Confessions

by Amber Stephens

  Shelley, without thinking, stood and thanked Verity. This was it, she thought. The moment of truth. Could she get outside herself and tell a convincing tale of sexual excess? She certainly had the material, thanks to Aidan, and she was a journalist dammit! She was a writer and a story-teller. But did she have that heat, that passion that the others had? Or was she forever to be a frigid sexual repressive, doomed to run a mile at the remotest possibility of sex? No matter that there was another phase of the course to go. This was Shelley’s final examination.

  She began.

  My name is Shelley Carter and I am a sex addict. For a long time I thought I was the sex addict. I didn’t realise there were others. I felt like a character from a disaster movie, thinking I’m the only survivor. I’ve always loved sex and, as far as I’m aware, I’ve never felt love, not properly anyway. I can’t stay with one man, or woman, for more than a couple of weeks. I crave new experiences, new partners, constantly. Everyone I meet I size up, thinking, ‘Do I find you attractive enough to sleep with?’ and the answer is almost always yes. I sleep with sexy people, with ugly people. Old or young makes no difference to me.

  Strangely enough I started quite late, at least for my school. I was nearly eighteen and was at college. I knew all about sex of course. This was only seven years ago and we had the internet then. I knew what it was and I knew that I wanted it. I might have given Larry a run for his money in the self-love department. What I didn’t know was that sex was easy to get. Especially for a young woman with lips, hips and tits. I know I’m no super-model, but I’m not a total munter either. A friend of mine, Stacey, who was no oil painting to be honest, told me what I needed to do. ‘You go to a school disco,’ she said. ‘You find an okay-looking, but insecure, boy and you dance with him. Then you put your lips to his ear and tell that boy exactly what you’d be willing to let him do to you. Even if he doesn’t really fancy you, you can be pretty damn certain it’ll be the best offer he’ll get that evening, or probably that year. He’ll go home with you, or out to the car park at least.’

  Now this girl somehow always managed to get good-looking guys. No one knew how she did it. I asked her what she told boys she was willing to do that made them come back with her. ‘Simple,’ she replied. ‘I tell him that if he comes back to my place I’ll stick my tongue up his arse.’

  The frontal assault is always, always the best option with men. Or in my friend’s case, the rear assault, but you get my meaning. Men are simple, they like simple options and simple choices. Stay here and maybe get a dance at best from the school beauty, or come back to mine and get your first, and possibly last, ever rim-job.

  No contest.

  I had my eye on a guy called Richard Forster. Nice-looking bloke, though incredibly shy. He was a member of the Chess Club, which gives you an indication of the lack of girls he had hanging around him. I didn’t care about his politics of course, just what he had in his pants. I found out via his friends where he’d be one Friday and waited for him to arrive at the club, sipping a cider and black and wearing a crop-top, leather skirt and no knickers. It took me no time at all to get him back out to the car park. It was exactly three weeks before my eighteenth birthday and within ten minutes he had his trousers down and was fumbling feverishly with a condom as I lay spread-eagled on his car bonnet, still warm and ticking, both the car and me, I mean. Richard scrambled up onto the bonnet and kissed me. I took his hand and shoved it down between my legs, desperate for something to press against me, to penetrate and invade. He was inexperienced and prodded and poked in all the wrong places.

  ‘Get on your back,’ I said and he obliged. I hitched up the skirt, hooked a leg over his body and leaned down to kiss him, biting his bottom lip as hard as I dared. He shuddered in expectation as my pussy lips brushed against his shaft but I wasn’t quite ready. I carried on kissing him, rubbing my mound against him. He kept thrusting up at me, anxious to get inside, but I teased him and lifted my hips up out of the way. Eventually I decided he was ready. I held his cock tight and eased it inside me as I squatted over him.

  It felt amazing. The pain I’d been expecting never came. It wasn’t the first time I’d had something inside me anyway. I’d discovered you could get vibrators on mail-order some months before. He felt different though. More forgiving then a rigid vibrator, but more giving, if you understand, like he was expanding inside me. I’ll never forget how good that first time was, even though he didn’t last very long. Poor old Richard was overexcited and fired his packet up into me in a matter of seconds. I made him finish me off with his mouth. That was another trick Stacey taught me. If you ask a boy to do something, he’ll probably say yes. And he’ll probably find the fact you asked at all to be a real turn-on.

  I made a reputation for myself that year. I haunted the clubs and bars on the weekend and sometimes on a school night too. I fucked guys in the car park, in the toilets, down by the canal, in cars, at my house, or theirs. Occasionally I’d take a guy home, screw his brains out then go back out and find myself another one. I was a predator, like Will. I’d cut a guy off from his pack of mates, take him outside and devour him, then next week I’d see him again and I’d smile as I walked off leading his best friend by the hand. Guys came to know me as the girl who’d do anything, or anyone. Girls knew me as that boyfriend-stealing slut. I didn’t care. I saw myself as liberated. I read Sylvia Plath and Virginia Woolf and wrote God-awful poetry about being a social outcast.

  My parents didn’t approve of all the boys I was bringing back to the house. They couldn’t keep up, but neither could the boys. It was time to move on, but where? I talked to the guidance counsellor and she asked me what I liked doing. I told her I liked to make people feel good and she suggested I should be a nurse. So I did. After college I went to university in London. I did my placements at Charing Cross Hospital in West London. I liked the job, and found university was full of young, attractive people suddenly free from the restraints of home and with their own beds.

  I tried sticking with boyfriends, but there were so many other eligible young men and I never met anyone I was seriously interested in. A month or so after I started at university I was at some social event and met a guy called Matt. He was gorgeous. Big, strong, good looking in a dishevelled sort of way. Straight away I knew he’d got my number.

  ‘You like to party, huh?’ he said over the booming music.

  ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

  ‘Some more than others.’

  I shrugged. ‘You here alone?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I’m here with my friend Chris, he’s gone to get cigarettes.’

  ‘Are you gay?’ I asked. Well, a girl doesn’t have time to lose.

  ‘Do you want me to be gay?’ he asked, smiling.

  ‘Maybe I do.’

  We danced for a while and eventually Matt’s friend returned. He was also attractive. I began to suspect they were both gay. Matt went to talk to Chris. They looked over at me as I danced alone, watching them with interest, wondering what was going to happen. Then Chris nodded. Matt came back. ‘Do you want to come to our place?’

  I nearly asked what for, but I knew.

  I nodded.

  The question of whether they were gay was answered twenty minutes later as Matt’s thick cock slid into me and he began thrusting. I already had my hand in Chris’s pants and was fondling his swelling penis.

  The boys hadn’t wasted any time. They’d installed me on the sofa in their laddishly-decorated flat, cluttered with ashtrays and bottles. Chris had poured us all a drink while Matt put some Supertramp on the stereo. Then they came and sat on either side of me.

  ‘We like to share things,’ Matt said.

  ‘Okay,’ I replied. I was slightly nervous. I didn’t know these guys from Adam and I wouldn’t have been too surprised if Adam himself had suddenly popped out of the cupboard to make it a round foursome.

  I turned towards Matt first, feeling some loyalty to the guy who’d picked me up. We kissed, gently at first, t
hen more urgently. Matt cupped my cheek with one hand. I felt Chris nuzzle my exposed neck. It felt weird, but exciting to be kissed by two men at once. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Chris began unbuttoning my top.

  I slid a hand up Matt’s thigh and stroked the hard lump in his trousers. I could almost feel it trembling in there. Chris eased my top over my shoulder and unhooked the bra catch with a deft flick. Matt’s tongue tickled the roof of my mouth. His hands had found my naked breasts and he lightly pinched my nipples.

  Chris took hold off my hips and pulled me up until I was kneeling on the couch, still kissing Matt. Chris pulled up my skirt, expecting to find panties, but as usual, I wore none. I felt his hand flicker across my labia. I loved the sensation of being naked and totally exposed to these big rough guys when they were still fully clothed. I imagined I was an innocent waif being violated. Though of course the idea of me being an innocent anything was long gone.

  I stopped kissing Matt and unzipped his trousers, he sighed and lay back as I slipped my hand in and hauled out his good-sized cock, already stiff as an admiral. I lowered my head and took him into my mouth, as I felt Chris’s tongue enter my pussy. Chris knew a thing or two about how to please a woman with his tongue. I found it hard to keep my mind on servicing Matt at the other end. He seemed to enjoy it though. I moved my whole head up and down, gently mouthing his shaft, my tight lips slipping over the contours of his beefy cock. Warmth, moisture, softness. That’s what men want. Don’t ruin it by chewing the damn thing half off.

  He stroked my hair with one hand and laid the other gently on the back of my head. I could feel the strength in his arm and I enjoyed imagining that if I tried to stop, he’d jam my head back down again.

  I whined in disappointment as Chris stopped licking, but then grunted with appreciation a few moments later when I felt three of his fingers glide into my vagina. He worked me well, tickling my inner walls with the tips of his fingers and rubbing my butt-hole with his thumb. I could feel Matt was nearly ready to come and he seized my hair and pulled my head up. He didn’t want to finish too early.

  He stood and led me into the bedroom, Chris following. There Matt threw me onto the bed roughly and ripped off his shirt. It was incredibly sexy, I lay there, naked apart from my hitched-up skirt as they undressed, staring at me as they did so. I squeezed my thighs together, my pussy slick with Chris’s saliva and my own wetness.

  Chris was naked first and pounced onto the bed. We kissed, bodies coming together, crackling with sexual energy. Matt joined us and this time he came at me from behind while Chris positioned our entwined bodies so that both men had access. Chris slipped into me, I was so wet I hardly felt him go in. But I certainly felt Matt when he entered me from the other side and began fucking my ass gently. I felt shocked. I hadn’t expected it, though what else had he been playing at back there? But my surprise stopped me objecting, he’d lubed himself up and it didn’t hurt too much. In fact, it felt kind of good, especially with another cock sliding in and out from the front.

  The boys had obviously done this before – getting the angles right is not easy. I’ve tried it since with less experienced guys and it takes forever to get it working. I wondered if I’d met my match.

  The thing I found hottest was the thought of them being able to feel each other inside me, you know, through the wall? As practised as they were, it was still difficult to get into a proper rhythm and after a while Chris pulled out and Matt flipped me over on to my front. Then he proceeded to give me a hard, pounding butt-fuck. I was relaxed and loose now and it wasn’t nearly so painful as it sounds, but I wasn’t going to come like that. I began clenching my sphincter in time with Matt’s thrusts. ‘Oh yes!’ he called and I felt his cock jerk and he came inside me. I loved the way his body stiffened as his juddering orgasm subsided. As he rolled off and lay flat out and exhausted on the bed.

  I lifted my legs and invited Chris inside. He entered me kneeling up, lifting my bottom off the bed a little to get himself inside me. His cock bent sharply to the right, I now noticed, and I could feel the head pressing against the left wall of my vulva. He pumped hard and steadily, fixing me with his fierce gaze, beads of sweat on his forehead. He came soon after that, lifting his chin, closing his eyes and growling like a wolf as he pulled out his cock, whipped off the condom, and sprayed his hot juice over my stomach.

  I was sopping as I wiped it off with a tissue.

  ‘My turn now.’ I told them what I wanted. They looked at each other and shrugged, smiling, certain now they’d found the dirty girl they’d been looking for.

  I lay on my side and lifted one leg into the air. Matt dived into my butt and began licking my abused ring gently. God, that felt good. Chris lay down in a sixty-nine position before me and began lapping at my pussy. I took Chris’s limp penis in my mouth as he ground his slightly stubbly chin against my clitoris. I made him hard again and deep-throated him as I climaxed explosively against the dual tonguing I was receiving.

  Afterwards we smoked in bed and thought ourselves the nastiest little ménage-a-trois there had been since Versailles.

  I moved in with Matt and Chris for a bit. The sex was great, I wasn’t rolling in money and they didn’t mind if I brought others back to the flat. When I started my placement at the hospital, the opportunities to meet and sleep with new people increased dramatically. I brought a doctor back to the flat once. He was cheating on his wife and got more than he bargained for when Matt and Chris came back to the house and hopped into bed with us.

  I met a nice girl called Kelly, who was on my shift, and who told me she was bi on a drunken night out. I hadn’t really thought about sleeping with other women, though that seems strange now. It didn’t take much to get her round to mine when I told her about my two pet studs. I developed a taste for pussy that night. She whimpered as I ate her out and the nectar between her thighs was divine. Having a woman’s head between your own legs is an experience all women should experience at least once. That soft, smooth chin, those sweet lips, knowing where to nibble, where to lick. Sheer bliss.

  But mostly I liked a good, stiff cock pounding until it made my hips ache. I had to tell the ancient registrar I had a problem with my pelvis, so many were the times he found me walking around the wards hobbling like a geriatric. I know I’ll feel it when I am an old woman. I’m convinced I’ll be the first person ever to be diagnosed with an arthritic vagina. The registrar insisted on giving me an examination, and, well, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was face down on the exam couch while my sixty-year old boss gave me a sound fucking from behind. I could see his face in the mirror across the room, he looked like a gurning elf. I realised then that it didn’t matter to me greatly what the person looked like. They say love is blind? Well, so is sex as far as I’m concerned. If the other person has a cock, or a fist, or a big toe, then why not put it in somewhere and see what happens?

  I found something else out on that night shift. I love doing it in hospitals. A few days later I persuaded a shy young receptionist to pop into the supply cupboard with me. I pushed her up against the shelves.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said, though she knew damn well why I’d brought her in; I had a reputation, remember.

  I kissed her roughly, biting her lip and pulling it out. I slid down onto my knees, hoisted up her stiff white skirt, pulled her knickers to one side and buried my head in the soft-scented sweetness of her blonde pussy. She nearly screamed with the tension, terrified we’d be found, thinking she should be resisting, but powerless to stop herself thrusting her clit onto my questing mouth. I slipped two fingers into her as she writhed.

  She slumped against the shelves afterwards and I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and walked back out onto the wards without a word.

  And it wasn’t just the staff either. One day I was doing the rounds, this wasn’t even a night shift, and I had to give a man with two broken arms a sponge bath. He looked miserable and groaned when he saw me.

  �
��What is it?’ I asked, taking off his gown.

  ‘You’re the worst,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, thanks very much,’ I replied, used to ungrateful patients.

  ‘No, I mean, you’re so … sexy, which makes it even worse.’

  I looked back at him, puzzled, then realised what he meant when I pulled the gown away from him. He was sporting the most magnificent erection I’d ever seen. I looked at his arms, useless in their great white casts.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ he said. ‘My balls hurt.’

  ‘Oh, that old chestnut,’ I said. ‘Heard that a few times at school.’ What I didn’t tell him was that I invariably relieved the symptoms of that particular ailment when I encountered it. He looked at me with pleading eyes. ‘My girlfriend won’t do it,’ he said.

  I skipped over to the door and looked out; the ward was quiet and I came back and pulled the curtain around us.

  Then I brushed my hand up his leg. He shivered. He was a big bloke, a little lardy to tell the truth and not at all attractive, but something about his plight made me wet, as well as sympathetic. I think also the fact he was trapped was a turn-on. I ran my nails up his pole and he groaned, his eyes burning a hole in my uniform. But I had no intention of taking that off. I could pretend I was giving him his sponge bath as long as I kept my uniform on. I gently encircled the tip of his cock with my thumb and forefinger and began squeezing gently. He lifted his hips, hoping for a firmer grasp but I left him hanging for a while. He’d waited a long time for this, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  Slowly I massaged the head of his fat penis. I wanted his hand between my legs, and I wanted to straddle him, but I knew I couldn’t. Eventually neither of us could stand it any longer and I decided to finish him off. I thought about it for a while, then shrugged and thought, why not? I bent over and swallowed his cock. He grunted in amazement and appreciation and almost immediately fired a great sticky wad into the back of my throat. I can take a lot, but that choked me. I kept at him though. Here was a man in distress and I, as a nurse, had a professional responsibility to do my best to ease his plight.