The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (52 page)

Her fingers curled around me, she had me large enough to fill her and then some, and she squeezed me tightly, studying my face to enjoy my reaction, grinning to see me grimace as she tugged at
me.

“No! No! No!” her aunt suddenly cried out, slamming her book shut, and my eyes flashed open to see her striding across the room towards us.

“Oh Christ!” I groaned, trying to rise from the sofa.

Yolanda kept firm hold of me, but only until her aunt reached us and slapped her hand away.

“No! No! No!” she said again. “Not like that, niece! You grip it like a club when you should be holding it like a brush, like a pen, something to be creative with!”

And before I had a chance to cover myself she was kneeling before us, taking hold of the cock Yolanda had relinquished.

“Take it as a conductor might take up his baton,” she told her niece, gripping me with the lightest of touches. And to me she simply said, “Be still!”

As if to help keep me still Yolanda wrapped an arm around my neck to hold me to her and casually stroked my cheek as she gazed with interest at my lap.

I was astonished, aghast, lost for words and . . . growing harder than ever under the soft caress of this older woman.

Her fingertips ran lightly along the underside of my cock, from base to tip, at which point her nails grazed it, her thumb stroked once over the head.

“You see, Yolanda, how responsive a man can be with the right treatment?” she said, as my cock danced and pricked erect for her.

“Yes, Maria.” Yolanda nodded, her gaze rapt, like a student attentive to her tutor.

“Right, you try,” Maria said, releasing my cock and then slipping her hand beneath my balls to lift my genitals for her niece.

Yolanda’s touch was as feather light as her aunt’s this time; the soft pads of her fingers barely seemed to touch me as they ran along my shaft. The briefest brush of her thumb
across the tip of my cock was such an exquisite delight that it brought an audible sob from me.

“You see, Yolanda? You can make him sing, you can make him dance, you can make him do anything you like,” said Maria, moving her hand around in small circles so that my balls rolled
about her palm.

My eyes shivered open to check that what was happening was no dream, saw Yolanda looking down with longing at my evergrowing cock, her aunt Maria gazing directly into my face, her expression
still a little stern, a little cold.

But then, as if she had just been waiting to get my attention, her face softened, she smiled at me and raised her free hand to the neck of her blouse.

“Of course, it is also possible to excite a man by exciting ourselves,” she said, speaking to her niece but her eyes never leaving mine, burning into me as she slowly, almost
fastidiously, began to unbutton her blouse.

Maria’s bra, inevitably, was of black lace, and in contrast to this and the parted blouse which hung like a jet curtain to either side, her pale flesh took on the stark translucence of
marble. She ran her hand over one breast, then the other, until I was aware of the nipples pricking against the fabric. Then she rose up on her knees and slipped one hand inside her bra to bare a
breast.

I was now so hard in her niece’s tender hand that the young woman began to make a low purring noise as her fingers slid back and forth, as if pleased with herself, as if pleased with
me.

“Tia Maria,” she said, looking up from my cock at last, switching her gaze to her aunt.

“Yes, Yolanda?”

“Io deseo,
Tia Maria.”

“Entonces tomalo, sobrina.”

The meaning of the words – “I want him, Aunt Maria” . . . “Then take him, niece”– was lost on me, but not the intention, as the aunt slid up onto the couch
beside me, her fingers scratching up my balls as she released them, and Yolanda rose to stand before me. As if seen in a dream, as if the air was thick between us, Yolanda slipped the silk dress
from her shoulders, pulled it down her body, revealing her nakedness inch by tantalizing inch. Her fingers then crept down her belly, between her thighs, splayed to part them until I could see her
moist cunt.

“Slowly now, niece, take your pleasure slowly,” said Maria, as Yolanda rested first one knee, then the other, on the couch astride me.

Hands wet with her own juices then moved from her groin to mine, took my erection and held it upright, positioning it carefully.

“Slowly!
Despacio!”
Maria repeated, and Yolanda rubbed the tip of my cock against her, then held it there and smiled down at me.

“So, my arrogant Englishman, who has experienced the sophistication of all our cities … you still think we are backward here?” she asked.

“No!” I gasped, as her body dipped slightly, taking just the head of my cock inside her.

“And the idea of a chaperone, a
carabina,
is not so old-fashioned after all?” she said, turning a moment to grin at her aunt.

“Not at all!”

Yolanda’s body dropped lower, her cunt embracing my cock as she asked, “You speak from the heart?”

“From the heart!” I promised.

“Not from the genitals, but the heart?”

“From the heart! The heart!” I assured her, needing to be deep inside her, and then let out a scream as she sank hard onto me. “Ai! Ai! Ai!” I cried.

“Oh see, aunt, his Spanish
is
quite good after all!” Yolanda laughed, beginning to rise and fall with a steady rhythm.

Aunt Maria directed her niece as a maestro might an orchestra, conducting her movements, her rhythms, alternating the speed and the tempo until finally I was pleading, begging, asking them to
put an end to my delight.

The first time I entreated them Maria silenced me by pressing her bared breast to my mouth. The second time Yolanda brought a halt to my sobs by holding her body poised above me, making me ache
for her, and the third time … the third time Yolanda’s glance to her aunt was as pleading as was mine to her.

“Yes, take your pleasure of him,” Maria said with a nod, and Yolanda brought her body down on mine.

Just the once was enough for us both now; her muscles clenched around me and my body tensed beneath her. I gushed inside her and it seemed that she flowed over me.

But even as her body was softening against me, preparing to take me in her embrace, her aunt was gently but insistently easing her away.

“A drink I think, Yolanda,” she said.

“Aunt?”

“Tia Maria!”

“Ah yes, Tia Maria!” Yolanda understood, beginning to laugh, and I opened my eyes to see her aunt lifting her long black skirt and baring her cunt, then lowering it towards my
face.

“Drink long and deep of the Spanish drink, Englishman,” she said. “So smooth and sweet. Drink long and deep of Tia Maria!”

Melissa, Perth

I love my boyfriend John so much that I’m willing to do anything to please him. My friends think he’s a control freak but I don’t, I think everything he says
to me is just because he loves me. Anyway, he has a tattoo of a cobra on his arm and wanted me to get a matching one. I told my best friend, Sarah, and she freaked, told me I was nuts, so I thought
I’d compromise by having a tattoo where no one else but John can see it. Little did I know how much that was going to change my life.

I’d booked in with the tattooist who does all of John’s. His name is Marcus. He’s Latin and absolutely gorgeous. We discussed the tattoo and when I suggested I wanted it on my
arse so only John could see it, he suggested it would be better in the groin area, said it would turn John on.

“Really?” I asked.

“You bet,” he said. “All guys like their women to have them there and if I could just make a suggestion?”

“Sure,” I said.

“I did one last week for my girl . . . er, my friend. I had the snake’s head, with its tongue flickering out, pointing right at her slit.”

I blushed furiously. I wasn’t a prude but talking like this to him was making me uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“I’m telling you, it looks amazing. She’s coming over later, we could wait and she can show you.”

I thought about it. It certainly did sound erotic and the sort of thing that John would probably like, but I didn’t know about

Marcus. I mean, I know it’s his job and I’m sure people are always stripping off in front of him, but I didn’t know if I should.

He was flicking through a book of illustrations as though he was uninterested in pushing it so I thought, OK, why not.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

I thought I noticed a quick smile puckering the side of his mouth.

“You’ll have to strip off, only from the waist down,” he said. “Cover yourself with this sheet and I’ll be back in a minute.”

He was gone so quickly that I didn’t have time to protest about how short the sheet was. It was only about six inches wide. I didn’t want to get caught midway in changing so I
quickly whipped off my skirt and panties and lay down just in time.

He burst back through the curtain barely looking at me. He carefully pulled the sheet down and I was sure he’d be able to see my slit completely. I stared up at the ceiling as he drew the
sketch pretending I was anywhere else but here.

The bell on the door rang and he excused himself. The curtain was slightly open and I saw a sexy-looking woman talking to him. She lifted her top and he inspected her large breasts. She had a
tattoo on one of them. I couldn’t quite make out what it was, but she was laughing as he bent his head to inspect it. She grabbed at his arse and pulled him in close to her. I didn’t
want to watch but couldn’t help myself.

His hands roamed up her skirt, tugging it up to expose that she was wearing only a tiny G-string. He yanked the fabric over and I was shocked to see her flaps, exposed for me to see. She lifted
a leg and before she wrapped it around his back I got a full shot of her gaping pussy. I’ve never seen another woman’s and my pussy throbbed with excitement.

I knew I should have looked away but found my eyes riveted to what they were doing. I could only see his arm moving about so I assumed he was fingering her. My own pussy began to swell with
excitement and I had the irresistible urge to rub at my clit. I kept my thighs shut tightly, which made it worse, made me even more aware of how sensitive it was.

He lifted her and had her sitting up on the counter. I saw his hand burrow back under her skirt and suddenly he ripped her G-string from her and discarded it on the floor. Both legs wrapped
themselves around his back and he fiddled with his trousers.

The phone rang, disturbing them.

“Yeah,” he said, snatching up the receiver. “Yeah, hi. Sure, she’s here.” He handed the woman the phone.

“Hi, darling. No, it’s fine. Not infected at all. Marcus said it’s just the dye. Oh, OK, I’ll be right home.”

She jumped down from the counter and whispered something in his ear. I looked away, my face flushed, my body tingling all over. I was disappointed I didn’t get to see them fucking. I
certainly never thought I’d be privy to a sex show and was wishing the phone hadn’t rung. The door closed and a few minutes later Marcus appeared.

“Sorry,” he said. “I nearly forgot you were here.”

“That’s OK,” I stuttered.

He sat down on the chair and began to tattoo the outside of the sketch. I stared at the ceiling, hoping that my pussy hadn’t gotten all juicy and that nothing was glistening on my lips.
The pain wasn’t too bad, actually, better than I thought. Marcus suggested a small glass of Scotch before he began the colouring.

“Sure, thanks,” I said, pulling the sheet up a fraction as it had fallen down.

He had a drink too and I must admit I downed mine too quickly. He took it that I was nervous and gave me another. I drank without saying anything more, the alcohol spreading through my veins,
relaxing me.

“You OK?” he said.

“Sure,” I said.

“John’s a lucky guy. Not many girls would mark their bodies for their man.”

“Well, John’s very special to me,” I said, noting my words were slurring a bit.

“I can see why. You’re gorgeous,” he said, his eyes not leaving my face.

I flushed. “Thanks.”

“No, I really mean it. If you were my woman I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

He was flirting with me and I liked it. Marcus could have any woman he wanted, that’s how good-looking he is. I licked my lips nervously as he continued with his work.

The alcohol relaxed me and had my inhibitions falling away. Now when Marcus pulled the sheet a bit too far down I didn’t really care. I lay there wondering what it would feel like to have
him kiss me, to lift me up on the counter and fuck me in full view of anyone who might walk past.

The buzzing of the needle spread over the illustration and the hour just flew. The closer Marcus got to my slit the more I enjoyed it. At some stage the sheet totally disappeared and the buzzing
began to turn me on. I kept my eyes closed as I didn’t want to give away how I was feeling but Marcus is not stupid.

Suddenly a light buzzing grazed my clit. I kept my eyes closed and held my breath. Was it deliberate? Did it really happen or had I just imagined it? The buzzing continued. What was he doing?
Fingers pulled gently at the hood over my clit and suddenly the buzzing zoned right in the centre of my nub. I gasped but kept my eyes tightly closed as if somehow that made it all right.

It was magical. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was nothing like the vibrator that I sometimes used and I just lay there, not wanting him to stop but too embarrassed to look at him.
My body spasmed. I held my breath as an orgasm oozed from me. It was killing me not to scream. I wanted to open my legs and have him fuck me with whatever it was he was using.

Now the buzzing was roaming over my flaps and I did sneak a quick look and saw that he had the other end of the tattooing instrument, the blunt end, gliding over me. He was concentrating on what
he was doing and I could see how intently he was focused on not hurting me.

I heard a growling coming from him and I quickly closed my eyes, and then his hand was pushing my thighs apart and indeed the buzzing entered my pussy. I sighed and he chuckled, stabbing me with
it. Suddenly the buzzing stopped and a tongue lapped at me. It was heavenly, his tongue licked lovingly at me, much more lovingly than John had ever done. Now he was peeling open my flaps, digging
into the folds with his tongue before it entered my pussy.