Candid Confessions Bundle #2

by Red Hot Romance Books

  ‘I want to make love to you properly, Angel,’ he said. ‘It feels so good to be inside a woman. I had forgotten just how wonderful this feels.’

  And then in one single movement, we were lying on the bed with Dirk still inside me. His lips sought mine, and the taste was sensual and provocative. The more he kissed me, the more my desire to be fucked increased. Luckily, Dirk’s thoughts were very much in tune with mine, and he continued to thrust, barely breaking rhythm from the vertical to the horizontal. It felt so good to be giving a man such release, to be offering the one thing he had such a desperate need for. I loved being desired, I loved being fucked…and inevitably it was only minutes before my entire body was shaking with the trembling pleasure of multiple orgasms.

  God, this was good. Jesus this was fantastic.

  ***

  The next morning, I discovered that being awoken at 5.00am isn’t that bad…provided you are woken up by a good length of dick sneaking into your pussy. At first, I thought I was just having a good dream – a very pleasant dream in which something unknown was pleasuring me. Then I crossed the threshold to wakefulness, and became conscious of Dirk’s erect penis exploring my vulva. At first, he couldn’t find his way in. But within a few minutes, I was becoming wetter, and I could feel my vagina expanding to accommodate him, just as nature intended. Then he was sliding deep inside me, one hand curling in front of me to fondle my breasts, his legs spooning against mine.

  Dirk was enjoying making up for lost time. We had already made love three times throughout the night, and now he was up for more. I guess he knew it might be a long time before he had another willing woman in his bed, and he wanted to make the most of it. That was just fine by me.

  By the time Dirk had come another twice and finally exhausted himself, it was nearly seven and we were well behind schedule. But by eight, I was packed, and the Land Cruiser and The Rocket were ready to leave. The plan was that I would follow Dirk until we got to the main road, so that he could show me the way and check that I was safe. After that, it would be a tearful goodbye and I would be on the road back to Dallas.

  ‘That was fun,’ he said as I loaded my stuff into The Rocket. ‘I wish you could stay longer.’

  ‘So do I…but I have to get back.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But I’m glad you showed up here. Anytime you find yourself driving round the Arizona desert again, call in and see me.’

  ‘I will.’

  I slammed the trunk and went to slip my purse into the driver’s seat. But then I had another idea.

  ‘Are you ready to roll?’ Dirk asked.

  ‘Almost…just one more thing. I forgot something.’

  I rushed back into the ranch, leaving Dirk waiting by his Land Cruiser. I went into his bedroom , took the envelope with the three thousand bucks out of my purse and placed it on his night stand. Then I found a pen and some paper in my purse, and hastily wrote a note.

  Dirk

  Thanks for a great night. Please use this money to buy the new pump for the Hasquana. It’s legally my money, but I have a bad feeling about it, so I want it to go to a good cause.

  I hope you find a good woman to love you…I know you deserve one.

  Angel

  I hurried out of the ranch and climbed into The Rocket. As Dirk got into the Land Cruiser, I started the engine up. For once in my life, I had done something that wasn’t totally selfish…and it felt good!

  Very good.

  So good, in fact, that maybe I should celebrate by giving Dirk one last fuck before we left. After all, this would be his last pussy opportunity for some time to come. And I always believe in donating to a good cause. I switched the engine off and got out of the car. Dirk looked surprised when I climbed into the Land Cruiser beside him and reached for his crotch. Doing someone a good turn can sometimes be a lot of fun.

  And it was.

  Oh boy, it really was…

  Fun With a Fireman

  Well, I’ll say one thing for British men. They know how to fuck.

  I can confirm this with total confidence because in the two weeks I had spent in London, I had done what American tourists are supposed to do. That is, spending as much time as possible checking out the sights and attractions. I don’t mean the castles and all that shit – I mean the sights and attractions to be found in the male population. I discovered that you don’t need to go to the Tower of London to check out some crown jewels. I found plenty of guys packing impressive jewels that were worth examining more closely. You may have heard that English guys have a stiff upper lip. Well, in my opinion, that’s bollocks – but they do tend to get stiff in other parts of their anatomy.

  So I liked London. A lot.

  At the point where this story starts, I was getting a good look at Big Ben. No silly, not the clock thing…this was Ben Barratt, the photographer I was working with. The magazine I write for in the States had sent me to the old country to cover the latest upcoming nuptials at Buckingham Palace. I had been paired up with Ben, a local freelancer, to produce a spread on the big event. But we sneaked off work a couple of hours early and went back to Ben’s place to produce our own spread – that is, my legs spread on his bed. Forget the royal wedding – I was about to get a royal humping. If all English guys are built like Ben, I can understand why the royal wives are always smiling.

  Anyway, there I was somewhere in Battersea on a grey, rainy day in June. It was supposed to be the best time of the year for sunshine, but the Brits don’t seem to go in for summer much. I hear they tend to skip it and go straight from spring into another winter. I guess that way they save money on buying bikinis and sun tan lotion. Makes sense to me.

  But I digress. Ben’s apartment - sorry, they call them flats over there, right? Well, his flat wasn’t the biggest in the world. If Ben took up swinging cats for a hobby, he wouldn’t have much opportunity to indulge his passion at home…you know what I’m saying? The double bed took up most of the main bedroom. The flat was way up on the top floor, with a neat view across Battersea Park to the city beyond. Looking out the window, I could see a chimney stack from the old Battersea Power Station sticking up like a giant phallus. However, I was much more interested in the giant phallus that was approaching me across the squeaky bed.

  ‘Now I know why they call you Big Ben,’ I said, admiring the view. ‘You’re looking pretty fit in the underpants department.’ Ben was pretty fit all round, to be honest. He wasn’t super muscular, but he was tall and in good shape – probably in his early thirties or thereabouts.

  ‘I’m a professional photographer, darling,’ he reminded me. And oh, that Cockney accent was such a turn on! I was getting wetter with every sentence he spoke. ‘I know how to look after my equipment. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean. And you’re certainly good with exposures.’

  Ben grinned. ‘Actually, I was planning on taking a closer look at your exposures…’

  I was exposed all right. I was stark naked and definitely ready for a little male-on-female action. And before you start calling me rude names, let me get in there ahead of you. If you haven’t met me before, my name is Angel deVries, and I’m a shameless sexaholic. So if you’re thinking of words like ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ you can fuck off. Sex is the most natural thing in the world – you wouldn’t be here without it – and I’m not ashamed to enjoy it whenever it suits me. And it tends to suit me quite a lot.

  We had pretty much skipped the foreplay. Ben seemed to be in a hurry to get down to the meat and potatoes of the whole business. That was fine with me. I got the hots for him as soon as we met the week before, and I was glad to find he felt the same way about me.

  ‘I’ve never had sex with an American woman,’ he said, working his dick firmly to attention with his right hand. ‘I’m looking forward to finding out what it feels like.’

  I giggled. ‘I guess we’re pretty much the same as British girls, except we scream in a funny accent.’

  ‘Oh boy, I can’t wait to hea
r that! It will be like watching sex in a Hollywood movie, but it will be real life.’

  Too much talking, not enough action. I reached up, curled my hand around the back of Ben’s neck and pulled him on top of me. ‘Much as I love to hear you talk in that cute voice of yours, let’s get down to business.’

  ‘Love a duck…that sounds awesome!’

  Love a duck? They sure talk weird over there. So I clamped my lips against Ben’s to make him shut up. That did the trick. He seemed to lose all interest in chatting, and I could feel his dick straining upwards as his body lowered down onto mine. Hmm...nice. My Mom always said it’s good to travel and get new experiences. And I had a feeling that this experience would make the long flight across the pond worthwhile.

  Ben’s lean and hard body was on top of mine now, his naked flesh pressing against mine. He moved his lips from my mouth to my neck and shoulders, and then down to my breasts. I loved every moment, but I was impatient for the main course. I arched my back so that my body pressed tightly against his and whispered in his ear.

  ‘I want you inside me, right now.’

  ‘That’s what I want, too,’ he replied. ‘I want that more than anything.’

  Ben shifted his position, making himself more comfortable between my legs. Then I could feel him fumbling between my thighs, seeking the right place to enter me. Another moment and he was inside me, sliding deep and grunting as he buried his flesh inside mine.

  ‘Oh yes!’ I exclaimed. ‘Yes, yes!’

  OK, I know. A bit of repetition there. But what do you do when you’re having sex – recite Shakespeare? I didn’t think so. My affirmative response certainly worked for Ben…he got into his stride and started pushing into me deeper and harder. His breath was hot in my ear, his male scent making me whimper like a bitch on heat.

  ‘More Ben, give me more.’

  ‘I’ll give you as much as you like, darling. You are so sexy I could do this all day.’

  I felt pretty much the same way, but at that moment, events took an unfortunate turn for the worse. We weren’t going to be at it all day. In fact, we weren’t going to get another moment. Ben suddenly froze in mid-fuck – his body poised over me while he strained his head to listen like a rabbit that just heard a dog bark.

  ‘Can you hear that?’ he said, a note of panic in his voice.

  I listened. All I could hear was the noise of traffic in the distance, and the high-pitched whine of a small-engined motorbike approaching.

  ‘Hear what?’ I asked, becoming somewhat disillusioned. Ben’s dick was wilting like a banana in the sun, and I suspected that my afternoon was about to go downhill fast. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘That engine…the moped. I know the sound…but it can’t be. She’s not supposed to come home for another hour yet.’

  My heart sank. I’ve had this kind of conversation before. ‘Who’s not supposed to come home yet?’

  Ben didn’t answer. He was too busy scurrying across the bed to the window. The sound of the moped was louder now. It was clearly just outside the building, and the tone of the engine told me it was slowing down. Ben took one look out the window and then ducked down, swearing with surprising intensity.

  ‘Oh fuck, it’s her!’

  ‘Who?’ I demanded, although I was sure I knew the answer to that question.

  ‘My wife. She’s not supposed to finish work for another hour.’

  I am embarrassed to admit this, but I may have found myself in a similar position once or twice before. OK, three or four times before.

  Five, then.

  Six or seven, tops. Definitely in the single figures.

  Well, the exact number isn’t important, but the thing is I knew I needed to get out of there pretty damn quick. My experience is that when a wife catches you in bed with her husband, she tends to cross you off her Christmas card list pretty quick. And then she is likely to come after you with a carving knife. So I made a grab for my bra and panties and got them on in double quick time. Ben was hopping around with one leg inside his pants, trying to pull them on in a major league panic. But it was a case of more haste and less speed. He tripped and fell flat on his face. He took advantage of his horizontal position to get his pants on and zipped up, and made a grab for his shirt.

  ‘Angel, you’ve got to get out of here before she finds us.’

  ‘Yeah, Einstein. I’d worked that out already. How do I get out of here? Is there a back door?’

  Ben shook his head while he buttoned his shirt. ‘No time for that. She will be coming up the stairs any second. You’ll have to go out the window and down the fire escape.’

  I tried to pick up my blouse, but Ben was quicker and he scooped up all my clothes and shoved them to my chest, together with my shoes. ‘You don’t have time to get dressed. You have to go now before she comes upstairs.

  ‘Excuse me? Are you nuts? I’m not going down the fire escape in my underwear!’

  ‘Listen Angel, if you don’t, she’ll throw you down. My wife is not the kind of woman you want to cross. Do you understand?’

  ‘I…I…I…oh, fuck! Just get me out of here.’

  Ben peered cautiously out of the window and gave me a running commentary. ‘She’s coming up the drive. Now she’s opening the front door. She’s inside. That’s it. You need to go right now. Quick! You’ve got about thirty seconds to make an exit.’

  So that’s how I found myself crawling through a sash window in my bra and panties onto the ricketiest fire escape I had ever seen. Man, don’t they have fire regulations in England, or what? The fire escape was a very old and rusty metal staircase with short flights of steel steps that zigzagged down to the ground, five floors below. I didn’t fancy going down it at all, but the alternative was to crawl back through the window and face an angry wife armed with a carving knife.

  The rickety stairs won.

  I clutched my clothes against my chest with one hand and grabbed the guard rail with the other. Even though it was only late afternoon, it was wet and cold. I could see goose pimples rising on the flesh of my arms and legs. But that was the least of my worries. I had to get safely out of sight in a hurry, and then find somewhere where I could get dressed before I got arrested.

  And that was when it happened.

  Disaster.

  I had tip-toed down one flight of steps and was starting on the next when I heard an ominous groaning sound and the whole fire escape staircase began to shake. I got the impression that no-one had ventured out onto this structure anytime in the last century, probably for very good safety reasons. But there was no point in going back…I had to go on. I took another step downwards…and then another. The sound of twisted and groaning metal increased.

  And then there was a ‘snap.’

  I don’t know what snapped exactly, but I guess it was the rivets or bolts that held the metal staircase to the wall. What I do know for sure is that the fire escape suddenly swung outwards, tearing away from the building and lurching several yards away from the perpendicular. I was jolted against the guard rail and my clothes and shoes were thrown out of my hand. I gripped the rail for dear life, and watched my clothes tumble down to the ground far below.

  I was expecting the whole fire escape to collapse and follow my clothes to the concrete. To my relief, however, it jammed in mid-air, leaving me hanging several floors above the ground. I’m scared of heights at the best of times. Right now, I was absolutely terrified.

  Down below, I saw an old man with a dog staring up at me. He looked a little puzzled.

  ‘Are you in need of some assistance, madam?’ he called up. Now is that British understatement, or what?

  ‘Help!’ I said, weakly.

  The man lifted his hand to his ear. ‘Sorry…didn’t catch that. Hard of hearing, you know.’

  I composed my shaking body, took a deep breath and yelled.

  ‘HELP!!!’

  He got the message that time.

  ***

  I have to say the fire service was
quick off the mark. I had only been clutching at the twisted metal for a few minutes when a fire engine showed up in the street. It was one of those ones with the extending platform on the back. A few moments later, the cab doors opened and six firemen spilled out. They all stared up at me, and I did my best to cover my boobs and my ass with one hand, whilst holding on for dear life with the other. Of course, by this time, quite a crowd had gathered in the street. Most of them appeared to be teenage boys who were taking advantage of the opportunity to inspect my assets. I just hoped to God none of them had a camera-phone handy. The last thing I wanted was to become the star of a YouTube viral video. My Dad would have a heart attack.

  The firemen didn’t hang around. Within what seemed like seconds, one of them had climbed into the platform basket thingy and was being raised up in the air to meet me. It seemed to take forever for them to maneuver near to me, but it was such a relief to see the basket inching closer and closer. As soon as the fireman was close enough, he reached out his hands and put them under my shoulders.

  ‘Don’t worry love, you’re safe. You can’t fall now that I’ve got a grip on you. Are you OK?’