The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  I was also excited at the thought of Carol heading home without any knickers on. But then as I don’t wear knickers myself I know how open she would have felt. When I came, as I always did like this, my senses were filled with the smell and even the taste of Carol’s pretty cunt, her lovely stained knickers smothering my face.

  As I recovered I carefully removed the panties and put them in a plastic bag and sealed it, then put them in a special drawer in my desk. I have something like forty pairs of knickers in sealed bags packed in the drawer, and most of them smell every bit as inviting as the day I got them from a shoplifter. As I always tell myself, there may be a week when we don’t catch a shoplifter and it would never do to be without something delicious to sniff when the mood takes me.

  KIDNAPPED

  Katherine, London

  When I called Roberta and asked her to kidnap me, I was kidding. When she said, “OK – be a good girl and stay there,” and hung up, she wasn’t. I only found that out later.

  I met the curvy Roberta at a kinky sex party. I was very new to sex parties, and spent most of my time hiding by the wall. She was one of the liveliest women at the party, about thirty, with freckles dancing across her cheeks and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. I remember her blond hair was pulled back, a tiny top hat balanced, precariously, on her head as she laughed and joked with other partygoers. We exchanged a few words at the bar. I had meant to be witty, and probably instead sounded in awe as I complimented her outfit; still, she had exchanged numbers with me, and a promise to get together sometime. I was excited as I tucked the number into my bra, as I was new to the area and glad to have made a friend. I watched her rounded ass as she walked away, imagined what it must feel like to lick those creamy, thick thighs. I was infatuated.

  The first time I met her husband was at a local dungeon. It was my birthday; they had given me a beautiful vintage purse and a spanking. I remember I noticed how sexy he was, also in his early thirties, with a slightly pudgy stomach and a short brown goatee. I had recently discovered my attraction to rounded stomachs and hairy men, and David was an excellently presented example. He was silly, too, I remember – I think it was a costume party we were at. He had dressed like a caveman to his wife’s sabre-toothed tiger; I had enjoyed her fangs.

  Our paths had crossed once or twice afterwards and we meant to get together to hang out. It never quite worked out, there was always some event going on. We did spend time together, but always at parties, in a whirl of faces and music that made it difficult to get to know each other.

  But now, thanks to a random phone call, we were going to have dinner and chat at last. I remember how giddy I felt as I rushed around, putting on make-up and nicer clothes. I had been staying at my grandmother’s house up in the hills. It had felt empty and dull for weeks since she was away on vacation. Alone in a dark house, I sat on the edge of the bed, purse in my hands, feeling excited and silly like it was a high-school date. When the knock echoed through the house, I jumped up, then tried to walk to the door like I hadn’t been sitting and waiting.

  I opened the door only to find two ski-masked people there, both in black. One was curvy, and had some tendrils of blond escaping out from under her hood, so I felt sure it was Roberta, and the other had the vague proportions of her husband.

  “Candygram,” they chorused, and entered the house, the door shutting behind them.

  “Do you really want to be kidnapped?” the woman asked, and I sighed with relief as I recognized Roberta’s voice.

  I thought for a moment, then nodded, shyly. I wouldn’t have been able to deny that my pussy was wet under my jeans, and kidnappings were a favourite fantasy of mine.

  The other figure nodded. “OK,” he said. “We’re going to undress you and take you with us. You have a safe word, of course – it’s ‘red’. Use it if you need to. Otherwise, just do as we say. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, unable to believe this was really happening to me.

  “Give me the house key so we can lock up,” Roberta said as she started to undress me, pulling off my shirt and jeans and stuffing them into a duffel bag. I handed it to her out of my purse, which she also shoved into the bag. David blindfolded me, and I felt cool hands unclasping my bra and sliding off my underwear. Someone tied my hands together in front of me with something soft. Then I felt something itchy around me … I recognized it was my wool cape, which they wrapped around my body, tugging the hood up over my head.

  “Think that’ll work?” Roberta asked David. I didn’t know what they meant. Work for what?

  “Yeah, if we’re careful,” he answered. “We should probably not have the ski masks on, in case we get stopped. I don’t want to try explaining this to police.”

  I giggled, feeling giddy. They pushed me along, opened the door and walked me into the night air. It was chilly, but not overly so. One of my kidnappers held me as the other locked the door to the house. Gently, telling me when to step up, they got me up the stairs into the driveway. I heard a car door open, and hands encouraged me to crawl into the back seat, where I was buckled in. I heard some more car doors open and shut, and the engine rev. We were in motion. But where were we going? I knew of a sex club in the city, but they wouldn’t let me in the way I was, naked and bound!

  It seemed like we were in the car for only a few minutes before it stopped. I heard the faint beep of a code being entered, and the car drove into an underground area, a parking lot, I thought to myself. And then I panicked. Had they brought me to their apartment? Was I crazy for just letting these people I barely knew carry me off? Probably, but at this point I wanted to see what would happen. And I had never been so wet as I was then. I prayed I wasn’t leaving a smear of come in their car.

  I was helped out of the vehicle and into another elevator. I heard someone step out and call back, “Clear!” before we moved again. The jingle of keys, the clank of a bolt sliding back, and I felt a rush of warm air that felt decadent against my skin. We were inside somewhere. I felt safe, in spite of the circumstances … I guess I’ve always enjoyed danger, and this was just the right amount of danger to get my juices running. My cape was unclasped and removed, and I was led forwards again, acutely aware of my nudity and a dribble of wetness that had begun to drip along my thigh. I was guided into a seat, my hands untied and rétied separately to something that felt like chains. My blindfold was removed, and I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light. I was in a bedroom, but not on the bed – no, I was attached to a sex swing that dangled next to the bed from a hook Roberta and David must struggle to hide from visitors. I saw a closet overflowing with high-heeled boots and corsets, bits and pieces from costumes I had seen them in from time to time. There was a dresser with nipple clamps and rope scattered amongst perfume bottles and pocket change. I knew I was in for an exciting night, and David attached some cuffs to my ankles as if to confirm it. He clipped the ankle cuffs to the swing, leaving me feeling deliriously helpless and very, very exposed. There would be no hiding my arousal now.

  Roberta appeared, now dressed only in a lacy black push-up bra and matching knickers, holding a ball gag in her hand. Her golden skin glittered slightly, her rounded tummy making her look like a modern Venus. “May I?” she asked, kindly, and I nodded hard, feeling thankful for anything that would take the pressure to say something off. The ball slid between my lips, just big enough to keep me from speaking but not so large I strained. Then, the double team act truly began, as she nibbled my neck and arms and David began to run his tongue along my slit. Her hands stroked my inner thighs, making me twitch and sigh; David laced his fingers into hers, and together they traced spirals over my pussy. Roberta languidly put her hand, now damp with my secretions, up to her lips and licked it clean. Her nails, I noticed, were clipped short and neat. I shuddered, feeling myself pulse with the desire to be used by my kidnappers.

  David moved to my head and began to run his fingers through my hair, using them to push it aside. My neck exposed, he began to bite,
gently at first, then harder, leaving a trail of bruises and saliva in his wake. His beard tickled the tender skin, and he used it to rasp my neck as he nibbled and nipped. Roberta was putting her smooth fingertips to good use in my cunt. Her middle finger slid in easily and curled gently to caress my G-spot. I moaned around the gag as she spit on my pink nub and rubbed her thumb on it, softly at first, then harder as I began to push my hips back into her. The biting continued, little shocks of pain intensified and then soothed by the ministrations of Roberta. I felt myself close to orgasm, but not quite there – how could I tell them I needed just a little bit more?

  Green eyes met my pleading ones, and she smiled. “Bite her nipples,” she told David, and he used his tongue to find them. He bit, and I shuddered, my pussy convulsing around her hand as I came hard.

  “Your turn,” Roberta said to her husband with a smile, as she removed the ball gag. She let me lick her fingers clean of my juices.

  “Let’s put her on the bed,” he said, and began to free my ankles.

  She deftly untied my hands from the chain, leaving the worn hemp rope on them as she directed me, now somewhat shaky with the aftershocks, towards their bed.

  “Should we tie her hands to the frame like a good old-fashioned bondage scene, or something else?” David asked.

  “Oh, I think we can leave her hands untied for now – I’ll hold them down,” his wife replied with a wicked smile, grabbing my hair and using it to pull my face to hers. We kissed, tentatively at first and then wildly. My thigh unconsciously moved between hers and pressed against her clit; the lace panties offered no real barrier. She pulled me away and, with a handful of my hair, she picked up a glass of water and drank. “Would you like some water? Wouldn’t want to wear you out too fast!”

  I nodded, and she opened my mouth and poured some water from her lips into my dry mouth. It was like I had never had water before. I swallowed greedily and opened my mouth for another. This time she let me drink from the cup, before spanking my ass.

  “Now, get on the bed like a good pet, all fours,” she ordered, and I complied. I positioned myself in the middle, unsure what was going to happen next but sure I was going to like it.

  David removed his clothes, exposing a hairy chest and a raging erection. I was surprised and excited by his lack of underwear. Roberta grabbed a tin from the nightstand and opened it to reveal a variety of condoms; selecting a blue one from the bunch, she put the tin back and opened the condom wrapper. He crawled onto the bed and she rolled the condom onto his cock with her lips and tongue, her eyes on his as she licked and sucked the condom into place. He groaned, watching his wife, her pussy and ass close to my face as she worked. I got a sudden urge to pull her panties aside and let my tongue attack her pussy, but resisted. I didn’t want to be punished.

  David moved between my legs, lifting them until my calves rested on his shoulders. He grabbed a bottle of lubricant from the dresser. A little dribble covered my slit, cold and arousing. I could feel his latex-clad cock as it slid over my clitoris, making me shiver with desire.

  “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked softly, and I wanted it so badly I almost wept.

  Instead I nodded, unsure I could speak.

  “Tell me. Beg me to fuck you.”

  “Please.” It came out a broken whisper, my voice cracking slightly. “Please, David, fuck me. I need to feel your cock inside me, so badly … so, so badly …” I was getting wetter with every word. I’ve always loved talking dirty; how did he know that?

  “That’s good enough,” he said, kindly, and then Roberta’s pussy, no longer trapped behind the lace knickers, suddenly smothered my mouth. She smelled musky and warm; her secretions were like fresh cream, thick and delicious. I let my nose rub against her clitoris as my tongue flicked over her opening, teasingly. My teeth lightly slid across her clit, then the tip of my tongue. I alternated between the two sensations, listening to her whimpers and trying to guess which she liked better.

  I groaned into her labia lips as David entered me.

  He had a short, thick cock, slightly curved at the tip, perfectly made to hook the edge of my G-spot with each slow thrust. When he slid out of my pussy and plunged back in, I cried out, the vibrations of my whimpers making her wriggle with delight. As he fucked me faster and deeper, my tongue grew wilder, plunging in and out of Roberta with abandon. She cried out, a deep, musical sound, and in between my moans I watched as David grabbed Roberta’s hair and pulled her head back as she ground herself against my lips.

  Her sandy pubic hair rubbed my lips raw, but I barely noticed. My feet hooked around his neck as he pushed me forwards a little, resting his weight on my thighs as he ripped Roberta’s bra off, releasing her breasts. They were heavy, just over a handful each, bouncing in rhythm as he thrusted and she pushed her pussy into my tongue. I reached up and she let me capture her nipple between my fingers. I rolled each one around, lightly tugging as I lapped at her wetness. I came first, the squeezing of my cunt setting off David who groaned loudly as he shot into the condom. I shook my head back and forth quickly, my nose and tongue flickering over her pussy and clitoris until Roberta orgasmed with a contented sigh, my lips and cheeks covered with her cream.

  We all sagged for a moment, spent. Then it was time for showers and dinner; they asked me to stay the night, and I gladly complied. I curled up between them, still throbbing, heart still racing. I could hardly believe any of it had happened to me. I was happy it had.

  It may have been the first time, but luckily for me, it wasn’t the last.

  A SLAVE’S CONFESSION

  Alexander, Horsham

  Mistress Catherine and I, both of us naked, were in her living room that balmy evening. The gentlest of winds was pushing the curtain in slightly, revealing the dark of a starless, moonless sky outside. Catherine was seated on a black leather easy chair, one hand languorously caressing her sex, the other holding the handle of the rattan cane with which she’d just beaten me. I was kneeling on the floor by her side, gazing up at her adoringly. My backside was covered in smarting welts, my cock stiffly erect.

  “Confess to me something wicked you’ve done in the past,” my Mistress demanded. “I will then punish you for it.”

  “What sort of punishment, Mistress?” I asked nervously.

  “I don’t know yet,” she replied, giving a slight flick of the shiny dark fringe that hung over her forehead. “It depends what you confess. I’ll make the punishment fit the crime.”

  “I see, Mistress,” I said, my voice hesitant.

  “Come on, slave,” Catherine pressed, a little impatient now. “There must be something you did in your guilt-ridden Catholic past you felt was particularly wicked, something that’s contributed to those occasional bouts of angst that I have to beat out of you. Get it off your chest.”

  Thinking for a brief moment before replying, I said, “It goes back to when I was a teenager, Mistress. At the time in question I had hardly any experience of the opposite sex. I was also years away from recognizing my submissive and masochistic nature.

  “I was a real late developer sexually and had only recently discovered masturbation. But I found it a guilty pleasure because, as you say, I’d been raised as a Catholic, a religion that teaches that self-pleasuring is sinful. What I’m about to confess would certainly be regarded as wicked by the Catholic Church. In fact they would call it a mortal sin.”

  “Go on,” said Catherine. “You’re beginning to interest me.” She put the cane to the side of the chair and started to pleasure herself in earnest, working her fingers rhythmically between the lips of her sex.

  “It all started on a Sunday, Mistress,” I continued. “I was looking forward to the week ahead as it was a half-term holiday. I was attending Mass as usual, but instead of worshipping God I was on my knees worshipping the pretty blond altar server who was assisting the priest with the service.

  “His name was Jerry and he was a year older than me. He lived nearby with his widowed mother. She
and my mother were friendly through their involvement with the Church but Jerry and I were only passing acquaintances. On this occasion, though, as our mothers talked to one another after the service, Jerry and I also got into conversation and were getting on really well.

  “‘What are you doing this week?’ I asked.

  “‘I’ve nothing planned,’ he replied. ‘How about the two of us going swimming tomorrow afternoon?’

  “I said I thought this was a good idea and we made arrangements to meet.

  “That night I couldn’t resist the temptation to masturbate as I imagined what Jerry might look like without clothes – I was about to find that out, and a hell of a lot more besides.

  “We got together the next day and made our way to the nearby open-air swimming pool. As we walked along, chatting about this and that, I allowed my gaze to wander up and down his body. I couldn’t help thinking how good he looked in his tight jeans. I admired the perfect shape of his rear moulded into the denim and the impressive bulge at the front.

  “Although the weather was reasonably mild that day, there were a lot of dark-looking clouds in the sky, and when we arrived we found that the pool was only sparsely attended. There was a slight breeze that ruffled the water, which looked downright cold. We went into the changing rooms and, at Jerry’s suggestion, shared a cubicle. As he stripped off, I was surprised, and turned on, to notice that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear beneath those tight jeans. I was aware that my cock was starting to swell when I slipped into my swimming trunks, and found it a decided relief – an embarrassment averted – to run on ahead and plunge into the chilly water of the swimming pool.

  “Jerry and I stayed in the pool for about an hour, splashing about, and it gradually warmed up. Every once in a while the sun even deigned to reveal itself through a break in the clouds, allowing reflected light to dance on the rippling blue water. Jerry and I swam and played in the pool – and, OK, maybe we did make physical contact a bit more than was strictly necessary in our games there.