The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotic Confessions

by Barbara Cardy

  “Could Roger have a feel please?” Sarah chirped. At this point I was pleased that Neil had gone to the shop. The situation had started innocently, but I could see where it was heading. I took a step towards this strange couple who sat, champagne in hand, staring at my pussy. His hand reached out and three fingers slid into the front of the panties and he rubbed his thumb against them at the front, getting a real feel for the expensive garment. He asked me politely if I could turn around, as she had done. I figured he was a bum man, like Neil, so I did, sure that that would clench the deal. It did; she ordered one in her size, and when I tuned back around, she had her hand between her legs, head tossed back, eyes shut.

  “So, young lady, how about modelling another outfit, slightly more revealing this time?” asked Roger, oblivious to his friend’s actions.

  “You’re paying, sir,” I responded with a wink.

  I pulled on the gown and nipped back into the shop to find something a little more revealing. After all, I was on to a lucrative sale.

  Crotchless or nipple holes, I pondered, and decided on both. A striking red outfit with black frills should turn them on, I thought. So I carried the garments into the changing room and pulled the curtain shut as the odd couple sat, tongues down each other’s throats. I was used to this type of behaviour, so it didn’t shock me.

  I slipped off the thong and basque and donned the little red twin set, draping the black set over the top of the rail, thinking I might keep it. When I opened the curtain, there was Roger, sniffing the black thong, and Sarah, smiling. I coughed, a comedy-type cough, and couldn’t help but smirk thinking of my juices flowing freely half an hour previously.

  “Mmmmm,” Roger moaned, as he admired my erect nipples, “Crotchless too? We’ll take both outfits, my dear, but we must have these ones, not a fresh set. Is that alright?”

  Roger was obviously turned on by the smell of my juices; his expensive trousers struggled to restrain his throbbing cock, which was massive to say the least!

  “You’re the boss,” I replied, as I topped up their glasses. “Can I get you anything else?” .

  “Well,” he bit his bottom lip, “we do enjoy something a little special on our outings, but not every shop offers the service that we require.”

  “Oh,” I replied, “and what would that be, sir?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened with delight at my willingness to oblige and her face flushed, but not with embarrassment.

  Now at this point I must stress how much I appreciate a straight-talking individual.

  People who pussyfoot around the point and never express what they really feel can really piss me off, but this bloke was frank, to say the least.

  “I’m willing to pay you £500 extra, if you could sit on my friend’s face, right here, right now.”

  I would like to say I hesitated, but I was so turned on after my earlier romp had been cut short, I agreed without thinking about it.

  Sarah lay on her back on the sofa as I took instruction from Roger as to where to position myself. As he sat at her feet, he told me to bend over and slowly lower myself onto her face. He ordered her to open her mouth as my clit touched her nose and her tongue entered my already soaking pussy. I thrust back and forth as Sarah moaned underneath me. I grabbed my nipple and twisted it up through the little peep hole, then held my hair up and turned around to watch Roger. She sucked my clit as her hands held my pussy wide open and Roger sat and sniffed the black thong as he fingered her to the point of orgasm. Her tongue darted between the fabric of the crotchless thong and I moaned with fake delight as she came. She screamed and the vibration on my pussy was strangely exciting. I sat on her face until she stopped screaming and gyrated my hips in a circular motion that at certain points prevented her from taking a breath. I felt in charge, but Roger was clearly the boss in their relationship.

  “Thank you, dear,” he panted. “Now, could you remove those delicious panties and bag them up for me?” I nodded, pulled on the gown and headed for the till to complete our transaction.

  I had left the changing room, but could still see in through a gap in the curtain. When Sarah dropped to her knees and unzipped his trousers, I peeked through the corner of the curtain to see him ramming her head against his cock. I was right in my earlier estimation: he had at least eight inches and she took it all. Hoping she would swallow, my hand wandered down to my pussy. I had unfinished business to attend to. I was dripping wet with love juice and her saliva and it felt divine. It didn’t take long; a few hard, fast rubs and I stood erect with my head tossed back in ecstasy. I am a noisy lover, but my moans were drowned by his. He came in her mouth and she swallowed the lot. She even licked the last of the come from the end of his dick, with a huge smile. There was a fellow cock sucker I could relate to; she loved it as much as I did. Quickly, I stripped off and put on the gown; the thong was soaked.

  As I completed the sale at the till, I sniffed my fingers and could smell that musky, sweet odour that Roger appreciated so much. The card was accepted, the total bill including my extra service, listed as “afternoon delight”, was £980. I thanked the strange couple and escorted them to the front door. Neil was trudging through the snow on the other side of the street, holding a bottle of milk.

  “Cuppa darling?” he asked.

  “No, I think some champagne is in order, let’s finish what we started earlier, we’ve had a good month,” I replied. I locked the door and led him by the hand into the rear of the shop.

  NO REGRETS

  Sarah, Kirton

  Everyone knows the phrase “lesbian until graduation”, right? It’s probably the least authentic that porn gets . . . only, for me, it was real. Or so I thought.

  I had a great boyfriend. We met in the fourth year of secondary school, when Ant transferred from upcountry, and not even impending exams could distract us from falling for each other. With my pale, freckly skin and frizzy red hair, and his dark, Italian looks (well, Ant was short for Antonio), everyone said we were complete opposites, but we weren’t. We liked all the same things, shared the same sense of humour . . . it really was like finding my other half, and I didn’t hesitate to fall in love.

  We both knew that going to separate universities would be hard, but we thought we could manage it, and I was so proud to have won a place at somewhere I really wanted to study, no matter how far away it was.

  Ant was going to be at the other end of the country, however, and I knew I was going to miss him like crazy. I cried buckets when he came to the station to see my train off, and clung on to him like a child hugging its mother’s knees on the first day of school. I knew I’d see him when we both went back home for Christmas, but it wasn’t the same.

  Still, I’d wanted to strike out on my own, and I was determined to follow that through. I did, too, and about halfway through the first term, I’d already started making friends . . . and going to quite a few student parties! I met Kelly at one of those, and we got on really well from the start.

  I knew she was gay. It was obvious at that first party, because her girlfriend was there, and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, especially after a couple of vodka shots. They were a great-looking couple, I had to admit: Kelly was slightly taller than me, but busty, with a round, heavy backside, and long blonde hair that flowed down to the middle of her back. Her girlfriend was shorter and more athletic, with a bob of shiny brown hair, pretty green eyes and really good legs, shown off in the shortest miniskirt I’d ever seen.

  Now, I’d never really been into girls, or thought of myself as attracted to women, though I could certainly appreciate the virtues of my sex. I mean, who doesn’t see a beautiful woman and notice how attractive she is, or look at two girls locked in a passionate clinch and think how incredibly hot they are?

  I must have had that going on at the back of my mind, though it wasn’t until after the Christmas break that it really surfaced. I’d gone home and seen my family, and that was great, but Ant and I had had some stupid row over nothing, an
d it had ended up with tears, tantrums and a whole lot of frustration when I got back to my lonely college digs, the wounds still unhealed. For the first time ever, I’d felt like I couldn’t trust him, and that maybe we weren’t going to last the course.

  We’d talked on the phone since, but the reality of the distance between us was sinking in, and I was finding it hard to deal with how much I missed him.

  I was trying not to talk about it, because Kelly had broken up with her girlfriend at New Year’s, and I didn’t want to make things awkward. We were at her place, drinking red wine at the kitchen table, like all good students who think they’re sophisticated, and her three housemates were out for the evening.

  I wasn’t drunk, though maybe I was a little mellow. Perhaps we both were. She had her head propped on her hand, her hair all tousled, and she wore a dark blue cotton tunic that tied up across the neckline, leaving a little keyhole opening through which I could see the shadowed weight of her breasts.

  We hadn’t started off talking about anything in particular, but we’d drifted into girly gossip – who was doing whom, and how long it had been since either of us had got anything – and my eyes kept slipping to that little glimpse of flesh. I didn’t even notice I was doing it at first. They were just there . . . these big, luscious boobs that pressed gently against the edge of the table; soft, round globes restrained within the thin fabric of her top. I blinked as I realized what I was thinking, and tried not to let myself blush, but it felt like the room was closing in on me, and sweat broke out at the base of my spine.

  I didn’t think Kelly had noticed but, as I glanced at her face – and it was a struggle to tear myself away from the two objects that had been commanding my attention, I can tell you – she was smiling at me over the rim of her wine glass. Her lip gloss had worn off slightly, leaving a sticky smear on the glass, but it still made her mouth sparkle, and I almost couldn’t breathe because she was so beautiful. It seemed amazing that I’d never noticed it before, and yet I wondered why I should, and why I should notice it then. I shifted against the hard, cheap wooden chair, my pussy growing warm in a room that felt ever hotter. Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk so much.

  I thought I must have been totally hammered when I heard Kelly ask me if I was checking out her breasts. I blinked, my mouth working uselessly on words that came out as a garbled stammer . . . and then there I was, staring at her fucking tits again.

  I’d never even expected to find her attractive, but I couldn’t help it. I was just transfixed by the way her breasts filled out her tunic, straining against the fabric as she leaned forwards. The shadow of her cleavage peeked from the tied neckline, and I wanted to bury my face between her breasts. I wanted to feel the softness of her skin on my cheeks, and I wanted to take each of her nipples between my lips, then suck and lick until they turned to pebbles against my tongue.

  She said it was OK if I was, and she asked if I was interested in her. Her voice seemed to be coming down a long, echoing tunnel, though it seemed so casual she might just have been asking if I’d seen a particular TV show the night before.

  I stammered out some other loose collection of words – something about not being gay, something about Ant, something about being sorry if I’d offended her – and she just laughed.

  “It’s natural,” she said, swigging back the rest of her wine. “You’re lonely, and frustrated, and you need taking care of. That’s all.”

  I started to protest, to say that wasn’t true . . . except it was. It was truer than anything. I put my wineglass down and just stared at Kelly, and she raised her eyebrows, as if she was just asking me an honest question.

  “D’you want to?”

  There probably hadn’t been a more honest question asked anywhere, ever, and I gave the most honest answer I could.

  “Y-Yes . . . I mean, I—”

  She grinned. “One night, no strings, no questions. What d’you think?”

  I couldn’t think. My whole head was just a rushing swirl of possibilities. I nodded fervently. Yes – yes to anything she wanted – and maybe it was because I was still angry at Ant, or because I was so lonely and so fucking desperate to be touched, but then I was getting up from the table, and so was she. I wanted to be closer to her, to smell the scent of her skin and her hair, and to feel her warmth against me, and then we were close. Kelly put her arms around my waist, and she was kissing me, or maybe I was kissing her. I didn’t know – didn’t care, really, because all that mattered was that our mouths were touching. I had lip balm on that tasted like synthetic strawberries, and she wore the sticky remnants of that lip gloss, which had made her mouth look so incredibly tempting. Her kiss was so gentle, so soft; inquisitive, more than anything, I guess. I felt her breath on my mouth, and the slight moistness of her lips parting against mine. It drove me crazy. I kissed her back, harder. I wanted more, wanted her tongue in my mouth, her teeth on my lower lip, her breath in my throat . . . and she didn’t disappoint.

  She pressed close, and my nipples were like chips of solid ice, rock-hard and tingling as I felt those heavy, soft breasts push against my chest. My hands slid around her waist, and before I knew it I was running my fingers over the back of her little denim skirt, so full of that round, weighty arse. I squeezed, and she laughed. My pussy was already wet, and it felt like the sound of Kelly’s giggle was a feather stroking across my slit.

  She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. It was a mess, to be honest, but I rather liked the implication she hadn’t been expecting company. We broke kisses long enough for her to untie and remove her tunic top, showing off those luscious breasts, which were almost spilling out of a pink-and-white polka dot bra that, as she unzipped her skirt, I could see she was wearing with a black lacy thong. The thought of that little strip of lace having been under her skirt the whole time drove me wild. Her hair hung down in ruffled, untidy tresses. She was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen. Kelly helped me out of my shirt and jeans, and though I felt briefly insecure next to her generous curves, it passed quickly. She kissed me over and over, and I couldn’t get enough of her tongue in my mouth, or the smell of her musky, fruity perfume.

  “I love your freckles,” she said, tracing her fingers down my arm as we half fell, half flung ourselves onto her bed. I felt like she was writing poems on my skin, and it was wonderful.

  She kissed my neck as her fingers skimmed lightly over my breasts, caressing them through the plain, black mesh panels of my bra. I flexed under her touch, pressing up against her. She was so warm, so soft . . . so curvy. When Ant and I fucked, he’d tease my tits for a while, then he’d grab them, rolling the soft orbs against his broad, strong palms. Kelly didn’t do that and, though at first I wanted her to, I soon realized she knew what she was doing.

  She traced my nipples through my bra, circling with gentle, feather-light strokes until they stood out, rock hard, and I was pretty sure they might rip their way through the thin fabric. She kissed her way down, her tongue teasing my skin with soft, wet trails as she worked between my breasts, hands slipping beneath me to unfasten the bra. I sighed, pressed up against her, my fingers raking through all that lovely, soft hair that whispered against my body. I could feel the heat of her pussy where she was crouched over me, just the thin lace panties she wore separating her from my thigh, and I realized how much I wanted to have her bare against me. I wanted to feel her wetness, her heat . . . I wanted to touch her delicate folds, maybe even to taste her.

  Part of me was filled with confusion then. All this hunger, this incredible desire for another woman, was so new. I’d never felt anything like it before – not for anyone – and I began to be afraid of what it meant. As Kelly tugged my panties down over my hips, exposing my neatly trimmed pussy in all its eager, dampened glory, I’d never felt more of a woman . . . or more conflicted. And yet I never once dreamed of asking her to stop.

  I squealed when her mouth touched my pussy, and pulled my knees up in some mad, intense reaction that must have looked like I’d ju
st received an electric shock. Hot waves of embarrassment immediately broke over my cheeks. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d never been licked out before, but I was so wet. I was wetter than I think I’d ever been, my lips swollen and dripping with my juices, and it felt like little trickles of electricity were bursting all along my slit.

  Kelly just grinned and wrapped her arms around my thighs, her hands clasped tightly on my backside. Gently, but firmly, she pushed my legs down and apart, and I sucked a breath across my teeth as her actions spread my pussy open to the air. I was stretched out, leaning back with my full weight on my elbows, my head spinning and my heart pounding as I peered down at her. She was so beautiful, splayed out on the bed with her face between my legs, her blonde hair spilling out all over her back, and her tight, round arse marked by that single little strip of black lace.

  She kept smiling up at me, her face a complete picture of naughtiness. My clit throbbed, as if it could strain towards her mouth. I’d never thought someone could make me so desperate to be touched, and I begged her to do it, a stream of breathy, needy little “please” noises breaking across my lips.

  She did. Her tongue flicked across my clit once, twice, three times, pulling intense judders of pleasure from me, then she pushed her face into my pussy, licking wide and full, sucking greedily and rubbing at me with her lips and chin and nose. She latched onto my clit as rolls of overwhelming bliss sang through me, her tongue a hard, unyielding, probing instrument of delight as her whole head shook from side to side, rubbing and working at me until that little bundle of nerves blew into overload, and I was squealing and shivering my way through a noisy, intense climax. She didn’t stop, even as I was coming. She just kept working me with her tongue, pounding away just below my clit, her fingers digging into my buttocks to keep me where she wanted me, until I struggled to break free, unable to take it anymore.

  Kelly crawled up the bed, and I grabbed at her, still panting from my orgasm. I wanted to taste myself on her wet, glossy lips. My juices were all over her face, and then they were all over mine, and we were smearing them as we kissed, desperate and heavy. She reached down and slapped my slick, sensitized pussy with her fingers, sending jolts of aftershock through my clit and making me gasp and squeal all over again. I writhed under her touch, aching and throbbing with a combination of that hard climax and the desire for more.