The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  My desire to have something like this happen in real life seemed destined to be disappointed, and then I bumped into a woman who I thought had disappeared from my life for good. Julie had worked as a barmaid at my local pub. She was a great girl, somewhere in her late twenties, with peroxide blonde hair, a cute heart-shaped face and very big tits that she liked to show off in low-cut T-shirts. A few of the regulars used to try it on with her, but she never took any crap from any of them, and she’d even once broken up a fist fight that had started over a game of pool in the pub’s tap room. Julie and I used to chat, and our conversations would sometimes get very flirtatious, but I never thought about making a move on her. I knew she was going out with someone called Lee, who played rugby, was built like a brick shithouse and had an unbelievably short temper – not the kind of guy you wanted to upset. From what she’d told me, she was clearly head over heels in love with him. What more excuse did I need to keep away from the girl, even though I won’t deny I fancied the arse off her? Of course, that didn’t stop her featuring in some of my rudest fantasies, where she made a tunnel of those big boobs for me, so I could slide my cock between them before spunking over her fat nipples.

  Then Julie, rather unexpectedly, got pregnant. She kept on working behind the bar for about the first six months, then started getting such bad backaches that she had to pack the job in. I pretty much lost touch with her at that point, though I eventually heard via Gerry, the landlord, that she’d had a healthy baby girl, and that she and Lee had moved into a newly built house in an estate on the other side of town. I really hoped that they would have a happy life together, even though I missed the sight of her smiling face – and those absolutely gorgeous tits of hers.

  So when I spotted her waiting at a bus stop not far from where I lived as I drove home one rainy Friday night, I got the shock of my life. To be honest, I actually had to look twice to make sure it was her. She’d let the dark roots of her hair grow out a good couple of inches, she wore a sloppy old anorak that completely concealed her voluptuous figure, and she had a worn, haggard look that I sensed didn’t just come from the sleepless nights having a young baby in the house can cause.

  I slowed the car to a halt and wound down the window, calling out her name. She seemed just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. When I asked her how things were going, I never expected the reaction I got. Julie started to say something, then just broke down in tears.

  “Oh, Mick,” she sobbed. “It’s horrible. He’s left me . . .”

  Now, like most men, I must be programmed deep down to respond to the sight of a damsel in distress, and to feel a need to come to her rescue. I didn’t know why Julie was in the area, or where she was catching a bus to; all I knew was that, right then, she was in need of someone to put their arms round her and tell her everything was going to be all right. So I told her to hop in the car and I’d take her to my place so she could have a cup of tea and tell me the whole story. At first I thought she was going to refuse, but I’d always been a friend to her while she worked at the pub, so she opened the car door and got inside.

  As I drove, she began to tell me her story in a halting voice. It seemed that when she’d first given birth, Lee had been absolutely over the moon, but almost as soon as she was back from the hospital he’d started pressuring her to have sex with him. Apparently, they’d been doing it almost every night, even when she was eight months pregnant, and she’d loved it just as much as he had. But, after the birth, she’d been sore and tired and just not in the mood. Lee told her he wasn’t the kind of guy who could go for very long without a good fuck, and he’d warned her that if he couldn’t get it from her, he’d find someone else. True to his word, he’d started sleeping with a woman at his place of work and, within a month, he’d moved in with her, leaving Julie alone with the baby. It seemed like he was just happy to walk away from all his responsibilities, and I wondered how he could do so with a clear conscience.

  By this time, we’d arrived at my small, two-bedroom terraced home. I parked the car and let Julie into the house. When she took her anorak off in the hall to hang it on a peg, I could see just how far she’d let herself go in the last few months. The heels of her boots were worn down to nothing, and her baggy, unflattering T-shirt had what looked like food stains down the front. Yet I still felt the attraction I’d always had to her. She might be down on her luck, but underneath the straggly hair and the worn-out clothing, there was still a very pretty girl lurking.

  I encouraged her to make herself comfortable while I went to make us both a cup of tea. As I waited for the kettle to boil, my thoughts drifted back to all the fantasies I’d had of Julie down on her knees, stripped to the waist, begging me to come over her big, bare tits. It was completely wrong, I knew, given her present circumstances and the fact I was only supposed to be offering her a shoulder to cry on, but still I felt my cock stirring in my jeans in response.

  When I went back into the living room, Julie had taken the opportunity to wipe her eyes, brush her hair and apply some lip gloss. She looked happier, but I knew it might not take too much to set the tears flowing again. “So what are you doing in this neck of the woods?” I asked her, settling down on the settee beside her. We were sitting so close together our knees were almost touching, but she didn’t make any attempt to pull away and make more room between us.

  “I’m thinking about moving back here,” she confessed. “Lee was paying most of the rent on the place where I’m living now, and I can’t afford to make the payments on my own. So I came to look at a room a friend’s got available in her house, and I also went to see if I could get my old job back at the pub. Gerry said he’ll take me back any time. Says the place just isn’t the same without me.”

  He isn’t the only one who thinks that, I wanted to tell her, but I settled for taking a sip of my tea, then asking, “So how’s the baby?”

  Julie’s face brightened. “Leanne? Oh, she’s gorgeous. Really well behaved, too. One of the neighbours is looking after her right now . . .”

  She carried on talking, but I couldn’t take in a word she was saying. My eyes were drawn to her T-shirt. Two wet patches had suddenly appeared where the pink cotton material was draped over her tits. Eventually, she realized I was staring and looked down.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Mick. It’s just when I start talking about Leanne, particularly when she’s due a feed, my tits start leaking of their own accord. God, I look like a right mess, don’t I?”

  My answer was completely sincere. “No, Julie. I think you look absolutely beautiful.”

  Knowing it was breast milk dampening her T-shirt had my cock straining against the zip of my jeans, desperate for release. This was the situation I’d dreamed of for as long as I could remember. I knew I was risking everything with my next words, but I had to ask. “Julie. I know this is going to sound odd, but I’ve always had a fantasy about tasting breast milk from a lovely woman like you. Would you – would you let me try it?”

  I waited for her to slap me round the face and tell me I was all kinds of pervert before walking out of the flat and never coming back. She didn’t. Instead, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head to reveal a plain white nursing bra. That, too, was soaked through. Julie unclipped it and dropped it to the floor, letting me get a good gawp at her tits. They’d been big before, but now they had swelled to mammoth proportions, the blue veins stark and prominent against the pale flesh, the nipples jutting out, as long as thimbles. It’s no exaggeration to say I almost came in my pants just looking at her.

  “Well,” she said, “what are you waiting for?”

  I didn’t need any more of an invitation. Bending my head, I let my lips latch onto one of those rigid teats. Just sucking on her bountiful tits would have been exciting at any time, but as the first drops of milk trickled into my mouth, I knew nothing would ever compare to the thrill of this moment. It tasted warm and surprisingly sweet, and I gorged myself on first one bre
ast and then the other, groping and squeezing whichever one I wasn’t sucking at the time. Julie kept moaning and telling me how good it felt. I wondered if Lee had enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of drinking her milk before he left her: if he hadn’t, then the man was more of a fool than he’d already proved himself.

  At last I sat back, my appetite for her milk sated but my cock still in need of satisfaction. Julie unzipped my fly, and brought my hard-on out to play with. Her fingers were cool on my hot, pulsing shaft, and I knew it wouldn’t take very much of this treatment to make me lose my load. She wanked me gently at first, then stepped up the pace. As she did, I couldn’t help but notice how she was aiming the head of my dick in the direction of her tits. Almost before I knew what was happening, I was spunking all over those vast, ripe mounds, my come spattering over both breasts and the deep valley between them.

  Julie put her hand to her crotch and swiftly rubbed herself off through the leggings, making soft little grunting noises as obvious spasms of orgasm made her jerk against the settee cushions.

  Afterwards, we cuddled for a moment, and she felt so soft and wonderful in my arms. I thought there might be some awkwardness between us, given what had just happened, but she seemed pretty content, knowing she’d given me the one thing I’d wanted above all others. I offered to run her home, but the rain had eased off and she said she’d get her bus. When I kissed her goodbye, I wondered whether she could taste her own milk on my lips. I knew it was a taste that would linger in my memory for a long time to come.

  My story doesn’t end the way you’re probably thinking. What happened between me and my milky-titted beauty that evening was purely a one-off; she didn’t make any attempt to see me again, and she never came back to work at the pub. Instead, Lee realized just what a dickhead he’d been to walk out on the mother of his child, and asked her to give him another chance. She said yes, and as far as I know, they’re still together today. I’ve never found another woman who’s been in a position to let me suckle her tits, but thanks to Julie I know they exist, and I still live in hope that one day I’ll get to savour the delicious taste of milk straight from a woman’s breasts once more.

  Night Rider

  Reece, Seattle

  I like to go riding after dark, on my bicycle. Cruising the suburban and urban streets in the hushed, shadowed wee hours of the morning.

  My wife says it’s dangerous, but she says a lot of things. After ten years of marriage, there’s more excitement out on the streets after dusk than there is in our bedroom at home after lights-out.

  I think it’s actually safer riding around when the streets are all but deserted, no vehicular traffic to bump you into the curb or run you right over. Yes, I’ve seen some hold-ups and muggings and beatings cycling around late at night, a few drunken brawls; but I’m in good enough shape – to pedal my ass safely out of any danger I come upon.

  And I’ve seen some of the other wildlife, too: men and women making out in cars, on park benches, in alleyways; men and men shaking park bushes and rattling public toilets; girl–girl action played out publicly on street corners and sidewalks just after closing time. When decent people have doused the lights and gone off to sleep, indecent folks are out and about and looking for excitement.

  You can actually see quite a bit cruising by on the darkened streets at 15 klicks an hour. More than just racoons raiding dumpsters and reprobates rolling drunks. But until that one sultry night near the end of August, I’d never actually dismounted and waded into the fray, gotten personally involved in the heat of the night.

  It was just after two in the morning. The air conditioner in our apartment was busted – again – and my wife was rolling around like a rogue log next to me in our sweating bed. She was sleeping, and snoring, thrashing about in some fever dream of hers, adding another layer of perspiration to the film I was already bathed in. It became way too oppressive, the call of the open night road too irresistible.

  So, I slipped out of bed and into my black bicycle shorts, a black sleeveless T-shirt and sneakers. Then I snuck out of the bedroom and down the hall, unhooked my bike from the wall and carried it and myself right out of the building and down onto the moonlit sidewalk outside.

  There wasn’t a breath of air stirring anywhere in the heatheavy night, and seemingly no people, as well. Until my eyes adjusted to the gloom, and I picked out the glowing cigarette tip of the old guy who sometimes sits out on the steps of the brownstone across the street two buildings down. I’d seen him a few times before when I’d set off on my nocturnal jaunts. I suspected he was a peeping tom, but I had no proof, or predilection to compare notes with him; despite the fact he was always trying to get me to come over with a wave of his smoking hand.

  I mounted up and pedaled away, cycling down the silent street and out into the silent night. I followed my inner-city route, riding into the empty downtown area. The dark covered up most of the urban blight – another benefit of biking long after the sun’s gone down – the shadows softening the hard, crumbling reality of some of the harsher core areas. The bars and nightclubs had been closed for a while, so the only people I cruised by were some hookers and pimps who gave me a shout-out, looking to take me for a ride.

  I wheeled in and out of the concrete canyons of commerce, along streets lined with hard-up rooming houses and hard-drinking taverns, past city hall and sundry other government buildings. It was just slightly cooler with the self-generated breeze I created cutting through the velvet air at half-speed. And then, as I was riding the wrong way down a one-way street, I caught a flash of something interesting in a dimly lit alleyway – a flash of white flesh.

  I rode on by, traveling as silently as my surroundings. Then I curved around and rode on back, stealthily, on the far side of the empty road across from the alley. My eyes were cat-like by now, and I clearly saw a guy with his back up against the brick wall, two women squatting down on their high heels in front of him, and the of flash of flesh of his cock that they were passing back and forth between the pair of their mouths.

  I just about rammed into a planter up on the curb, I was so transfixed. This was exactly the kind of thing you could only see out on the city streets at three o’clock in the morning. I hit the handbrakes and skidded to a stop, staring at the two-woman suckjob one lucky stiff was getting served up.

  The guy was a tall, thin dude, with dark hair and a pale face, wearing a dark suit open at the fly. His cock was long and hard, shining with spit. One woman was a long-haired blonde, wearing a leopard-print dress that was stretched to the max over her curvaceous body, riding up high on her blossomed-out butt due to the pressure of her squatting position. The other woman had short, red hair, was dressed in a sleeveless vest and a short skirt both made of black leather. She was thinner than her voluptuous companion cocksucker, but just as shapely.

  They were passing that cock back and forth between them like they were starving for meat, sucking on almost its entire length when they got hold of it and wrapping their lips around it. The dude on the end of the double blowjob tilted his head back against the brick and banged it with his fists, thrusting his hips out, feeding the hungry girls his sensitive flesh. My own groin started tingling with a feeling more than just bike seat-related, as I straddled the crossbar and stood watching the sex scene.

  Normally, I would’ve gotten an eyeful, and then pedaled safely away into the night. But I’d never come across a sex sighting quite as exciting as this one before. And I was at a safe distance, shrouded in darkness. And there was no one else out and about on the street or the sidewalks save that twisted threesome. And the only thing that had been blowing hot in the old marital bedroom lately had been the room temperature.

  So, I lingered, the numbness surging out of my butt and my cock flooding with good feeling. Until I was stretching out the front of my spandex, as hard and throbbing as that guy across the street was stretching his ladies’ hot, sucking mouths. I pulled a hand off a handlebar and rubbed my swelled-up prick. I jerked, like I’
d touched an exposed electrical cable. This was just too good to pass on by.

  Glancing guiltily around, and then back across at the blonde bobbing her head on the dude’s dick as the redhead mouthed his balls down below, I skinned my shorts down and let my hard-on spring free – exposed out in the open. I’d never done anything as dangerous as that before. I always saved my post-cycle jacking for my own bathroom, if I’d gotten particularly pumped while out pedaling. But now I reached down and recklessly gripped my bare cock skin-on-skin, grunted and stroked, gazing at the erotic goings-on across the wide-open night street.

  The redhead was sucking up and down on the guy’s cock, her head pistoning. As the blonde dipped and teabagged, mouthing the man’s balls. The lewd dude clutched their hair and rode both of their heads with his hands.

  I swung my leg over the crossbar, set my bike up against a planter, and stood there in the street and pumped my cock in rhythm to those women sucking, my balls cradled and ballooned by my stripped-down bicycle shorts. I shot my other hand up onto my chest and pulled my muscle-shirt free of a pec, pinched and rolled a stiff, buzzing nipple between my fingers.

  I burned hotter than the atmosphere, fisting my pulsating cock full-length, plucking at my nipples and then twisting my balls; watching the flagrant fellatio across the way. I stroked just as fast as the women sucked, the steam-pressure building in my bubbling balls and humming cock, the guy pumping the ladies’ faces at coming speed. I excitedly jacked for a jetting finish.

  And then the man with the two-timed dick suddenly waved at me.

  My hand froze on my cock in mid-crank, my fingernails biting into my nipple. I’d been spotted, caught out in the open with my cock out. The man was looking at me and gesturing. The two women had stopped their mouth-suction and spun around on their high heels; they were waving at me, as well.