Sweet Confessions

by Violet Blue

  His eyes brightened. “Nice.” His uncle waved at him. “Gotta go. See ya.”

  I don’t think I was too obvious as I watched him walk away. His dancer’s butt looked good in fitted jeans.

  The best thing about writing English Regency romances is the chance to actually travel to England under the guise of doing research and getting to write it off on our taxes. One of the joys of going with Mark was our playful reenactments of seduction scenes on location.

  This time, though, work had prevented him from joining me.

  “So…what are you wearing?” Mark asked sultrily over the phone.

  “A shear cotton chemise with a drawstring neckline and pretty embroidered flowers.”

  “Really?” he said, breaking character. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Some Jane Austen underwear shop. Yes, she’s that popular.”

  Mark laughed. It was so good to hear his laugh even if he was six thousand miles away. I slunk further down into the mound of pillows on my bed. I was staying in an utterly quaint B&B in the even quainter town of Bath. It was easy to get into a romantic mood.

  “Undo the bow at your neckline,” he commanded. “And loosen the opening.”

  With one hand working my clothing and one hand playing between my legs, I did as I was told.

  “Pinch your nipples.” I did, even though they were already hard.

  “Are you touching yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he murmured in satisfaction. “Are you wet?”

  “Yes. Very.”

  I knew he was stroking himself, he didn’t have to tell me.

  “Are you alone?” he asked.

  “No,” I tantalized. “The gardener and butler are here, while the footmen stand guard. All eagerly await your instructions.”

  “Hmmm…one at a time? Or two at once?”

  Either would do. “Yes, please.” I bent my knees and dropped them open, my fingers delicately rubbing my engorged clit.

  “The gardener…I want to watch that blond muscle boy come inside you,” he said breathing heavily. “Spread his cheeks for me…I’ll be on top fucking his tight ass.”

  Mark only talks like that when he’s really horny. I smiled. He missed me. “Do you feel his huge cock inside you?” His voice was getting more and more ragged.

  I really could have used my vibrator right about then. “Yes,” I lied.

  He sensed something was wrong. “Jean?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Honey, I know you’re not as far along as I am. What’s going on?”

  “I forgot to pack my vibrator. I’m a little slow to come without it.”

  “You remembered your hands-free but forgot your vibrator?”

  “You would rather I had you on speaker-phone and got off more quickly?”

  He laughed, a reaction overcome by his own masturbatory indulgence.

  “So what are you using?” His heady tone indicated he was back to pumping himself.

  “The handle of my hairbrush. Disappointingly inadequate.”

  “Intriguing,” he said darkly. “Clearly I have failed to relieve you of all implements of self-deflowerment. You dare despoil yourself with a hairbrush, my virgin bride, and deny yourself the pleasures of a grown man’s cock?”

  The handle suddenly felt more gratifying.

  “Perhaps I should have the strapping young bucks guarding your door hold you down while the butler and gardener take turns satisfying themselves in your unused cunt.”

  “Oh, yes, please.” I was getting there. “I would like that very much.”

  “You little whore. I will take great pleasure in watching your defilement.”

  “Yes, sir—” I felt suspended above oblivion.

  “I should have them both fuck you at once…one in your tasty little cunt…the other in your unyielding forbidden hole.”

  “Yes!” I gasped as a jolt coursed through my body, tingling my toes. “Come on me, sir. I want you to come on me while you watch.”

  “Oh, fuck!” he growled.

  I could hear his satiated grunts over the phone. I smiled.

  “Jean?”

  “Yes, Mark?”

  “I miss you.”

  For all the times I’ve been to England, oddly, for one who writes Regencies, I had never been to Bath. It is probably the most romantic town in that country, and there I was alone. Well, at least I would get more writing done than I usually do on my trips, and I could visit every single museum and historical site without complaint by my husband. I imagined all sorts of spousal reactions to my itinerary.

  I was in the Costume Museum taking notes despite the dim lighting, when I saw a young man and woman holding hands. As I marveled to myself how the youth of England have interests far beyond their American counterparts, the boy looked at me and beamed.

  “Hey, Jean! Fancy meeting you here!”

  “Eric?” It took me a second to recognize him, what with the normal clothes and all. “I should say the same for you.”

  We hugged briefly. “I’m going to the University of Bath,” he explained. “They have a really great performing arts department. And I figured the winters would be a little less cold in the south.”

  “I suppose so,” I laughed.

  “And you?”

  “Research for my books.”

  “Let me introduce you to my girlfriend: Emma Boyle meet Jean Swan.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Emma.” I stuck my hand out but the girl just stared at me, mouth open. Eventually, she shook my hand, still dumbfounded.

  “You’re Jean Swan? The Jean Swan?” She looked up at Eric. “You didn’t tell me you knew Jean Swan!” She punched him playfully.

  Okay, not dumbfounded; star-struck. It was so cute the way she said my name in her English accent.

  “We were in ballet class together,” Eric said sheepishly.

  “I absolutely love your books,” she gushed.

  “Really?” I was genuinely astonished and pleased. “They’re aimed at middle-aged housewives, you know, not teenagers.”

  “My mum reads them, too.”

  Mum—that was so cute!

  “Are you in town for long?” Eric asked keenly.

  “Another two weeks or so. I’m using Bath as a home base to explore the area.”

  Emma looked at me wide-eyed.

  I smiled. “For a whole series,” I said to her.

  “Are you by any chance free Friday night?” she inquired with marked enthusiasm while tugging on Eric’s sleeve. “We all go to the Hare & Monk on Fridays.”

  They made a wonderful couple. I would have to include them in my next novel. “I would love to join you.”

  I had almost forgotten what it was like to be young, to constantly flirt in an atmosphere of sexually charged one-upmanship. I held my own quite remarkably, even making the boys blush, except Eric, who just laughed at my American vulgarity. The girls were simultaneously enchanted and enchanting. It turned out I was quite popular amongst college-aged female readers, at least those at the Hare & Monk, and eventually they garnered enough courage to interrogate me about how I write my salacious scenes. The boys pretended to tune out, but not very successfully.

  We were there until closing time. The party was to continue at one of the boy’s rooms. I begged out, knowing it would simply devolve into a snogging session. Eric chivalrously offered to walk me back to my B&B across town.

  We took the sleepy streets lined with elegant stone townhouses, chatting mostly about Emma, me realizing I was tipsier than I thought I was, Eric steadying me a few times.

  We strolled through the Royal Victoria Park along the Gravel Walk, avoiding furtive lovers in dark recesses. Catching a view of the Royal Crescent semi-ellipse bathed in light, I stopped. “Mark would really love this,” I sighed.

  Eric turned to me. “You miss him,” he said nervously.

  “Yeah.”

  I glanced up. His expression was filled with confusion and longing. We both quickly re
turned to staring at the architectural marvel before us.

  And then he took me in his arms and kissed my open, surprised mouth.

  Slow moving and drunk, I did not resist. Instead I melted in his embrace and let him devour me. God, he was a good kisser, and separated from Mark as I was for so long, I needed a good kissing.

  Then guilt took hold of me and I pulled back a little. “Eric, what’s going on?”

  We remained touching cautiously, panting abashedly.

  “I…I’m not sure,” he stammered. “I’m completely in love with Emma. But she wants a romantic hero…I’m terrified I’ll get it wrong. We’re both virgins. All I’ve done is kiss some girls.”

  “Clearly.”

  He smiled at that. “I don’t want to mess things up our first time, you know? I want it to be perfect.” He looked in my eyes. “I need someone to show me what to do.”

  A chill of realization went up my spine. “You’re suggesting I do that?”

  “Ye-ah. Show me what girls want, what I’m supposed to do. Like what the guys in your books do.”

  Wow. “Look Eric, I’m supremely flattered, but you and Emma need to discover all that for yourselves.”

  “What if I do something wrong? Emma deserves the best.”

  “Eric, I’m married. I can’t just go out and have sex with someone. Plus you’re only seventeen—”

  “I’m eighteen.”

  Well, that shot that line of reasoning down.

  “I’m forty-two. Old enough to be your mother.”

  “You don’t look or act like my mother.”

  Smooth. “Okay…still…I’m married. I’m in a monogamous committed relationship.”

  “He doesn’t need to know. He’s not here.”

  “Infidelity is not a lesson I want to teach you,” I retorted. I turned my back to him, but he remained right there, moving closer, touching me on the shoulder with a featherlight caress, making me realize I was wet, startlingly so. Christ, this kid didn’t need any lessons! “Eric, let me think about this. Please.”

  As he walked me back to my B&B, all I could think about was that he probably had an erection.

  “We’re here,” I said when we reached the front gate.

  “Jean, can I call you later this week? Do you have a mobile?”

  We exchanged numbers, then he bent down and kissed me fleetingly before he left.

  Inside my room, I was in a sexual frenzy. I couldn’t call Mark; he’d still be at work. I masturbated thinking about Eric. I dreamt about him all night too, waking up sweaty and aroused. How could I possibly say no?

  “Jean, something’s wrong.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We’ve been married for fifteen years. I know when something is bothering you.”

  I had to tell him. We’d been upfront and frank about everything: crushes, fantasies, possibilities.

  “You remember that boy in my ballet class?”

  “The kid with the butt?”

  “Yeah. He’s here, going to college. He has a girlfriend… they’re both virgins. He wants her first time to be special. He wants someone to teach him how to have sex.”

  Silence.

  “Mark? Are you there?”

  There was an alarming pause before he answered, “Yes, I’m here.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “He wants me to be the one to teach him.”

  There. It was out.

  “Shit.”

  “Mark—”

  “I knew this would happen. We knew this would happen. It was just a matter of time.” Mark exhaled long and hard. “You want to fuck him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I think so. I never thought about it before. No one’s ever wanted to fuck me besides you since we’ve been married.”

  “That’s not true. Matt does.”

  “Matt?” Shit. Matt was totally hot. Only a threesome would be hotter.

  “And Sean.”

  “Please, Mark, don’t tease me right now. Look, I’m alone. I write about sex all day. I forgot my vibrator. I’ve been propositioned by a very attractive young man whom I most likely will never see again. I’m being open and honest about what’s going on.”

  I could almost hear his mind ruminating. “I guess I didn’t expect to be this upset. And I always thought it would be me first.”

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Yes you do.” He paused, thinking again. “Jean,” he said finally. “Will this experience make you a better writer?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” I conceded. “Maybe. Probably.”

  “Okay, then do what you feel you need to do. Honestly I can’t say I’m truly happy about this, but I don’t want to stop you either.”

  “I love you, Mark.”

  “I know.”

  Eric picked me up in what looked like an old Eurovan.

  “When I got here in the summer I just found it easier to buy a car to get around,” he explained nervously.

  I knew how he felt; I had had butterflies since we made our date.

  I hadn’t thought about the logistics, but here he was with his van driving me to a secluded woody area just outside town. I didn’t want to know what he told Emma he was doing that night.

  He turned off the paved road and drove slowly down a path, the van bouncing suggestively. He stopped and parked. There was too much silence.

  And while it had been his idea all along, I knew I would have to make the first move.

  “Let’s get comfortable in the back, Eric.”

  I write about seduction all the time, but this was just too surreal. Climbing onto the camping bed side by side was awkward. I felt his hands tremble when he dared to touch me. I reminded myself that I knew what I was doing. I pushed him onto his back, straddled him, and kissed him with all the passion I could muster.

  That worked.

  I felt his muscles tense excitedly under me, felt his instant erection through his jeans. He knew how to kiss, and the familiar action relaxed him. His fingertips danced across my back in a flustered rhythm.

  “Unbutton my blouse,” I said feigning confidence. “But don’t take it off.”

  He did, with jittery hands.

  I undid his fly and began pulling up his tucked-in shirt. I could feel him tense again, his breathing becoming irregular, stopping at times.

  “Eric, has anyone ever, um, given you head before?”

  He drew in a tremulous breath. “No.”

  He let me pull down his underwear and jeans partway, let me stroke him, let me wrap my lips and tongue around him, let me take him all the way to the back of my throat.

  “Oh…my…god,” he gasped.

  He was huge and amazingly hard. He was also young and came almost instantly in my mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely, still twitching from my ministrations.

  “I wanted you to do exactly that.” I climbed up to meet his face. “I want you to last a little longer when we—you know.”

  In the dim moonlight I could see him smile.

  “So have you ever seen a woman’s”—god, what did kids say? “Hoo-ha?”

  He licked his lips. “No.”

  “Not even porn?”

  “Well, okay, I mean, sort of. But never in real life.”

  “Do you have a flashlight?”

  “You mean a torch?” he teased retrieving one from the glove box.

  I made him take off my cords and panties—he’d have to learn, right? I spread my legs and shone the light onto my privates.

  He bit his lower lip and his eyes widened as I gave my erotic lesson. He listened, engrossed, touched and stroked eagerly, licked and fingered enthusiastically. My orgasm was proof that he was a very good student.

  We lay side by side, kissing and fondling gingerly. “What does it feel like for girls…for you?” he asked.

  “Probably the same as for boys: building up to a peak, simultaneously wanting and not wanting to reach that peak, an explosion in both m
ind and body, then a feeling of warm relaxation.”

  He picked at the lace of my bra.

  “Take it off,” I said.

  He was nervous again, and his clammy fingers worked the plastic front closure clumsily with little success.

  Although disheveled and unfastened, he was fully clothed. I took control, pulling everything off him, purposely tickling him in the process, until he lay on his back nude, laughing, and, most importantly, relaxed.

  In the sensual melee, he had managed to get everything off me as well.

  It was time; we both knew it. He had brought condoms. I hadn’t used a condom for years, but luckily they’re pretty much the same as they always were.

  “The other way,” I said. “You’ll know, ’cause it rolls down easier.”

  His cock was magnificent, its size contrasting sharply with his skinny, still-boyish, almost hairless body. I touched his cheek, realizing he probably only had to shave a couple of times a week. And yet, despite his youth, he exuded a raw masculine sexuality.

  “I want you, Eric.” I leaned back and arranged my legs on either side of him. He remained kneeling, afraid but still erect.

  I nudged him down. “Use your hands to guide yourself.”

  He hesitated.

  “I’ll help.” I realized at that moment how desperate I was for him.

  He sighed as he entered me, slowly pushing deeper, until he was fully enveloped by my warmth. He stayed there, breathing heavily, possibly unsure what to do next.

  “Move in and out—”

  “I know—I think. I’m just surprised. This is incredible.”

  I smiled and pulled his face to mine, kissed him and moved my hips encouragingly.

  God, his thick cock felt good inside me. I could hold off my orgasm no longer. I felt the wave overtake me as I clenched him powerfully.

  It was his undoing.

  Eric gulped for air as his hips jerked against mine. He stayed frozen, hovering over me, his mouth open, still uttering choking sounds. Suddenly, he exhaled, and his weakened body slumped against mine.

  “Oh, my god,” he said. “I never…I didn’t…” he trailed off. His heart thumped loudly as he tried to steady his breathing.

  It was a most satisfying beginning to a long night of discovery for both of us.