The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (6 page)

The thrill might be gone for B.B. King, but it was certainly back for me. I decided I should have trouble sleeping more often.

I’d been engaging in my nocturnal emissions for a couple of months when, one night, just as I was about to release, I was startled by a noise. I stopped in mid-stroke, the urge to orgasm
suddenly suppressed, and got as quiet as I could. Although I was certain my heartbeat could be heard across the street.

“Don’t stop,” a voice whispered from the other side of the fence.

Shit! I grabbed my shorts and held them in front of my now limp cock.

“Please, don’t stop,” the hushed voice said.

“Who is that? Sheila?” I kept my voice low.

My neighbour’s head popped up above the fence. “Please?”

“Jesus! How long’ve you been watching?”

“You mean tonight?”

“Crap.”

“You embarrassed?”

“Whaddya think?” I wanted to put my shorts back on but that would have meant taking them away from my crotch. Nowhere to run to, as Martha and the Vandellas so aptly put it. What I
really wanted was to melt into the wall.

“You have a nice cock.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I like watching you.”

“Um, how long –”

“A few weeks. Does Lucy know you come out here like this?”

“No. Does Gavin know, I mean, does he –”

“No. Hold on. I’ll come around.”

“No! Wait!”

Too late. Her gate opened and closed quietly. A few seconds later, my gate opened and she padded over to me. It happened so fast, I was still holding my pants over my dick.

Sheila and Gavin were in their late twenties. Really eye-catching couple. Both very attractive and very friendly. We often exchanged pleasantries across the fence separating our driveways. When
she came through the gate, it looked like all she was wearing was a long T-shirt.

“You shouldn’t’ve come over.”

“I had to. This way we can keep our voices down.”

“No. You shouldn’t be here at all.”

“It’s OK. Gavin is fast asleep. I assume Lucy is, too.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. I’m naked, and . . . and you’re practically naked.”

“I’ve been watching you all this time. I’ve seen all there is to see. Here, lemme take this off.”

“Sheila, wait –”

In a flash, she had the shirt over her head. Her breasts were as gorgeous as I’d imagined them. Her freckles just visible by the light of the street lamp at the corner. In another second
she’d stepped out of her panties. Unlike me, she made no attempt at modesty. Her pubic hair, neatly trimmed, drew my eyes to the shadowy space between her legs.

Suddenly The Archies started echoing in my head: “Sugar. Ah, honey, honey!”

“Come on, Nick. Lemme see.”

I tried to think of a good argument but none came to me, except the embarrassment of being flaccid and small. She anticipated what I was thinking.

“Of all the things I’ve seen you do, the sexiest is when your cock starts out soft and you play with it until it’s hard and standing up straight. I imagine it getting hard in
my mouth.”

“Christ, Sheila.”

“You really want me to go?” She started to pick up her clothes.

“Yes. No! Wait a minute. It’s just that you, I mean, you caught me, I was, you know, you took me by surprise.”

“Sorry. I was doing some gardening this afternoon and I guess I didn’t quite put everything away. I kicked a flowerpot. Usually, I keep really quiet. Then, when you go in, I make
myself come before I go inside.”

“You watch the whole thing?”

“Yeah. Can I touch you?”

“I don’t . . . I mean, do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’ve been wanting to know what it feels like for so long. Please?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, why not?” The first touch of her hand was like a silk scarf around my cock. Her skin was at once cool and warm. I responded accordingly.

“I really like watching it grow like that. It’s so thick and full.”

“Me and Mrs, Mrs Jones”. Fuck. Who sang that?

“Sheila. Oh, Christ. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re married.”

“So? Married people get each other off like this all the time.”

“Generally not with someone else’s spouse.”

“Want me to stop?”

“You can look at me and ask that?”

“So an erection means I can keep going?”

“You can take that as a yes.”

She deftly slid her hand to the base of my cock until the tip rested halfway up her forearm. “I’m sure you’d be hard if anyone was stroking you.”

“I’m sure I would.”

“What if I was fat and ugly?”

“No woman’s fat and ugly with my cock in her hand.”

She put my hand between her legs and pressed it against her pussy. Her clit was so hard I had no trouble finding it. I inserted one finger and rubbed back and forth, feeling the nub roll against
my joint. Her eyes closed for a few seconds.

“Sheila.”

“Shut up.”

“Sheila.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Sheila!”

“Put anoth– Oh yeah! That’s good.”

“No kidding. This is a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“We could get in so much trouble.”

“Wanna – hhuh! – stop?”

She had me, there. “We have to be very careful, and very quiet. Lucy’s just on the other side of this wall.”

“All right. God! OK. Let’s set some guidelines.”

“Like what?”

“Like no fucking.”

“Including ass-fucking?”

“Fuck, oh, God! Yeah, dammit.”

“What about oral?”

“I’ll go down on you – fuck! – if you want, but you can’t eat me.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t – fucking Christ! – ’cause I can’t be quiet when I come that way.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“I’m trying. Shit! Don’t stop.”

“Hardly seems fair.”

“Well – Jesus! – maybe when Gavin — oh, God! – goes out of town – fuck! Kiss me!”

She let go of my cock and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her orgasm was muffled in my mouth as her breath filled my lungs. Her hips bucked against my hand. She acted like she wanted to climb
me.

Once she relaxed, and her body went limp, she took her lips from mine and laid her head on my shoulder. It took a few minutes for her breathing to return to normal.

“I’ve been wanting to feel that for weeks. Thank you.”

“Maybe you should get dressed and go home now.”

“Mmmm. What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But I want you to come. I wanna help.”

“You’ve helped plenty. Believe me.”

“But –”

“Next time. Now, get dressed.”

I stroked myself while she put her clothes back on. Then she went down on her knees and kissed my cock. I spurted a little on her face but she opened her mouth in time to get most of it.

After that night we managed to get together at least once a week. More, if we could but, families being what they are, it wasn’t always possible. Over time we worked out a signal to let
her know when I’d be outside.

We never fucked. She liked sucking me off, and a few times I was able to sneak over to her house and eat her. She wasn’t kidding. She’s loud. But most of the time we just watched
each other masturbate.

To paraphrase The Chiffons: “She’s so fine.”

Gavin and Sheila moved away earlier this year, so now poor Carol has to share time. “Memories, light the corners of my mind”. I used to hate that song.

Peter, London

I’ve always had a secret penchant for water sports. I used to play with myself, peeing and masturbating at the same time. The double flow of urine and semen gave me a
deeply erotic thrill unmatched by the pleasure of simple masturbation. I especially enjoyed it when I found myself outdoors somewhere and had to go behind some tall bushes or into the edge of a
forest. The cool fresh air on my exposed penis was always particularly exhilarating and pleasurable. There was something forbidden, something deeply secretive about playing with myself in the open
like that. It also generated an air of danger, coupled with the fear of suddenly being discovered by someone and having to flee with my trousers open and my erect penis sticking out. It never did
happen, of course, but the very thought of it sent shivers of additional excitement through my body.

My accompanying fantasies often involved women, although their roles tended to be quite nebulous since I had no direct experience in that field. I usually just pictured the women stripping off
all their clothes and lying naked in front of me. I stood over them and sprayed their bodies with pee and come, particularly their breasts and the dark triangle I knew from pictures they had
between their legs. But even with that limited knowledge, the fantasies made my activities much more exciting and my orgasms more powerful and more gratifying.

When I seriously started to date and sleep with women on a regular basis, my peeing fantasies receded into the background for a while, but before long they resurfaced again, stronger and more
intense than ever before. My fantasies reached the point where I kept thinking I should broach the subject when I was with a woman, but I was always too afraid of being ridiculed or outright
rejected, so nothing ever came of my intentions. In retrospect, it was just as well, because at that time I really didn’t know anything about the topic and probably wouldn’t have known
what to do, even if one of them would have liked my idea and had wanted to participate.

Until Alicia came into my life. We met at a three-day science conference at the Convention Centre downtown. I walked into the lecture hall and found a vacant aisle seat not far from the back
where I usually like to sit. I sat down on the chair, placed my briefcase on my lap, and found myself sitting next to a woman, probably about my age, perhaps a bit younger. I nodded in her
direction and uttered a perfunctory, “Good morning.”

She turned and smiled an engaging smile. “Good morning,” she replied in a pleasant, melodious voice.

The lecture began and we both concentrated on the speaker and on our notepads. Yet I couldn’t help glancing at her furtively every few moments. She was scribbling furiously in her notebook
as if wanting to take in every word that was said, but I caught her looking at me several times and quickly averting her eyes before they met mine. There was something about her that attracted me
to her, something between us that made us more than just chance acquaintances in a lecture hall.

When the coffee break came and we both rose, I turned to face her. “Peter,” I introduced myself and held out my hand.

She smiled the same engaging smile. “Alicia,” she replied. She put her hand into mine and I could feel the warmth of her body flow through mine.

We spent the coffee break together and chatted amicably about the lecture and the conference. By lunch time, we easily switched to more personal topics, beginning to reveal our lives and our
personalities, our dreams and ambitions, our likes and dislikes. Over the next several meals, we continued what we had begun, getting to know each other more and more closely, opening up our inner
selves, our togetherness. By the end of the conference, she invited me to her apartment.

We slept with each other several times over the ensuing weeks and grew more familiar and more intimate with each other. I felt that the time had come where I could reveal my fantasy to her
without having to fear the repercussions. We had developed a sense of trust and mutual respect that made me think that even if she didn’t like the idea, she wouldn’t ridicule or reject
me for it. I just couldn’t decide on the perfect way and the perfect time to tell her about it.

We were sitting on her couch one evening, watching TV, when I decided I had been procrastinating long enough. I simply had to take the plunge and hope for the best.

“Have you ever heard of water sports?” I blurted out, waiting anxiously for her reaction.

She uttered a quick, amused laugh and turned to me with her pleasant smile. “Of course, I have,” she replied to my great relief. “My girlfriend and I do it all the time.
I’ve just never done it with a man before.”

“I’ve never done it with anybody,” I confessed sheepishly. “I’ve only fantasized about it.”

“Time to make your fantasy a reality,” she said lightly, confidently. “Would you like to give it a try?”

Would I! We quickly undressed and Alicia led me to the bathroom. She took a box out of the cupboard and opened it. I shuddered when I saw the collection of paraphernalia. This was certainly not
a part of my fantasy.

“Just relax,” she said in her quiet voice, sensing my apprehension. “I know exactly what I’m doing. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

She reached into the box and took out a length of thin, plastic tubing, a small funnel, a tube of lubricant and a water glass. She had me stretch out on the floor and propped my head up with a
pillow so I could watch. Then she put some of the lubricant on one end of the tubing, took my penis into her hand and expertly slid the tubing into the tiny hole. It didn’t hurt at all. In
fact, it was a rather pleasant and arousing sensation, being manipulated like that. She pushed the tubing all the way through my penis and into my bladder. Next, she put the funnel into the other
end and handed it to me.

“Hold this,” she said. She filled the glass full of lukewarm water, took the funnel from me, and slowly poured the water into the funnel.

I had never experienced anything like this. The warm water flowing through the tube and into my bladder was so arousing my penis grew harder and harder until I thought I would explode.

“There,” she said when my bladder had been filled to bursting. “That wasn’t that bad, was it now?”

“No,” I admitted. “Not at all.”

Alicia pulled the tubing out of me, washed it under the tap, and handed me the whole contraption. “Your turn,” she said, stretching out on the floor and spreading her legs.

I knelt down between her legs, the tube with the funnel in my hand. I was shaking uncontrollably as I contemplated the wide-open pussy and my task at hand.

“Just relax,” she said again in her soothing voice. “You’ll be just fine.”