The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (30 page)

Pushing Tyne down onto a chair, I decided to give him a show. Walking up behind Jane, I cupped her small breasts and squeezed her nipples hard, being rewarded with a heavy, sexy moan. I could
see Jake shoot Tyne a look of complete surprise over my shoulder, which turned to a longing ogle as I began kissing my way up Jane’s neck, flicking her shoulder-length brown hair out of the
way until I reached her lips. I’ve always loved Jane’s lips, they’re so soft and full, they’re just divine to kiss.

Being lip-locked with Jane I didn’t notice Tyne get up, but I knew about it when he slipped his finger into my slit from behind me. Jake seized the opportunity too, and was groping at my
breasts, his arms tangled with mine as I felt my friend’s. Knowing where I wanted this to go, I wriggled backwards, drawing Jane with me, until the two of us were sitting on the floor. She
reached out to pull my dress over my head, then undipped my bra, tossing it to the side as I began to take off her top, loving that we were being watched by the two guys.

As I slid Jane’s skirt down her thighs, I began kissing her stomach, slowly moving down to her sex. While we may be close we’ve never gone much further than fondling each other, but
that night, something inside me wanted more. As I reached the line of her neatly shaped pubic hair she let out a gasp that told me it was OK, and so, for the first time, I went down on a girl. She
was so wet, and I did what I knew I enjoyed, darting my tongue against her clitoris, gently teasing it with my teeth, feeling her love juices making my chin wet as she squirmed and squealed with
pleasure. I was thrilled at how she reacted, and just the act of doing it brought me close to orgasm.

I could feel one of the guys come up and kneel down behind me, but I had no clue which one it was. He began to fondle my wet pussy, slipping in his fingers, one by one, making me moan and want
nothing more than to feel whoever it was thrust his cock into me. It didn’t take long for him to do it, and with that one, hard thrust, I very nearly came – it sent ripples of pleasure
coursing through my body, and it was all I could do to hold myself, arse in the air. Jane wriggled out from beneath me, turning around so that Jake, who I could see over her shoulder, could fuck
her, too, while she was face to face with me. It was such a turn-on, looking into her dark brown eyes as the two of us were fucked doggy-style, kissing whenever it was possible.

My orgasm was building up to be explosive, and I could tell that Tyne, Jake and Jane were enjoying it as much as I was. Finally, cliché as it may be, Tyne and I came together in one
shuddering, mind-blowing orgasm that made my knees too weak to support me any longer. I could feel how wet I was all down the inside of my thighs, and so could Jane – she must have decided
that she wanted to reciprocate the act I had done earlier, because she gently pushed my legs apart and edged forwards until she could reach at me with her tongue. Admittedly I’ve had much
better head from men before, but the mere motion of her tongue against my clit brought my orgasm back up to full volume, causing me to claw at the carpet.

It all seemed to be over very quickly after that; Jake came, then brought Jane up to orgasm, until all four of us were lying naked in a contented stupor on the carpet, legs and arms entangled in
a happy love mess, me pressed up against Jane.

I think I must have fallen asleep for a while, because there’s a blank spot in my memory, but the next thing I remember was Jane nudging me gently.

“That was amazing,” she whispered, giggling at me as we lay nearly nose to nose. “They’re both asleep, but look at how they’re lying.”

I lifted myself up a little way and could see the two guys, practically next to each other, with their heads at opposite ends.

“If you’re up for it, I’ve got an idea . . .” And Jane explained her idea to me; both of the guys had semi hard-ons, and she reckoned it wouldn’t take much for them
to be fully aroused. She wanted us to suck them off until they both woke up, then try something she said she’d seen on the internet – a spit-roast with a twist, she called it.

I was up for it, so the plan went into action, and I took Tyne’s penis in my mouth, gently working it with my tongue and my hand until it was hard. When I looked up, Tyne was awake, and I
gave him a saucy wink, before gently taking hold of Jane and lying her on the floor, me pressed on top of her, our breasts mashed together and my tongue exploring her mouth as my fingers worked on
her clit. This must have woken up both guys, because they crawled across the floor towards us, kneeling with their cocks in hand, jacking off as they watched.

“Jake, fuck me from behind,” I muttered between kisses, and he obediently did as he was told, coming up and sliding his hard dick into me slowly. He felt different to Tyne, shorter
but much, much thicker, so much so that it almost hurt as he stretched my pussy with his, at first, gentle thrusts.

I just about managed to moan to Tyne that I wanted him in my mouth, but he got the idea pretty quickly, and soon I was being fucked from both ends; Jake’s thick cock making me want to
squeal with pleasure, Tyne’s longer one suppressing it as he fucked my mouth deep and hard, almost causing me to gag with how far he was thrusting himself. I could feel my breasts bouncing
against Jane’s as I was rocked back and forth by the two men, her breath heavy on my chest as she slid her hand down to join mine in masturbating herself.

The whole situation was so hot that the men weren’t long in coming – Jake pulled out and squirted his load all over my buttocks, while Tyne filled my mouth with his sticky, salty
come. I reached my second orgasm of the night, and while it wasn’t quite as mind-blowing as the first, it was still absolutely pleasurable, and I snuggled quite happily against Jane while we
fell asleep.

That was the first time I’d ever had a foursome, and I can tell you now, it was the perfect ending to a totally crappy work week. When I woke up in the morning, Tyne and Jake were gone,
but they had left their phone numbers – I guess we gave them as good a night as they gave us. I know for sure that I’ll be doing it again!

Melvin, Lincoln

I’m sixty years old, and seldom have sex with anyone over twenty. I know what you’re thinking – dirty old man, right? Damn right! I’ve had more teenaged
pussy than a high-school gym teacher. A strict religious upbringing and a frosty thirty-year marriage left me bursting with juice, and when my ex finally ran off with her butch aromatherapist, I
vowed to make up for lost poon-time. And I’ve been making up and out ever since.

I live in an apartment complex that, by no coincidence, is situated right next to one of the city’s universities, meaning that I have a plentiful supply of fresh meat to choose from. The
place is literally crawling with sweet young things looking for some sexual mentoring from an experienced gent like myself. I give them a hard time, sure, but everyone’s usually satisfied in
the end.

One night, as I was dropping my dirty duds into one of the washers in the communal laundry room on the fifth floor, an Asian babe of not more than nineteen walked in with a basketful of clothes.
I quickly stowed what was left of my load, twirled the dials on the machine, and hustled over to make my acquaintance with the Oriental pearl. “Hi,” I said, in my deepest Barry
White.

She smiled at me and nodded, her oval face as pretty and delicate as a geisha’s.

“I’m Brendan,” I lied. My real name is actually Melvin, but try picking up chicks with a handle like Melvin.

“Oh, yes, hi,” she responded, nodding her head again and glancing uncertainly at my extended mitt. “My name is Lin.”

I grabbed one of her warm, soft hands in both of my paws and squeezed, running my laser-sharpened eyes up and down the china doll’s lithe, caramel-tinted body. She was wearing a pair of
pink short shorts and a white crop top that said “Porn Star” across her girlish chest. Her legs were smooth and slender, flowing on forever out of her tiny shorts, while the nipples on
her B-cup breasts pressed hard and yearning against the stretchy fabric of her top. Her eyes were dark and sparkling, her hair long and black and shiny.

My burgeoning boner told me to keep the conversation flowing. “Are you a foreign exchange . . .” My voice ground to a halt when I eyeballed the contents of Lin’s laundry
basket; it was loaded to the plastic brim with dirty clothing, all right, very, very dirty clothing. She had what looked like a year’s worth of Victoria’s Secret inventory in that
naughty hamper of hers – sexy, silky thongs, panties, bras, stockings, negligees, nighties, teddies, corsets, baby-dolls, etc., etc. The seemingly innocent girl was either a lingerie model or
the laundress for a whorehouse.

She followed my astonished eyes down to her basket of lewdly whispering seduction wear, then plucked a black, fishnet body stocking out of the pile and held it up for my inspection. “You
like?” she asked.

“I likee!” I blurted. And then my stented ticker almost stopped cold when Lin walked over to the laundry room door, closed and locked it, then slipped out of her pint-sized duds and
sandals and into the see-through body stocking. Her long, hard, chocolate-coloured nipples fought their way through the fishnet and filled my orbs. Her pussy was as bare as an unshucked oyster,
save for a triangular patch of soft, black fur that crowned the top of her glistening slit.

“This is my favourite thing to get fucked in,” she confided, her almond-shaped eyes staring at the bulge below my belt.

I restarted my heart and tugged down my sweats, let my swollen cock spring out into the open. Then I gathered the featherweight girl up in my arms and kissed her like it was an MIA homecoming.
The exotic beauty was young, and her mother tongue probably wasn’t even English, but she sure as hell knew how to use it. She twirled her tongue all around my tongue, speaking to me in the
universal language of lust, and then she caught my taste buds between her glossy lips and sucked on my extended tongue like it was a juicy prick.

And after getting me all hot and bothered with her talented mouth, she dropped to her knees and without hesitation wrapped her lips around the end of my throbbing cock.

“Yeah, that’s the way, honey,” I groaned, as she earnestly sucked on my purple knob.

She popped my bloated hood in and out of her saucy mouth, her tongue scrubbing the sensitive underside of my prick, before swallowing my cap and hoovering my shaft. She rapidly inhaled a good
two-thirds of my pulsating pole, and with her lips sealed tightly over the top of it, her mouth warm and moist and needy, she began sucking hard on my rod. Her head bobbed up and down on my dick
like she was in the presence of Buddha himself.

Eventually, I had to pull the wet-vaccing babe to her feet, lest I blow foam down her throat. I wanted pussy, and I wanted it now. She instantly understood, bent forwards over the top of the
washing machine and spread her sleek legs. I located a convenient cock-sized hole in her body stocking, right on target with her slickened snatch, and jammed my rod into the breach, filling her
slit.

Her sex hole was dripping and gripping, and I savagely hammered the young hottie’s puss, the washer rocking back and forth like it had a life of its own. Lin gripped the enamelled
machinery and whimpered, her head bouncing to and fro, her silky hair flying all over the place, my heavy, hairy balls slapping her rippling, coffee-and-cream-coloured ass flesh as I bore into
her.

“Sweet land of liberty!” I sang out, my cock exploding in her stretched-out love tunnel, rocketing sizzling jizz deep into her very being. As she herself was consumed by orgasm.

When we were straightening ourselves up afterwards, she more formally introduced herself. “My full name is actually Linda Jones,” she said with a sassy smile, “and I’m
originally from North Platte, Nebraska. I’ve felt a little like a foreigner these last few weeks, all alone in the big city. Until you made me feel welcome, that is.”

Ava, Ipswich

Steve and I have been married for almost ten years. I’m thirty-eight years old and he’s thiry-four so if you like I’m the “older woman”.

We went out for about eighteen months before we decided to get married and while Steve certainly wasn’t a virgin it’s also true to say that he wasn’t terribly experienced
sexually. Not like me!

We’re very happy. With a little gentle help and guidance from me Steve has turned into a wonderful and attentive lover. He adores me . . . and that, if you like, is the problem.

Sexually I’ve always been the more adventurous of the two of us with a small but important masochistic streak. I like being a “naughty girl” and I like being punished. Not all
the time, you understand, but maybe three or four times a year; it’s like an urge than just keeps growing inside me, an itch I can’t scratch.

To start with I tried talking to Steve about it. I bought a few mild S&M magazines and left them lying about. We even watched a blue bondage video. But it was no good; Steve just
couldn’t bring himself to “hurt” me. I tried explaining that I didn’t really want to be hurt, just a decent “spanking” occasionally as part of a sex game. He
tried, but it was a disaster and we both ended up in tears . . . of laughter, and no bad thing for that.

But it didn’t solve my problem or cure my itch until one day I was reading a sex mag and came across the ad from The Master. It took several weeks and quite a lot of very subtle persuasion
before Steve agreed to me making an appointment and even then he insisted on coming along that first time to make sure everything was properly above board.

Now when the itch starts coming on I start being deliberately naughty. I will stay out late without telling Steve, maybe come home drunk after a night on the tiles with the girls. I’ll
“forget” to cook his supper or serve up something I know he doesn’t particularly like. I’m sure there are times when Steve deliberately pretends not to notice the signals
and then – and only as a last resort when I’m getting crazy with frustration – I’ll pretend to have a headache or be “too tired” when I know he’s in the
mood for love.