eXcessica publishing
Secret Confessions © February 2012 by Giselle Renarde
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be access by minors.
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Cover design © 2012 Giselle Renarde
First Edition February 2012
A Smashwords Edition
“Saturday at 5:30 a.m.” and “Wife Sandwich” originally appeared in The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (Constable & Robinson), “The Loveseat” originally appeared at The Erotic Woman, “Fisting For Beginners,” “A Bite for Dinner,” “Lillian’s New Toy,” “Lot to Lot, Space to Space,” “Two for One is Double the Fun,” originally appeared at Every Night Erotica, “Social Users,” “Screen Saviour” originally appeared in Hustler Fantasies, “Bad Behaviour,” “Someone My Own Age,” “Popcorn,” “Standing Room Only,” “Transgender Romance,” “The Guys in the Closet,” “Bathroom Witch and the Birthday Boy,” “Three Lawyers in the Back Seat,” “Figging,” “A Masked Hero,” “Porn Killed My Laptop,” “On the Last Train Home,” “Touch Screen,” “Loving the Love Handles,” “Reservations,” “Pitting the Georgia Peach” originally appeared at For the Girls, “Scent of My Woman” originally appeared at Oysters and Chocolate.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Secret Confessions
By Giselle Renarde
Introduction
No naughty encounter is ever complete until you tell somebody about it. And who doesn’t feel a tingle while reading a naughty story and wondering, “Is this true? Did that really happen?”
There’s one quality that unifies all confession-style erotic stories, no matter how sweet or how kinky: they’re all written in the first person. (I did this, I did that.) For that reason, when reading these stories, we’re particularly inclined to wonder if these stories are true. The author is writing as though they were (I ate her pussy, I sucked his cock), so why wouldn’t we believe it?
One of the best things about confession erotica is its unique capability to allow readers to suspend disbelief. When we hear these stories, we trust that we’re being told the truth. Even if we try to be rationally and consciously skeptical, we still believe, and there’s a bit of magic in that.
So, now I’m sure you’re wondering about the confessions in this collection. Are they true? Are they fiction? The answer is yes. Some stories are entirely fictional, pure fantasy. Others draw on real events, but aren’t entirely accurate. Of course, names have been changed, to protect the “innocent” parties.
Some stories are true, some are false, some are somewhere in between. Does it spoil the fun that I’ve made this confession? I don’t think so. I still haven’t told you which are which.
Giselle Renarde
Table of Confessions
Saturday at 5:30 a.m.
The Loveseat
Bad Behaviour
A Bite For Dinner
Nice Ice, Baby!
Social Users
Screen Saviour
Webcam Amateur
Someone My Own Age
Popcorn
Fisting for Beginners
Standing Room Only
Solo Girls
Transgender Romance
The Guys in the Closet
Bathroom Witch and the Birthday Boy
Three Lawyers in the Back Seat
Figging
A Masked Hero
Lillian’s New Toy
Porn Killed My Laptop
Lot to Lot, Space to Space
On the Last Train Home
My Reluctant Spank Daddy
Scent Of My Woman
Cock Addict
Pitting the Georgia Peach
The Prude’s Failsafe Advice for Eating Ass
Two for One is Double the Fun
Touch Screen
Loving the Love Handles
My Favourite Way
Wife Sandwich
Reservations
Ride Me, Cowboy!
Early Morning Hot Tubbing
Confession #1
Saturday at 5:30 a.m.
I’m sleeping with a married man. There. I had to get that off my chest.
You’ll understand, I’m sure, if I don’t tell you his name. After all, he could be someone you know. Or you may know his wife or his kids. I wouldn’t want word to get back to them. And just because he’s cheating doesn’t mean he’s a bad man. He isn’t bad, he simply has needs. We all do.
So, what’s it like? Well, last Saturday was a perfect example. At 5:30 in the morning, I heard his key in my door. That smooth metallic noise wakes me every time. It’s better than an alarm clock. I’d been looking forward to seeing him all week. I look forward to it every week.
He tells his wife he likes to jog early in the morning, before pollution envelops the city. He tells her he enjoys his run better when there are fewer people on the sidewalks, and when the sun hasn’t yet risen. These are only half-truths, because he actually does jog all the way from his house to mine. I doubt if his wife even notices anymore when he rolls out of bed before dawn. I doubt if she ever notices him at all. That’s fine. I’ve taken it upon myself to notice him. In fact, I could notice him all day and all night, if I ever had the opportunity.
I emerged from the depths of slumber as he kicked off his shoes in my front hall. I scrambled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. When you only get to see your lover once a week, you always want to look and smell and taste perfect. And morning breath is a major turn-off. When I switched off the bathroom light, my eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough to the darkness of my bedroom.
I asked, “Where are you?” as I walked straight into him. Ouch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
He concurred with his standard stand-by, “Likewise.”
“All week I’ve been waking up and asking myself, ‘Is it Saturday yet…?’” That’s all I managed to say before he kissed me. An entire week’s worth of kisses in less than one minute.
When I opened my eyes, they’d adjusted to the darkness and I could see my lover again. Even after two and a half years together, it’s always a thrill to see this man in my bedroom. He was still dressed, so I tore off his jogging shorts, followed by his red T-shirt, his running socks and his black underwear. I stepped back and, walking slowly around his naked body, took a good look his tight butt and his athletic thighs. All that jogging…
Then I ran my hands over his chest, smooth with only a touch of hair around his little pink nipples. Throwing his arms around me, he squeezed my body tightly against him. I’ve always loved that sensation of his chest and my breasts being separated only by my thin silk negligee.
I dropped to my knees to do what I knew his wife never would. His cock was still lifeless when I took it between my lips. The sensation of a soft cock against the walls of my mouth was hilarious. What did it feel like? Like a snake, maybe. Malleable, like I could have tied it in a knot. I took it all in and, as I encircled his limp dick with my tongue, I started to feel it jerk and grow. As I sucked it, of course, it got bigger and bigger until his cock was so large I couldn't keep it all in my mouth anymore.
Getting below him, I licked his balls, taking each in my mouth before working on the sensitive head of his penis. He made those noises I love to hear, sort of like a snort and a sigh, and he said my name while he stroked my hair. It’s great to hear him say my name. I love that.
Anyway, I figured it was my turn, so I lay back on the bed to let him ravage me with his tongue. He licked my pussy lips hard. That really got the juices flowing. Then he sucked on my clit while squeezing my nipples through my silk negligee and, let me tell you, nothing else in the world feels that good. No, that’s a lie, because what he did next was even better.
His cock was large with anticipation, and the sight of it made my pussy whimper. Oh, I just had to have it! I had to feel that big slab of meat inside of me, and I don’t mind saying so. The sight of my lover holding his cock by its base, guiding it toward me, made me quiver. My pussy hugged it close as he rammed it in me, hard and strong. I couldn’t help but think how hot he looked while he was doing it. His lean stomach muscles, embraced by only the slightest layer of insulation, tightened with every thrust. I ran my fingers through the dark curls above his cock. He had the most incredible body!
Rolling onto my stomach, I half stood on the floor and half leaned against my bed. He came at me from behind, reaching around to rub my clit while I reached back to fondle his balls. I loved the way they felt in my hand, squishy and soft. With both hands, he took firm hold of my hips and plunged into me so hard I could feel the pressure throughout my core. While his fingers grasped my hipbones and his thumbs dug into my butt, I hoped and prayed they would leave bruises. That way I would have something physical to remember him by throughout the week. I loved catching a glimpse of those purple marks on my body and sheepishly recalling the naughty act that created them.
As my man thrust faster, I explored the muscles of his thighs with my hands. He jutted forward into me, quick and eager. His thighs were his favourite feature, but I’d always been most fond of his cock.
Rising to the balls of his feet, he held me aloft by my hips. God, those sexy arms! My feet weren’t even touching the floor and I had to grab my duvet just to hold onto something. When I turned in near-ecstasy to gaze at his face, it was practically scarlet, with one vein throbbing at the side of his forehead. The muscles in his athletic arms pulsed.
“Aren’t I too heavy for this?” I asked, anticipating his response.
“Feathers,” he said with strained laughter. “You’re heavy as feathers.”
His cock had a mind of its own. It rammed into me so hard and fast I knew my pussy would ache for days. So much the better. The dull pain would help me remember this morning’s exploits.
I would have done anything for that man.
Thrusting his whole body into mine, he propelled me forward so hard the mattress shifted sideways across the box spring. I could feel his warm lips planting kisses across my back. He hugged me tightly around the waist, and I knew he was about to come.
Releasing a whimper like a child’s cry, he collapsed on top of me on the displaced mattress, cuddling against my back. He never said it, but that’s how I knew he loved me. We lay like that for a while, our blissed-out bodies in layers, flowing like a waterfall from heads on the mattress to knees on the box spring to feet on the floor. With his heavy body on top of me, I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
Eventually, he got up and showered. I didn’t move a muscle, just absorbed the scent of his body on my skin. After he dressed, he picked me up and re-oriented me on the mattress, pushing it back into place. He tucked me under my sheets and duvet, then kissed me softly.
“I’ll see you next week,” he whispered, placing his gentle lips against my forehead. I listened to the metallic jingle of my lover’s keys as he locked the door on his way out. It was not yet 6:30 a.m. and already I couldn’t wait for next Saturday.
Is it wrong to love a man with a wife and kids at home? I don’t know. Maybe it is. But I’m addicted to the very smell of him now, and to the feeling of ecstasy that lingers long after he’s gone. Looking forward to his next visit gets me through the week. Anyway, I don’t take up much of his time. Just an hour each Saturday at 5:30 a.m.
Confession #2
The Loveseat
The Dutch are hilarious!
My boyfriend Rovin and I went to Europe with our close friend Wayne. Public transportation is big over there. Everybody who doesn’t ride a bike travels by city bus. When in Rome—or, more accurately, when we were in Holland—the transport system had just come out with this hilarious new “loveseat” idea. They were in the midst of installing red double seats in all the buses, for people who were looking to meet someone and maybe get up close and personal.
The new loveseats were in all the papers, so we were on the lookout each time we boarded a bus. Of course, when Wayne and Rov finally caught sight of one, they dove at it.
I stood in front of the loveseat, holding Rov’s hand and pressing my knees against his. “You guys are idiots,” I told them, as if they didn’t know. “Those seats are for strangers. You two are just strange. That doesn’t qualify.”
“So, here’s what I don’t get,” Wayne said, throwing his arm around Rov’s shoulder. “Say I sit down here alone. Not that the people in this city are prudes or anything, but people walking by are probably going to assume I’m in the market for a woman.”
“In the market? What a thing to say.” I gave Wayne’s cheek a playful smack. “Anyway, I thought you liked me pretty well.”
He made a face. “Nah, not really.”
Rovin slapped the side of his head. “Hey, after the way she woke you up this morning, you’d better say you like her.”
It made me blush that Rov would bring up our hotel room antics in public, but nobody on the bus seemed to be listening.
“Yeah, okay, I like her all right,” Wayne laughed. “But what I’m saying about these loveseats is, like, how would I advertise whether I’m looking to talk to a Rovin or a Donna?”
And then it was my turn to be indiscrete. I climbed into Wayne’s wide denim lap and put my feet up on Rov’s thighs. “If it’s you, Wayne, that’s easy—you want us both.”
The guys laughed. Wayne wrapped his arm around my waist while Rovin held my calves. “Damn, girl, you’re breaking my balls,” Wayne teased. “You weigh a ton. Get the hell off me!”
“Fuck you!” I pretended like he was serious and I was offended.
Wayne winked and said, “Gladly,” before diving at my neck and shoving his chin in the tickle-zone between my shoulder and my collarbone.
As I erupted with laughter, Rov tossed my feet from his thighs. For a split-second I thought he was upset. True, I’d been spending a hell of a lot more time on Wayne than on him during our private escapades, but that’s only because we were on vacation. That’s what vacations were for—doing things, and people, you wouldn’t ordinarily do.
But Rov wasn’t upset. “Shit, guys,” he said, making a stop request. “We almost missed our hotel.”
Good thing someone was paying attention. I hopped out of Wayne’s lap and we all said goodbye to the loveseat before leaving the bus. “I don’t think we used it right,” I said. “I’m getting off with the same guys I got on with.”
“So, speaking of getting off,” Rov said as we walked up to the hotel we’d splurged on. “Dinner first or sex first?”
Wayne voted on sex and then dinner and then more sex.
“And then dessert and then more sex,” I added.
Rovin put his arm around my shoulder and zipped me into the revolving hotel door. “That’s my dirty girl!” he laughed, squeezing me in close.
When we’d checked in, the hotel staff didn’t even ask how three people would share one bed. These hoteliers seemed imperturbable, and I loved that about them.
We raced up the stairs to our room on the fifth floor. Of course Rov won the race, since he was the only one of us who was actually in shape, but I came in second. Wayne was always the third. How symbolic.
Wayne and I were out of breath when we entered our neat little hotel room. We both plonked ourselves down on the freshly-made bed while Rov tore out of his clothes.
“We’re exhausted,” I teased.
“Yeah,” Wayne said. “Would you take off my pants for me?”
Rovin laughed. As he stood between Wayne and I, he tossed my skirt up over my waist. “You’re lazy is what you are,” he said, unzipping Wayne’s jeans.
With one hand, Rov dug inside Wayne’s fly and cupped his package. Wayne gasped and mumbled something like, “Holy Mother!” With the other hand, Rov pressed his palm overtop of my cotton panties. When he moved his hand slowly against my mound, my reaction was much the same as Wayne’s—a gasp and an expression of gratitude. I could feel my juices flowing already. I always did get off on words, so the bus banter had gotten me ready for this.
“So, am I going to do all the work?” Rovin asked us.
“God, yes,” I said as he rubbed my pussy up and down.
Wayne’s fly was wide open and his big cock snuck up and out of his undies as Rovin stroked it. I loved Wayne’s prick. Sure, it was a penis like many others, but it was big and fat and it filled my pussy like nothing in this world. I’d have me some of that Western delicacy…later…
In that moment, I would have killed for a good purr job, and I wasn’t above begging. “Can you eat me, Rov?” Whining like a schoolgirl always worked with my boy.
“Oh fine,” he said, like it was a chore. I laughed. Rov loved giving head, and I loved when he pretended to hate it.