The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  My face burned red, my body hotter, cock swelling hard under Dean’s persistent, caressing foot until it was straining the bounds of my zipper.

  “Time to check out?” he suggested, just as the librarian huffed up to our table.

  I kept the thick law text glued to my groin as we hustled out of the hushed building and into the underground tunnel that connected the library to the science building and then the dorms. It was early April in Lawrence, and still as chilly as a professor’s personality outside. But it was warm in the tunnel. And three-point-machine Dean made it even warmer.

  We managed 100 feet or so before he shoved me into a blazingly white washroom, pulled me into a stall and bolted the door. Then, eyes shining with want, he took me by the hips and lifted me up and plopped me down feet first on the black toilet seat. He had my belt loose before I’d even gotten a good grip on his soft, inch-high hair.

  “Big Daddy needs his meat,” he growled, yanking my Dockers and Jockeys down.

  My cock bounced out into the open and hung there, large and loaded, pointing straight at my college lover, shaft pulsing pink and cap shining purple. I’m a little guy vertically – barely up to the big man’s nipples – but horizontally I’m cocking tall. Dean grabbed my prick and squeezed.

  “Yes!” I groaned, shuddering with the erotic impact of the man’s huge, warm mitt on my hard shaft.

  I kept one hand on his head, the other on the top of the stall, as he stroked me, expertly pumped my throbbing length with his smooth hand. Then he bent at the knees and got his big mouth level with my big cock. He looked up at me, and snaked out his tongue, bumping the ultra-pink tip of it into my bloated hood, wet and warm. I groaned some more, trembling body tingling.

  But he just gave me a taste, letting go of my dick and grabbing on to my furry balls, leaving me achingly bobbing in front of his face. He clenched my nut sac, making my knees buckle and my knuckles light up white in his black hair, on the bathroom stall, as I dangled and dangled in front of his open mouth, his hot, humid breath streaming over my straining prong.

  Finally, he engulfed my hood with his lips.

  “Jesus, yes! Suck my cock!” I implored, voice echoing in the empty washroom.

  He sucked on my bulbous head, pulling my hood with his lips, cheeks billowing and nostrils flaring wide, long fingers juggling my balls. He moved his head forwards, taking more of my cock into the wet-hot cauldron of his mouth. I teetered on the toilet seat, legs shaking, Dean’s soft, moist lips sliding down my pulsating shaft, consuming me. The man knew his way around a cock; he had me buried to the blond fur in his mouth and throat in a matter of sweating seconds.

  I whimpered, staring down at him staring up at me, only my bushy pubes visible, tickling the man-eater’s flat nose. My whole body started to vibrate, as the time ticked by in super slow motion, Dean holding me locked in his bulging mouth and throat, his hand crushing my balls, the pressure on my cock and sac incredible, outrageous – and mounting. Shivers of delight stung my skin and shot all through me. I felt the come rise up my shaft, the sealed-tight steam box of the man’s gripping maw sending me over the edge.

  I tried to ride it out, couldn’t. I desperately tapped Dean’s head, and he pulled back, releasing my pent-up prick in a gush of hot spit and pre-come.

  “Almost a full minute,” the sexual athlete gasped, grinning. “A new record.”

  He grasped my dripping dong and started stroking it again, mouthing it again. He swallowed me all the way down in a dizzying, headlong rush and then slowly pulled back up. Repeated it, sucking on my pulsating meat, deep-throating with glorious abandon.

  I let go of the stall and clung to his head with both hands, pumping my hips, fucking the stud’s oven-hot, ocean-wet mouth in rhythm to his powerful head bobs. “Eat my cock!” I screamed, churning his mouth.

  Dean gripped my hips and held his head still, letting me fuck his mouth, throat-deep, snot bubbling out of his billowing nostrils, teary eyes on my eyes. I crammed the guy’s kisser full of pistoning dick, faster and faster, my balls boiling and my body burning with approaching ecstasy.

  “I’m coming!” I wailed, cock detonating, pulsing hot ecstasy into Dean’s mouth, down his throat. I was jolted by blast after blast of orgasm, clinging to my lover and wildly churning his mouth, emptying every last ounce of myself inside of him. As he gulped it all down.

  Then a buzzer sounded, signalling the end of classes. And almost instantaneously, guys started pouring into the washroom, the outside tunnel alive with students. I ducked my head down and yanked my spent cock out of Dean’s mouth with a soggy pop, stuffed it back into my underwear and did up my pants. I jumped down off the toilet into Dean’s arms.

  He kissed me, lifting me off the tile to meet his hungry mouth. His heavy tongue burst through my lips and thrashed around inside my mouth, giving me a taste of what I’d given him.

  “I th-think we better get back to the dorm,” I garbled, chasing his tongue with mine.

  He grinned and spun me around, smacked my ass and sent me stumbling out of the stall. “Time-out for now,” he agreed.

  As we were exiting the noisy washroom, I looked back and saw a plump, red-faced guy emerge from a stall. He was zipping up his fly, a big, satisfied smile on his mug, too.

  MY LESBIAN SEX CONFESSION

  Teresa, Stoke-on-Trent

  It all happened over the August bank holiday in 1999. Claire and I had been bumping into each other and giving each other a good licking and fisting every now and again since the day that we’d left school. But sometime around May that year, ideas about fantasy role play and being the naughty little schoolgirl who was punished by the strict headmistress had started to creep into the conversation and the relationship had become more and more intense.

  With one of us wearing our old school uniform and the other dressed in a sharp, stern skirt suit, we would act out our C.P. and teacher-fucking fantasies on each other over and over again. But the one thing we really wanted to do seemed impossible.

  We both wanted to be schoolgirls again and to be punished and abused by a gorgeous blond teacher, just as we had wanted to be when we were at school and were being punished for our “disgusting and disgraceful behaviour”.

  Then finally, after much hard work on Claire’s part, our fantasy would finally come true. Someone would be visiting us at her house over the long weekend.

  Claire had been planning it for a month, but refused to say anything about who was visiting. In fact, I didn’t even have a clue as to whether it was a man or a woman!

  I tried to get her to tell me but she wouldn’t crack. All I knew was that she was horny as hell at the thought of this person’s visit and that she couldn’t wait for the day to arrive. She grinned like a Cheshire cat whenever I mentioned it and when we fucked I swear her honey had never tasted sweeter.

  Eventually, however, the big day came and I arrived in the afternoon with a bag of my school uniforms and plenty of knickers. I had packed some normal clothes as well but when Claire saw them she said that I shouldn’t have bothered since we’d be schoolgirls all day long.

  Taking me by the hand, Claire then took me upstairs and told me to change into my uniform. And eager to find out what was going to happen, I did so as fast as I could.

  My pussy was dripping and my breath was quickening as I slipped into my lovely new, white cotton panties. And although I loved all this horny anticipation, it was almost a shame when they were ruined less than a minute after I put them on.

  I was also watching Claire as she got changed into her pleated blue PE skirt, blouse, tie, white knee socks and black shoes.

  My heart started to pound in my chest. It was really true. We were both going to be schoolgirls again.

  Even while we were both stood side by side in front of the dressing table mirror putting our hair up in pigtails she refused to tell me what was happening. She just stood there grinning and telling me that ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  I could see how hard
her nipples were through the thin cotton of her blouse and that she was standing with her legs tightly crossed, squeezing her pussy with her thighs. She was obviously very excited about something, and it was getting closer and closer with every tick of the clock.

  I pleaded with her to tell me, but she just started giggling like a twelve-year-old and led me back downstairs. And once we were there, we sat cuddled up together on the sofa staring at the clock and feeling so horny that we both felt like we wanted to explode.

  Claire was finally starting to crack under the pressure, but all she would say was that the person would be here at seven o’clock and that if we weren’t both behaving like good girls when she arrived that she would be very angry indeed.

  At least I knew now that we were expecting a woman. But how long would I have to wait before I could lick her out?

  Of course, knowing that we had to be good girls was like a red rag to a bull, because the only thing nicer than being naughty was being punished when we were caught.

  Claire was the one who started it.

  Licking her lips she put her hand between my thighs and started to stroke my pussy through my damp cotton knickers. Groaning with satisfaction, I reached out and caressed her firm ripe tits through the cloth of her blouse. And in less than a minute, we were hopelessly lost in each other’s arms and fucking each other like a couple of bitches on heat.

  By the time the clock struck seven we were both a total mess. And when someone finally knocked at the door we leaped to our feet with shock.

  Rushing to the door, we did our best to smarten ourselves up and answered it as curtly as we could, standing side by side and smiling sweetly with our blouses unbuttoned, our knickers around our ankles and lipstick smeared everywhere that our mouths had been. And as soon as the door opened and I saw the face of our new teacher, I finally realized what Claire had been so horny about.

  Standing angrily on the doorstep and towering over us in her four-inch stilettos was Claire’s friend Paula, a woman who I would call Miss Johnson and worship until the day that I die.

  She wore a stern, charcoal grey skirt suit with lapels so crisp you could cut your hand on them. Her shoulder-length hair was in a tight bun with not a single strand out of place, and her expression as she sized us up with her steely cold eyes, peering over her glasses, truly frightened me, but also excited me as well.

  We curtseyed to her, lifting the hems of our tiny pleated skirts so that our moist shaven pussies were revealed. I remember that I didn’t dare make eye contact. Even before she had said a word I was in a submissive and cowering state of mind because she was so domineering that she didn’t even have to try.

  Miss Johnson didn’t even say hello. She was obviously disgusted with our appearance, which was just what we’d both wanted. And, tutting with repugnance, she held out her car keys and told us to run out and fetch her bags from the boot.

  Twenty people must have seen us as we did what we were told. But having waited for months, we were both so horny that we honestly didn’t care. So without a second thought, we both muttered, “Yes, miss,” and curtseyed as we left.

  After putting the bags upstairs in the room that Claire had prepared for her, we stood patiently in front of Miss Johnson in the lounge with our hands behind our backs waiting for her to punish us for our slovenly appearance after our little fuck on the settee.

  We stood fidgeting with shame for what felt like a minute as she paced up and down before us, until finally she spoke.

  As she lovingly straightened our ties and smoothed down our hair, she asked in a soothing voice what we had been up to.

  I said we had been cleaning the house for her, but she was still curious as to how our lipstick had become so smeared and how our knickers had come off.

  We were stood as we always had as schoolgirls – hands behind the back and feet apart – so of course we were totally exposed when she put her hands up our skirts and groped our juicy pussies. And although she knew what we’d been up to and how horny we must have been, I really think that she was shocked to feel just how juicy our pussies actually were.

  Fuming and disgusted, she called us lesbian sluts and pulled us one at a time over her knee on the sofa and spanked our bottoms bright pink. And as Miss Johnson spanked me, I actually came so hard that I sprayed honey all over her hand.

  Standing side by side again with tears welling in our eyes as we rubbed our sore bottoms better, she shoved her fingers up our cunts and asked repeatedly if we were slutty lesbians and if we enjoyed being fisted by her.

  We did our best to deny it as we gasped and wailed, our knees trembling as we grabbed hold of her wrists for dear life, but being fucked so roughly by such a dominant and interrogatory figure eventually compelled us to talk.

  I must have come twice before Claire finally gave in and confessed. I can tell you now though that when Miss Johnson had finished with us, her suit sleeves were soaked with come.

  I was really quite sad that it had ended so soon. It was one of the deepest, most intense and most satisfying fucks I’d ever had. But although the fisting was over, the fucking had just begun.

  For the rest of the day we took it in turns having our bums and pussies caned, strapped and paddled, being forced to kiss, suck each other’s tits or lick one another out as we were punished.

  She said that she was trying to “beat our perverse tendencies out of us” and it was exactly what we had been longing for.

  The thing that I remember most is being forced to sit on Claire’s old school-type desk with my legs apart as she bent over and touched her toes with her face buried in my pussy, licking me out as her backside was caned before we were made to swap over.

  I think it must have been 3 a.m. before we finished. We’d come so much that we had stained the carpet and our arses and palms were red raw. And even then we were forced to assist Miss Johnson as she changed into her nightie and got into bed while we just cuddled up at her feet.

  As soon as we were sure she had gone to sleep though, being careful not to wake her, we fucked each other stupid until the sun came up.

  We were Miss Johnson’s slaves all Saturday and Sunday. It was just like being on punishment back at boarding school, except for the relentless fucking, that is.

  Reporting promptly at nine in our neat uniforms with perfect hair and make-up, we spent all day cooking, cleaning and doing any other menial task Miss Johnson could think of.

  Of course, she would always stand behind us with a cane or a strap in her hand, ready to punish us for any slight misdeed, and we always did our best to make sure that she had plenty of reasons to punish us.

  Only in the evenings did Miss Johnson relax and unwind. And taking off her knickers, she would force us to take turns licking out her pussy as she watched television or listened to music with one of us stood holding her drinks tray.

  She stripped and bathed us together at the same time each night, paying close attention to our tits and pussies and turning a blind eye when we touched each other up. She would then towel us dry, slip us into the two long girlie white nighties she had brought especially to make us feel like schoolgirls, before brushing our hair and tucking us both up in Claire’s double bed. Then she would get ready for bed herself and go to sleep in the guest room.

  We were all far too horny to sleep however, so each night at about 3 a.m. she would perform a dorm check; and woe betide us if we’d been doing anything that we shouldn’t.

  Dressed in a sexy black nightie, dressing gown and slippers, she would quietly creep into our dorm, torch in hand, and reach up underneath our bedclothes to check the state of our pussies which were invariably dripping, having fucked each other stupid since “lights out”.

  We then pretended to be asleep when, throwing off the bedclothes, she knelt on the bed between us and slipped her fingers one by one up our juicy cunts.

  “Wake up, darlings,” she whispered. “Auntie Paula wants to talk to you.”

  I thought my look of shock and surprise wa
s really rather well acted as I woke up to “suddenly” find my teacher on my bed with her fist inside my pussy, but Claire insisted that I hammed it up far too much.

  Once we were awake, Miss Johnson proceeded to make sure that we wouldn’t get up to any more “filthy behaviour” by making sure we had come at least five times so that we were either satisfied, or just too knackered to do anything when she left.

  I can still vividly remember lying there on the bed when Miss Johnson sat on my face, her thighs holding me securely, and urged me to lick harder as I heard her hand slap against soft flesh and Claire whimper with pain and delight.

  At the end of Sunday’s dorm inspection, she gave us each a good hard fucking with the torch, slapping our arses and shouting at us to “take it like a woman” until we collapsed on the bed weeping tears of exhaustion and relief.

  It was absolutely wonderful, but we knew that the next day would be her last day, so I think she was glad to put in the extra effort.

  On the Monday morning we arrived promptly for inspection to find her stood with her car keys in her hand. She had decided that we were going to go out in the city centre for the day and there was nothing that we could do to change her mind.

  Claire told me later that my jaw dropped so far that Miss Johnson could have fitted the car in it!

  Going out in public in a tiny pleated skirt, white knickers and knee socks? She had to be joking! Then Miss Johnson said something about it being all right as it was a bank holiday so there were bound to be fewer people about. And the next thing I knew, Claire and I were in the back seat of the car being driven to the shopping centre in Newcastle under Lyme – a place that I’ve never been before or since.

  For the rest of the day we were dragged around all the shops that were open. But while Miss Johnson was very relaxed, I spent most of the time pulling my skirt hem down as far as I could and feeling people’s stares all over me.

  It was obvious that Claire felt the same, but we were betting that Miss Johnson would have no problem making a scene, or perhaps even punishing us in public, so we decided to keep up the act.