Nexus Confessions: Volume Three

by Nexus Confessions- Volume Three [Nexus] (retail) (epub)

  And I thought, for the sake of our marriage: that was probably something we should never do.

  – Jan, Redditch, UK

  The Officer and His Bitch

  ‘You are an idiot!!’ I shouted, my ears still ringing from the impact.

  Just as the red-haired drunk began to lunge at me, a cruiser pulled up and, before I knew it, his unstable body slammed against the hood of the car. I was shaken, but my temper was savage enough to have taken him on. I had seen his car barrelling down the road towards my car and there was nothing I could do to stop it – at least not without hitting someone else. Once the initial shock of the impact subsided, I was on the jerk like a dirty shirt! It was only seconds before I realised that he was intoxicated.

  I watched in sheer delight at the sweet justice as an especially large officer manhandled the drunk and couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his sarcasm, which made him glance over at me amidst the struggle and flash an arrogant grin. He was scrumptious; well over six feet tall with auburn hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

  There was something about his mischievous little-boy grin that made me forget about the accident for a moment. As I stared in sexy awe of this giant who saved me from the bad man, my cell phone rang – the display showing that it was my boyfriend who I had temporarily forgotten about! By the time I finished recounting the details of the accident to him, my handsome saviour was gone, leaving me with a heavy-set balding cop to take my statement.

  That evening I found myself feeling especially restless, which I chalked up to anxiety from the accident, but I knew the truth; I couldn’t get that policeman off my mind. My boyfriend, being the sweet guy that he was, wanted to do all he could to get my mind off the incident with a massage, but his well-meaning gesture soon turned to the ideal plateau for my erotic fantasy about the cop. Each caress of his hand took me deeper and deeper into my fantasy until I was so wet that I had to climb on top of him. As I slid up and down on his hard cock, I closed my eyes, shutting out the puzzled look on his face, and imagined the beautiful officer until I came. My boyfriend slept soundly after the romp, but I remained restless – unable to shake the sexy stranger from my thoughts.

  A couple of days passed and I had surrendered to the fact that I would never see him again, when my cell rang.

  ‘Hi, this is Constable Dover, am I speaking to Anna?’ asked the familiar voice.

  My insides fluttered wildly as I responded, ‘Yes you are. What can I do for you, officer?’ I asked, putting on my most seductive voice.

  ‘Just thought I would update you on that jerk that hit your car – if you have time,’ he said, cockier than ever.

  ‘Sure, go ahead,’ I said.

  ‘I was thinking over a coffee would be better.’

  ‘Oh … um … sure …’ I stammered, distracted by the warmth building between my thighs.

  ‘How’s tomorrow morning? Let’s say about ten? I should be out of court by then and can meet you at the coffee shop next door – I know it’s not far from your place,’ he said.

  ‘Wow – guess that’s one of the perks of being a cop – access to personal info?’ I joked, trying not to show my excitement.

  ‘Well, I normally don’t go there, but, to be honest, I’ve been thinking of you ever since that day,’ he replied.

  ‘Now how could I not meet you after that? Ten it is,’ I giggled.

  From the moment I hung up with him until I got out of bed the next morning, I was plagued by guilt for what I was doing and more so for what I wanted to do. My intentions were clearly displayed in the outfit that I chose – pouring myself into a pair of very tight jeans and a flimsy little top that, though not tight, was so low-cut that my cleavage and the lace trim of my bra cups were brilliantly showcased. I watched myself in the mirrored closet door as I bent to slip on my stilettos and was impressed by my ample display as it hung beautifully beneath the fabric of my top.

  On the drive over my mind raced with different scenarios of how the day could go, and by the time I reached the coffee shop I was in such a state of arousal that I could barely ignore the moist heat emanating from between my thighs, and it only got worse as I glanced up to find him standing there waiting for me. He was even sexier than I had remembered. I couldn’t have imagined anything hotter than his huge body clad in his police uniform until I saw him dressed for court. He was in a black suit that seemed perfectly tailored to his large frame and broad shoulders. When his lips curled up in a sexy grin above his goatee I was certain that I felt myself truly swoon for the first time in my life.

  ‘Wow – you look great!’ he said, his eyes quickly homing in on my cleavage.

  I just smiled and let him take my hand as he led me into the coffee shop. We made small talk until our coffee arrived and while I was in mid-sentence, he leant over, dropped his card in front of me and cut me off. ‘Put that in your purse. I know you’re gonna need it.’

  I paused for a second, a little put off by his arrogance, and then went back to what I was saying only to be interrupted again. ‘OK, here’s the deal – I don’t know if you have a boyfriend, though a pretty girl like you probably does. I don’t even really care if you do. I think you and I could be great together in and out of bed, so if you are seeing anyone – ditch the loser and give me a shot.’

  I was stunned. ‘Being a little presumptuous, aren’t you? We haven’t even finished coffee – shit – you haven’t even let me finish a sentence and you’re already talking about bed?’

  I could feel the rage beginning to overpower the arousal and considered getting up and leaving.

  ‘I’m just being honest. Come on, you wouldn’t have worn that or even come here for that matter if you weren’t attracted to me too, so let’s just cut through the crap,’ he said seriously.

  I glared at him in disbelief; he was certainly not the chivalrous officer that I had been imagining in my fantasies, but I couldn’t deny my longing for him, especially since it was already so apparent to him. He matched my stare, only instead of contempt, his look had an almost amused undertone to it. His blue eyes sparkled wickedly as he stood up and walked towards the door. ‘Let’s go,’ he practically commanded.

  ‘You’re a jerk,’ I said angrily, following behind.

  We walked past my car and around to the side of the coffee shop and I didn’t question why. My heart raced with an equal infusion of anger and lust. We stopped in the alleyway between the café and a pile of wooden skids and he again flashed a wicked grin and took me by the shoulders, standing me against the cold brick wall.

  ‘I’m a jerk? Maybe so – but you love it,’ he sneered before leaning in for a kiss.

  At first I resisted, pursing my lips and trying to push him away, but he persisted.

  His big hands engulfed my face and his body pushed into me, sandwiching me between him and the rough brick wall. His goatee scratched at the skin around my chin as his tongue continued to fight its way into my mouth. He had to crouch down to meet my height even in spite of my spike heels. I hated him for his arrogance and for not being the romantic gentleman in my fantasy, but when his tongue managed to break through my stiff lips and I felt its warmth in my mouth, it quickly spread down to my cunt. He clued in to my surrender right away and his hands released the tight grip they had on my face and began to explore my body hungrily. His mouth went straight for my breasts as his hand moved in between my thighs and played with me through my jeans – rubbing hard and pushing the thick seam against my swollen clit and causing my pussy to drip right into it. There was nothing romantic or tender in the way that he touched me. It was nothing like my boyfriend’s touch, but maybe that’s why I didn’t stop him. His hand continued to rub my cunt through the denim while he quickly found my nipple with his lips.

  ‘You like the way my hand feels, don’t you? You’re a slut. A gorgeous slut.’ His breath was as harsh as his words.

  As if he knew I would get upset and try to pull away, he pushed his body against me, slamming me back against the b
rick wall and laughing. ‘Don’t deny it. Your cunt is dripping even through your fuckin’ jeans. There’s nothing wrong with liking this …’ His voice once again became muffled by tit.

  He was right – I loved it with every inch of my being and could feel my knees buckling from the pleasure. I felt his hand fiddling with his belt and glanced down to see him taking out his fat cock. He grabbed my hand and placed it there and I welcomed it into my little grip and began stroking it fervently. It wasn’t very long, but definitely thick with a slight curve and harder than any cock I had felt before – my own little personal victory.

  ‘Make me cum,’ he commanded.

  I’m not sure why I felt I needed to oblige, but I stroked him faster as I pushed my tit further into his mouth, determined to do what he asked. His breathing soon turned to a series of quiet moans and his hand rubbed my aching cunt faster, making the heat between my thighs unbearable. I wanted him to kiss me, to press his lips to mine and show me some resemblance of the man I had dreamt him up to be, but when I tried to wriggle my way towards his lips, he manoeuvred around me and instead bit my nipple, causing me to flinch. I should have slapped him for his lack of respect but instead stroked even faster, making sure to slide my thumb over his swollen head for extra kick. He somehow managed without even saying a word to make me feel as if he could be won over if I gave him the pleasuring of his life. I felt myself aching not only to be touched but also to gain his affection, even though deep down I knew he didn’t deserve it.

  I peeked about to make certain that no one would see and squatted in front of his cock. I thought that he would be excited, but instead he said flatly, ‘I’m glad you know your place,’ and then pushed his cock deep into my throat.

  I attempted to move my mouth over his flesh sensuously to show him how sexy I could be, but he began fucking my face so savagely that I could barely breathe. With each thrust, his curved cock would hit the roof of my mouth and bring tears to my eyes, but I continued to take it. I wrapped my lips as tight around his pumping wand as I could and used my hand to free his balls from his briefs. With each push of his dick into my mouth I squeezed the fleshy sac, tugging on it lightly. My attempt to breathe around his fat cock caused a sound that stood someplace between a moan and a whimper and this seemed to stir something in him as he began to moan as well. The rigid flesh that was consuming my mouth turned to rock as I sucked away. His thrusts became less co-ordinated and finally turned to uncontrolled jerks, each topped with a squirt of hot cum. Though hornier than ever, the sensation that overwhelmed me was one of smug victory over my feat. I savoured his tart milk, swirling it about with my tongue, and looked up at him as I licked what dribbled from the head after the quivering had stopped. His face was beet-red and he had trouble containing his satisfaction – finally offering me the look of approval that I had needed.

  He took my hand and helped me up and smiled down at me, causing me to blush, and asked, ‘Now what are we going to do about you?’ looking at the wet spot between my legs.

  As wet as he had left me, I felt a satisfaction that I had never known. I knew that I could cum on my own or even get that from my sweet boyfriend later that evening, but for now my strange gratification came from having pleased him.

  I stood up on my toes and brought myself as close to his ear as I could and whispered, ‘All I want is to be your bitch.’

  He nodded and walked back towards the car, and I again followed behind and then went on about my day.

  Though I continue to be plagued by guilt over cheating on my boyfriend, I am strangely intoxicated by the combination of guilt, shame and rage each time I service Constable Dover.

  – A.D.R., Ontario, Canada

  Pounce

  One minute we were just three friends who’d gone to university together, catching up over dinner and drinks; the next we were feverishly calling for the bill. Marguerite, who always imagined herself, when tipsy, as something of a leader, tottered off in her high heels to hail a cab while Nathan and I stayed behind to pay.

  ‘She barely touched her salmon,’ grumbled Nathan. ‘Maybe she’s thin because she’s anorexic, not because she’s broke.’

  ‘Maybe.’ I did a double take over the size of our liquor bill. ‘It suits her.’

  ‘Great cheekbones. I’d forgotten about them.’ He grinned at me; I think he saw me as a co-conspirator although the truth was, the whole thing had been my idea.

  Nathan was lanky, with long straight brown hair that fell over his pale-green eyes. His impressive forehead took up half his face. He had a fine nose and sensual lips. His mouth wasn’t lush so much as long. Wide soft lips and a big mouth. Nathan was a great kisser, one of the best.

  Marguerite waved frantically (she did a lot of things ‘frantically’), to get our attention through the front window of the café. She’d flagged down a taxi.

  ‘Do you think she’s going to be all right?’ Nathan asked. My co-conspirator again. ‘If she freaks, I’m out of there.’

  ‘She’s going to be brilliant,’ I said. I wiggled my expressive eyebrows at him. My eyes are grey. I have bedroom eyes. They come in handy at times, like then. ‘Trust me, Nathan, there’s a raunchy side to her randiness.’

  He listened. He had to grant me superior knowledge – I was the one who’d actually had sex with her. I mentioned we met in college. Marguerite and I had gone through the same-sex curiosity phase together.

  ‘She’s in the groove, Nathan. The question is, can you handle us both?’

  ‘Hah! Just so long as you have plenty of booze.’

  ‘I just stocked up.’

  ‘I think I’m going to need it,’ he said.

  I laughed. I laugh a lot when I’m tipsy, if I’m not moaning about the state of the world, which I decidedly was not, that night. ‘Not too much I hope,’ I said. I wiggled my index finger at him, then let it slowly droop.

  ‘Not wiggling a pinkie at me?’ He gave me his classic one eyebrow up, one eyebrow down look. We both knew why, even in jest, I wouldn’t wiggle a pinkie at him.

  At college he’d been so sensitive I think the size of his equipment embarrassed him. We’d been lovers for a while, shortly after we met, which seemed a long time ago to me, although only a couple of years had passed since we’d graduated and we’d met only a couple of years before that. Since then, he’d scored a lucrative gig with Public Broadcasting, writing an animated series.

  I remembered that when he came from a blowjob he laughed out loud. I was about to ask him if he still did when the waiter arrived with our change. Nathan grabbed a bill from the tray with one hand and my hand with the other. We sprinted towards the exit.

  ‘I told the driver we had no time to waste,’ called Marguerite.

  ‘Hear that? No time to waste!’ I whispered to Nathan.

  Nathan motioned to Marguerite to get into the cab and entered next, so he’d be seated between the two of us. Fair enough. I got in and gave the driver my address.

  It was almost Christmas and really cold. I remember the festive lights through the breath-fogged windows of the cab and asking the cabbie to crank up the heat. The whole thing is cast in the soft glow of Christmas, or better yet, in blurry holiday colours.

  We’d met to celebrate the season. We’d ordered a few rounds of drinks and there’d been a nice meal. We’d touched on a lot of topics but, as usual, passion had been our favourite theme. All three of us were passionate about passion. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised when my impromptu, half-kidding proposition (‘Let’s continue this at my place! I’ve stocked up my bedside fridge with wine’) had been eagerly accepted. But I was.

  Had we actually established the sex part, I wondered. Yes, Nathan and Marguerite were already kissing. It had been Nathan who’d said, ‘We can have sex!’ and Marguerite who’d agreed with enthusiasm. ‘Yes, let’s!’

  She and I had met in an improvisation class. ‘Yes, let’s’ was an improv game. I leant in to the two of them, so close my lips caressed their faces when I spoke. ‘
Tonight, let’s make a Nathan sandwich,’ I said, and when she mumbled, ‘Yes, let’s,’ I followed with, ‘Let’s try anal sex!’ and before she thought about it she said, ‘Yes, let’s,’ and then we all three gasped.

  I placed her hand on Nathan’s incredibly long hard-on. It ran most of the way down his thigh. She screamed! Nathan and I giggled as we hushed her up. Man, this was going to be so much fun.

  It’s long been a puzzle to me why so many multi-orgasmic easy-cum women are neurotic. Or, alternately, why neurotic women are often multi-orgasmic cum-queens. Marguerite would likely have several killer climaxes long before I even got close. Because I, a low-maintenance woman, can only hope for one big one per encounter. I’m not complaining. It just doesn’t really add up, but then, what about human nature does?

  Our cabbie was casting disapproving glances in his rear-view mirror. My fault, I was the one who’d put Marguerite’s hand on Nathan. I took it off again. We sat up nice and held hands until we got to my house.

  ‘I’ll need to have a bath first,’ said Marguerite.

  ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘You’ll love the tub.’

  ‘I’ll need to borrow a nightie.’

  ‘I have the perfect thing. It’s long and pink with soft lace at the neck and a slit up the back. There’s a coat to match.’

  ‘Coat,’ snorted Nathan.

  ‘Peignoir, silly,’ said Marguerite.

  Of course I’d done it on purpose so they could correct me and feel superior. I know it seems like I was cold-blooded about it but that’s not the case at all. I really wanted to do this thing, and I wanted to do it right. I loved both of them more than either loved me and much more than they loved each other. I’d had sex with each of them, too. I knew best. I really wanted to see if there were such a thing as free sex, if we could have sex that could be all fun, no consequences. There was enough affection and enough attraction, but was there enough sense – adventurous tonight, common tomorrow – to prevent complications? I believed there was.