Confessions (3 page)

When his hand slid down to unbutton the top button of my blouse, I didn't protest.

In fact, I made a point of arching my back, showing him just how eager I was. And god, I was. His hands moved under my bra, kneading my breasts the same way they'd massaged my shoulders, making me squirm in the chair. I tilted my head back to look up at him, and that's when he leaned in to kiss me, his mouth hungry on mine, sucking my tongue immediately in.

"Oh god," I whispered against his mouth when one of his hands slid down, cupping my pussy through my skirt. He rubbed me like that for a while as we kissed, fingering my nipple, making me writhe against him. At first, I worried about getting caught-a custodian coming in maybe. But as things progressed, I forgot all about anything but the sensation, the feel of him against me, and my desire for more.

He pulled me out of the chair and we were locked together for a moment, our clothes a nuisance as we rubbed our bodies against one another, each of us looking for a way in. He pulled my skirt up, cupping my ass in both hands as I fumbled with his belt, too distracted by the way he was spreading my cheeks to make any progress.

"Let me," he said.

And I did. He turned me around and bent me over the desk, shoving my skirt up over my hips and pulling down my panties. I wasn't wearing stockings at all-although I was supposed to be-and when his fingers slid inside of me, I thought I was going to pass out from pleasure. He groaned as my muscles clenched over his pumping fingers and leaned in to kiss my pussy like that, sitting in the chair behind me and shoving his face between my legs.

"Oh!" That was all I could say, over and over and over. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" I rocked back against his tongue as it lashed between my wet, naked slit. He found my clit and stayed there, eating me with such a greedy hunger my body trembled with the force of it. It didn't take me long to come in his mouth. I warned him softly, still aware that what we were doing could get us both in very big trouble, "John, you're gonna make me come…."

He just made a soft, eager noise in his throat, licking me faster, pressing me toward climax, and I gave him just what he wanted, shuddering on the desk as I came, spreading my legs wide and shoving my pussy against his face as my orgasm shook through me. I was still recovering when he stood up behind me and unbuckled his belt.

Just the sound made me pant and quiver with lust and I turned to look at him over my shoulder, to see what I might expect, and was happily surprised at the thick length of him as he shuttled his hand up and down his stiff cock before positioning himself behind me.

He didn't ask, but he didn't have to. I reached back with both hands to spread myself for him as an offering, making him gasp as he let the head of his cock disappear between my pussy lips. He grabbed onto my hips to pull me in, driving himself deep, and I took every bit of him, going up even further on my toes in my heels. I glanced at the door, giving a fleeting thought again to the danger of the moment, but then he pulled back and began to really fuck me and all thought fled.

"Oh fuck!" I gasped, giving in to the thick slide of his cock, my pussy still fluttering a little from my climax. I was wet and ready for him and I grabbed back and hung onto his wrists as he began to drive me forward onto the desk, feeling his fingers clenching, digging into the flesh of my hips and ass. "Oh god, John, that's so fucking good!"

"You like that?" he asked, moving faster now, shoving deeper. I gasped in response, feeling my pussy contract around his length. "Come on, baby, rub your pussy for me."

I did what he asked, needing little encouragement to slide my hands underneath me, opening my slit and using my finger to nudge my clit toward a delicious release. I gave into all of it as he fucked me, seeing one of our student's papers through half-closed eyes-Brad Haley, whose conduct was satisfactory and whose grade was in the B range. I rested my cheek on Brad's progress report and wondered what he'd think if he knew his student-teacher was being fucked on the very desk she taught from every day, her breasts swinging free of unbuttoned blouse and pulled-down bra, her ass up in the air as she begged for more.

"Oh yes! Yes! Fuck me harder, baby! Harder! Give me that big cock! Give it to me!"

"Oh god your pussy feels so good…" John leaned into me, splaying me on the desk, and I squirmed beneath him as our motion sent number two pencils rolling and progress reports sailing off the edge to flutter to the floor. His cock seemed to be swelling inside of me, filling me deeper as he fucked me even harder. He grabbed one of my legs behind the knee, shoving it up onto the desk so I was spread even wider for him.

"Oh that's good!" I cried, feeling the angle change, his cock getting even more of me now. I rubbed my clit faster as he fucked me, using two fingers on either side of it as I arched back to take him, wanting more, more. I was so close to climax, my thigh muscles taut and trembling, my pussy on fire with the heat of our fuck.

He grabbed my ass in both hands and I begged him to come, feeling my own orgasm begin with a shuddering surge. The rapid squeezing of my fluttering pussy around his cock must have sent him over, because I felt him tremble and grip me hard as he buried himself into me. I moaned and squirmed on the desk, whispering things I don't even remember as he filled me with his cum.

Most of the progress reports were salvageable, if a bit wrinkled from our foray onto the desk. We didn't finish them that day. Instead we shoved them into John's briefcase and went back to his place to do it all over again, this time bent over a chair in his living room, and later in the softness of his bed, and then in the heat of the shower…

We never took a chance at the school again, like we had that night-instead we found other places to meet to indulge in our pleasurable little secret. Eventually, the job ended, and so did our affair. But it was hot-incredibly hot — while it lasted.

When I was a teenager, we lived in a condominium complex with very, very thin walls. Not only could I hear my parents having sex-my girlfriends and I labeled my mother “Lassie” — think Kim Cattrell in Porky’s-but my room happened to be right next to the neighbors’ bedroom. My mother was loud, yes-but all she really did was moan.

There were no real words, not even a “yes” or “oh god!” Just lots of feminine noise.

My neighbor, on the other hand…

The funny thing is, she was the most straight-laced, button-down, uptight woman on the face of the planet by day. She was my best friend, Sarah’s, mother, the woman who insisted we take our shoes off the moment we walked in the door, who required coasters under every glass, and who took down and washed her curtains twice a week.

Tall, thin, with short, blonde hair and bright blue eyes behind sensitive-80’s-glasses, she wasn’t what anyone would really consider a sexual powerhouse.

At night, however, Mrs. L turned into an animal. This was the woman who taught me-at a rather young age, and of course, unbeknownst to her-how to talk dirty.

Really, really dirty. The sound of the headboard against the wall usually woke me up, a rhythmic pounding. I knew exactly what the bed looked like, where it was placed. I could even imagine Mrs. L, naked and spread wide, Mr. L towering between her legs. I have to admit, the thought excited me. Mr. L always had a ready smile, he liked to tease us girls, and once, I’d been spending the night over there and had walked by their bedroom on the way to the bathroom and saw him snoring away, covers thrown off, his cock standing straight up, hard as a rock.

It wasn’t Mr. L I heard, though. It was Mrs. L, telling him what to do.

“Come on! Fuck me harder! That’s it! Ream that hot, wet little cunt!” I told you it was dirty.

My face flushed in the darkness, but the ache grew between my legs as I listened. I couldn't believe it was Mr. and Mrs. L on the other side of that wall, rutting together on their bed in total abandon. "Give me that big dick! Come on! Ahhhh god, that's so good! "The fire that spread through my body at those words was so hot I thought I'd explode. I couldn't help touching myself. My pussy begged for it, and I gave in, pulling my nightgown up, my panties aside. I was wet already, just from listening. My fingers slid easily between my slit, parting the soft, red pubic hair and searching in the darkness for my throbbing clit. It always thrilled me when I heard him, too. Mostly it was just her, but sometimes I heard him growl or grunt something low and oh, so hot: "Get on your knees, bitch! Suck it! Suck it!" Then I wouldn't hear anything for a while, but I didn't stop rubbing, the delicious sensation growing between my thighs as I tweaked my nipples through my nightgown. I strained to hear something, anything, trying to imagine Mrs. L on her knees like he told her, sucking his cock. I'd had a cock in my mouth before, I knew what it felt like, the insistent thrust, the tangy taste of precum. "Oh god, yes!" Her voice rose, grew closer somehow, and I arched toward the wall, my fingers buried in my wetness. "You like me bent over for you, baby? You like fucking me like a dog?"

The heat of her words made me want to hide my face in the pillow, but my fingers worked faster, harder under the covers.

"That's it, don't stop! Oh god, don't you fucking stop! You're gonna make me come all over that big, hard tool!"

Mrs. L was a slut. A naughty, dirty whore. She said so herself. "Fuck your little whore! Fuck her 'til she comes!"

I heard him groan, long and low, and that made me twist and buck on my little twin bed, hearing her finally lose her words, lost in her orgasm, just moaning with it now, over and over and over. My climax found theirs and I came, too, whimpering and shoving my hips up to meet the wet thrust of my own fingers, shuddering with pleasure as the sound of their coupling faded.

I always had a hard time looking them in the eye the day afterward. Of course, they didn't know I'd heard. And I never said anything. But they sure taught me a lot, late at night, after everyone else was asleep…

It's been over ten years ago, now, that my ex and I were separated, and I flew to Chicago to meet a cyber lover. Dan was a former DJ, charming, arrogant, cocky, and a staunch Republican. We were like gasoline and a match- the sparks flew. I was twenty-five, separated with two kids. He was thirty-something, a year out of a serious relationship with the "love of his life" and liked kids… the way some people like cats…

"with a nice honey glaze sauce."-Those were his exact words.-I don't know what I was thinking. Okay, I know. I thought I was in love. I probably really was. But it was doomed from the start. Still, love doesn't pay attention to that, does it?

Perhaps my body knew, because I got my period the Friday I left. It started heavy and fast and I called him in tears, because of course, after all the cyber sex and phone sex, real sex was definitely on the menu. I had new lingerie and had planned not to wear any panties on the forty-five minute flight. My body had other ideas. He comforted me on the phone, said it was okay, we'd just spend the weekend together doing… other things.

And we did. We kissed the minute I got off the plane. We kissed a lot that weekend. We cuddled a lot. I certainly alleviated my oral fixation more than once with him. And Chicago was a fine town to play in. It really was a good time, and I remember it fondly. In fact, when Sunday rolled around, neither of us wanted to go home. We walked, hand in hand, through Union Station, where he was going to meet his train. It's very stately and beautiful, and we spent an hour or so on one of those benches. We didn't talk much — but we felt a lot.

Considering how things ended up, I'm glad I had an excuse not to have sex that weekend, but at the time, I was simply aching to be with him. I spent the whole time in a constant state of arousal. The anticipation for our meeting was incredible and I didn't know how I was going to make it through. But I did — the entire 48 or so hours — with no orgasm. He had a few, and giving him those made me so filled with lust I thought I was going to burst. But I just rode the waves, let them ebb and flow. The problem was, each time, the water got higher. And higher. And higher.

Until I put my head in his lap on that bench. He stroked my hair and told me how beautiful I was. I rested my cheek against his crotch and felt him beginning to harden.

When I smiled up at him and asked, he admitted, yes… seeing me curled up on the bench was turning him on. It was winter, and I was wearing jeans and high suede boots and a little black sweater that my nipples poked right through — and not from the cold.

When his hand brushed one on its way to my hip, it made me shiver.

"Are you turned on?" he whispered, glancing around at the people milling through the station.

I nodded. "Since the first time you kissed me…"

He smiled. "You once told me you could make yourself come without using your hands…"

It was true. I'd done it before, in certain situations, when I was extremely aroused and couldn't, for whatever reason, touch myself. I hadn't climaxed once all weekend, and my whole body was on fire with need. I glanced around, unsure, seeing the light in his eyes. There was no one sitting on our bench, but there was a man reading the paper across from us. New people were constantly coming in and out of the station, up and down the stairs. He wanted me to make myself come… in such a public place? Could I do it, without touching myself?

"Do it for me." His hand moved upward, cupping my breast. The movement of his thumb over my nipple was hidden, as I was curled up toward the back of the bench, my cheek resting against the line of his zipper. The sensation went straight to my clit, making my pussy come alive almost instantly, like a cat that had just been waiting for its prey to make a sudden move. My body pounced on the idea and I began to squeeze my thighs together, moving my hips in almost imperceptible circles.

He watched me, his eyes shining, his thumb moving faster over my nipple through the fabric of my sweater. I felt my clit rubbing against the seam of my jeans — a useful stimulant under the circumstances — and tried to control my movements. I wanted to writhe and buck and twist on that bench, to come so hard people on the incoming train could hear me. But I stayed quiet… my breath coming faster, growing shaky, my face flushing with the heat of my pleasure.