Confessions (2 page)

I couldn't say anything-my mouth was too full of him-but I felt my climax coming and it made me suck him even harder. I was going crazy all over his cock, sucking and slurping, the noises obscene and thick in the front seat of the car, the windows fogging with our panting breath. I was coming with his cock buried in my throat, gagging on it at the same time as I rocked with my orgasm, fucking his hand, wanting more, more, more.

He cried out then… and it happened. I cried out, too, in surprise, as thick, hot jets of cum flooded my tongue. I didn't know what to do but swallow it, wincing as the acrid taste slid down my throat. It just kept coming, and he shuddered and grabbed my head, keeping me there, filling my mouth to overflowing again, so I had to swallow, and again, god, so much of it, hot, pulsing waves of it as he cried, "Oh fuck, oh god, oh yeahhhh baby yeah!"

He kissed me when it was over. Pulled my mouth to his and kissed me-hard. He thanked me, too, and whispered into my ear what a good girl I was. I wanted to do it again. He was soft, now, cock and balls just a fleshy mass at the base of his zipper, and when I reached for him, he stopped me. Still, the longing in me didn't stop. I wanted more.

We had sessions after that-and I learned a great deal about how to suck his cock, how to make him wait for it, how to tease him and take him to the edge. But I'll never forget that first time, the sweet surprise of it, and the longing to suck, and suck, and suck… for that sweet good girl reward.

It’s no secret that I’ve been with women before. I was with girls long before I was with boys, actually. My first real sexual experiences were experimenting with girlfriends,

“practicing” how to kiss, first on pillows, then using our tongues. My best friend, Shawn, was a year old than I was, and her mother was divorced and had some interesting things for us to explore in her bedroom. The first was a huge illustrated copy of the “Joy of Sex.” We read about how to touch ourselves, how to suck a cock. We lay on the bed together, flipping pages, our faces burning, our hearts racing, our sweet pussies aching.

After a few times of doing this, Shawn decided to show me what was in her mother’s top drawer. I hadn’t seen one yet, although I would later discover my mother’s, too. It was the standard issue white vibrator, circa 1970-something, the kind that took two D-or was it C? — batteries and got incredibly hot after it had been turned on a while. That first time, I just watched her. Shawn was absolutely shameless about her body and her desires. She pulled her shorts and panties down to her knees — it was the middle of summer — and spread her legs wide. The hair between her legs was dark and thick, and the inside of her pussy was shockingly pink as she spread her lips and began to rub her clit with the humming end of the vibrator.

She watched me watching her through half-closed eyes for a while, until her hips starting moving all by themselves, and her eyes finally closed, and I might as well have not even been there for all the attention she paid me. She was completely lost in the sensation, and I cupped my own pussy over the satin of my shorts, pressing hard against the ache as I watched her breasts rise and fall, her nipples harden under her t-shirt. It didn’t take her long to get off. She made these high, squeaky noises just before she was going to come, and then her whole body trembled with it, her back arching, her face flushing, her soft moans growing louder. We were both breathless when she was done, and then she handed the vibrator to me, still wet with her juices, and said, “Your turn.”

I felt shy, embarrassed, but my whole crotch was on fire, and the hum of the vibrator in my hands drove me on. I had to know if it felt as good as it looked like it did.

So I slid my shorts down over my hips and spread my legs, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t see her watching me. The first touch of the vibrator to my clit made me cry out in surprise and my eyes opened wide. Shawn smiled and nodded. “I know. Keep going.” I did.

Oh, god, I did. The delicious buzz against my young, tender clit drove me wild and I rubbed and rubbed the tip against that sweet nub. It was still slick from Shawn’s pussy and growing wetter as I worked it through my wet slit.

“Oh god, Shawnie, oh my god it’s so good. I can’t stand it. I can’t…”

“Come on,” she whispered, and I saw her through half-closed eyed, rubbing herself again as she watched me, her t-shirt up over her breasts now, her nipples poking straight out. “That’s it, come on, come on.” I couldn’t hold out anymore, although I wanted it to last forever. My hips pressed up as I came, my legs spreading wide, wider.

My climax shook me, the bed, Shawn, too, her fingers buried in the thick dark hair between her legs, working hard and fast as she rubbed herself as she watched me, both of us panting and crying out as we came.

Embarrassed now, I rolled to my belly and turned off the vibrator, pushing it away from me on the bed, as if it were possessed — or had it possessed me? Shawn collapsed next to me, breathing hard, her eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile on her face. We lay like that for a long time before we got up, got dressed, and went downstairs to get something to eat. We didn’t talk about it then. We didn’t even talk about it later, really. But we didn’t stop. It might have been the first time we used her mother’s vibrator together… but it was far from the last.

I was separated from my first husband for about nine months in our fifth year of marriage. It's a long story, but suffice to say we were living in his parents' basement at the time, he was failing college classes left and right, and we had two small children to take care of. I graduated college that year and moved out. Took the kids with me and got a job. I was done waiting for him to grow up. I thought our marriage was over. We ended up back together for another three years… but I didn't know it was going to turn out that way at the time.

When I got married, other men ceased to exist. I can honestly say I didn't even think about sex with other men. When I fall in love, I fall pretty completely. After we were separated, though, the whole world of men suddenly opened up to me again. They were noticing me-not that they'd ever really stopped, but more importantly, I was noticing them. For a while, I was staying with a friend, and I happened to notice her ex-fiance, Rob.

He was in the service and heading back to Europe on Sunday and staying at her place because it was closer to the airport. I think there had always been a low-grade attraction between us, but I hadn't noticed because I was married and he was with my friend. Then they broke up, and I was separated, and he and I spent the evening in her living room while everyone else was asleep. Rob played guitar, and I'm a sucker for a guy with a guitar. I insisted he sing every song he knew how to play, and when he ran out of those, we just sang together into the night. Before we knew it, it was two in the morning, and things were happening.

He put his hands on my shoulders, and I didn't say anything. I leaned back between his legs, and he didn't say anything. He slid down onto the floor from the couch and put his arms around me. I tilted my head back and up and him, searching his eyes, and that was really the moment we both said yes. I hadn't said "yes" to another man in years. I was nervous, excited. I didn't know what to expect.

I felt like a teenager, fumbling with his clothes, mine, rolling around on the floor, our mouths hungry, our hands eager. In spite of the fact that my friend had told me about his incredible size-13 inches-they measured-I was still surprised when I found his cock in my hand. I've never seen anything that big before or since. Funny, he seemed just as eager to get my top off to expose my sizeable breasts, much bigger than my friend's perky ones.

We reveled in the newness of each other for a while, and before I knew it, he was kneeling up over me, that monster of a cock pressing against my lips. I opened for him, tried to take him, gagged a few times-my god, he was so big. My jeans were undone, my hand shoved down my pants as I sucked him, rubbing furiously at my clit, delirious with lust. Not only was I having sex with my friend's ex-fiance-I was still technically married, and my friend was sleeping in the bedroom right above us and could come down at any time. The sound of a toilet flushing upstairs surprised us both, and he completely lost it, coming in a flood in my mouth. We separated quickly, and I pulled my clothes together, going upstairs and finding the bathroom empty again. I took a quick shower, feeling horribly guilty-but I couldn't help touching myself, shuddering against the tiles, remembering the feel of his cock in my mouth and wondering what it would feel like shoved up inside of me.

The next day, he and I flirted mercilessly, finding every opportunity to touch each other, rub up against each other, while my friend wasn't looking. I had planned to go back home that day while I knew my ex and his parents were out of town to get some more of my stuff. When I mentioned this, Rob offered to come with me as "protection"-

just in case my ex showed up. We both knew why he was really coming along, and I'd barely opened the door when we were on each other. There were no pretenses. We both knew exactly what we wanted, and could continue, uninterrupted-and we did.

We ended up in the bedroom, our clothes coming off quickly, both of us in a hurry, even though we didn't have to be. The experience of being with another man after so long was dizzyingly exciting. His kisses were different, he touched me differently, and the newness of it all made me incredibly wet. When he hooked his arms around my legs, pushing them back so he could slide himself deep inside of me, I was more than ready. I begged him to fuck me-hard. And he did, his mouth crushing mine, his cock like a steel rod rammed between my thighs, again and again. I couldn't get enough of him. I didn't know where all this crazy lust had come from, but I gasped and panted and begged him for more, more, please, more, give it to me harder, god, don't ever stop…

When he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him and impaling me on his enormous length, I thought I'd faint from pleasure for a moment. I rocked on that hard cock until I took us both right up to the edge, his mouth teasing first one of my nipples, then the other, his thumb rubbing my clit as I fucked him. He gave me a little warning, just a whispered, "Wait." But I couldn't stop. I was too close.

I ground my hips down against his, squeezing him with my muscles, leaning in to kiss him as I came, feeling him shudder under me, his body bucking, our bellies slick with sweat as we writhed together on the bed. I felt every pulse of his cock-he was so big inside of me, shoved so deep, that his cum immediately began to overflow and pool between us. I haven't talked to him since that day. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a sly wink before he left for the airport the next day, and that was it. I wasn't disappointed, though. I never told my friend. Or my husband-even after we later got back together. It's just something that seemed better served being held secret. Until now.

For a while there, I was going to be an English teacher. I even did a semester of student teaching. And I got an A. Although I still wonder sometimes if that was because I earned it grading high school essays about "Why Ms. Kitt is My Favorite Teacher Ever"

written by students who thought I was "cool"-or if it was because I was fucking their

"real" teacher.

Or, more aptly, he was fucking me. I didn't start it. At least, I didn't make the first move. Does that count? Would it hold up in court? We were both adults-aside from the ethics of the thing, there wasn't really anything wrong with what we were doing. But it felt wrong. It felt so very wrong, and maybe that's why it felt so incredibly good.

Mr. Kennedy-his name was actually John, believe it or not-was a hot young teacher, and all the girls had crushes on him. I couldn't blame them. He was just thirty-something, with dark hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck and even darker eyes that radiated heat whenever he looked at me. He was charming and cocky and loved to crack goofy jokes with the kids that pushed the limits of propriety-almost.

He hovered on the edge of dangerous all the time, and I liked to sneak up behind him to see if I could convince him to go over.

And one day-he did. We were both staying late, completing progress reports, which involved a dizzying amount of sharpening number two pencils so we could fill in the correct circles on computerized forms. We talked about the kids, we talked about our lives-he wasn't married and was in between girlfriends. There had been plenty of flirting and innuendo between us, and I think we both knew what we wanted. The question was-did we dare?

It was just a subtle shift. I uncrossed and crossed my legs in the soft, respectable-length gray skirt I was wearing, hanging one heel off the edge of my bare foot and rolling my neck.

"Tired?" he asked, putting down his pencil.

I nodded, yawning and stretching, feeling my blouse pull out of the waistband of my skirt a little. "But it could be worse. Most teachers make their student-teachers do all the drudge work like this. At least you help with that part… and you let me do the fun stuff, too."

He smiled-god that smile! — and stretched, too. "The fun stuff is the best part. I wouldn't exclude you from that."

"I appreciate it." I said exactly what I meant. I think he knew it. Without saying anything, he came and stood behind me, sliding his big hands over my shoulders and squeezing. I groaned and rolled my neck back, unable to resist. "God, that feels good!"

"Does it?" He said it like a question, but it wasn't one. He knew. His fingers kneaded my muscles and I relaxed back against him, feeling the hard muscles of his belly, the bite of his belt buckle. I think I knew what was going to happen, and my body was tingling with anticipation. I moaned softly, and the room sounded like sex long before I was actually bent over the progress reports in front of us.