The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I managed while milking myself down onto my wooden floor. Roxanne held tight to me and she too began to shake, clutched tightly against the upper part of the side of my leg.

  I could feel her pussy throbbing as she clutched round me tighter.

  “St . . . Steve,” she said, riding a shallow stuttering orgasm.

  Fuck.

  I kept pumping the thick juice out of my cock as my girlfriend spread her legs on my thigh and rolled her pussy into me and came too.

  “Wow,” Roxanne said, coming down off her little crest finally. “We … we could not have timed that better,” she continued, looking down with me at the puddle on the floor. “Wow, look at all that.”

  For that next minute we clutched each other and rode out the lasting effects of the entire escape (three minutes in the making as it had been!).

  “You really were gonna use that, huh?” I asked, finally turning to kiss Roxanne.

  “I still might,” she said after releasing from the lip lock. “Now that you came the next time it’s gonna be even harder.”

  “You are evil,” I said.

  “And you love it,” my sweet Roxanne answered.

  STOREROOM ANTICS

  Lisa, Huddersfield

  My mum used to tell me it was always the quiet ones that I should watch out for. I had never really paid much attention to that until one quiet Tuesday morning when I was sat behind the till.

  I was stood reading the latest selection of women’s magazines that had come in until the tinkling of the bell above the door let me know that someone had entered. Looking up, I could see him making his way over to the magazines. As guys go he was pretty good-looking; his chocolate-coloured hair flopped down slightly over his face in a cute, almost boyish way. He was dressed smartly in a suit of high-quality material, the type only someone with money can buy.

  I continued to watch him, peering over my magazine; you can’t be too careful these days, you have to watch everyone who comes in. He didn’t notice me looking at him as he glanced up and down the aisle nervously. Once he had assured himself that no one else was around he reached up and pulled down one of the top-shelf magazines. Even from where I stood I could see he had gone bright red with embarrassment. Forcing back a smile I looked back down, trying to seem engrossed in my magazine. I sensed his presence at the counter before I looked up again, his scent winding over me: a musty earthy smell that made my stomach knot and knees go weak.

  “Um . . . just this, please.” His voice was soft as he spoke, the hushed tones of someone afraid their conversation would be overheard. I looked up and found myself gazing into his soft brown eyes, wishing he would speak more. His eyes sparkled with intelligence and I felt myself blushing just as much as he was. Biting my lip, something I do when I’m nervous, I rang the magazine through the till and placed it in a bag. As I handed it over our hands met, his warmth flooding through me. The moment passed and he smiled at me before leaving. After he left my mind filled with lots of naughty thoughts involving the two of us.

  For the next month I found myself jumping every time the bell rang, looking to see if it was him, but he remained elusive although he filled my every waking hour and presented himself to me in my dreams. Although our meeting had been brief he seemed to have affected me like no man had done before.

  At last the month came to an end, bringing with it the monthly magazines, all of which needed to be put out. A task I enjoy because it allows me to preview them and see what whets my appetite.

  While I was putting the magazines out the bell tinkled.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” I called, continuing to place the myriad of magazines on the shelves in their respective positions. I could hear soft shoes moving around the aisles. Finally I got to the last few magazines of the pile. As I started to put them out I felt the close presence of the person as they moved down to the magazine section. From the corner of my eye I saw to my delight it was the man I’d been hoping would come in.

  Turning to look at him, my heart sang when he smiled at me and reached over. Unsure as to what was about to happen I stood still. Once more his soft voice surrounded me, and his delightfully sexy blush blossomed.

  “Young lady, would you mind if I saved you the trouble of putting that on the shelves by buying it?”

  Smiling at the “young lady” comment, which I took to be a compliment, I realized he was being a lot more forward this time around. Nodding, I let him take the magazine from my hands, relishing his touch. Side by side we walked back to the counter. I stopped as I got to the part of the counter that would allow me to pass and gain access to the till. I turned briefly to look at him as I did so. However, I had stopped so suddenly that he walked into me. Face to face, my body pressed against his. For a moment neither of us moved. I could feel the heat from his body. My heart pounded in my chest and all words failed me. Speechless I stood staring into his eyes, my legs wobbling. Reaching out, I held onto the countertop for stability. He looked at me and leaned down. Thinking he was going to kiss me and wanting it so badly, I tilted my head upwards ready to feel his lips upon mine. I was disappointed when he moved and lifted up the counter for me. From the way his eyes twinkled and the large grin he gained, I knew that he knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Just this, thank you,” he said disarmingly and placed it down on the desk. I turned, my face reddening, and tried to control my emotions. Walking behind the counter I heard him put the top down behind me. When I turned back I was able to smile and ring it through the till.

  As I watched him leave I knew it would be another month before I saw him again, and I berated myself for not being more forward. As before, he was on my mind constantly and, although I kept second-guessing myself and his intentions, I looked forward to the day the new magazines arrived. On that day I turned up for work dressed as seductively as I could, determined to at least make an impression.

  Time couldn’t have gone slower that day. Nerves followed me around the shop as I worked and clock-watched. As time went on and it got later I became disheartened. Sat behind the till I kept staring at the shelves of magazines, including the one he always bought.

  When the clock finally crawled its way to closing time I sighed and made my way through the aisles keys in hand. Just as I was turning the sign a figure moved across the door and attempted to open it. Pushing up against it with my foot I called out, “Sorry, we’re closed.” Prepared for an argument I held the keys tightly in my hands.

  “Oh, I just want to get one magazine, but I’ll understand if I can’t.” His sultry tones calmed me; when I realized who it was I opened up the door for him. Once he was in I continued to turn the sign and lock the door, telling myself that it was to prevent any other people thinking the shop was still open. As I locked it, a part of me knew that it was in hope of something happening between us.

  He had already picked up the magazine and was waiting at the till by the time I had finished locking up. Straightening out my clothes I made my way over to him.

  I had spent the whole day rehearsing what I wanted to say, but, as I walked towards him with a mix of nerves and annoyance at him being so late, I was filled with bravado.

  I picked up the magazine and looked at the glossy cover. Images of women looked back at me, their bodies barely covered. It was obvious to me that the woman pictured in the centre had fake breasts. They looked too round and seemed almost to be two hemispheres stuck on her chest.

  “I could show you some real ones if you like.”

  There was that bravado.

  He looked up, and I found myself biting my lip nervously, but I needn’t have worried. As I looked at him I could see the lust in his eyes.

  Before he had a chance to say anything I lifted up the counter and took hold of his hand, leading him into the storeroom.

  Leading him into the centre of the room and turning on the light I felt like a femme fatale. Nerves shot through me, and part of my mind kept screaming at me to stop, but I
had got this far and I knew that if I did stop I would never be able to get the nerve to do it again. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was protesting. By the time we got into the storeroom he had already loosened his tie.

  “We don’t have to do this, you know,” he said as I closed the door behind me.

  My body tingled at his voice, dripping as it was with desire and want. I looked at him as seductively as I could and began to unbutton my work blouse.

  “But I want to, don’t you?” I stopped, my hands poised at the last button. I looked at him, and when he nodded I undid the button and let the blouse open, revealing my rather ample breasts held presently in my best and most expensive bra. His eyes widened but since he didn’t do anything I took his hands in mine and placed them upon my breasts.

  Immediately his strong warm hands tentatively began squeezing them. I moaned at his touch, an act that caused him to move closer to me. One of his hands snaked around my back, fingers touching the bra clasp, expertly unhooking it while his other hand slipped up inside my bra. His fingers danced over my skin, and I felt my nipples being pinched and teased. I wanted him; the closeness of our bodies now allowed me to reach forwards and undo his belt. Quickly I undid his trousers, then slipped a hand in to feel his hardness hidden inside. I wasn’t disappointed, and was rewarded by a groan from him. That spurred me on to free his cock, allowing me to get my first look at it. As I did so my pussy twitched with anticipation, and I imagined myself being taken by it.

  I kissed him passionately, and found myself being pushed backwards against some of the boxes that lined the storeroom. Holding me close he planted quick kisses all the way down my neck. The world span when I first felt his lips around one of my nipples. His mouth was wet and warm, and he made full use of his tongue. My nipples puckered and hardened further than they had done before. I arched my back, moaning in pleasure, my head thrown back, resting on a box. Without thinking about it my hands entwined themselves in his hair, pushing him down onto more of my breast. I could feel his cock now pushed up hard against me; my muscles tightened and my breathing became haggard. When he pulled away from my breasts I cried out in frustration until I heard him speak: “Can I fuck you?”

  I nodded frantically and felt myself being spun around.

  Facing the boxes I could only guess at what was occurring behind me. I heard him rummage through pockets before the sound of something ripping could be heard.

  I felt a sudden rush of cold air as my trousers and knickers were pulled down. His hands were on me again, squeezing my ass before cupping my pussy. I moaned as he slipped a finger into me, my moaning being echoed by him as he did so.

  Each time his finger moved out of my pussy I tried to clamp down on him, not wanting him to leave. It had been a long time since I had been with a man and I didn’t want him to stop. Waves of emotion crashed over me as his finger continued to investigate me. I rocked my hips and wriggled, pushing his finger deeper into me. With a sudden jerk I felt him pull out of me and an empty feeling washed over me. That emptiness was quickly filled however as, taking hold of my hips, he guided his cock gently into me.

  I’m not the most patient person in the world, and when I felt him slowly entering me I tried to move back to force himself to be plunged into me, but his hands held too much of a grip on my hips and I was unable to move. It wasn’t until my pussy had opened up and accepted half of him did he release his hold on me, at which point I slammed back onto him, screaming in delight at his full length pushing its way into me.

  He grunted and became more animalistic; my body reacted accordingly. Grabbing hold of my hips he pounded into my pussy. The pleasure was intense, and so much more than I had thought it ever would be. Pushing against the wall with my hands, now only slightly aware of the boxes I was pressed against, I kept forcing my body backwards to coincide with each thrust he made. My body felt more alive than I could ever remember it being before as we had sex. It was passionate, wild and completely self-indulgent.

  We remained in that position, our bodies relishing in the touch of the other. A burning ball of energy began building up inside of me; as my breathing became more ragged I knew I was close to coming. Pushing back harder I used one hand to hold myself up and the other to pinch and tease my nipples. My clit was being rubbed by the friction caused by the position we were in. As it began to pulse I started to see stars and the exquisite ecstasy of orgasm flooded through me. My muscles tightened and I screamed out in pleasure. As I did so I felt him thrusting deep into me one more time before his cock seemed to throb and he grunted loudly.

  We remained still for a while in the room, now suddenly silent, his arms wrapped tightly around me. When we finally moved I turned to face him, smiling. He took me in his arms and kissed me.

  “I should come in for magazines more often,” he had said when he left.

  Since then, we have seen each other outside the shop, but it’s always much more fun in the stock room when I work late.

  JUST DESERTS

  Mrs Jones, Colchester

  It was almost 6 p.m. and I had been sitting outside the Boss’s office for over half an hour – deliberately, I was sure – when the buzzer rang and the green light came on outside his door, summoning me in.

  I carefully smoothed my short black skirt down over my thighs before entering.

  The Boss was sitting behind his spotless teak desk, a large full-length mirror behind him and beyond that a penthouse view out across the City of London to the Thames.

  “Ah, Jones, come in,” he said. And although there were plenty of spare chairs I noticed I wasn’t being asked to sit down.

  “It has come to my attention that you have been stealing money from the petty cash. No, there’s no point trying to deny it,” he continued as I feebly tried to interrupt, “the evidence is absolutely clear and incontrovertible.

  “Now as you know we are a very old and well-established firm. I should call the police and have you arrested. But we don’t like scandal here and we do things in a rather old-fashioned way. So I’m going to give you a choice. You will agree to accept your punishment here and now from me or . . .” He let the sentence die away but I knew what he meant.

  “But, but I don’t have any idea what it is,” I protested.

  “Nothing you can’t endure and probably a damn sight less than you deserve. Let’s say a good spanking. How about five strokes, on each cheek, over my knee.”

  “I don’t really think I have much of a choice. I accept,” I replied meekly.

  “Right then, Jones, strip off, please.”

  “No one said anything about being naked.”

  “Make that six strokes on each cheek. You agreed to the punishment as I recall.”

  Reluctantly I removed my clothes: white blouse, black skirt, brassiere, shoes, knickers and tights until I stood naked before him.

  “That’s much better. Now come round here next to me.”

  The Boss turned his swivel chair so that it was facing the full-length mirror then had me stand facing it, with my back to him. He loosened his tie and then, still knotted, pulled it over his head. Roughly pulling my hands behind my back, he slipped the “noose” over both my wrists and then pulled it tight.

  “Turn your toes out and then bend your knees like a ballet dancer, slut!” he commanded.

  As I did so he pushed his right hand between my legs and roughly pinched my clit between thumb and forefinger. I gasped as he pulled my most sensitive morsel of flesh from between my outer lips. My position was all the more humiliating because I was being forced to stare at my own reflection and could see his hand protruding between my legs but I was glad that at least I had trimmed my pubic hair into a neat heart shape only a couple of days before.

  Satisfied that I was suitably contrite and compliant, he released me, opened a drawer and produced a white linen napkin that he rolled into a sausage shape and laid across his left thigh.

  “Come and stand between my legs, facing left, and then bend over. Please make sure
your lips are parted and the napkin is between them.”

  As I did so the Boss crooked his right leg around my own, trapping them, and, taking hold of his tie with his left hand, pulled my arms up into the air, forcing my head down. I was completely helpless.

  He gently caressed my upraised cheeks for a few seconds, and then allowed a finger to trail down between my buttocks and then up my gaping slit. I couldn’t suppress an involuntary shiver: despite myself I could feel my love juices starting to flow.

  Suddenly and without warning he raised his right arm and brought it down with a stinging slap that caused an instant blaze of heat and pain on my right cheek. As I gasped for breath his hand swept up and down again, this time on the other cheek.

  Then he simply stopped as if waiting for something. Craning my neck to look over my shoulder I could see my arse reflected in the mirror … and the livid imprint of his palm on each cheek.

  “I think we’re forgetting our manners,” he interrupted my reverie. “You forgot to count each stroke and thank me for it. I’m afraid we’ll have to start all over again and add another couple just for good measure. So that’s now seven on each cheek.”

  With that he began to spank me in earnest. Hard staccato blows, with a pause between each pair: “One, two. Thank you, Master. Three, four. Thank you, Master. Five, six. Thank you, Master.”

  By the time he had reached nine and ten my body was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration and by the time thirteen and fourteen landed, my cheeks were ablaze and I was crying like a baby, begging him to stop. But at the same time the friction of the napkin, wedged between my lips and erotically chafing my bud, had got me undeniably aroused.

  “Bend over the desk, slut,” he commanded.

  “Oh no. Please, sir, please, not here …” I protested, but it was no use.

  He bent me over the huge desk and used the tie to pull my arms up into the air until my face and breasts were pressed hard against the surface. I could smell and almost taste the leather and I could feel the hard edge of the desk pressing against my pubic bone before he once again pushed the rolled napkin up between my thighs.