The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  I started to say something, but she put her finger to her lips and then lay back as if asleep.

  I listened as the shower was switched off and Phillip pulled back the curtain. A few agonizing minutes later, the toilet flushed and I could hear him in the hall.

  I couldn’t see the door and wasn’t sure when he came in. “Roll over,” I heard him say in a gruff voice. “Like I like it.”

  She rolled over onto her stomach, pushing a pillow under her hips as she did, so that her ass was hiked up and her pussy spread wide. From my vantage point beside her, I couldn’t see her pussy over the curve of her ass but I could see the tips of her trimmed pussy hairs spread out waiting for him.

  He didn’t say anything as he mounted her. His dick was rock hard with thick veins. She gave a small cry of pain as his fat head pushed her lips in. He fucked her hard, grabbing the back of her hair and holding her head up off the bed as he rode her. She came several times. As he neared climax, he slid two fingers into her asshole, fucking both openings as he orgasmed.

  I saw her slide her hand down between her legs as he pulled out, holding his cum inside. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Goodbye, honey,” she cooed as he left the room. He just grunted.

  I pulled off my clothes and gripped my throbbing wood. It seemed to take forever for him to dress and stumble around the flat. She didn’t move the whole time. She just lay there, ass in the air, hand over pussy. She seemed so relaxed.

  Finally, the front door banged shut and I came out of the closet. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered, not looking up. “Just do what he was doing. Just keep going.”

  I guided my cock into her pussy under the tight star of her asshole. She was full of cum and within a few strokes, thick ropes of it were running down from either side of my cock into the sheets. I found myself trying to fuck her in such a way that the long beads of cum wouldn’t fall but only dance where they hung off her pussy lips.

  I don’t know if her pussy was always that tight or only after a good round of fucking but I was ready to pop after only a few minutes. I came hard and was rewarded by seeing my cum dribbling down onto her clit, joining Phillip’s. I put my hand down as if to catch the cum like she’d wanted me to do before, but her hand was already there.

  “Shhh,” she whispered. “I want you to get back into the closet. There’s another bloke watching from the patio.”

  I glanced up at the window and saw a head duck quickly away. I chuckled and slipped naked back into the closet.

  She just lay there waiting for her new mate. The only difference now was that she was so full of cum that it was leaking between her fingers. I realized that the satin sheets she was lying on weren’t soaking up much of the cum and a pool of it was forming between her knees.

  Her new man must have had pretty good instructions. The front door clicked and a few seconds later I heard him come into the room.

  “So, did you like seeing my pussy get filled up?” she asked. Her cum-filled pussy pointed straight at him.

  “Yes,” came his breathless reply.

  First-timer, I thought to myself.

  “Do you want to fill my pussy?”

  He didn’t answer but I heard the jingle of his belt and the sounds of his clothes flying off.

  I could see when he climbed on the bed that he was younger than me, about her age, with curly hair and a bright red head on his dick. He had it in her in a second.

  I watched what I must have looked like, another strange man fucking Karen, only this time it was my cum leaking out of her.

  For a young guy, he held up pretty well. Under his drilling it became impossible to tell what was pussy and what was cum. He managed to spread both Phillip’s and my cum around so thoroughly that it was smeared all over the backs of her thighs, up onto her ass, and her pussy had vanished under the thick whipped cream.

  I couldn’t tell how many times she orgasmed or if she just orgasmed the whole time. She was moaning and yelping. I think it must have been a while since he’d come because I swear his nut was as big as mine and Phillip’s put together. It ran out of her even before he pulled out. I could see it running from the top of her cunt up her belly where she had lifted herself off the pillow.

  When he was spent, she rolled over with him still between her legs and rattled her fingers across the closet door. “Help him, Dan,” she panted. “Help him cover me in cum.”

  If our new friend was surprised to find I was still in the closet, he didn’t show it. We knelt down on either side of her, scooping cum up off the bed, rubbing it into her body, her mouth, her hair. I worked her asshole again with two cum-soaked fingers. She moaned in ecstasy.

  As we ran our hands over her, hers found their way to our dicks. Her mouth followed. I’d never had a chick bobbing her head between my own and another bloke’s dick. I was hard as rock again.

  Although she was smeared in drying cum, she was still hot. Her tight body and ass glinted with spunk. I reached down and squeezed a tit while she nursed our mate’s dick.

  On sudden impulse, I grabbed her head by the hair, pulling her off of our friend. I pushed her, face first, into the pool of cum on the bed. She giggled and licked it up greedily. I let her have her fun for a few seconds, then pulled her head back up and planted her mouth back on his dick.

  “I want you,” she gasped suddenly. “I want both of you.” She spun around, pushing our friend over onto his back. “Behind me,” she directed me as she straddled him.

  I watched as her pretty pussy slid down on his dick. Her lips were so swollen they clung to his shaft as she rose up, pointing her ass at me. “Do it,” she said. “Fuck my ass.”

  I moved in slowly but her ass opened to me as easy as her pussy, maybe because it was already slick with cum. I’ve never understood how a chick could take two dicks like that but Karen sure could. She moaned and squealed with pleasure as we rode her. Her ass was so hot and all I could think about was that other cock fucking her pussy at the same time. When I came in her ass, I was so hot that I just kept fucking.

  I don’t know how many loads Karen got altogether that morning. One from Phillip. Three from me. Maybe three or four from the new guy. When it was over she lay between us for a few seconds, panting.

  “Thanks,” she said as she got up. “I think you two know the way to the door.” She headed off for the shower.

  My new friend and I didn’t talk as we dressed. We could hear the hot shower washing away our cum as we left. I was so tired that I didn’t even think about sex for three days. Karen, of course, hasn’t said anything. But I think my luck may be about to change. As I’m writing this, I can see there are two strange men hanging out on Karen’s patio and my phone has just begun to ring.

  Pants Down

  Olivia, Sydney

  I couldn’t quite remember how Hunter and I got together. Oh, I had some vague, blurry recollection of hot drunken sex, but everything before was a blank. And Hunter refused to tell me what he said to get me into bed, or maybe what I possibly said. Not that it was really important now, after two years together.

  Everyone was surprised. Most of our group thought Hunter was batting for his own team. It didn’t really matter to me, as by that time I had an earth-sized crush on him. I remember the amount of times I tensed against the desire that rode my body in a flourish of prickling flesh when he rounded the corner and walked towards where we were all sitting. We were from two different groups of young corporates that met at À l’étage, a popular top-floor bar.

  To say Hunter was stunning was an understatement. He was the type of man that you just stared at – despite your best efforts not to – and made you lament the unfair distribution of DNA in this world. Tall, lithe, with thick dark hair, light, flawless skin and a smile that should have been on a dental commercial. He had the sort of body that suits loved, and the only thing that was remotely disconcerting was his golden eyes.

  And if there was anything that could possibly be any more sickening about him
, he had manners and wasn’t lacking in the downstairs department. As I found out one morning with a head that felt like a train was running over it and a mouth that tasted like I’d sucked a pair of camel’s balls.

  And me? Well . . . I could hold my own, propped up by make-up and the other accessories that some people felt were a sign of insecurity. I wasn’t exactly in Hunter’s league when it came to the looks department but, you know, this is what I was given. I had my health, a decent job and good friends. I wasn’t exactly in want of anything, and when you weigh what some people go through in life, it tends to give you a balanced perspective.

  My worst habit, I suppose, was that after a few drinks I turned into a foul-mouthed sailor. Eh, who was I kidding? Alcohol just made me vocalize everything I’d been thinking anyway. Occasionally I’d get a sense of déjà vu, and then an inkling of what I possibly might have said to Hunter. The thought would make me grin. I really wondered if what I thought I’d said got him into the sack.

  I’ve always loved men’s ties. I think people underestimate the need for quality. Cheap suits and ties look exactly like that – cheap. Hunter being Hunter, of course, wasn’t averse to spending his money on tailored suits, and beautiful ties. And those ties . . . Most mornings I had the pleasure of watching his long, elegant fingers tie a Windsor knot as if he’d been born doing it.

  To tie a decent knot – one that will retain its shape – you really need a quality tie and not those skinny, flimsy ones. Truth be told, I loved wearing ties myself. And, yes, I had those cheap skinny ties which despite being harder to knot are easier to get away with when you’re a female.

  All of my knots had slipped out, and the one time I’d tried to tie the Windsor I couldn’t get it right. Hunter watched me with amusement as I huffed and sighed, and undid my tie for the tenth time.

  “Here.” He stood against my back as we both watched him weave my tie in the mirror.

  I swallowed. He didn’t know I came over my fingers the minute he was out the door.

  “There.” He gave me that sweet half-smile of his, and then watched in shock as I undid it.

  “Do it again,” I said, my voice unsteady.

  A look of confusion crossed his face, and he took hold of it again with uncertainty. I knew what was going through his head. He’d tied it perfectly the first time. What was wrong with it? This time he was cautious, slower. I’d started panting, watching intensely as his fingers moved against my décolleté. Inadvertently I pushed my arse against him, and met his eyes in the mirror.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I swallowed again tightly. “Don’t stop,” I squeezed out.

  His brow furrowed slightly as he paused before continuing slowly. As he pulled the last of the tie through his eyes fell to my heaving chest before moving up and taking in my face. Hunter’s gaze then flicked to the movement of my hand as I proceeded to undo it.

  “Again,” I croaked.

  Irritation clouded his face, and he opened his mouth to say something, only stopping as the realization dawned in his eyes. With even slower hands he started, but barely got halfway through when I tried to stifle a gasp. Gripping the counter edge, I bent over as I shook. My head jerked up at Hunter ripping my skirt above my waist.

  “You’re fucking wet,” he groaned.

  “Ah—”

  I didn’t get another word out as Hunter suddenly thrust into me, gripping both ends of the loose tie in his fist. I didn’t last long before coming with a shaking force, and a voice I’d never heard before. Afterward he looked at me with a mixture of triumph and something that seemed like new interest, but didn’t say anything. We’d never had a problem with being direct, but I was happy that he didn’t ask.

  The tie wasn’t where it ended though. One day I was home alone doing the laundry, sitting on the carpet of the bedroom floor, and sorting out the clean clothes when I pulled out a pair of his fitted trunks. Usually I would’ve just folded them without a second thought, but something made me stop. I’d just stepped out of the shower beforehand, and had only thrown on a loose T-shirt. I looked at them for a moment, and then with a cheeky grin, pulled them on.

  At first I stood in front of the mirror and laughed, imagining Hunter’s face. He’d definitely think it was funny, but then he was used to me doing strange things. I finished folding the rest of the laundry, and put it away, leaving his underwear on, and wandering around the house.

  Later, as I was doing the dishes, I accidentally turned the plate the wrong way and splashed myself. With a sigh I pulled off the gloves and looked down. The T-shirt had copped most of the water, but it was the few drops that had landed on the loose fabric in the crotch of his fitted trunks that caught my eye. I tugged at the material, pulling it forward so I could see how wet I’d got when I realized that space was where his balls would sit.

  The next thing I knew, I’d slipped a hand beneath the elastic, my curling fingers filling out the trunks as I fingered myself hard and fast, knuckles pressed into the cabinet doors under the counter, and other hand gripping the edge of the sink. I thought I broke my fingers as I came.

  I had no idea how long I’d lain slumped over the counter before I finally uncurled my stiff fingers, and found myself caught between a shaky breath and laugh of disbelief.

  I thought the episode was over and done with as I guiltily washed his trunks and put them away – as if I could just put the memory of what I’d done away – but a few days later I lifted another pair.

  That Thursday we met up with everyone at À l’étage: the same time, the same group, the same drinks. I’d had a couple of busy days at work and was sitting there in one of my quiet moods. Sometimes the stress of the job just sucked the life out of me. It was like being stuck in some sort of purgatory, caught between the lack of energy and the need to unwind, like when you’ve been holding onto something for so long you can’t let go.

  Before I knew it I was getting suitably drunk. Looking at the wine bottle I had almost polished off, I sucked in a few deep breaths and pushed the glass aside, reaching for the water. Taking a sip, my gaze found Hunter’s as his eyes flicked to mine momentarily before returning his attention to the conversation, but not before he slowly reached up and curled his hand around the knot of his tie and stroked it with his thumb. I almost spat my water out as he then tugged it down, loosening it from around his neck. It was innocent enough to look like an absent-minded gesture to anyone else, but it made me want to climb over the table, drag him to the nearest toilet stall, and ride him using his tie as a pair of reins.

  I gulped down my water and carefully slid off my stool to get a refill. Waiting for a bartender to return with the jug, I noticed a group of three suited men talking among themselves when one of them pointed to our table. I looked back, realizing there was a perfect view of Hunter’s arse from this vantage.

  “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

  “Mmm, he is. And look at his arse.”

  One of them laughed. “You’re not even a top.”

  “I know, but he makes me want to be.”

  I don’t know where it came from but my first thought was: If anyone was going to fuck Hunter up the arse, it was going to be me.

  “Excuse me, are you finished with the water?”

  I blinked and looked up with a sheepish grin, without even really seeing the person. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I laughed, my hand flying over my mouth as I quickly poured the water and made my way back to the table.

  Hunter shot me a look that asked if I was OK, and I just smiled and nodded. Soon afterwards I swapped my water again for the rest of the wine, the words I’d heard replaying in my mind and mixing with alcohol-hazed fantasies of doing things to Hunter that set my body alight. I moved on the seat, shifting the pressure, but it did nothing to ease the ache, only succeeding instead in emphasizing how turned on I was. I closed my eyes and moaned, only to open them with everyone at the table looking at me.

  “What?”

  “Are you OK?” Liberty looked at m
e with concern.

  Hunter smirked.

  I suddenly laughed. “Just fucking drunk . . . I think.”

  The rest of the table laughed and Hunter raised an eyebrow. I slid my gaze down his body, and licked my lips. Usually I’d always let him call it a night, but this time I didn’t think I could wait. Slipping off the stool, I walked around the table and pressed myself against his back, pushing my hips against his arse a little harder than necessary. Even though I was wearing heels, I still had to lift up onto my toes.

  “Let’s go,” I murmured against his ear, rolling my hips carefully.

  Hunter stilled. “I’m taking Miss Drunk home.”

  I popped my head around his shoulder and grinned slyly, before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the bar.

  Despite wanting to mount him in the taxi I kept my hands to myself, watching the streetscape cruise by. We didn’t exchange a word as we climbed the wooden stairs of the apartment. I let Hunter open the door, and I stepped through with him after me. When he turned to close it, I slapped my palm high against the wood, forcing it shut with an echo. Hunter’s head snapped up to look at my hand when I trapped him with my body.

  “Oli—”

  My name turned into a groan as my free hand snaked over his cock. I closed my eyes against my head swimming in a tide of alcohol and churning desire.

  “You – make – me – so – fuck – ing – hot.” I rammed my pelvis against his arse, punctuating my words.

  Desperation took me over as I thought about those men at the bar, and I slithered my other hand over the material of his shirt, while wrestling with the buckle of his belt. I popped the button – relieved at my dexterity despite my drunken state – unzipped his fly, and quickly dipped my hand into his trunks. Hunter was hot and hard, and I took hold without mercy, suddenly cupping his balls with my other hand as I started to pump his cock.