Confessions

by Selena Kitt

  Embarrassed now, I rolled to my belly and turned off the vibrator, pushing it away from me on the bed, as if it were possessed — or had it possessed me? Shawn collapsed next to me, breathing hard, her eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile on her face. We lay like that for a long time before we got up, got dressed, and went downstairs to get something to eat. We didn’t talk about it then. We didn’t even talk about it later, really. But we didn’t stop. It might have been the first time we used her mother’s vibrator together… but it was far from the last.

  Confessions: Separated

  I was separated from my first husband for about nine months in our fifth year of marriage. It's a long story, but suffice to say we were living in his parents' basement at the time, he was failing college classes left and right, and we had two small children to take care of. I graduated college that year and moved out. Took the kids with me and got a job. I was done waiting for him to grow up. I thought our marriage was over. We ended up back together for another three years… but I didn't know it was going to turn out that way at the time.

  When I got married, other men ceased to exist. I can honestly say I didn't even think about sex with other men. When I fall in love, I fall pretty completely. After we were separated, though, the whole world of men suddenly opened up to me again. They were noticing me-not that they'd ever really stopped, but more importantly, I was noticing them. For a while, I was staying with a friend, and I happened to notice her ex-fiance, Rob.

  He was in the service and heading back to Europe on Sunday and staying at her place because it was closer to the airport. I think there had always been a low-grade attraction between us, but I hadn't noticed because I was married and he was with my friend. Then they broke up, and I was separated, and he and I spent the evening in her living room while everyone else was asleep. Rob played guitar, and I'm a sucker for a guy with a guitar. I insisted he sing every song he knew how to play, and when he ran out of those, we just sang together into the night. Before we knew it, it was two in the morning, and things were happening.

  He put his hands on my shoulders, and I didn't say anything. I leaned back between his legs, and he didn't say anything. He slid down onto the floor from the couch and put his arms around me. I tilted my head back and up and him, searching his eyes, and that was really the moment we both said yes. I hadn't said "yes" to another man in years. I was nervous, excited. I didn't know what to expect.

  I felt like a teenager, fumbling with his clothes, mine, rolling around on the floor, our mouths hungry, our hands eager. In spite of the fact that my friend had told me about his incredible size-13 inches-they measured-I was still surprised when I found his cock in my hand. I've never seen anything that big before or since. Funny, he seemed just as eager to get my top off to expose my sizeable breasts, much bigger than my friend's perky ones.

  We reveled in the newness of each other for a while, and before I knew it, he was kneeling up over me, that monster of a cock pressing against my lips. I opened for him, tried to take him, gagged a few times-my god, he was so big. My jeans were undone, my hand shoved down my pants as I sucked him, rubbing furiously at my clit, delirious with lust. Not only was I having sex with my friend's ex-fiance-I was still technically married, and my friend was sleeping in the bedroom right above us and could come down at any time. The sound of a toilet flushing upstairs surprised us both, and he completely lost it, coming in a flood in my mouth. We separated quickly, and I pulled my clothes together, going upstairs and finding the bathroom empty again. I took a quick shower, feeling horribly guilty-but I couldn't help touching myself, shuddering against the tiles, remembering the feel of his cock in my mouth and wondering what it would feel like shoved up inside of me.

  The next day, he and I flirted mercilessly, finding every opportunity to touch each other, rub up against each other, while my friend wasn't looking. I had planned to go back home that day while I knew my ex and his parents were out of town to get some more of my stuff. When I mentioned this, Rob offered to come with me as "protection"-

  just in case my ex showed up. We both knew why he was really coming along, and I'd barely opened the door when we were on each other. There were no pretenses. We both knew exactly what we wanted, and could continue, uninterrupted-and we did.

  We ended up in the bedroom, our clothes coming off quickly, both of us in a hurry, even though we didn't have to be. The experience of being with another man after so long was dizzyingly exciting. His kisses were different, he touched me differently, and the newness of it all made me incredibly wet. When he hooked his arms around my legs, pushing them back so he could slide himself deep inside of me, I was more than ready. I begged him to fuck me-hard. And he did, his mouth crushing mine, his cock like a steel rod rammed between my thighs, again and again. I couldn't get enough of him. I didn't know where all this crazy lust had come from, but I gasped and panted and begged him for more, more, please, more, give it to me harder, god, don't ever stop…

  When he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him and impaling me on his enormous length, I thought I'd faint from pleasure for a moment. I rocked on that hard cock until I took us both right up to the edge, his mouth teasing first one of my nipples, then the other, his thumb rubbing my clit as I fucked him. He gave me a little warning, just a whispered, "Wait." But I couldn't stop. I was too close.

  I ground my hips down against his, squeezing him with my muscles, leaning in to kiss him as I came, feeling him shudder under me, his body bucking, our bellies slick with sweat as we writhed together on the bed. I felt every pulse of his cock-he was so big inside of me, shoved so deep, that his cum immediately began to overflow and pool between us. I haven't talked to him since that day. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a sly wink before he left for the airport the next day, and that was it. I wasn't disappointed, though. I never told my friend. Or my husband-even after we later got back together. It's just something that seemed better served being held secret. Until now.

  Confessions: Student Teacher

  For a while there, I was going to be an English teacher. I even did a semester of student teaching. And I got an A. Although I still wonder sometimes if that was because I earned it grading high school essays about "Why Ms. Kitt is My Favorite Teacher Ever"

  written by students who thought I was "cool"-or if it was because I was fucking their

  "real" teacher.

  Or, more aptly, he was fucking me. I didn't start it. At least, I didn't make the first move. Does that count? Would it hold up in court? We were both adults-aside from the ethics of the thing, there wasn't really anything wrong with what we were doing. But it felt wrong. It felt so very wrong, and maybe that's why it felt so incredibly good.

  Mr. Kennedy-his name was actually John, believe it or not-was a hot young teacher, and all the girls had crushes on him. I couldn't blame them. He was just thirty-something, with dark hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck and even darker eyes that radiated heat whenever he looked at me. He was charming and cocky and loved to crack goofy jokes with the kids that pushed the limits of propriety-almost.

  He hovered on the edge of dangerous all the time, and I liked to sneak up behind him to see if I could convince him to go over.

  And one day-he did. We were both staying late, completing progress reports, which involved a dizzying amount of sharpening number two pencils so we could fill in the correct circles on computerized forms. We talked about the kids, we talked about our lives-he wasn't married and was in between girlfriends. There had been plenty of flirting and innuendo between us, and I think we both knew what we wanted. The question was-did we dare?

  It was just a subtle shift. I uncrossed and crossed my legs in the soft, respectable-length gray skirt I was wearing, hanging one heel off the edge of my bare foot and rolling my neck.

  "Tired?" he asked, putting down his pencil.

  I nodded, yawning and stretching, feeling my blouse pull out of the waistband of my skirt a little. "But it could be worse. Most tea
chers make their student-teachers do all the drudge work like this. At least you help with that part… and you let me do the fun stuff, too."

  He smiled-god that smile! — and stretched, too. "The fun stuff is the best part. I wouldn't exclude you from that."

  "I appreciate it." I said exactly what I meant. I think he knew it. Without saying anything, he came and stood behind me, sliding his big hands over my shoulders and squeezing. I groaned and rolled my neck back, unable to resist. "God, that feels good!"

  "Does it?" He said it like a question, but it wasn't one. He knew. His fingers kneaded my muscles and I relaxed back against him, feeling the hard muscles of his belly, the bite of his belt buckle. I think I knew what was going to happen, and my body was tingling with anticipation. I moaned softly, and the room sounded like sex long before I was actually bent over the progress reports in front of us.

  When his hand slid down to unbutton the top button of my blouse, I didn't protest.

  In fact, I made a point of arching my back, showing him just how eager I was. And god, I was. His hands moved under my bra, kneading my breasts the same way they'd massaged my shoulders, making me squirm in the chair. I tilted my head back to look up at him, and that's when he leaned in to kiss me, his mouth hungry on mine, sucking my tongue immediately in.

  "Oh god," I whispered against his mouth when one of his hands slid down, cupping my pussy through my skirt. He rubbed me like that for a while as we kissed, fingering my nipple, making me writhe against him. At first, I worried about getting caught-a custodian coming in maybe. But as things progressed, I forgot all about anything but the sensation, the feel of him against me, and my desire for more.

  He pulled me out of the chair and we were locked together for a moment, our clothes a nuisance as we rubbed our bodies against one another, each of us looking for a way in. He pulled my skirt up, cupping my ass in both hands as I fumbled with his belt, too distracted by the way he was spreading my cheeks to make any progress.

  "Let me," he said.

  And I did. He turned me around and bent me over the desk, shoving my skirt up over my hips and pulling down my panties. I wasn't wearing stockings at all-although I was supposed to be-and when his fingers slid inside of me, I thought I was going to pass out from pleasure. He groaned as my muscles clenched over his pumping fingers and leaned in to kiss my pussy like that, sitting in the chair behind me and shoving his face between my legs.

  "Oh!" That was all I could say, over and over and over. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" I rocked back against his tongue as it lashed between my wet, naked slit. He found my clit and stayed there, eating me with such a greedy hunger my body trembled with the force of it. It didn't take me long to come in his mouth. I warned him softly, still aware that what we were doing could get us both in very big trouble, "John, you're gonna make me come…."

  He just made a soft, eager noise in his throat, licking me faster, pressing me toward climax, and I gave him just what he wanted, shuddering on the desk as I came, spreading my legs wide and shoving my pussy against his face as my orgasm shook through me. I was still recovering when he stood up behind me and unbuckled his belt.

  Just the sound made me pant and quiver with lust and I turned to look at him over my shoulder, to see what I might expect, and was happily surprised at the thick length of him as he shuttled his hand up and down his stiff cock before positioning himself behind me.

  He didn't ask, but he didn't have to. I reached back with both hands to spread myself for him as an offering, making him gasp as he let the head of his cock disappear between my pussy lips. He grabbed onto my hips to pull me in, driving himself deep, and I took every bit of him, going up even further on my toes in my heels. I glanced at the door, giving a fleeting thought again to the danger of the moment, but then he pulled back and began to really fuck me and all thought fled.

  "Oh fuck!" I gasped, giving in to the thick slide of his cock, my pussy still fluttering a little from my climax. I was wet and ready for him and I grabbed back and hung onto his wrists as he began to drive me forward onto the desk, feeling his fingers clenching, digging into the flesh of my hips and ass. "Oh god, John, that's so fucking good!"

  "You like that?" he asked, moving faster now, shoving deeper. I gasped in response, feeling my pussy contract around his length. "Come on, baby, rub your pussy for me."

  I did what he asked, needing little encouragement to slide my hands underneath me, opening my slit and using my finger to nudge my clit toward a delicious release. I gave into all of it as he fucked me, seeing one of our student's papers through half-closed eyes-Brad Haley, whose conduct was satisfactory and whose grade was in the B range. I rested my cheek on Brad's progress report and wondered what he'd think if he knew his student-teacher was being fucked on the very desk she taught from every day, her breasts swinging free of unbuttoned blouse and pulled-down bra, her ass up in the air as she begged for more.

  "Oh yes! Yes! Fuck me harder, baby! Harder! Give me that big cock! Give it to me!"

  "Oh god your pussy feels so good…" John leaned into me, splaying me on the desk, and I squirmed beneath him as our motion sent number two pencils rolling and progress reports sailing off the edge to flutter to the floor. His cock seemed to be swelling inside of me, filling me deeper as he fucked me even harder. He grabbed one of my legs behind the knee, shoving it up onto the desk so I was spread even wider for him.

  "Oh that's good!" I cried, feeling the angle change, his cock getting even more of me now. I rubbed my clit faster as he fucked me, using two fingers on either side of it as I arched back to take him, wanting more, more. I was so close to climax, my thigh muscles taut and trembling, my pussy on fire with the heat of our fuck.

  He grabbed my ass in both hands and I begged him to come, feeling my own orgasm begin with a shuddering surge. The rapid squeezing of my fluttering pussy around his cock must have sent him over, because I felt him tremble and grip me hard as he buried himself into me. I moaned and squirmed on the desk, whispering things I don't even remember as he filled me with his cum.

  Most of the progress reports were salvageable, if a bit wrinkled from our foray onto the desk. We didn't finish them that day. Instead we shoved them into John's briefcase and went back to his place to do it all over again, this time bent over a chair in his living room, and later in the softness of his bed, and then in the heat of the shower…

  We never took a chance at the school again, like we had that night-instead we found other places to meet to indulge in our pleasurable little secret. Eventually, the job ended, and so did our affair. But it was hot-incredibly hot — while it lasted.

  Confessions: Neighbors

  When I was a teenager, we lived in a condominium complex with very, very thin walls. Not only could I hear my parents having sex-my girlfriends and I labeled my mother “Lassie” — think Kim Cattrell in Porky’s-but my room happened to be right next to the neighbors’ bedroom. My mother was loud, yes-but all she really did was moan.

  There were no real words, not even a “yes” or “oh god!” Just lots of feminine noise.

  My neighbor, on the other hand…

  The funny thing is, she was the most straight-laced, button-down, uptight woman on the face of the planet by day. She was my best friend, Sarah’s, mother, the woman who insisted we take our shoes off the moment we walked in the door, who required coasters under every glass, and who took down and washed her curtains twice a week.

  Tall, thin, with short, blonde hair and bright blue eyes behind sensitive-80’s-glasses, she wasn’t what anyone would really consider a sexual powerhouse.

  At night, however, Mrs. L turned into an animal. This was the woman who taught me-at a rather young age, and of course, unbeknownst to her-how to talk dirty.

  Really, really dirty. The sound of the headboard against the wall usually woke me up, a rhythmic pounding. I knew exactly what the bed looked like, where it was placed. I could even imagine Mrs. L, naked and spread wide, Mr. L towering between her legs. I have to admit, the thoug
ht excited me. Mr. L always had a ready smile, he liked to tease us girls, and once, I’d been spending the night over there and had walked by their bedroom on the way to the bathroom and saw him snoring away, covers thrown off, his cock standing straight up, hard as a rock.

  It wasn’t Mr. L I heard, though. It was Mrs. L, telling him what to do.

  “Come on! Fuck me harder! That’s it! Ream that hot, wet little cunt!” I told you it was dirty.

  My face flushed in the darkness, but the ache grew between my legs as I listened. I couldn't believe it was Mr. and Mrs. L on the other side of that wall, rutting together on their bed in total abandon. "Give me that big dick! Come on! Ahhhh god, that's so good! "The fire that spread through my body at those words was so hot I thought I'd explode. I couldn't help touching myself. My pussy begged for it, and I gave in, pulling my nightgown up, my panties aside. I was wet already, just from listening. My fingers slid easily between my slit, parting the soft, red pubic hair and searching in the darkness for my throbbing clit. It always thrilled me when I heard him, too. Mostly it was just her, but sometimes I heard him growl or grunt something low and oh, so hot: "Get on your knees, bitch! Suck it! Suck it!" Then I wouldn't hear anything for a while, but I didn't stop rubbing, the delicious sensation growing between my thighs as I tweaked my nipples through my nightgown. I strained to hear something, anything, trying to imagine Mrs. L on her knees like he told her, sucking his cock. I'd had a cock in my mouth before, I knew what it felt like, the insistent thrust, the tangy taste of precum. "Oh god, yes!" Her voice rose, grew closer somehow, and I arched toward the wall, my fingers buried in my wetness. "You like me bent over for you, baby? You like fucking me like a dog?"

  The heat of her words made me want to hide my face in the pillow, but my fingers worked faster, harder under the covers.