The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (23 page)

He asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you today, ma’am?”

At that point I was so aroused it didn’t matter that a complete stranger was standing in front of me while I had my fingers buried inside my pussy. My yard was surrounded by a tall privacy
fence, plus there were not any neighbours close by. So I stood up facing him, slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the ground. I walked over to him and reached out to
undo his pants. I undid the button and pulled the zipper down. I got on my knees and pulled a very large, stiff cock out of his pants.

I moaned and said, “Today is definitely my lucky day,” and I started licking his shaft, circling my tongue all around it right up to the tip. When I reached the tip I wrapped my lips
around him and sucked it in as far as I could. He was so large I couldn’t fit the entire thing in my mouth, but I did my best. Moving my mouth back and forth, I sucked him hard as he thrust
against me. I heard him moan and saw his knees shake. I stopped; he wasn’t going to come yet. I told him to get undressed. He kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his khakis. I led him
over to a large lounge chair.

“Lie down on that chair,” I ordered him.

“Yes, ma’am,” was all he said. He lay down on my lounge chair big enough for two.

I climbed onto the chair, moving in between his legs. My breasts brushed across him as I moved up, positioning myself above him, my hot, aching pussy pressed against his hard throbbing cock. I
stared into his beautiful green eyes. I pressed my mouth against his and he eagerly kissed back. Passionate kisses just the way I liked: lots of lip, not too much tongue.

I reached down to guide him into me; I’d never had something that big inside of me before. I was so wet he slid in easily. I rode him hard, grinding my body against his, feeling his hips
thrust, pushing deeper and deeper inside me. I came hard and fast exploding onto his massive cock.

“Lie down, ma’am. I want to taste you.”

I did what he wanted and he spread my legs wide open then climbed between them. First he kissed my lips, trailed down my neck to my breasts and kissed them, then sucked my nipples, first gently,
then harder. He gently nibbled at them with his teeth. Then he ran his tongue across them and starting moving down until his face was between my thighs. There he licked all around my outer lips,
dipped his tongue in to taste me and then moved up to find my clit.

He was very skilled and knew just what to do. Soon I climaxed again. He licked up all the sweet nectar that flowed out of me, pushed my legs up and back and inserted his hard dick into me again.
Those Southern boys really know how to please a woman. My pussy was still pulsating and I could tell it was driving him wild. He thrust into me hard and fast; I screamed so loud the neighbours
probably thought someone was killing me. He hit places that had never been touched before. He was sweating and moaning, fucking me wildly. I knew he was getting close. He pulled out of me and shot
a stream of semen across my breasts. Breathing heavily he collapsed beside me on the lounge.

“I hope that was satisfactory, ma’am.”

“Oh God, yes, that was wonderful. By the way, my name is Roxanne.”

“Well, Roxanne, my name is Rob and I think I’m hotter and sweatier now than I was to begin with. Do you mind if I take a dip in your pool?”

“No, I don’t mind at all. I think I’m going to join you.”

He stood up and dived into the pool. I grabbed a towel and quickly cleaned off the sticky stuff on my chest and jumped into the pool with him. That man really looked good wet. After he did a few
laps in the pool he swam up behind me and wrapped his arms around my body. I could feel his erection pressing into my back. Wow, already hard again. Not only is this guy gorgeous and hung like a
stallion, he has stamina too! I thought to myself.

He pressed me against the side of the pool and entered me from behind. The water splashed around us as he thrust his big shaft in and out of me. The cool water felt good against our naked bodies
as the hot sun beat down on us. He told me to turn around and face him. My back was now pressed against the side of the pool and I wrapped my legs around him. His cock was angled to rub my clit and
still hit all the right spots deep inside. I could feel the tingling sensation moving throughout my body as he pumped faster and harder into me. I felt the rush of hot semen flood inside me as I
quivered and came with him.

We climbed out of the pool and I gave him a towel. I watched him dry off his gorgeous body, admiring every inch of him. I slipped my dress on and watched him gather up all of his lawn equipment.
All I could think was that he could spread me anytime. He finished and packed his equipment back into the van. I never took my eyes off him.

He walked up to me and handed me the bill along with his business card. “I also do some handyman work on the side and during the winter. My cell number and home number are on the back of
the card, you can call me anytime, for anything.”

“Thank you, I will be calling you.” And I did, every chance I could get.

Jenni, London

A woman is changed for ever by the first proper spanking from her lover’s hand.

Minds find it impossible to recall accurately the bright, sharp clarity of pain. Marks fade from buttocks within an hour or two, within a day or two.

But bodies remember. And for ever after, if you catch her unawares and trace your fingers gently up between the backs of her legs to that place where buttocks and thighs bisect then you will
feel the tiniest shiver of apprehension, an involuntary tensing of muscles . . . no matter how delicate the caress.

At least that’s how it was for Mark and me. We’d met in our second year at uni and for me at least it was love, or more correctly lust, at first sight. Mark played rugby for the
college team and it was some end-of-season bash. I’ve been described as something of an English rose – tall at five feet seven, slim and blond – but at six foot two, Mark still
towered over me. He was well built at fourteen stone, with dark-brown eyes, very short, light-brown hair and as fit as the proverbial butcher’s dog.

We were introduced by a mutual friend and spent most of the evening talking. He turned out to be very much the “gentle giant” – intelligent, thoughtful, considerate and
charming – and pretty much that was that.

“An item” for our final year, we were very much in love and really quite innocently discovering the joys of sex. One other thing I discovered was that I had quite a nasty green-eyed
streak and got terribly jealous if Mark even so much as looked at another girl . . . or even if I caught a girl looking at him. Mark used to find this completely incomprehensible and, worse, I knew
it was one of the few things that actually got under his skin: “I love you and I’ll never give you a reason to mistrust me. But if you don’t trust me, that’s your problem,
not mine,” he used to tell me.

Both lucky enough to get good degrees, without having to work too hard for them, jobs up in London followed: Mark with a City firm and me with a public relations company in Knightsbridge.
We’ve been sharing a flat together in Willesden for coming up to three years.

It was Shari, one of our old college friends, who invited us to a party, almost a reunion, one Saturday evening, at her house on the outskirts of West London, and we had both really looked
forward to going. The party was great, the beer and wine flowed, and we both sort of circulated and chatted, catching up with old friends and gossip.

I’d noticed Mark spending an awful lot of time talking to Zoe – high heels, short skirt, gauzy blouse and too much make-up – who I vaguely remembered as being engaged to Tim.
And then at around half past ten I realized they’d both gone missing.

I gave it about another quarter of an hour and then, quite discreetly, searched the house from top to bottom – bedrooms, bathroom, even the downstairs loo – but there was no sign of
either of them.

It was a warm summer’s evening, dusk had only just fallen, and I went outside and walked up and down and round the block for a while until I saw them, arm in arm, coming towards me from
the opposite direction.

As we neared I could see she was somehow “mussed up”. To this day I don’t know what came over me or why I did it, but I just suddenly lost it.

I slapped Zoe hard, a stinging swipe that left a livid palm print on her cheek made all the more striking as her face went white with shock. “Keep your fuckin’ hands off him, you
slag! He’s mine, d’you understand?” I snarled.

“Jenni, what on earth do you think you’re doing? You don’t understand . . .” Mark began.

“I don’t care! I don’t care! Just tell me you didn’t fuck her, that’s all. Tell me!” I’d grabbed hold of the front of Mark’s shirt and was tearing
at it so furiously that buttons popped and I felt a seam split.

“Tim’s just dumped Zoe. The engagement’s off. She’s really upset and I was just giving her a shoulder to cry on.”

“See! I knew it. Tim doesn’t want her any more and now she’s trying to get her hooks into you. Stay away from him.” I aimed another blow in Zoe’s direction.

Mark grabbed hold of my arm. “That’s it. That’s enough. Sorry about this, Zoe, just get yourself back inside. I’m taking Jenni back home,” and with that he dragged
me away, still kicking and screaming, into the car.

As we drove home I was still white and shaking with adrenaline, scarcely able to believe what I had just done, and beside me, in the driver’s seat, Mark was also white-faced and ominously
quiet.

When we got indoors he left me downstairs, pushed past me and went up to our bedroom. I followed him forlornly a few minutes later and found him packing, a suitcase open on our bed.

“What . . . What are you doing?” I began.

“What does it look like? I’m leaving you. I love you, you know I do. I really do. But I can’t stand this jealousy and tonight was the last straw. I really do think you’ve
got a problem and I don’t know what to do any more.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Don’t know. But I thought I might try Tim since he’s on his own as well,” he said with a bitter laugh.

That was when I lost it completely, when I realized that he was serious, that he meant it. I think I was actually hysterical – love can do that to you. I howled, I sobbed, I begged. I
pulled at my own hair. I pummelled at Mark’s broad chest with both my fists and all my strength until exhaustion forced me stop.

And that was when I threatened to kill myself . . . as soon as he walked out the door.

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

I nodded dumbly and in pain: “I can’t live without you.”

“And I can’t live with you like this.”

There was a long, long silence which grew and grew between us until Mark broke it, speaking slowly and quietly, little more than a whisper: “OK, I’ll give it just one more try. But
you’ve got to change.

“What you did earlier was wrong, dreadfully wrong and unforgivable. I’m going to punish you. I’m going to spank your arse just like a naughty little girl, since you insist on
behaving like one. I’m serious, this is something I should have done a long time ago. I want you to know what it feels like to be hurt, particularly by someone you love. So it’s going
to be a lot more than a couple of playful smacks.

“You’ve got to agree, of course. But if you don’t then I’ll simply carry on packing and leave. You can be quite sure of that.”

And with that he put one finger under my chin and lifted up my tear-stained face until his calm gaze held my own. I nodded my agreement, not trusting myself to speak, still overwhelmed by
events, shocked by what I had just heard and consented to.

Mark continued to stare impassively down at me until I felt compelled to speak: “OK. Yes. Do it now. Let’s get this over with.”

“No, not now. Not like this. It wouldn’t be right. Let’s make it next Friday evening. We’ve got nothing planned for the weekend and you won’t have to worry about
not being able to sit down at work,” he said ominously. Of course he did. I know now that being made to wait, the anticipation and the apprehension, is at least as important as the punishment
itself.

Looking back now I remember the week that followed only as a blur. I struggled through at work on autopilot. I was distracted, found concentrating difficult and caught myself drifting off into
dark reveries – but no one else seemed to notice.

At home things were superficially normal. Mark was his usual kind and considerate self but there was an unspoken tension between us. We didn’t have sex, which was unusual. Normally
we’d make love at least two or three times a week. I even tried to seduce Mark, in fact none too subtly, and he very gently but firmly rebuffed me. This too, I know now, was also all part of
the game.

On Friday we met up after work for a drink, not something we did every day but not entirely out of the ordinary. Mark suggested we ate out – at least in part, I think, to prolong the
moment even further – I declined.

Once we got in I told Mark I was going to fix him something special: good steak, mushrooms and salad, one of his favourites; with a decent bottle of red wine . . . and more than a little Dutch
courage for me. Normally I change as soon as I get in: T-shirt and jeans or jogging bottoms and trainers. But that night Mark insisted I stayed in my business outfit: charcoal two-piece –
jacket and skirt cut just above the knee but with a sexy slit up one thigh – classic white cotton, fitted blouse and black court shoes, not stilettos – too tarty – but still with
a decent heel.

After we’d eaten I cleared away and then we went and sat in the lounge, still each with a glass of wine, and Mark put some Bach on the stereo.

We sat in silence. I could feel myself becoming hot and breathless and my heart hammering within my chest. Eventually I had to give in: “Mark, please. Let’s do it. Let’s get it
over with now.”

“Yes,” he replied, “I think you’re just about ready.”

He made me stand, removed my jacket and then unbuttoned my blouse down to my waist. Then he told me to take off my shoes and pulled down my knickers and tights. Sitting back down on the couch he
motioned me across his lap, my head to his left, and used his tie to bind my hands and secure them around the arm of the couch – not too tightly, but more than enough to let me know I was
helpless and unable to protect myself. Finally he eased my skirt up over my hips until I was naked from the waist down.