The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions
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Barbara Cardy originally trained in art, design, and construction, before moving through a variety of careers. To date, she has edited nearly 30 anthologies of various kinds. She lives in Kent with her two boys.
Recent Mammoth titles
The Mammoth Book of Ghost Stories by Women
The Mammoth Book of Irish Humour
The Mammoth Book of Unexplained Phenomena
The Mammoth Book of Futuristic Romance
The Mammoth Book of Best British Crime 10
The Mammoth Book of Combat
The Mammoth Book of Quick & Dirty Erotica
The Mammoth Book of Dark Magic
The Mammoth Book of New Sudoku
The Mammoth Book of Zombies!
The Mammoth Book of Angels and Demons
The Mammoth Book of the Rolling Stones
The Mammoth Book of Time Travel SF
The Mammoth Book of Westerns
The Mammoth Book of Prison Breaks
The Mammoth Quiz Book
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Photography, Vol. 4
The Mammoth Book of ER Romance
The Mammoth Book of More Dirty, Sick, X-Rated and Politically Incorrect Jokes
The Mammoth Book of Best New SF 26
The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror 24
The Mammoth Book of Hollywood Scandals
The Mammoth Book of Shark Attacks
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 12
The Mammoth Book of The Lost Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes
The Mammoth Book of Covert Ops
The New Mammoth Book of Pulp Fiction
The Mammoth Book of the World Cup
Constable & Robinson Ltd.
55–56 Russell Square
London WC1B 4HP
www.constablerobinson.com
First published in the UK by Robinson,
an imprint of Constable & Robinson Ltd., 2014
Copyright © Barbara Cardy, 2014 Copyright for each confession remains with the individual contributor
The right of Barbara Cardy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the publisher and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in Publication
Data is available from the British Library
UK ISBN: 978-1-4721-1163-0 (paperback)
UK ISBN: 978-1-4721-1168-5 (ebook)
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
First published in the United States in 2014 by Running Press Book Publishers,
A Member of the Perseus Books Group
All rights reserved under the Pan-American and International Copyright Conventions
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the publisher.
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US ISBN: 978-0-76245-228-6
US Library of Congress Control Number: 2014930219
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Digit on the right indicates the number of this printing
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Printed and bound in the UK
Cover by Ken Leeder
Contents
IT TAKES ALL KINDS
Sal, Milton Keynes
TWO’S COMPANY, THREE’S A CROWD
Petra, London
CLOTHES ENCOUNTERS
Phil, Stratford-upon-Avon
SEXIER BY THE DOZEN
Sarah, Waco
OUT WITH A BANG
Tim, San Jose
DIVERSION
Theresa, Loughborough
A FORBIDDEN TASTE
Mick, Huddersfield
NIGHT RIDER
Reece, Seattle
TO SERVE MY MISTRESS
Robert, Phoenix
FIFI THE SLUT
Vic, Blackpool
GROUP LESSONS
Brianna, Chicago
THE 36 CLUB
Claude, Paris
I PEE FREELY
Moira, Chicago
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR BOSS
Stephanie, Sheffield
MASTERING THE MISTRESS
Nick, Seattle
A SPECIAL FAVOUR
Lindsey, Oxford
TIED UP AND BENT OVER
Helen, Plymouth
MUMMY YUMMY
Sonya, Bristol
MY SOUTH BANK SHOW
Bob, London
FRIDAY FUN NIGHT
Claire, Chatham
MOTHER-IN-LORD
Victoria, Bristol
STAG-TRIP SURPRISE
Johnny, North London
NO SWEAT
Samantha, Dorset
MY FOOT-FETISH VIRGINITY
Rosie, Columbus
WORTH MY WHILE
Clifford, Long Island
EVERYBODY’S GOT A FIST
Julie, Orlando
A COMMERCIAL ARRANGEMENT
Sean, Chester
LIFE BEGINS AT FORTY
Doug, Stittsville
HEAT INDEX
Mia, St Louis
GIVING HER A HAND
Marsha, Brighton
BEDSIDE MANNER
Tory, Colorado
MY REGRESSION INTO BABYHOOD
Jessica, San Francisco
ANY PORT IN A STORM
Phil, Manchester
CITIZEN CANE
Ellie, Lincoln
ALL ABOUT HIM
Mina, Milwaukee
BOARDROOM MISBEHAVIOUR
Becky, London
DRIVING THE GIRLS HOME
Peter, London
DOG-GONE!
Stewart, Wellington
THE GORMLESS GIGOLO
Amber, Milton Keynes
HER NEW HOME HELP
Sylvia, Darlington
SECOND SHIFT
Stephen, Dallas
THE MENTOR BEHIND ME
Michelle, Boston
BARCELONA
Maggie, California
ANONYMOUS SEX
Liza, London
LITTLE SHITS
Penelope, Ipswich
THE VELVET GLOVE
Lane, New York
LEARNING TO SHARE
Dan, Liverpool, New York
PANTS DOWN
Olivia, Sydney
THE JOYS OF SUCKING COCK AS A STRAIGHT MALE
Anonymous, Mississippi
BLIND DATE
Sam, Watford
A PROPER PLACE FOR LITTLE LADIES
Ashley, Sussex
REHEARSALS
Olivia, Bournemouth
TEMPTATIONS OF A WICKED STEPMOTHER
Christine, Manchester
CLOSING TIME
Dean, Birmingham
EVERY WAY SHE WANTS
Coral, St Louis
ADDICTED
Jane, Newcastle
GOOD VIBRATIONS
Sarah, Salisbury
SCHOOLGIRL DREAMS
Cotton, Chicago
It Takes All Kinds
Sal, Milton Keynes
My name is Sal and I’m a working girl. If it sounds like a confession, that’s because it is. I’ve been a working girl, prostitute, whore, whatever you want to call me, for three weeks and two days, but that’s not what’s bothering me. What’s bothering me is that I’m beginning to enjoy it.
I’m in this situation because the bastard I was living with upped and left soon after our son was born. Six months after, to be precise. I had hardly any money and with no relatives nearby, no chance of earning any.
Francine, more an acquaintance than a friend, always seemed to be spending, despite never seeming to work for a living. One day I bumped into her in the supermarket. She had a trolley full of choice goods and I had a few budget items in a basket. I don’t usually bore people with my problems but I couldn’t help complaining about the situation I was in and lamenting that I didn’t know what I was going to do.
She studied me for a moment, pursing her lips as though coming to a decision, and asked me what 150 pounds sounded like for an hour’s work. I thought she was kidding me but, intrigued, I asked her what I would have to do. She told me and I shook my head. I was still staring at her in a state of shock when she gave me her card and said to call her if I changed my mind.
I let her go on her way and looked at my meagre shopping and baby Charlie, who was contentedly asleep in his pram. Already his clothes were growing too small for him and I’d little money for replacements. I called after her and asked her to tell me more.
That first time, I walked down the drive to the four-bedroomed detached house that was now going to be my place of work with a lump of fear in my throat.
Francine introduced me to the Boss, as she was called, who would be taking a cut of my earnings. When Francine took Charlie from me, my heart missed a beat. She told me not to worry, that she would keep an eye on him as she took a break. I took a deep breath and thought about what the money could buy us.
I sat down on the couch, waiting, and if I hadn’t been so desperate I would have turned tail and run away as fast as I could. All I knew was that the client was a regular and he was paying me fifty pounds over the going rate for something “extra” and that I wouldn’t have to go the whole way.
When Peggy, the Boss, walked up to me and told me that he was in the second room on the left, I bit my lip and could feel my eyes fill with tears. She rested a hand on my shoulder and reassured me that I would be fine. I wasn’t quite as confident as her but I nodded and gave her a weak smile.
Taking a deep breath, I climbed the stairs, got changed in the bathroom and walked into the bedroom. Sitting at a small desk was a rosy-cheeked, chubby man, dressed in tight shorts and an even tighter T-shirt. He looked like the kind of man who would be happier trainspotting than visiting a brothel.
He turned around to look at me, all the time sucking his thumb. “I’ve been a naughty boy.”
I shut the door behind me. “What have you done?”
“Knocked over my crayons and broke them. Please don’t punish me. Please don’t whack me with your slipper.”
As instructed I was wearing a pink negligee and pink fluffy kitten slippers. “You’re a very naughty boy, pull your shorts down and bend over.”
His lip quivered and his already semi-aroused cock began to stand to attention.
“Bend over,” I commanded.
He did as ordered.
I slipped off my slipper and hit him three times on each cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he called out. “I’m so sorry.”
I whacked his arse a couple more times for good measure. “Right, pull up your shorts and don’t make another sound while I have a nap.”
The cheeks on his face were equally as red as his buttocks. He bit his lip. “Please can I have a nap with you?” He gave me a bashful look and began sucking his thumb.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
I climbed into bed and he climbed in next to me.
“I’m hungry. Can I have a drink of your milk?”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Please.”
I exposed my breast and he latched onto it hungrily, sucking heavily on my breast milk.
“Touch me,” he murmured, momentarily taking his lips off my nipple.
I reached down and stroked his little rock-hard prick, sliding my hand up and down, relieved that he only took a minute to spurt out with a groan of satisfaction.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
As instructed earlier, I climbed out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, leaving him to get changed and go back to his regular life; his strange longing satisfied for a while at least.
After a quick shower and back in my old jeans and top, I took Charlie from Francine, trying not to think of what I’d just done. She asked me how I felt and I told her it wasn’t too bad and she joked at least I hadn’t had to lie back and think of England.
As she walked me to the front door, Francine told me that he’d wanted to suck on “ripe breasts” for ages. When she asked me if I’d be up for it again, I hesitated and then nodded, thinking there were worse ways to earn money. Though, at that moment in time, I couldn’t think of any.
With the money tucked away and Charlie wearing a new outfit and the fridge stocked up for the week, I figured I’d be able to manage for a while, but four days later I got a phone call from Francine. This time it was for a hundred and it was a different client. She was doing something special or else she would have done it herself. It was easy money, Francine said.
I asked her if he wanted to fuck me, because it would be a firm no if that was the case.
She sighed audibly and said that’s why she was asking me, this client definitely didn’t want to fuck me. It was laughable really; I was a whore who didn’t open her legs.
With Charlie tucked up at a friend’s house, a bottle of wine to compensate for her time, I headed back to the house of shame, as I had named it.
Pulling on the uniform and mask and trying not to laugh out loud, I asked the Boss if she was kidding me. When she told me that, if I did it right, I’d be in and out in less than half an hour, it wiped the smile off my face. One hundred pounds for thirty minutes’ work, I’d wear whatever they asked me to.
The man was curled up in a corner of the room, fully dressed in a Star Trek uniform, his plastic pointy ears and pale face with a green hue looking more than comical.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
Putting on the deepest voice I could muster, I tried my best to act like a Klingon. Hands on hips, I strode towards him. “Stand up, you puny man.” I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet. I wasn’t joking about puny either; he must have been nine stone, wet through.
I gripped his chin. Luckily, I’d been a Star Trek fan in my teenage years so could improvise, if nothing else. “You’ll make a good plaything for this Klingon warrior.”
He visibly shivered.
“Get ready to be boarded.” Grabbing his shirt, I threw him towards the bed. As he lay face down, I strapped on the black cock and picked up the lube. As I yanked down his trousers, he yelled out.
“No, please don’t do this, don’t rape me, you motherfucking Klingon.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I shouted back, beginning to enjoy the feeling of power I had over this man. I bent over and bit his arse cheek. He screamed out. I fell onto his back, pinning his hands to the bed. “Don’t make a sound and I won’t hurt you. Not much anyway. You’re going to be fucked, no matter what, so the more you accept that, the less painful it will be. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
I squirted some lube on his tight
arsehole. I didn’t spend too much time on preparation, as that wasn’t what the client was looking for. A couple of minutes later, I positioned the latex monstrosity and slid in. He groaned and called out, “Someone, help me.”
I slid the cock out. “I’m going to fuck you good and proper.”
I’d been thrusting into him a few good strokes when I realized something else was happening. A bump on the strap-on was rubbing against my clit and it was turning me on and so was the feeling of total power I had over this feeble man. I growled and in response he thrust his arse up for more. I pushed in harder. I growled in his ear and ground into his body, delighting in the flutter of pleasure that ran through my body. We both groaned and I could feel the warm tingle of an approaching orgasm and, as it took hold of my body, I rammed into him and by the groan he let out I figured my work was done for the night.
As I changed, I looked at my watch. Less than thirty minutes, a hundred pounds in my purse and a bloody good orgasm to boot. On the way home, I treated myself to a glass of wine and promised myself that that was the last time. Now I’d got a bit of money, I would try to find another way of earning a living.
A week later came another call. This time, she’d got two clients lined up for me. Mummy’s boy was back and requesting a suck on my overflowing tits. She laughed as she told me that the Boss had said I was unavailable and he offered to pay an extra fifty. She told me that I would like the other client as he was a virgin.
I asked her if that meant the unthinkable. She laughed again and said that if I wanted to earn the money I’d have to open my legs but, as a first go, this client would be easy money. Before I could change my mind, I agreed.