The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  And then I realized this could be why he fancied me all of a sudden. I’m not a gambler but I gambled and discreetly unbuttoned my blouse. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sexy, husky voice and found out when I asked, “Is this what you came for?” I opened my blouse a little.

  Did I say before that he had a nice smile? Well, let me put the record straight – he has a fantastic smile. I took a deep breath and, well, that was it.

  With barely any warning and absolutely no other choice I took his willing hand and led him to the stock cupboard, the very hot, very small stock cupboard. The wonderful aroma of his sweat decoded and unlocked me with each quickening breath.

  Luke’s kiss was masculine, guiding and so utterly beautiful. I realized vaguely that he was undressing me and tried to help but discovered that I’d barely enough strength to stand. He’d got my blouse off and was encouraging the straps of his vest off my shoulders and then pulled it down over my breasts making us both smile. He reached behind and twitched my bra clasp free, taking it off with great care, whispering in a tomcat purr-growl, “You look just as gorgeous as you smell.”

  I blushed involuntarily, knowing it wasn’t my perfume he was talking about it was – me.

  And Luke smelt to high heavens! The highest of heavens! In the close confines of the cupboard he unfastened my skirt and eased it and my panties over my hips. They fell to the floor. With even less fuss his jeans and pants were down and he was inside me – big and confident and oh so slow. A perfect fit – finger in glove – absolutely perfect and we merged back into a dream-like kiss.

  When his hands touched my bum I unworthily thought: “Here comes the grab and thrust” but instead he traced the curve of my skin and tingled nerves to life, everything blending into the kiss.

  The intensity of feeling arising from each small wonderful movement made me start to shimmer from the inside out. I closed my eyes and the colour of his eyes became the sky and his smile the sun.

  He kissed my neck and I trembled involuntarily, pushing harder and harder against him as if it was possible to get him even deeper inside me. He teased me wickedly with the subtlety of his movements, the variety in his touch and the texture of his kisses. Tease became torture when he got me to the very top and held me there, gasping, breathing him in.

  We climaxed together exactly, natural as a volcano and just as unstoppable as we cried out in harmony. The thunder that came with the eruption, I realized eventually, was the sound of the racking banging against the cupboard wall. Sheets of coloured paper were raining down in slow motion like huge exotic petals.

  But to my surprise, he hadn’t finished with me. In the afterglow, Luke’s kisses and caresses continued to make me feel giddy, my nipples ached as his tongue and exquisitely gentle fingers teased them while his body was pressing and not pressing on my clit, hard, soft, long, short, until suddenly I buckled, overwhelmed by a throbbing pulse of pleasure which took the last of my strength. Even his withdrawal left behind a tingling sensation. My hand found the silkiness of his cock just as his hand slid between my legs. We shared a smile and knew we were together from now on.

  Call me greedy but if I could have decided what happened next we’d have taken a shower then gone to bed to resume the exploration of the afterglow with touch and talk and dreams. Instead, the reality was that we were in what was now a ridiculously hot cupboard and had to get dressed. Our smiles got us through it with outbreaks of giggling and stifled laughter.

  I insisted on wearing his vest; in return he insisted I leave my bra off.

  We emerged from the cupboard still smiling – Luke with a random piece of purple paper stuck to the back of his shirt and me utterly besotted and completely satisfied. The air-con of Reception had an arctic chill.

  We emerged in time to be confronted by Hayley, flushed and grim and not at all coy. She noticed his vest under my blouse but seemingly couldn’t compute this information.

  “Why were you in the cupboard?”

  “Luke wanted to upgrade his membership to platinum.”

  “There’s no such thing . . .”

  I peeled the sheet of purple paper from Luke’s back and held it up. “The form was on the top shelf. Luke helped me.”

  She seemed on the point of buying it but then noticed my bra scrunched up in my hand. She flounced off, in search of the Duty Manager.

  Luke smiled, putting his arm round me. “Shall we go?” I collected my bag and we left.

  Outside in the real world I felt weak and wonderful and started to say something to Luke just as he started to say something to me and the mash-up merged into an irresistible kiss. It was starting up all over again.

  He swept me off my feet, looked into my eyes and said, “Samantha, if you don’t tell me where your car is parked I’m going to have you right here . . .” He kissed me a cupboard kiss and the fizz it set off told me I had to break it or else test his dare.

  I directed him to my car. When we got there he wouldn’t put me down. “Open the door, my lady.” I fumbled blindly in my handbag for car keys and released the locks.

  He opened the door and with immense strength and tender care laid me on the back seat. I was vaguely aware that there were people around – why wouldn’t there be? I didn’t care. We were in our own world, not theirs, and he was kissing me again in the “seclusion” of the car and the sweet, earthy smell of “us” was beautiful and transporting all over again.

  We were nearing take-off and I could feel the car starting to rock. Then I heard Hayley shouting out my name with righteous indignation. “Samantha!”

  Crash landing. Grounded. Moments passed by.

  Luke got off me.

  Reluctantly, we struggled to a sitting position on the back seat, adjusting clothing. The car door was still open. Luke got out first, mean and masculine and utterly magnificent, I thought. I followed, aiming for something resembling “cool”.

  Hayley and the Duty Manager were waiting outside. Luke took my hand and I remember saying to them, in my best Receptionist sing-song voice, “How can I help?”

  I was dismissed, there and then.

  I didn’t care.

  Hayley treated Luke to one last “see what you’re missing” look, then wiggled off – in deep discussion with my ex-boss.

  I remember the next bit so clearly and can run it over and over like a film.

  Luke squeezed my hand and turned me to face him. “Looks like I lost you your job. But I have to tell you, Samantha, your troubles don’t end there.”

  “Oh, really?” I pulled him closer, breathing deeply.

  “You might as well know that if you’re going home, I’ll be following you.”

  “Luke, you might as well know that if you do follow me home you’re going to have to wash me very carefully all over to make sure this never happens again.”

  “Least I can do,” he said, kissing me again. “No sweat.”

  So that’s how we met, how I lost my job and how we got married. Marriage was the safest option because dating in public would’ve been far too dangerous.

  If you ask me to list in priority order the things we bought for our first joint flat, I’ll tell you – the bed came first of course but close second was a running machine, our very own private sex toy.

  My Foot-Fetish Virginity

  Rosie, Columbus

  I never thought I would be the type of girl to go on Craigslist looking for a guy but last year I found myself sitting with my computer in my lap on the couch, wearing just my panties and cruising the personal ads. Lots of these guys seemed OK, but not very interesting. I wanted a guy with a little spice, you know? A man I could never forget.

  I wasn’t looking for Mr Right or the man of my dreams. I’m too practical for that. I just wanted someone fun, new, and exciting. I didn’t expect to find it, but I did.

  Halfway down the first page an ad caught my eye: “SWM seeks pink-toed cutie.” And there was a picture! (I hate it when guys don’t put their picture on an ad. I
don’t really care what my partner looks like, but what if he has a weird haircut or wears Bill Cosby sweaters?) Intrigued, I clicked on the link.

  The picture loaded quickly and I liked what I saw. Just slightly muscular in a T-shirt and jeans, he had a kind face and beautiful blue eyes. The text was equally intriguing:

  Hello there. SWM, 37, nice body, seeks girl with great feet and killer legs. Height/weight/race doesn’t matter as long as she’s got cute toes. Into boats, westerns, and running. Financially stable, no drama. Disease free. Just looking for a sweet girl to call my own.

  I knew if I thought about it I would never go through with it, so I didn’t think. I clicked on the email button and started writing: “Hi! I’m Rosie. I’m 24 years old, red hair, 38DD/34/36. I’m a graduate student working on my Library Sciences degree (I look great in glasses and a tweed skirt). How are my toes?” I took a picture of my bare feet with my webcam and attached it to the email.

  I can’t believe I just did that, I thought, knowing I was crazy. I had never known anyone who had met someone on Craigslist before. What if he was creepy? A stalker? An ax murderer? What was I doing?

  I got a reply email a few hours later. “Hello Rosie, I’m Tom,” he wrote. “I would love to lick those toes and feel them on my big hard cock. I’m getting turned on just thinking about it. Dinner? Drinks?”

  And that was the beginning. I didn’t say yes right away – I’m impulsive, not crazy. We exchanged emails and a few more pictures and we chatted on the phone a few times. He had a really nice cock and I wanted to touch it. I’d never had a guy interested in feet before, and I wondered how it would feel as I slid my feet over his hard shaft and bulbous head. Would I like it? Would he?

  I was eager to find out!

  We met at a bar near my house called Gary’s (the owner was named Gary – imagine that). I’d been there a few times before, so I felt comfortable in the setting. It was a nice downtown sort of bar near campus, but not a lot of college kids hung out there because it didn’t play sports on the TVs and it was nice inside. I waited for Tom, feeling really nervous perched on the bar stool. Would he like me? Would I like him?

  Tom showed up two minutes early, coming in the door wearing jeans and a T-shirt, just like in his ad. (He’d told me he doesn’t like dressing up outside of work and polo shirts were for phonies and McDonald’s employees.) I liked him in the T-shirt anyway. He looked calm and relaxed – the exact opposite of what I was feeling. I felt like there were butterflies beating their wings against my stomach like tiny hammers.

  His face flashed with recognition when he saw me, and then his eyes immediately dropped to my feet. I was wearing a skirt that ended just below my knees, and sandals. (I figured, hey, the guy likes feet – better show ’em off.) He studied my feet and legs like I was naked on a platter and he wanted to devour me. I liked it, but it made me blush. “Hi, Rosie,” he said when he walked over to me. “Want to get a table?”

  “Sure,” I said, and we found a booth in the corner, sitting on opposite sides. We ordered drinks and some nachos – neither of us wanted to make a big deal out of this first meeting so it was just casual snacking food.

  Tom was nice. He told me about how dull it was working in management at a software company, and I told him all about school. “You want to be a sexy librarian, huh?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I always wanted a job where I could wear back-seamed stockings and pencil skirts.” (My ass looks great in a pencil skirt.)

  “I’d like to see you in back-seamed stockings,” Tom said. “Do you have any?”

  I shook my head. “No . . . I’ve thought about it, but I’d have to order them off the internet or something . . .”

  “You should get some,” Tom said. “It would be hot.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely.”

  “So you like feet. Why?”

  “I don’t know, I just love everything about them. The nail polish, the shoes and the smell . . .”

  “You smell feet?” I asked, wrinkling my nose a little. I was new at this, you understand. Now I kinda like the smell of feet, too.

  “God, yes. I’d love to just bury my nose in yours after you’ve been wearing sneakers all day. Does that bother you?”

  I shrugged. “A friend of mine dated a guy that liked to masturbate while sniffing her panties. I’ve heard stranger things.”

  I liked Tom. I wanted to give him what he wanted. As the conversation moved onto more benign things (he was shocked that I liked Star Wars) I slid a foot out of my sandal underneath the table. My stomach fluttered over what I was about to do, but I slid my foot up the inside of his leg, and pressed it against the bulge in his jeans. Tom went very still.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Playing,” I teased. “Is it OK?”

  He swallowed. “More than OK.”

  I smiled, dipped a nacho into a blob of cheese sauce, and ate it, pretending to be normal while watching him the whole time. I teased his balls with my toes, massaging them gently through the heavy material of his jeans. “Just pretend everything is normal,” I cautioned as a waitress marched by us with a tray of dirty dishes.

  “Easy for you to say,” he countered.

  I could feel his cock growing hard as I continued to massage his bulge. I slipped out of my other shoe and let my foot travel up his leg.

  When the waitress came by again Tom asked for the check. “We’re getting out of here,” he said. “Your place or mine?”

  “Where do you live?”

  He told me.

  “I’m closer,” I said, and he nodded.

  “Great.”

  I almost giggled at the expression on his face as I continued to tease him. The waitress got distracted by someone spilling something and it was a few minutes until the check was taken care of. I thought Tom was going to explode right there in the bar. “Want me to carry your purse?” he asked.

  “Why?” I countered, but then we got out of the booth and I looked down. He was very obviously turned on.

  “Here you go,” I said, and this time I did giggle.

  “You are disgustingly cute,” he countered.

  I gave him a half smile and stepped up to him. “You think that now,” I said, using my best low, sexy voice. “But I can be so very, very naughty.”

  We managed to make it to the parking lot before he kissed me, grabbing me and pushing me up against a car that wasn’t mine. It was a little frightening at first, but then I felt his erection pressed up against my stomach, and all I felt after that was heat rushing through my pussy. I want you so bad, I thought, or I thought I thought, but he replied, “Me too.”

  The last thing I wanted was to take separate cars and be away from him for even a second, but I didn’t want to leave my car in the lot overnight, so he followed me to my apartment a few blocks away. He tackled me again as we walked to my front door. “I want your feet all over my body.”

  “Anything,” I promised, and we went inside.

  Tom didn’t even look at the decor of my living room. All he did was push me onto the couch and get down on his knees in front of me. His hands were gentle as he slid my sandals off. First he slid his hands over my feet, exploring every curve. I watched his face as he bent down and sniffed at my toes. He was in heaven. It was amazing to know I made someone else feel that good – I wanted to do it all the time. “Can I lick them?” he asked me.

  “If you want,” I answered, willing to please.

  I didn’t really expect to be turned on, but I was. He held my foot by the heel and planted small, butterfly kisses up the arch and over my instep. It tickled a little but I tried not to giggle. His tongue darted out from between his lips and he tasted my big toe, slowly encircling the limb with his tongue. I shivered, feeling the heat between my legs spark again.

  Tom licked my foot all over, like an over-eager puppy, before taking my toes into his mouth and sucking on them. First he took my big toe between his lips. His mouth was wet an
d hot – so impossibly hot. I began to squirm as he sucked on it.

  I wanted to touch myself, but I wasn’t sure if I should. I didn’t know what the rules were. Was that bad manners? Finally I gave in, pulling up my skirt and thrusting my fingers into my underwear. I found my clit, hot and hard, and began to massage the bud of flesh. Pleasure shot though me and I must have moaned.

  Tom looked up when he saw what I was doing, stopping mid-lick. “Wow,” he said, and I froze.

  “No, please. Keep going.”

  “Thank you, I will,” I said, and began to move my hand again, this time letting two fingers dip inside my wet pussy.

  “Do you mind if I take my clothes off?” he asked. “These jeans are—”

  “A little binding?” I interrupted. “Go ahead.”

  He got up and pulled off his shirt and shoes. His feet were very nice for a man’s – narrow, pale, and well-groomed. Maybe I would suck on his toes sometime too.

  Tom took off his jeans and underwear, freeing his big, hard cock. I stared at it as I continued to rub myself. He went down on his knees on the carpet in front of me, his cock bobbing level with my feet. “I’ve never given a foot job before,” I cautioned, but he already knew this.

  “That’s OK,” Tom said. “I’m here to take your virginity.”

  That shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did. My God, it was hot. I wanted to come right there when he said it, but instead I turned my attention from my clit to his cock. He was very still as I reached out with my left foot (I’m left-handed, so I suppose I’m left-footed as well) and gently ran my toe the entire length of the underside of his cock. Tom shuddered in approval. I couldn’t hold back my grin as I did it again, and received a similar reaction.

  I explored his cock with my feet, discovering how strong it felt between my toes, and how smooth against the bottoms of my soles.

  I reached out with my other foot and cupped Tom’s prick between my sensitive arches. His cock felt like satin over marble, just wonderful. I began to stroke slowly, trying to get used to the angle. My own hand was still in my panties, but not moving while I learned how to pleasure my new lover. Tom groaned and closed his eyes, leaning back his head.