The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (19 page)

Jarrett, Lawrence

I felt Dean’s foot on my foot. I looked up from my book, across the table at the guy. He slowly raised his pale-green eyes from the
Introductory Psychology
text he
was supposedly studying and stared back at me, thick eyebrows lifting in question.

“Cut it out,” I whispered, drawing disapproving glances from the other students studying at the long, polished table.

Dean bunched his eyebrows and shrugged his huge shoulders, went back to his textbook.

Ten seconds later, I felt his long, socked foot on my shin, my knee, sliding inside my thigh and landing in my open crotch. My
Basics of Commercial Law
book slammed down on the table,
shaking the entire library.

Dean looked at me, anger on his face like the other students, the waddling-our-way librarian. Then a big, wide grin spread across the second-team basketball player’s handsome mug, his
teeth showing white as piano keys under his thick lips. The sixteen-inch foot attached to the forty-six-inch leg started rubbing my cock, getting the rise out of me intended.

The big guy can always do that to me – turn me on like a switch, no matter where we are or how close to finals. We shared the same dorm, and more and more often into our freshman year, the
same room whenever we could manage it.

My face burned red, my body hotter, cock swelling hard under Dean’s persistent, caressing foot until it was straining the bounds of my zipper.

“Time to check out?” he suggested, just as the librarian huffed up to our table.

I kept the thick law text glued to my groin as we hustled out of the hushed building and into the underground tunnel that connected the library to the science building and then the dorms. It was
early April in Lawrence, and still as chilly as a professor’s personality outside. But it was warm in the tunnel. And three-point-machine Dean made it even warmer.

We managed 100 feet or so before he shoved me into a blazingly white washroom, pulled me into a stall and bolted the door. Then, eyes shining with want, he took me by the hips and lifted me up
and plopped me down feet first on the black toilet seat. He had my belt loose before I’d even gotten a good grip on his soft, inch-high hair.

“Big Daddy needs his meat,” he growled, yanking my Dockers and Jockeys down.

My cock bounced out into the open and hung there, large and loaded, pointing straight at my college lover, shaft pulsing pink and cap shining purple. I’m a little guy vertically –
barely up to the big man’s nipples – but horizontally I’m cocking tall. Dean grabbed my prick and squeezed.

“Yes!” I groaned, shuddering with the erotic impact of the man’s huge, warm mitt on my hard shaft.

I kept one hand on his head, the other on the top of the stall, as he stroked me, expertly pumped my throbbing length with his smooth hand. Then he bent at the knees and got his big mouth level
with my big cock. He looked up at me, and snaked out his tongue, bumping the ultra-pink tip of it into my bloated hood, wet and warm. I groaned some more, trembling body tingling.

But he just gave me a taste, letting go of my dick and grabbing on to my furry balls, leaving me achingly bobbing in front of his face. He clenched my nut sac, making my knees buckle and my
knuckles light up white in his black hair, on the bathroom stall, as I dangled and dangled in front of his open mouth, his hot, humid breath streaming over my straining prong.

Finally, he engulfed my hood with his lips.

“Jesus, yes! Suck my cock!” I implored, voice echoing in the empty washroom.

He sucked on my bulbous head, pulling my hood with his lips, cheeks billowing and nostrils flaring wide, long fingers juggling my balls. He moved his head forwards, taking more of my cock into
the wet-hot cauldron of his mouth. I teetered on the toilet seat, legs shaking, Dean’s soft, moist lips sliding down my pulsating shaft, consuming me. The man knew his way around a cock; he
had me buried to the blond fur in his mouth and throat in a matter of sweating seconds.

I whimpered, staring down at him staring up at me, only my bushy pubes visible, tickling the man-eater’s flat nose. My whole body started to vibrate, as the time ticked by in super slow
motion, Dean holding me locked in his bulging mouth and throat, his hand crushing my balls, the pressure on my cock and sac incredible, outrageous – and mounting. Shivers of delight stung my
skin and shot all through me. I felt the come rise up my shaft, the sealed-tight steam box of the man’s gripping maw sending me over the edge.

I tried to ride it out, couldn’t. I desperately tapped Dean’s head, and he pulled back, releasing my pent-up prick in a gush of hot spit and pre-come.

“Almost a full minute,” the sexual athlete gasped, grinning. “A new record.”

He grasped my dripping dong and started stroking it again, mouthing it again. He swallowed me all the way down in a dizzying, headlong rush and then slowly pulled back up. Repeated it, sucking
on my pulsating meat, deep-throating with glorious abandon.

I let go of the stall and clung to his head with both hands, pumping my hips, fucking the stud’s oven-hot, ocean-wet mouth in rhythm to his powerful head bobs. “Eat my cock!” I
screamed, churning his mouth.

Dean gripped my hips and held his head still, letting me fuck his mouth, throat-deep, snot bubbling out of his billowing nostrils, teary eyes on my eyes. I crammed the guy’s kisser full of
pistoning dick, faster and faster, my balls boiling and my body burning with approaching ecstasy.

“I’m coming!” I wailed, cock detonating, pulsing hot ecstasy into Dean’s mouth, down his throat. I was jolted by blast after blast of orgasm, clinging to my lover and
wildly churning his mouth, emptying every last ounce of myself inside of him. As he gulped it all down.

Then a buzzer sounded, signalling the end of classes. And almost instantaneously, guys started pouring into the washroom, the outside tunnel alive with students. I ducked my head down and yanked
my spent cock out of Dean’s mouth with a soggy pop, stuffed it back into my underwear and did up my pants. I jumped down off the toilet into Dean’s arms.

He kissed me, lifting me off the tile to meet his hungry mouth. His heavy tongue burst through my lips and thrashed around inside my mouth, giving me a taste of what I’d given him.

“I th-think we better get back to the dorm,” I garbled, chasing his tongue with mine.

He grinned and spun me around, smacked my ass and sent me stumbling out of the stall. “Time-out for now,” he agreed.

As we were exiting the noisy washroom, I looked back and saw a plump, red-faced guy emerge from a stall. He was zipping up his fly, a big, satisfied smile on his mug, too.

Teresa, Stoke-on-Trent

It all happened over the August bank holiday in 1999. Claire and I had been bumping into each other and giving each other a good licking and fisting every now and again since
the day that we’d left school. But sometime around May that year, ideas about fantasy role play and being the naughty little schoolgirl who was punished by the strict headmistress had started
to creep into the conversation and the relationship had become more and more intense.

With one of us wearing our old school uniform and the other dressed in a sharp, stern skirt suit, we would act out our C.P. and teacher-fucking fantasies on each other over and over again. But
the one thing we really wanted to do seemed impossible.

We both wanted to be schoolgirls again and to be punished and abused by a gorgeous blond teacher, just as we had wanted to be when we were at school and were being punished for our
“disgusting and disgraceful behaviour”.

Then finally, after much hard work on Claire’s part, our fantasy would finally come true. Someone would be visiting us at her house over the long weekend.

Claire had been planning it for a month, but refused to say anything about who was visiting. In fact, I didn’t even have a clue as to whether it was a man or a woman!

I tried to get her to tell me but she wouldn’t crack. All I knew was that she was horny as hell at the thought of this person’s visit and that she couldn’t wait for the day to
arrive. She grinned like a Cheshire cat whenever I mentioned it and when we fucked I swear her honey had never tasted sweeter.

Eventually, however, the big day came and I arrived in the afternoon with a bag of my school uniforms and
plenty
of knickers. I had packed some normal clothes as well but when Claire saw
them she said that I shouldn’t have bothered since we’d be schoolgirls all day long.

Taking me by the hand, Claire then took me upstairs and told me to change into my uniform. And eager to find out what was going to happen, I did so as fast as I could.

My pussy was dripping and my breath was quickening as I slipped into my lovely new, white cotton panties. And although I loved all this horny anticipation, it was almost a shame when they were
ruined less than a minute after I put them on.

I was also watching Claire as she got changed into her pleated blue PE skirt, blouse, tie, white knee socks and black shoes.

My heart started to pound in my chest. It was really true. We were both going to be schoolgirls again.

Even while we were both stood side by side in front of the dressing table mirror putting our hair up in pigtails she refused to tell me what was happening. She just stood there grinning and
telling me that ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

I could see how hard her nipples were through the thin cotton of her blouse and that she was standing with her legs tightly crossed, squeezing her pussy with her thighs. She was obviously very
excited about something, and it was getting closer and closer with every tick of the clock.

I pleaded with her to tell me, but she just started giggling like a twelve-year-old and led me back downstairs. And once we were there, we sat cuddled up together on the sofa staring at the
clock and feeling so horny that we both felt like we wanted to explode.

Claire was finally starting to crack under the pressure, but all she would say was that the person would be here at seven o’clock and that if we weren’t both behaving like good girls
when she arrived that she would be very angry indeed.

At least I knew now that we were expecting a woman. But how long would I have to wait before I could lick her out?

Of course, knowing that we had to be good girls was like a red rag to a bull, because the only thing nicer than being naughty was being punished when we were caught.

Claire was the one who started it.

Licking her lips she put her hand between my thighs and started to stroke my pussy through my damp cotton knickers. Groaning with satisfaction, I reached out and caressed her firm ripe tits
through the cloth of her blouse. And in less than a minute, we were hopelessly lost in each other’s arms and fucking each other like a couple of bitches on heat.

By the time the clock struck seven we were both a total mess. And when someone finally knocked at the door we leaped to our feet with shock.

Rushing to the door, we did our best to smarten ourselves up and answered it as curtly as we could, standing side by side and smiling sweetly with our blouses unbuttoned, our knickers around our
ankles and lipstick smeared everywhere that our mouths had been. And as soon as the door opened and I saw the face of our new teacher, I finally realized what Claire had been so horny about.

Standing angrily on the doorstep and towering over us in her four-inch stilettos was Claire’s friend Paula, a woman who I would call Miss Johnson and worship until the day that I die.

She wore a stern, charcoal grey skirt suit with lapels so crisp you could cut your hand on them. Her shoulder-length hair was in a tight bun with not a single strand out of place, and her
expression as she sized us up with her steely cold eyes, peering over her glasses, truly frightened me, but also excited me as well.

We curtseyed to her, lifting the hems of our tiny pleated skirts so that our moist shaven pussies were revealed. I remember that I didn’t dare make eye contact. Even before she had said a
word I was in a submissive and cowering state of mind because she was so domineering that she didn’t even have to try.

Miss Johnson didn’t even say hello. She was obviously disgusted with our appearance, which was just what we’d both wanted. And, tutting with repugnance, she held out her car keys and
told us to run out and fetch her bags from the boot.

Twenty people must have seen us as we did what we were told. But having waited for months, we were both so horny that we honestly didn’t care. So without a second thought, we both
muttered, “Yes, miss,” and curtseyed as we left.

After putting the bags upstairs in the room that Claire had prepared for her, we stood patiently in front of Miss Johnson in the lounge with our hands behind our backs waiting for her to punish
us for our slovenly appearance after our little fuck on the settee.

We stood fidgeting with shame for what felt like a minute as she paced up and down before us, until finally she spoke.

As she lovingly straightened our ties and smoothed down our hair, she asked in a soothing voice what we had been up to.

I said we had been cleaning the house for her, but she was still curious as to how our lipstick had become so smeared and how our knickers had come off.

We were stood as we always had as schoolgirls – hands behind the back and feet apart – so of course we were totally exposed when she put her hands up our skirts and groped our juicy
pussies. And although she knew what we’d been up to and how horny we must have been, I really think that she was shocked to feel just how juicy our pussies actually were.

Fuming and disgusted, she called us lesbian sluts and pulled us one at a time over her knee on the sofa and spanked our bottoms bright pink. And as Miss Johnson spanked me, I actually came so
hard that I sprayed honey all over her hand.

Standing side by side again with tears welling in our eyes as we rubbed our sore bottoms better, she shoved her fingers up our cunts and asked repeatedly if we were slutty lesbians and if we
enjoyed being fisted by her.