently took my hand and placed it around the base of the shaft. I listened carefully to his directions of “firm but slow” and I touched a cock for the first time. Boy George played on the car tape deck and I remember wondering how the porn stars could take a monster like this to the back of their throat without gagging. Before I knew it, his breathing got faster and his legs went rigid and he groaned as the trouser snake spat venom in the direction of his bellybutton. I remember apologising for the mess, thinking perhaps I should have pointed it in the direction of the ashtray. But for me the experience was not an enjoyable one and I didn’t want to repeat it.

  My best mate Lynne and I shared everything: clothes, thoughts and experiences. She was far more experienced than I was with boys and although she bragged about her sexual exploits, I knew that she had made it all up. Surely she couldn’t have enjoyed what I had just done? Where was the fun in that?

  That night we lay on my bed, listening to Duran Duran, painting our nails as our hair toners took effect. “So, tell me all about it then,” she chirped. “Second date with lover boy. Come on, spill the beans.”

  “Nothing to tell,” I pursed my lips and she knew there was a story coming. We giggled as I told the story of the previous evening. I exaggerated, of course, for the purpose of girly drama. Fud’s cock had now enlarged to the girth of a Matey bubble bath bottle. The come was wallpaper paste and he sang “How ‘Bout Us?” by Champaign softly in my ear as I did the deed.

  We howled with laughter to the point of incontinence until I told her the truth. We agreed that the joy of sex was, sadly, over rated. We went downstairs for a drink and my mum cooked us a Vesta Curry. We watched a repeat of Dukes of Hazard before taking a hot drink up to bed. We regularly slept over at each other’s houses and were rarely apart.

  My room was decorated with red heart wallpaper with matching curtains in alternate colours. On the walls were posters of Simon le Bon, Paul Young and Adam Ant. We brushed our hair, removed our make-up and climbed onto my single bed with the menagerie of cuddly animals stuffed down the side. Lynne picked up a bear and straddled me in her pink nylon nightie. She curled his arm around the back and up between his legs. I knew what was coming. In a deep voice she sang, “Some people are made for each other, some people can love one another for life, how ‘bout us . . . ?” while moving the bear’s arm back and forwards to simulate wanking. We were in fits of laughter again. The bear was thrown to the floor with the rest of the zoo and she flung herself back on the pillow next to me.

  As tears of laughter rolled down my cheeks, I said, “I love you, Lynne.”

  She looked at me and smiled. “One day when Simon and Nick realize we’re their biggest fans, we’ll have a joint wedding and live happily ever after in a mansion and have loads of cute kids and holiday in Mallorca twice a year.” She kissed me.

  I felt a tingling sensation that I had never felt before. The kiss wasn’t a peck, or a “friend” type kiss, it was on the lips and it lingered. She looked me straight in the eye as she pulled away. At the time, I was thinking that I should feel like this when Fud kisses me, but this was a different feeling to what I felt with him. This was exciting, strange, sexy and new.

  “I love you, too, honey, best friends for life,” and we slept soundly, dreaming not of our idols Duran Duran, but of each other.

  The next night we were invited to a party at the local community centre. My neighbours’ son had been married and I had been invited along with my parents and a friend. We were allowed a can of cider each and we sat with my mum and dad and my little sister, who was thirteen, three years my junior and a pain in the arse. She
followed me all over and I soon tired of her shadow, so Lynne and I opted to go back to my house to watch TV.

  We called to the chippy on the way and ordered curry and chips to eat as we walked back. It was a lovely, warm night and as we strolled through the park, we noticed a couple having sex behind a tree. They didn’t see us and we crouched behind a bush to get a better view. They kissed like the Americans did on Dallas and he dropped to his knees and his head disappeared up her long gypsy skirt. The girl wrapped her hands around the back of her head and clasped the tree as her partner’s head rocked back and forth between her legs. Little squeaks of delight could be heard from them both, then the most overwhelming gasp from her as she came. Then he quickly stood up, unzipped his trousers and stuck his cock into her. We were quite close and I could see it wasn’t as big as Fud’s, but she seemed happy. A few shunts, then his little white arse tensed and he groaned and pulled out, zipping up his pants. I thought it was kind, the way he unhooked her knickers from around one of her ankles and held them while she put her other foot into the hole and then handed them to her to pull up. We waited in the bush until they left. Our chips were cold, so we left them in the bush. According to Lynne, foxes love curry and chips and we were doing our bit for nature by feeding the wildlife; it wasn’t littering.

  When we got home, we went upstairs with a bottle of Lambrini that was left over from Christmas and put some music on the record player. We lay on our stomachs on the floor, hands under our chins, reading the weekly edition of Smash Hits magazine. We were sixteen, without a care in the world, had a rose-tinted view of life and wanted to explore every avenue. After a few drinks, Lynne put her arm around my waist from behind and began to stroke my back. Up and down and up to my hair, which she twisted through her fingers. I turned to face her and she kissed me. This time I knew it was for real. She kissed me passionately and slowly and she had her eyes shut. I didn’t want that kiss to end, it was so beautiful. She pulled herself up onto her knees and I did the same. She looked at me and smiled that infectious smile she had that meant mischief was afoot and jumped up to turn off the light. The room was dark, but not completely pitch black as the street light outside my bedroom shed a warm haze across the floor.