When it was over, Juliet said she hoped Anna hadn’t been too shocked to learn about our kinky sex games, and my need to feel cold metal stimulating my skin. In response, Anna simply grinned and said she couldn’t wait till we could do it all over again.
Lying in bed that night, Juliet confessed that she’d invented the story about Anna going to the cinema. The whole thing had been a set-up to ensure we got caught in the act. But I couldn’t be angry with her for very long, not now I had two very sexy and demanding mistresses who would make sure my metal fetish was explored to the full.
A ROOM WITH A VIEW
Mandy, County Durham
The dawn chorus woke me at 6 a.m. on my first morning at Stonehaven, so I got up to make a cup of tea, then retreated back to the chunky pine bed. Two days of peace and quiet, no work, no kids, no phones, no emails, not even a neighbour! With only the cows for company at my little retreat, I drifted back off to sleep, something I hadn’t done for a long time. There’s something about the country air that is magical, and I was going to enjoy every second.
My dream began in a place that wasn’t familiar, and progressed to the bedroom of Stonehaven. In my slumber, my fingers began to wander beneath the heavy cotton sheets. My nipples were erect as I squeezed and nipped the pert buds, the sensation escalated as I kicked off the sheets to feel the sun streaming through the bedroom window. My back arched, and one hand wandered down to my pubic area. I teased my neatly trimmed bush by stroking it lightly, sending shivers up my spine. I parted my lips to feel a hot, wet clit protruding, begging to be rubbed. At this point my eyes were still closed, and I imagined a dark figure standing at the window, and had that intense feeling of being watched. I began to caress my clit with a circular motion. Lifting my finger to my mouth, I tasted my juices. I was in that zone where I wasn’t awake, but I wasn’t fully asleep either. I had always found it easy to make myself come, ever since first discovering myself as a teenager; now, in my forties, I had perfected it to a fine art. Turning myself on to the verge of orgasm was a pleasure that had to be savoured, and I had all the time in the world that morning, or so I thought . . .
The roar that I heard sounded like a generator, right outside my bedroom window. I quickly pulled up the sheets, and sat up in bed. Someone was cutting the lawn! Wrapping the sheets around me, I crept to the window, pulled shut the curtains and wondered if the gardener had been that dark figure watching me. I thought about jumping straight back into bed, but instead, I wasted the day watching mind-numbing daytime television. My husband had thought it a good idea to pack me off to this tiny bungalow in the Peak District, miles from anywhere, and I was going to do absolutely nothing for two whole days.
Unpacking my case, I found my favourite, most comfortable clothes: he knows me so well. Favourite pyjamas, my best toiletries, a new scented candle and my rampant rabbit, along with a four-pack of AA batteries. What more could a girl want? Ahh, yes, wrapped in a pair of jeans at the bottom of the case, a bottle of Jack Daniels, my hero!
Later that day, I showered, threw on a white linen skirt, blouse and cardigan. I went for a walk down the leafy lane into town, I was sure I had spotted a pub on the way in last night. What a beautiful part of the world. I could smell wild garlic and bluebells. The fresh spring air brought with it a vibrant rush of freshness, the type that cleansed the soul. Life was great, and I let the cool spring air blow swiftly up my skirt.
“The Horse and Groom” sat in the dip of the steep lane leading into the village, I hadn’t realized how long I had been walking, but it was 7 p.m., and I was ready for a glass of something refreshing. The barman, a burly gentleman with a very distinguished grey beard, rosy cheeks and a lovely big smile served me a large glass of Pinot Grigio. I thanked him and sat back on the barstool to observe the locals. He guessed I was staying at one of the local holiday cottages and commented that Stonehaven was one of the better ones. Then he said that his wife knew more about the place as she did a bit of maintenance for the owners, who were family friends.
Another glass of wine later, I was introduced to Jill, the landlord’s wife, and ushered to join some of the locals in a game of dominoes. My first opponent was Jill, and we chatted about my holiday accommodation. As she clicked the final domino onto the wooden board, it was game over: she won. She was an attractive woman, on the larger side of a size fourteen, with a low cut V-neck T-shirt, big breasts and long blonde hair pinned up with a tortoiseshell clip. She had naturally pretty features, and like her husband, she had a lovely smile. The wine flowed, and conversation moved to what a glorious day it had been. She commented on the amazing view from the garden of Stonehaven. I didn’t think a cows’ field was particularly amazing until she added the view was only amazing this morning. Oh my God, it had been her looking in the bedroom window. She raised one eyebrow as the penny suddenly dropped. I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. She lowered her head and whispered in my ear.
“You have the most beautiful breasts.” She smiled up at me. “But you really should close those curtains, otherwise this gardener would never get any work done.”
I could not believe the situation I had found myself in, but it was exciting. I was turned on by the fact that it was a woman who had been watching me that morning. I have never told anybody about my experience, but what you continue to read is a true account of what happened on my visit to Stonehaven.
“And the dominoes winner this evening ladies and gentlemen is Jill, who receives 10 one-pint tokens,” announced the landlord.
“Fix, fix!” the audience joked.
That evening, we chatted, we laughed and we flirted. Her husband occasionally glanced up from the bar and smiled at us both, until the last customer left, then he joined us with a malt whisky. They were nice people, I could have sat and chatted all evening but I was supposed to be having a relaxing few days chilling out, not getting lashed with strangers and waking up with a hangover. My new friends offered to drive me home.
I could see Mike looking in the rear view mirror and his eyes were smiling in anticipation of something. Jill stretched her arm across to my crotch and started rubbing between my legs. I could see the wicked expression on her face from the corner of my eye. My skirt was beginning to rise as she gathered it up with her other hand. She pushed my legs apart and through my cotton panties, she felt my clit, which stood to attention. I could not believe what was happening, but Mike thought his luck was in: he had a birds’ eye view, as he tilted the rear view mirror downwards. It was strange not being able to resist, and it didn’t feel wrong, so I let it continue, this unrehearsed fumble in the back of a car. It felt dirty, but it felt so good. I slid further down the seat so my bum cheeks were perched on the edge, and she parted my knickers to touch the soaked pussy beneath. My breathing was now irregular, and Mike was driving with one hand on the steering wheel. I could guess what his other hand was doing. When we pulled up at Stonehaven, I pulled down my skirt, like a naughty teenager. Mike turned around and smiled, knowingly. No words were spoken. I got out of the car and walked backwards into the bungalow, waving at my new friends, thinking what a strange experience I had just encountered. I took a large glass of JD to bed with me, and slept like a baby.
Early the next morning, I woke to hear digging in the garden, and looked out of the window to see Jill in her dungarees and wellington boots, hair tied back, getting to work on a flowerbed. I tapped on the window.
“Good morning,” she chirped. “Get the kettle on then.”
Over the quaint little Formica table in the kitchen, we drank our tea and ate bacon butties. I couldn’t help but notice she was looking at my tits the whole time; my top was very low cut. Her tongue licked her lips, slowly, like she was licking something other than salt from them. She had removed the braces of her dungarees so they hung by her sides, and the gap between her T-shirt and knickers was apparent between the brass buttons. A thin cerise coloured elastic thong could be seen through the gap.
She stood up, and asked if she could use my
shower. I led her to the small bathroom along the dull corridor, and before we reached the bathroom door, she pinned me against the wall and kissed me passionately. Her tongue darted around mine, and her lips tasted like salty bacon. She caressed my neck with her soft lips, and her hands found my already hard nipples. She squeezed my breasts; she somehow knew what I liked, but I suppose a woman knows what a woman wants. It was dark in the passageway and we never made it as far as the bathroom. I flung open the bedroom door, and we both landed on the bed. The curtains were closed, but the room was light enough to see, and dull enough to be sexy. She straddled me, and I could feel her mound pressing against mine. I wondered if she was as wet as I felt. She crossed her arms, and removed her top over her head, knocking her hair clip onto the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her ample chest was tanned and in proportion to her voluptuous figure. Her blonde curls fell over one shoulder as she gave her head a flick. One side of her mouth curled into a dirty smile as she undid the brass buttons of her denim dungarees, revealing a bright pink thong. She slid her hand down into the front of her panties and moaned, her fingers glistened as she painted the juice over my lips and I tasted her.
She pulled off my vest top and pulled down my bra so my tits were pushed together by the underwires. Her mouth engulfed each breast as she felt behind to unclip the back fastening. My breasts tumbled out straight into her hands, then each one in turn was sucked by her luscious lips.
She climbed off and stood up, as her dungarees fell to the floor, leaving her naked with the exception of the startling pink thong. Still on the bed, I turned over onto my knees and crawled towards her. She grabbed the back of my head and thrust it towards her pussy. I licked the silky pink pouch and felt her soft lips beneath. My tongue darted in and out as she grabbed my swinging breasts and fondled them roughly. Her breathing quickened as she pushed me back onto the bed and unzipped my skinny jeans. I wriggled out of them, taking my knickers off at the same time. I couldn’t wait for another woman to taste me.
She crawled slowly from the bottom of the bed like a wild cat stalking prey, her tits swinging to and fro. She parted my legs, pushed my knees up and apart and traced a line down the inside of my thigh with her tongue. She was teasing me. It was intense and wonderful and I could not control myself. I was ready to explode into her mouth, and she hadn’t laid a finger on my pussy yet! She sucked my inner thighs, and flicked her tongue into my hole. Parting my labia with her soft hands, she found my clit, I let out a massive groan.
“Oh my God, make me come,” I screamed, “I can’t wait any longer, suck my clit . . . please!”
“Be patient, you sexy beast,” she giggled and sat up. “Turn over,” she ordered.
I sat up and turned over onto my front. She straddled me and started to massage my shoulders, my back and my arse. Licking, sucking, biting, and all the time her hands wandered all over my body. She climbed in between my legs and licked me from behind, her tongue darting in and out of my pussy as I stuck my hole into her face. Her fingers found my clit as I sat up, doggy-style, on the big pine bed, and she rubbed it furiously as she licked me out. I couldn’t control myself any longer. Waves crashed against the shore, lightning struck, fireworks exploded, and I came into her mouth, spurting my juices over her face.
I turned and tossed her backwards onto the bed, ripped off her thong and stuck my fingers into her tight little pussy. The juices were lush and thick, slimy and smooth. I pushed my whole face into her pussy; the smell was sweet, tantalising. I licked, flicked and teased. I sucked, fucked and pleased her to the verge of orgasm, then I remembered my faithful rabbit was in the case on my the side of the bed.
“Fuck me!” she screamed. “I want you to fuck me!”
As I sucked her clit, I moistened the vibrator with her juices, and gently inserted it into the glorious black hole. Her back arched, and she took it all. Twisting my trusty friend around so the ears tickled her arse, she screamed.
“I’m coming, oh fuck me harder, I’m coming, yes, yes, yes!” I could taste her. It was sweet, like Carnation Milk. I rested my head on her thigh, and slowly removed my fingers, licking them like a kid with an ice cream cone.
We drifted off to sleep that morning in that magical place called Stonehaven, and she left without finishing the flower bed. I never saw her again, I doubt I ever will.
When I returned home, my husband was surprised that my candle was intact and the batteries hadn’t been used. I told him I had just spent the whole vacation in bed, which was true, I suppose. We fucked in the kitchen with rekindled passion. His big, stiff cock felt harder than usual, and I felt refreshed and happy, ready to face the real world again. Perhaps one day I will tell him about my adventure, but for now, reader, it remains our little secret.
MALE FANTASY, FEMALE FANTASTIC
Allison, New Haven
It was our husbands who started us off. And then they weren’t around to stop us.
Brent and I had gone over to Vanessa and Ron’s for an evening of dinner and conversation. We’ve all been friends for a couple of years now, ever since my husband met Vanessa’s husband through work. Vanessa and I hit it off right away and the four of us started getting together for dinners, movies and plays about every three months or so. But we didn’t really get intimately acquainted, so to speak, until that fateful get-together when, after an excellent meal and a few too many glasses of red wine, Ron broached the subject of erotica, and what turns women on.
“Hey, I’m just curious,” he said, sitting back on the sofa and grinning. “We all know what turns men on, right, Brent?”
My husband darted his eyes at me, then looked down at the glass of wine in his hand. Brent’s a pleasant, patient man with a well-paying job, but he’s not the most passionate soul in the world (or the suburb of Westwood, for that matter). I’d married him mainly because he’d come along at the right time, with the right things to offer me. It was just at the tail-end of my decade-long wild streak, after too many bad jobs and worse relationships had left me unhappy and disillusioned. I was looking to settle down and that’s the bottom line, I guess.
Brent looked up and smiled at me and said, “You know what turns me on? My wife, Allison.”
It was just the sort of sweet, safe thing Brent would say. It got a hearty laugh from Ron and earned a warm, affectionate smile from me.
“Well, I can’t disagree with that,” Ron said, leering my way until Vanessa slapped him on the knee. “I mean, about my wife turning me on, too,” he added with a chuckle.
I think Brent and I both hoped that would be the end of the topic for the evening. But Ron wasn’t done with it just yet. “But – besides my wife – what really turns me on,” he continued, winking at Vanessa and me, “is two women kissing each other.”
Vanessa slapped her husband on the knee again, and Brent and I laughed sort of nervously. “All you men are fascinated with two women making love, aren’t you?” Vanessa commented, looking at Brent when she said it.
He dropped his eyes back down into his wine glass.
“Hey, what’s better than one beautiful woman?” Ron asked. “Two beautiful women, of course! Like we have here tonight.”
Vanessa sighed and looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Well, Allison, should we put the guys out of their misery? So we don’t have to talk about it all evening.”
I stared at the woman. “I’m sorry, what?”
She got up off the sofa where she’d been sitting next to her husband and walked over and kneeled down on the carpet in front of me. She placed her dark, slender hands on my knees and looked into my eyes with her gleaming brown eyes, her full, glossy lips parted slightly. She was wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline, and I could see the depth of her velvety cleavage and the twin points of her braless nipples where they pressed against the dress.
“How ’bout we just give the guys a little kiss, to shut Ron up on the subject,” she breathed at me, winking.
I tore my eyes away from hers, glanced at Ron, th
en at Brent. The two men were staring at us, rigidly attentive. We’d already shut Ron up, although his mouth was hanging open.
I shifted back to Vanessa’s warm gaze. Her perfume had a sweet scent that muffled my inhibitions and heightened my senses. The woman’s crouching body was lithe and supple like a panther’s. I set down my wine glass without looking and leaned forwards, then slid my hands over Vanessa’s and touched my lips to her soft, moist lips.
We both jerked our heads back, shocked at the electric current that had passed between us. Not from static.
“Wow!” Ron gulped, beaming.
Brent was glaring, glassy eyed, at the pair of us, too.
I smiled and coiled my left hand around Vanessa’s long, slim neck, parted my lips and pressed my mouth against her mouth again. Only, this time we stuck, lingered, luxuriated in the warm sensations, kissing long and indisputably passionately.
My body flooded with heat, my mind with the hot, tingling memories of the lesbian flings I’d had in the past, during my wild period – brief, torrid, tumultuous lustful sessions usually in the back bedrooms of crowded apartment parties or the far bathroom stalls of crowded nightclubs. Meaningless trysts meant for rebellion and shock value, but still undeniably, memorably pleasurable.
I hadn’t kissed another woman in five long years. And I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a woman so deeply and deliberately and soulfully, in such hushed and heightened surroundings. Our lips slowly broke apart and we stared at one another, dazed.
The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions Page 13