MY MOTHER’S FIANCÉ
Selena, USA
When I was nineteen I went through a phase that I can only attribute to some kind of raging hormone imbalance. I was plagued with a physical disorder that had my sexual appetites skyrocketing out of control. My mind was dominated night and day with thoughts of sex and of ways to try to relieve myself of this tormenting sexual hunger.
I masturbated several times a day but the relief I got from it was short-lived and I constantly felt the gnawing need for something more.
I was so afraid an overpowering temptation would cause me to prostitute myself to some irresponsible, horny dork that would get me pregnant or give me some gruesome disease. So far I had not succumbed to that. I knew all about sex, or at least all one could know without having done it. I’d just never trusted anyone enough to let him fuck me. What I am about to tell you happened during the time I was having the aforementioned sexual problem. At that time my mother, who is assistant to the mayor of Green’s Bluff where we live, was engaged to Alex Bromwell, a moderately wealthy man a few years her senior. He was and is an attractive, distinguished-looking man as well as a somewhat reserved, dignified gentleman. I was and am very fond of him. Until now I have never revealed this to a single soul, mainly because I promised Alex I would keep it our secret.
That particular day was a weekday, my mother was at work and I was in my bedroom frenetically trying to relieve myself of an intense onset of sexual arousal. I was masturbating and moaning in agonizing frustration over the gnawing hunger between my legs.
I heard my bedroom door open and looked up to see Alex standing there frozen in shock with a look of horror on his face. I screamed in humiliation, trying to cover myself but knowing that it was too late to bother. The man had seen me feverishly manipulating my clitoris, on the very threshold of an orgasm.
“Oh my God, Selena, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I came in the front door and heard a noise. I thought you were hurt.” His face was a deep wine colour. “I’m going to go now,” he said.
“No, wait,” I yelled at him, my voice hoarse with sexual agitation.
“I’m not going to say anything about this,” he said, looking down at the carpet.
“No, it’s not that, Alex. I desperately need your help,” I pleaded, suffering from my approaching orgasm having been thwarted. “I’m begging you, stay.”
“I don’t understand, Selena, what is it?”
“Will you come sit here on the bed for a minute?”
Looking extremely uneasy he walked over to the bed and carefully sat down.
“I need to tell you about a serious problem I have,” I told him, still panting. “It’s a problem that’s becoming more serious every day. I’m so embarrassed to tell you this, Alex, but I need help. I have to talk to someone and you’re the only person I know I can trust.”
I told him everything in detail – how tormenting it was, how often I had to masturbate, and the torture of the relentless gnawing emptiness in my vagina – and even telling him about it was arousing me.
He looked embarrassed but was not critical of me. He must have known it was a physical anomaly I couldn’t be blamed for.
I also pointed out to him the dangerous temptations I was dealing with, the possible consequences of relieving myself through intercourse with some irresponsible guy that could get me pregnant or give me a disease.
“Have you had a man yet?” he asked me.
“No, I’ve managed to avoid that so far.”
“Good, then your hymen is intact?”
“No,” I told him. “I grew up a tomboy and when I was nine years old I fell out of a tree, landed on a woodpile and my hymen was ruptured on impact.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you.”
“Well, it’s obvious,” I said, impatiently. “I want you to have intercourse with me, and don’t say no, Alex. I’m begging you.”
“Selena, no!” he said. “That’s completely out of the question.”
By now I was begging him, almost in tears. “What do you want me to do?” I said. “Go out and get pregnant or get some horrible disease? That would be great for my mother. Please, Alex, you’re the only man in the world I can trust.”
“Your mother would never forgive me if I did something like that.”
“You don’t think I would tell her, do you? I would never tell her, not ever!” Grabbing his hand I shoved it down between my legs, pushing my little mound up against his palm.
“Stop that,” he said, jerking his hand away.
Immediately I grabbed his cock through his slacks and was shocked to discover that it was rigid. “You want me,” I said.
“No, that’s just a natural physical reaction to stimulus.”
“Exactly,” I said. “It’s your cock saying it’s ready and willing.” I pulled one of my breasts out over the top of my low-cut knit shirt. The pink nipple was hard from my excitement.
His eyes were big, staring at it.
“Touch it,” I murmured. “Suck it.” I could see in his face that he was aroused though he was trying hard not to be. His hand cupped my breast, his fingers gently twisting my nipples and then he suddenly pulled away.
“Alex, I’m in agony here.” I was whimpering again, begging. “Please help me,” I whispered.
“Take your shorts all the way off,” he said finally, not looking at me. “I won’t fuck you, Selena, but there’s something in here that might help you. I’ll be right back.”
He went to my mother’s bedroom (I learned later), came back and plugged something into the outlet near the bed.
“What is that?” I asked him, and when he turned around he had something in his hand that looked like a big penis.
“That’s what’s called a dildo, little girl. Lie down. Open your legs,” he whispered. “And Selena, don’t you ever breathe a word of this.”
“I won’t,” I said, my passion already spiralling up. I could see that his hands were trembling a little and that stimulated me more. I was breathing hard. “Hurry,” I whispered.
“We can’t hurry, Selena. You’ve never had anything inside that little pussy,” he said. “This is going to take some time and patience.”
It was shocking to hear a man like him say “pussy”. I knew he had to be as aroused as I was to say something like that, but he didn’t want me to know.
“When does your mother get home today?” he asked, stepping into the bathroom. He greased the thing down with petroleum jelly and came back. Sitting on the side of the bed he lifted my leg nearest to him and put it across his lap so my slit was wide open to him.
“She won’t be home for hours yet,” I said. “We have plenty of time.”
“You better hope that’s true, little girl, or we’re both in a world of shit.”
He must have believed me because with obvious pleasure he had begun gently tweaking my clitoris, squeezing and rolling it between his fingers and it felt wonderful. I was having a hard time equating this quiet, dignified gentleman with what he was so skilfully doing to me but I loved it.
“No guy my age would know how to make me feel like this,” I whispered, squirming. It felt so good I couldn’t be still.
Alex smiled and said nothing. The next thing he did had me begging for the penis thing in seconds. He put his hands under my butt and, holding onto each cheek, he slid down and lifted my pussy to his lips like he was going to drink wine from it. He put his mouth into my open slit, his tongue exploring me. Sliding his tongue up, he found my clitoris and lightly sucked it into his mouth, flicking it playfully with his tongue. This was driving me mad. I was groaning, squirming and suddenly I had to have my hand on him. Slipping my hand under my leg that was across his body I grasped his cock and was shocked at how stiff it was.
“Don’t, Selena,” he said crossly. “This is not easy for me, little girl. I’m trying to help you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Please, keep going.”
I felt the head of the penis thi
ng as he gently inserted it in me about an inch. I was so aroused I thought I would come very quickly but I didn’t want to. I wanted to find out how it felt to have that thing all the way in me. “Don’t let me come yet,” I whispered.
“Baby, I haven’t even turned it on yet,” he said, amused. He continued to work it in gently until it was almost all the way in and I was whimpering, making little animal sounds.
Without warning he flipped the switch and I squealed with delight. The thing was vibrating inside me as he pushed it deep into me. Then he began sliding it smoothly in, then out a little, then in deep, again and again, all the time using his other hand to roll my clitoris between his fingers. I was screaming in ecstasy as my orgasm swelled and peaked and exploded sending shock waves and shudders throughout my body.
And even as my orgasm began to fade I was already becoming aroused again, which wasn’t surprising. One orgasm was never enough for me.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered. “I haven’t had enough yet.” I looked up at him and saw with gratification that he was in the throes of passion. I could see that watching my orgasm had pushed him over the edge.
Excited, I sat up and quickly unzipped his slacks pulling his cock out through his fly. It was hot and pulsating in my hand. “That’s bigger than the penis thing. I want that,” I said.
“Please, no, Selena.” But his protest had become weaker.
“Yes,” I said. “I want it! I want it, Alex – now!” I was pulling him on top of me, pushing my hips up to it. “Put it in. I don’t know how to do it.” I wanted it so desperately I was fighting him, trying to get it in. “Please, Alex. I need it so badly!”
I saw the expression on his face change and I knew he was relenting. With a sigh he opened me with his fingers and slid it into my hot slit.
“Oh shit, Selena, what are you doing to me?” he muttered. He was panting with excitement as he pushed it in smoothly all the way down. “Don’t move,” he murmured, “or I won’t be able to hold it.”
“That sure is some good cock, Mr Bromwell,” I whispered, teasing.
“Oh shit, Selena, stop it,” he groaned, gripping me tight, not moving.
After calming down a little he began to move slow and deep in me.
“Alex, that’s the most wonderful feeling I ever had,” I whispered.
“What the hell am I doing, Selena?” he said, pushing deep into me, grunting. “This is wrong. I’m supposed to be marrying your mother.” Even as he spoke he was pumping in and out of me with smooth, deep strokes, his breath panting with excitement.
“How could anything that feels this good be wrong?” I whispered, pushing my hips up to him in rhythm with his thrusts.
“You do have a point,” he said. “This has to be our secret, Selena.”
“Only if you let me have this every time I need it,” I said, moaning with pleasure.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you little shit.” We were both climaxing.
Alex got me through a difficult time, taking care of me when I had to have relief. I couldn’t get pregnant because he’d had a vasectomy years ago, and of course no one else ever knew about our guilty pleasures. He and my mother are happily married now. Alex comes to my apartment to see me sometimes.
JUST DESSERT
Siobhan, Norfolk
It was going out for a walk in the country that started it all . . . but don’t try this at home unless you have a large kitchen, that can’t be overlooked, with a quarry-tiled floor – and make sure you put a sheet of polythene down first.
Mark and I have always enjoyed rambling. There are some wonderful walks around the small Cotswold village where we live and during the summer we think nothing of packing a light picnic and taking off for the whole day.
And this particular one was glorious: we were way out in the country, miles from anywhere. We were both only wearing shorts and T-shirts, good boots of course, and had already been going three or four hours and stopped for lunch.
Following a footpath alongside a small stream we came to a point where the course bent quite sharply, we were on the “inside” and had to bend down to get under an overhanging tree.
To this day I don’t know what happened but I somehow lost my footing, slithered down the steep bank and ended up sitting waist deep in the stream. The water was hardly cold, but I was a lot hotter so it still made me gasp, and it was extremely muddy.
To start with Mark was quite shocked as I almost disappeared before his eyes and then concerned to make sure I was all right but after that we both started to giggle as you couldn’t help but see the funny side.
I tried to wash the mud off but it had gone everywhere, the water in the stream wasn’t much better and only seemed to be making it worse.
Mark helped me out but without any clean clothes there was nothing to do but carry on. I started to dry out as we walked but was only too aware that mud had gone up inside my shorts and soaked my cotton panties. Although the smell wasn’t all that good, the feel was something else – cool and smooth and slippery around my buttocks and my fanny. I can’t say it was making me feel sexy but it was definitely making me think about sex.
Eventually, after another mile or two, the footpath actually took us through a small farmyard. There were three men in the yard, possibly the farmer and his sons or perhaps just a couple of younger workers. Mark went over to them, explained what had happened and asked if there was anything I could use to clean up.
The farmer pointed to a hose pipe coiled up over a hook on a wall and one of the other men disappeared into the barn and reappeared with what looked like a horse’s grooming brush that he tossed to me.
Mark uncoiled an armful of the hose and turned on the tap. Walking back over to me he began to play the jet up and down my body.
It was bloody freezing, so cold it made me gasp for breath, and in seconds I was soaked again. My T-shirt clung to my chest and the cold had my nipples sticking out like chapel hat pegs even through my bra.
Despite the cold I blushed furiously and to cover my embarrassment began to scrub with the horse brush at my legs and shorts. It didn’t take long to get clean and as I finished I kind of realized that things seemed to have gone very quiet. I glanced up at Mark and saw he was sporting a large erection through the front of his shorts. The three other men were also staring at me with an obvious mixture of lust and fascination.
“Well, thanks a lot,” I said as breezily as I could through teeth that were beginning to chatter. “We’d better be getting along. Don’t want to keep you any longer. Come along, darling.”
It took us another two or three hours to get back home. I had a long hot shower, making sure I got myself really clean. Mark cooked us a pair of thumping great steaks that we washed down with splendid bottle of Aussie red. A good long walk always gives you a tremendous appetite.
Shortly after that we ended up in bed and had sex. Scrub that, we had great sex, fantastic sex. I certainly didn’t think about it at the time but something had got me incredibly horny. I was all over Mark like a rash. I wanted him to be rough and tough with me and when I came it was hotter and harder and quicker than I’d done in ages.
Without making a big deal about it I kind of played our lovemaking over and over in my mind – the way you do after you’ve had a really good experience – and tried to figure out the how and the why of getting so turned on.
Finally I realized it had to be falling in the stream. It was getting soaked and covered in mud. It was dirty, it was filthy . . . and it felt so good. It was having it plastered all over me, sticking to me, up inside my knickers, matting my pubic hair.
Just thinking about it was enough to start me getting aroused and I knew I wanted to do it again, had to do it again, although without necessarily having to go to all the trouble of actually falling into a stream miles from anywhere this time.
I suppose that was when I started planning and it only took about a couple of weeks to get things
organized. I picked a Friday night obviously because it was the start of the weekend and Mark is usually in a good mood when he gets home. But also because we pretty much had a Friday evening ritual: good meal in, watch TV if there’s anything decent on or get a video – maybe something a little raunchy – and then early to bed and early to “rise”!
So this particular Friday evening everything was prepared. Around 7 p.m. I heard the key in the door and Mark’s customary: “Hi, honey, I’m home.”
“Hi, darling. Good day? I’m in the kitchen.”
Then his equally predictable: “I’m starving, what’s for dinner?”
“Me,” I sang back. This was definitely not the usual response and although it was far too late to back out I couldn’t help feeling that I might have just made a terrible mistake.
I heard Mark walk through the dining room until he reached the kitchen door . . . and stopped. He stood there with his jacket over his shoulder, tie loosened off and top button undone, clearly gobsmacked. “What the fuck’s this?” he managed at last.
It must have come as something of a shock to him. There was his wife sat on a small stool in the middle of his kitchen on a large plastic sheet.
I had taken a lot of trouble with my dress and appearance. I was wearing a short denim skirt and a tight little long-sleeved cardigan in lavender: one of those furry things that feels like it’s made out of mohair but is actually 100 per cent synthetic.
With the way I was sitting facing him with my legs apart, Mark could probably see I was also wearing white fishnet stockings – large mesh – stilettos and a cheap and tarty white lace push-up bra, suspender belt and briefs set. I had deliberately overdone the make-up and piled my auburn hair up on top of my head, plus put on the largest pair of gold hoop earrings I could find.
“Like it, darling?” I cooed. “I do hope so, ’cos I was serious. I’m dinner and I want you to eat me all up . . . but first I want you to ‘prepare’ me.”
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions Page 21