The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (64 page)

He then stopped talking and just watched me for a moment and I found I had opened my mouth. I felt like I was listening to someone else talking when it came out.

“You’re hotter than they usually are.”

He never even blinked. “Who?” he pressed. Even though he knew what I was talking about he made me say it anyway.

“Cops.”

He licked his lips lightly and gave me a slow smile that made my panties moist.

“You like cops?” He raised one eyebrow and I noticed he had a dimple in one cheek. A cop with a dimple. I was speechless but managed a short nod.

He sighed and looked towards the door at the rear of the store. “Is that where your surveillance stuff is kept?” He was so casual considering I then knew I could have him if I wanted
him. I felt like I was in one of my fantasies.

I managed another nod as he turned back, eyebrow still raised in question.

“Better check it out for you and make sure it’s all in order; there’ve been a few stores hit in the area.”

I wasn’t sure if this was true but however flimsy the excuse, the important thing was he wanted me in the backroom with him. My legs jerked into action, feeling wobbly with excitement. I
was aware he kept looking at them and my butt as I led him towards the door. His gaze was like a warm light moving over my skin, right through my clothes.

The backroom was in semi darkness, lights off, but the surveillance screens were throwing out a white light. As soon as we’d both cleared the threshold he shut the door quietly behind us.
I didn’t dare turn around but felt him come up behind me as I gazed at the flickering screens, which showed various angles of the store. He said nothing but when he pushed himself against my
backside I could feel his hard cock.

I made a soft noise as he turned me around so I was leaning back against the desk and he pressed against the full length of my body. I suppose I should have been wishing we were both naked but I
wanted to keep looking at him in that uniform.

He held my gaze for a moment, as if checking this was what I wanted, and then pulled the handcuffs off of his belt. He wrapped his arms around me and started handcuffing my hands behind my back.
While he was doing this he leaned in and kissed me. His mouth was hot and hungry. I was so wet by that time that my thighs were sticky. I was being kissed by a hot cop who was handcuffing me, what
more could a girl ask for?

When my hands were trapped he leaned back and slowly, very slowly, unzipped the front of my dress. Pushing it back a bit he surveyed my breasts and then bent down to nibble at them. Sliding one
hand behind me, he undid my bra and they sprung out to meet him. His warm hands were suddenly working at them as he kissed my neck. My breathing was coming in short gasps and whimpers. The whole
sight was almost too much for me.

He slid a hand up my thigh and I could feel him smile as he discovered how hot and wet my panties were. He then slipped his fingers under the elastic of my panties and into me.

I couldn’t help it, I mewed. It’s the only way to describe the noise that came out of me. I loved it. I wanted more though. I wanted to play out what I’d spent so many evenings
imagining. I wanted to take out my frustration on him.

I surprised him when I dropped to my knees on the floor but he quickly understood as I gazed up at him from his crotch level, eyes wide with pleading.

He managed to unzip and expose his cock without taking a thing off. I was glad because it was the most delicious experience to suck him into my mouth like an errant citizen under arrest.

He was salty with pre-come and I relaxed my throat to take him deeply. His breathing deepened but he said nothing, didn’t even thrust. He was getting me to do the work and his hands were
on his hips.

I was only down there for a little bit before he hauled me to my feet, spun me around and bent me over the table. He used his knee like I’d seen them doing when patting someone down and he
parted my legs. There was a sound of elastic on skin and I wasn’t wearing panties any more. He slid himself straight into me, his balls pressing into my buttocks.

Again I surprised myself by crying out in need. He started to thrust, firmly and deeply, holding me by the handcuffs. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his face, expression unchanged, and
I could feel the things on his belt smacking on my buttocks as he fucked me.

It was my dream come true. My hot young cop was now grinning at my whimpering. He had the power and we both loved it. He knew my weakness for his get-up and pulled out, spinning me round
quickly. He lifted me up to sit me on the desk. I lay back to enjoy the view as he entered me again and resumed thrusting. The look on his face was one of complete authority.

As I felt my muscles start clenching for climax I allowed my eyes to drink up his hands gripping my hips, the gun on his belt swinging gently. Then I was gone, dropping over the edge of blissful
oblivion and sighing softly. My climax must have been all he was waiting for because as soon as he saw it petering out he pulled himself up to kneel over my face on the desk. I remember sort of
wishing my hands were free to grip his buttocks as he rode my face. I listened to his soft sighs as I swallowed down a mouthful of young law enforcement greedily. To me he tasted divine.

As soon as he’d finished he jumped off the desk. I sat myself up and watched him put himself away. He then leaned forwards and put his arms around me to undo the cuffs. I buried my face in
his neck and took a deep breath of his musky scent, a mix of sweat and cologne.

He then stepped back to clip the cuffs back on his belt, winked, and left the room.

I recall that as the door swung slowly shut I watched his tight arse in his uniform pants as he strode over to the counter. I then quickly clipped my bra up, pulled my panties back on and zipped
myself back into the red dress.

When I emerged he had gone and so had the coffees. I found his money on the counter and slowly rung the sale up in the till, gazing out the window into the night. My lips still tasted of him, my
thighs still wet with my arousal.

As I said, best night of my life.

R.C., Danville

I wanted my wife just as much as he seemed to, judging by the huge rock in his jeans. My wife, Cindy, probably figured Rick was horny watching her dance in front of us in her
bare feet. She tried to act oblivious to his reaction, but periodically I caught her checking out his bulge, which was by no coincidence much larger now than it had been when he had first arrived
over four hours ago. Not to say he did not try to hide it with his hands rested on his lap, but this method proved futile when each swig of his beer exposed the beast.

Rick and I also pretended not to pay much attention to her, but this was hard to do.

“Who needs another beer?” Rick asked.

“Grab me one,” I said.

“I’ll take one,” answered my wife, still shaking her taut, compact ass in her chequered, flannel pyjama bottoms, while hip-hop music bumped from the stereo speakers. It was a
style of music I ordinarily would not want played, but as the scene was such a turn-on, I did not complain. Ken Russell’s film
Salome’s Last Dance
played out mutedly on the
television screen.

We all seemed to be buzzing pretty good from the beer that we picked up after going to the restaurant, on top of the margaritas we had at dinner. We decided to continue our fun at home rather
than hitting the bars, to save money. Rick was an old friend who lived over 200 miles away in a smaller city in central Illinois. We had worked construction there together until I completed my
bachelor’s degree in computer science and moved to Chicago. It had been the Windy City where I had met Cindy, shortly after the move. She had at the time been working two jobs – at a
retail store in the day and tending bar at night. We had married almost exactly one year ago. Rick had been one of the groomsmen, and that was the last time either of us had seen him. He had always
been a good friend: easy to talk to and a fun drinking companion. He was physically much better built for construction work than I had been.

Rick returned from the kitchen with the beers. “Did I miss anything?” he asked.

“Cindy just flashed her tits,” I joked.

“Damn, and I missed it?”

“Here, I’ll do it again.” She pulled up her pyjama top halfway and – likely inadvertently – flashed the bottom of her breasts. She was not wearing a bra.

“Wooo,woo!” hollered Rick. “That’s some wife you got there, buddy.”

“You’re telling me.” I could not believe she did it.

I had always had fantasies of Cindy taking on me and another man; and Cindy and I had played games in which she spoke of other men she would like to screw, while we fucked. Of course, those were
only games. But when she had talked like that, in some mysterious way it made me both extremely jealous and extremely horny at the same time. It had brought on a tension so intense that not only
would a heavy come release it, but it would also invariably result in a heavy come. I had always nailed her as hard as I could during those games. I had never thought in a million years that a
penis other than mine would actually penetrate her.

Watching her now, dancing like a whore in front of us, and her likely knowing that she was turning Rick on – and with the effect the alcohol had on me – I decided I would try to have
my darling wife do a threesome with Rick and me.

As we all tipped back a few more beers, my wife became a little tipsy. She finished the rest of the champagne Rick had brought over, and the empty bottle slipped from her hand and dropped to the
floor. The opened end of the bottle pointed towards Rick. “Well, looks like you have to take your shirt off,” my wife said to Rick and laughed.

Rick laughed too and looked at me a bit self-consciously. Apparently he did not know how I was taking this sexual bantering between the two of them and was trying to read my expression. When my
wife went to the kitchen to grab another round of beers, I broke the ice with, “Looks like she likes you,” and chuckled.

I was pretty sure, from knowing him, that Rick would be up for a threesome; and my wife was one sexy woman: adorable face; long, wavy brown hair; firm tits, and – as mentioned – a
great ass. What I did not know was whether my wife would be up for it. I knew I had to think strategically for this to work.

“Hey, your shirt is still on,” said my wife, returning to the living room with the three beers.

“Yeah, so is yours,” I interjected.

“Well, I can fix that,” my wife said, pretending she was going to remove her pyjama top and once again exposing only the bottoms of her breasts. She dropped two of the cans of beer.
Leaning over to pick them up, with the pyjama top being loose and having the top two buttons undone, my wife’s tits were in plain view for Rick and me, nipples and all. I actually saw
Rick’s boner moving in his pants.

Cindy struggled to pick up the two cans of beer and in the process dropped the third can – good thing none were opened. She dropped to her knees to retrieve the beers. Either Rick or I
could have leaned off the couch to help her out, but we were busy enjoying the view of my wife’s jiggling tanned boobs. She picked up one can and handed it to me; she picked up another and
crawled over to Rick, laying it in his crotch. She grabbed the third can and climbed up onto the middle cushion of the sofa, between Rick and me. She sat straddling both Rick’s leg and my leg
closest to her – she was in a leg spread. Maybe this would not be as difficult as I had thought.

“How about a foot massage?” she asked, looking at us both and extending her pretty feet.

“You heard her, Rick.”

Rick appeared hesitant, and then grabbed hold of her left foot, rubbing it as I massaged her right foot.

“Mmmm,” my wife responded. I noticed her eyelids were drooping and knew I had better act before she passed out. I was hoping the foot massage to be foreplay, not a sleeping aid.

I held the side of her head, inched closer to her and began French kissing her, placing my other hand on her thigh. This seemed to rouse her. Rick continued on her foot. The implausible suddenly
seemed plausible – I was in perfect position to get a three-way started.

My next statement could have been crossing the line – the point of no return – except I knew I could pretend I was joking, in light of the situation. “Why don’t you suck
her toes, Rick?”

My wife stopped kissing me.

She looked at me, studying me. I went too far, I thought. In a hushed tone – her former giddiness no longer seeming present – she asked, “Are you sure?” And I knew she
was not merely asking about the toe-sucking – which Rick delayed acting upon; she was asking,
Are you sure you want to share me with your friend?

“Yes,” I whispered back.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

My wife briskly repositioned herself and said, “You heard the man; suck my toe!” She crammed her toes into Rick’s mouth to his obvious astonishment. Seeing my look of approval,
he held her foot in both hands and sucked on her big toe. My wife breathed heavily as she unzipped my fly, pulled out my cock and began gobbling it up. Of all the blow jobs I’d had prior to
our marriage, my wife gave the best. She sucked in corkscrew fashion, twisting her head from side to side as she moved her lips up and down my shaft.

“Rick, go ahead and play with my ass,” Cindy said, and I nodded my approval to him. Rick began groping my beloved wife’s ass through her soft pyjama bottoms while continuing to
suck on her toes.

“You’re doing a good job on those toes, Rick. Why don’t you eat her pussy?” I suggested, floating in and out of consciousness from sheer pleasure.

“Yeah . . . eat my pussy, Rick!” exclaimed my wife, sassily, as she got on her knees – still on the couch – and pushed her ass out towards Rick.

Rick wasted no time in removing Cindy’s pyjama bottoms and laying his tongue to her snatch from behind. He must have been inhaling the sent of her luscious ass because his nose was right
up her butt crack.