The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  But Mrs Rose kept telling me I was doing fine. Thank goodness there was no traffic on the arrow-straight country road. I would have wet myself for sure if I saw a car coming at me.

  The more I drove, the better I felt about it, until we came to a four-way stop and there were other cars there. Oh no! My legs shook so hard Mrs Rose set one hot hand over my naked thigh, right under the hem of my short shorts.

  There was a feeling that ran through me, like lightning, and all at once my nipples were so hard they hurt. The day had been so hot I hadn’t worn a bra, and I stole a glance down to see if it was obvious. Oh God, it was! My nipples were pointy and thick as pencil erasers, sticking straight out through the clingy jersey of my sleeveless top.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I looked to see if Mrs Rose had noticed how hard my tits were. Would you believe she was staring right at them? Right at them! Her fingers pressed into the tan flesh of my thigh and I didn’t know what to do. My pussy started to pulse, that traitor, and I told myself the impulse was purely physical, just a response to a stimulus. I couldn’t possibly be sexually attracted to Mrs Rose, with her crow’s feet and sun-damaged skin. Could I?

  A car behind me honked, and I started through the intersection without looking. There was a car coming at me from the left, and I looked down at my feet, searching for the brake. Mrs Rose grabbed my hand on the wheel, still digging her fingers into my thigh, and when she told me to floor it, I sailed through that intersection.

  I kept driving, way faster than the speed limit. I wasn’t even looking. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away from the car that had honked because I was so embarrassed.

  But my body embarrassed me, too, with its impulses, its throbbing and arousal. No matter how fast I drove, I couldn’t get away from that, just like I couldn’t get away from Mrs Rose’s hands on my fingers and thigh. She was still clinging to me.

  She told me to slow down but I said I wanted to stop. I started shouting at her, hyperventilating almost, as I pleaded with her to tell me how, tell me where I could pull over.

  Finally, she relented and guided me into a sandy strip that looked like a driveway but didn’t go anywhere. I stormed from the car because my body was full of energy, much too much, and I shook it from my fingertips. The grass had grown high beyond our makeshift parking space, and I chopped at it with my hands.

  Mrs Rose appeared behind me, and I didn’t even notice until her hands were on my shoulders, not massaging me, but holding me steady. She told me it was all right, no harm done. I’d driven very well for my first time out. I didn’t believe that for a second, but her touch reignited the pulse I’d felt before.

  Turning around, I hugged Mrs Rose and smelled the earthy aroma of her oversized linen shirt. She wore an apron in the garden, but not now. Just the shirt and Capri-length khakis. When I pressed my body into hers, I could feel that she wasn’t wearing a bra either. Her breasts felt soft and comforting, and an urge came over me to suckle.

  I shook that idea from my head. It seemed way too weird or incestuous or something. Not that Mrs Rose was family, but I’d known her since I was a kid and she was probably around my mother’s age. Just . . . weird.

  Holding me tight, she whispered into my ear that she’d noticed how I’d grown. I could feel her smelling my hair. Grown how? I wondered about that, but I didn’t ask. Did she mean that we were the same height now? Or was she talking about my long, tanned legs, or my hips, or my breasts?

  It was obvious what would happen by the way she held me, running her fingers down my back. I didn’t know if I wanted it, but my body knew. My pussy throbbed so hot I was surprised it hadn’t burned a hole in my shorts. My nipples felt like they’d had ice cubes pressed against them – not cold, just very, very hard.

  She asked me outright if I’d ever been with another woman. I was shocked by the question, or more by the fact that she’d posed it to me in such a forthright way, but I answered. No. Never. My friend Hunter kissed me on the lips in grade seven, but that was it. Nothing salacious. Not with boys, either. Only kisses. I’d never had sex, and they called me a tease because I had a body they liked and wanted and lusted after. But they couldn’t have it.

  I don’t think she believed that I was a virgin, but why waste time convincing her? Instead, I bent my head back a little so my hair fluttered against her fingers. She still had her straw hat on, and the blazing sunlight filtered through the holes in it like slices of heaven. Her smile was bright and generous, but her eyes were dark with a lust I’d seen many times before. It followed me like a wolf, always hungry, always wanting a bite, a lick, a drop of blood.

  She wanted me, and I gave myself to her.

  It wasn’t my mouth that she kissed, and that surprised me. She went for my neck, attacking it, nipping and licking. In moments, my knees started to tremble. There was something overpowering about her. She was slim like me, but strong. When she held my arms, I didn’t struggle. I looked up at the glints of sunlight slicing through her hat, and I surrendered.

  I was so turned on by the feeling of her mouth on my neck that my legs refused to hold me upright. Mrs Rose grabbed the hem of my top and pulled it over my head as I fell to my knees. There I was, naked from the waist up, bathing in summer sunlight. I looked down at my bare breasts, and so did she. My nipples were so pink they were almost red.

  There was a noise like a growl from the back of Mrs Rose’s throat, and I could feel her attraction like electricity in the air.

  She set my top on the front of my grandmother’s car and yanked me up by the armpits. I unbuttoned my shorts, and unzipped them without waiting for her to give the instruction. Sure, I was a virgin, but I knew want – my own, and Mrs Rose’s.

  When I stepped out of my flip-flops and shorts, the sunburnt grass underfoot stung my soles. I threw down my thong, which my grandmother scoffed at when she did the laundry. Mrs Rose seemed to appreciate the look. Or maybe it was my pussy she admired. I’d shaved it the day before, because we’d gone to the beach and I wanted to wear my itty bitty bikini. Maybe Mrs Rose would have liked me in that bathing suit. I suddenly wished I could show her. I wanted to pose for her like a pin-up model. I wanted to dance for her, and strip. I wanted to please her.

  She patted my shirt on the car and told me to hop up, and I did. The sizzle of it blazed through my top, and I was glad I’d put my flip-flops back on before setting both feet on the fender.

  There I was, utterly naked, pussy shaven, and sunbathing for Mrs Rose on my grandmother’s car. I opened my legs, and she moved between them.

  My thighs first. She kissed all the way from my knees, down and down, starting on the other leg when she got too close to my pussy. It was such a devilish tease, I wanted to smack her, but I also wanted her to tease me. I liked it. I liked that she didn’t give me everything I wanted right away.

  Mrs Rose let out a wonderful noise, like a hum of enjoyment, and she told me my pussy smelled divine. She parted my shaved lips with her thumbs as I pressed my palms against the sizzling car, trying not to slide down it. When she got a look at the pink of me, she licked her lips. I could only see because her hat was sliding down the back of her head, giving me a clear view of her face. In the summer sun, her skin glowed and she looked gorgeous, more beautiful than any woman in any magazine.

  I loved the way she stared at my pussy, with worship and adoration. I’d never felt so wanted. When she inched forwards between my legs, I held my breath because I knew this was going to feel better than anything. Then she licked my pussy, really slow, teasing me still. I trembled on the hood of that car.

  The day was hot, but her tongue was hotter. It blazed against my clit like liquid fire. She’d obviously done this before.

  My nipples strained naked in the heat, and I wanted so badly to play with those rosy buds, but I knew the second I took my hands off the car I’d slide down and tumble to the burnt grass. So I watched Mrs Rose through the valley of my perky breasts. I watched her eat my wet little pussy in rapture, like it wa
s the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted in her life.

  Every so often she looked up into my eyes to gauge my arousal, and sometimes she arched up high enough that I could see down the front of her oversized blouse. I saw her breasts, and they were fuller and more luscious than I’d expected. Now I really wanted to suckle them, even if that was really fucked up and crazy.

  I pushed my pussy against her lips, rolling my hips to stroke my clit against her face. My straining bud had grown fat and red as a cherry. She took it in her mouth and sucked, pulling on my tender flesh with her lips. I went wild, thrashing on the hood of the Toyota. It was too much and still not enough, and I writhed so hard Mrs Rose took hold of my thighs and held them steady as she sucked between my legs.

  In the distance, I heard the approaching whoosh of a car on the country road, and I stiffened a touch. What if they saw me naked on my grandmother’s car, with Mrs Rose’s head between my legs and my fat clit in her mouth? What would they think? Oh God!

  I heard the vehicle whiz by, but I didn’t turn in time to see it, which meant they probably didn’t see us either. That’s what I told myself, and the relief freed me up enough to surrender to the orgasm that had been sitting like a waiting beast in my belly. It attacked now, and raged through my bones, making me flop about on the car like a fish out of water. I screamed and swore. Hopefully nobody heard me. I didn’t think there were any houses nearby, but you never know who’s out and about.

  Mrs Rose ate my cunt until I couldn’t take it anymore. It felt amazing, what she was doing between my legs, but the pleasure was too extreme. It coursed through me like hot ocean waves, and that was wonderful, but her mouth on my clit was making me loopy. She sucked, sucked, sucked until my clit felt huge and hard and tender. I screamed, and she backed away, watching my naked body come to grips with its first sexual experience.

  When I was blissful and sleepy, she read my mind and unbuttoned her blouse. I eased forwards and sank into the splendour of her breasts, suckling one and then the other in the hot sunshine. Her breasts were warm and her nipples hard. I sucked them with my eyes closed, feeling heat all around me, smelling the earth on her clothes.

  After she’d buttoned up and I’d dressed in my top and shorts, we sat in the hot car. We didn’t do anything or say anything, just sat together until the stifling heat became too much to bear. Then she started up the engine and drove us back to my grandparent’s place, which I was grateful for. I didn’t think I was in any condition to drive after that amazing orgasm.

  As she waved goodbye to my grandparents, who were sitting on the veranda of their country cottage home, Mrs Rose offered to take me out again the next day. I took her up on it, of course. I knew I had a lot to learn.

  THE ITALIAN JOB

  Amanda, Northumberland

  My name is Amanda and I own an exclusive boutique in a small Northumberland town steeped in Roman history. My husband Neil and I opened our shop three years ago. We specialize in sexy lingerie, most of which is imported from Italy. Our goods are expensive and luxurious, and a lot of our trade, as you can imagine, is done online. We do however have a handful of private clients who visit our shop for individual fittings.

  I am going to tell you about a particular day at work that I will never forget. I’m letting you in on my dirty little secret because, frankly, it turns me on to think that I can share my experience anonymously, although perhaps I’ve given too much away already.

  On a cold afternoon in November last year, the snow lay thick on the ground and we didn’t expect any walk-in custom, so we arranged to do some photographs for our online shop.

  I set up the backdrops and carefully unwrapped the new range from the lavish packaging. Our current stock was classy; it had to be, considering the price tag, but this new range was verging on the perverse. My hubby assured me that because I was his model, he would blur the bits he didn’t want the public to view. In any case, I wasn’t shy and all our shots were from the neck down, so modelling the stock didn’t bother me at all. In fact, I quite enjoyed it.

  As Neil set up the tripod and lighting, I squeezed into the first outfit, a sexy little black under-bust basque with matching thong. I had shaved the night before and because my complexion is pale, I applied some false tan, which worked a treat. My hair was tied up, but as I let the long, curly locks fall down my back, I caught a glimpse in the full-length mirror on the fitting room and had a little smirk to myself. I wondered how Neil was going to concentrate on websites when I did the rear shot. I sprayed a little body oil onto my hands and rubbed it up and down my long, athletic legs, then a smudge between my boobs and on my shoulders. With a squirt of my favourite perfume, I was ready.

  He raised his eyebrows as I walked into the room, my pert breasts supported by the boned bustier, a tiny gap showing my pierced bellybutton and the slightest pair of panties covering my bits.

  “Wow, babe, you look amazing!” He complimented me on my amazing tits and we got down to business.

  He had me in all manner of positions used by the professionals to sell underwear to the general public, or the gullible public as he likes to call them. As predicted, when I bent over for the rear shot of the thong, the flash went off and I heard footsteps on the wooden floor. He stood behind me with a huge, bulging mass in his jeans. He cupped a breast as he pushed into my arse, his other hand grabbed my hair and yanked my head backwards, pulling me upright. My hand reached behind and I felt his cock bursting out of his designer jeans. The blood rushed to my face. He never fails to arouse me.

  The animal print fur stool we used in the photos was about to be put to good use. I turned and sat on the stool as he unzipped his pants and his huge cock jumped out, slapping my face. I pulled his jeans down to his knees and licked his shaven balls, whilst stroking his throbbing cock. I love to suck cock and sometimes I have to resist shoving it straight into my mouth, as foreplay is just as thrilling. When my tongue reached the throbbing end, I teased it with the tip, flicking it over the sensitive end. I didn’t resist for long before I had it tickling my tonsils. I got a feeling like no other as it travelled slowly to the back of my throat and beyond. After a few minutes, he pushed my head away, as he was on the verge. I turned around and bent over, my arse in the air, hands resting on the stool for support. He pulled the thong to one side as his finger entered my already soaking pussy. He caressed my clit as he dropped to his knees and thrust his whole face into me. His tongue darted between my pussy and my arsehole and I began to moan loudly. A hot flush began to rise from my lower regions to my face, bringing an explosion of ecstasy as my breathing grew faster. My eyes were shut and I was in that zone.

  Suddenly the shop bell rang, signifying a customer had just entered the shop. Neil jumped up and ran into the fitting room. I quickly threw on a satin gown and went to greet the customer. Browsing in the shop was a well-dressed couple. Making my apologies for my attire, I explained to them that during quiet times I model outfits for the website and that we were in the middle of a photo shoot. I could see the man in his fifties was looking me up and down, mentally removing my gown. My nipples were still erect and it was obvious from my flushed cheeks that they had disturbed something steamy. The cut of the corset I was wearing was such that my tits were pushed upwards and together, giving me a cleavage to die for. The woman, who was in her thirties, smiled and said that she used to do some modelling in her younger years and joked that her photographer always kept the door locked.

  By the cut of his suit and the Jimmy Choo shoes that she wore, I could tell these people had money, and when people have money I like to keep them in the shop until they spend some. They told me their requirements and I could see by her face that she was impressed by our Italian range. We always keep champagne in the fridge for this type of client, so I offered them both a comfy seat on the chaise lounge and popped back to the kitchen to crack open a bottle.

  Neil was stood in the kitchen with a huge grin from ear to ear.

  “That was close, hun,” he chuckled.
I giggled and returned to my clients, who were in mid-snog on my posh sofa. Neil popped out of the back door to pick up some milk.

  The woman introduced herself as Sarah and her “friend”, she introduced as Roger. He looked like a Roger, or a Nigel: he was a posh sort. I couldn’t quite figure what their relationship was, though. It’s not my business to question and as we have a mortgage to pay and I can sell sand to the Arabs, I started the hard sell.

  Sarah loved the new range in the catalogue and as they sipped on champagne, she chose the black basque that I was wearing. I explained that I had been trying on the very same item when it arrived and Roger asked if I would mind showing it to her in the fitting room.

  She followed me into the plush, velvet-lined fitting room and took a seat in the waiting area. I pulled the ribbon from the gown and let it fall to the floor. I always keep a pair of five-inch heels in the fitting room. Heels make all women feel sexy, and when trying on expensive underwear, one always feels sexier wearing heels.

  She asked me to approach her and seemed to appreciate the cut of the £200 basque. She didn’t appear shocked at my breasts, which sat, nipples erect, on the balcony. Her eyes were level with my crotch and she asked if she could feel the fabric. Assuming she meant the satin bodice, I nodded, but her hand headed straight for the silky triangle of my pubic mound. She stroked it slowly and nodded with approval. I hoped that her fingers didn’t wander any further to the wetness that lay beneath. She asked if Roger could have a look before she bought the item in her size and, reluctantly, I agreed. We’d had a slack month in the shop due to snowfall and we needed the income. Roger entered the large fitting area and smiled with delight.

  “Rather splendid, my dear, rather splendid indeed.”

  I didn’t know if he was complimenting the outfit or my tits.