Confessions of an Erotic Author Part Three: Pushing My Boundaries: Confessions of an Erotic Author, #3

By P.T. Brown

Pixie's adventures continue...

 

Who could have thought married life would be so much fun? - Of course, someone like me needed a man who didn't mind me indulging in my favourite activity - Sex. I found him, fell for him, married him, and now he's integral to my sexy adventures.

 

This is a collection of longer tales from early in my married life, and includes meeting a bull - Joel, and then meeting all of his friends, a relatively innocent weekend away with my husband which turns into a double gangbang with a girl I met dogging in the woods, and a variety of other saucy adventures of me and my (sometimes cuckold) husband.

 

This book contains graphically narrated sex scenes between characters over 18, including sex acts between groups and bisexual (girl-on-girl) sex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Guinea Pig Publishing
• Release date: May 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224100811

P.T. Brown

P.T.Brown is an author of erotic fiction, with a full-time career doing something completely different. She's active on a variety of platforms, including Medium and Substack, and is easily found on social media, including X, Instagram, and on her own website. Most stories feature strong women, who choose what they want, when, and from whom. Some scenes are left a little to the imagination, others are very much not.

Book preview

Five anonymous men, my husband, and me

Looking back, I have no idea what I was thinking, but there had been too much alcohol that night, which clearly had something to do with it. We sat at the kitchen table after dinner, each with a slip of paper and a pen, and the instruction from the silly app we were playing with to 'write down your deepest sexual fantasy and put your paper in a bowl, then each player randomly picks one out and reads it aloud.' The problem was that there were just the two of us: me and my husband.

I'm excellent at being honest and pride myself on it, so I picked up the pen and wrote. I folded the paper and threw it into the middle of the table, as did he.

I went first. I opened his slip and read aloud. 'A threesome with another guy, preferably where I get to watch you with him.' He has cuck tendencies, my husband. This was no surprise to me at all.

He leaned forward and picked up my slip of paper.

Now, if I'm honest, which I'm excellent at, it wasn't until the second he picked up the paper that I realised I had been too excellent. Too honest.

He looked at the slip, then me, the slip again, then read out loud, 'To be used by an anonymous group of men.'

For a second, I thought I might need to get a divorce lawyer. This was much 'more' than any of the fantasies we may have discussed before.

I raised my eyes from the wine glass I was tinkering with to avoid looking at him to see him staring at me.

You want to be gangbanged? he asked.

I don't really like that term, but yes, it's a fantasy of mine. 'Excellent honesty, P' I praised myself.

By how many exactly? he asked.

Oh, I don't know.

Yes, you do.

No, I don't.

More than two?

Oh, yes.

More than ten?

Oh god, no.

Five?

Maybe. Maybe one or two more.

He raised his eyebrows.

If I was going to do it, I would most likely only do it once, so I'd want to do it properly, I said, with distinction-level honesty.

And could I watch? he asked, clearly coming around to my way of thinking.

I'd expect you to, I said.

That was a month ago.

Now here I am, sitting in front of a dressing table, overdoing my makeup, my hair tied up, in a dressing gown, alone, in a hotel room, considering my honesty choices.

There's a long black coat on the back of the door. That's what I will wear in about twenty minutes to discreetly move from my dressing room up three floors to the penthouse suite, where a group of men who have only one objective is waiting for me. To enjoy me as much as they want to for the evening.

I have seen them before, in a photo. My husband was rather efficient at pulling together a list of over thirty potentials, from which he asked me to whittle it down to about fifteen, on looks alone, of course. He then whittled the list down further himself and made all the arrangements. Being the angel he is, he's arranged for every one of them to provide proof of a very recent sexual health screening, which he texted me ten minutes ago to say he's seen every one of them. I like that. I'm not really a condom kinda girl, and they really get in the way of a good fantasy.

I'd like to say I'm nervous, but right now, I'm just too busy. I never actually considered the effort I would want to go to if I ever found myself in this position. I've had everything waxed, my hair cut, bought entirely new lingerie, and even new makeup (my usual look won't work in this fantasy; too reserved).

Anyway, that's it, makeup done.

I'm taking you with me, by the way. I need to tell someone what's going on. Just in case I forget anything later.

Hubby and I talked about what I should wear. It started all basque and stockings, but he rightly pointed out that I only needed to make a good first impression. I'll likely be naked reasonably quickly after that, all being well. So, I needed something easy to remove, particularly as I probably won't be removing it. He's right, of course. He is a planner, and I like that.

So, before you joined me, I put on a new pair of fishnet hold-ups, a reasonably transparent black bra and a matching thong. I also have new high heels, strappy ones that are tied in a pretty bow at my ankles. They won't fall off, which is good, and they can also be used to hold me in a position if someone wants to. A girl can hope...

Hubby has arrived at the door to escort me upstairs. He likes the look. He's giving me those eyes he uses when he wants to fuck me. Not tonight, honey... at least not yet.

I'd forgotten about the prosecco; it's flat and room temperature, but his arrival has set my heart fluttering. I need something to stop me from running for the fire exit. I've finished it and managed to keep it down, just.

Coat, he says.

As if I'd forgotten. This is a five-star hotel, and I'm three floors away from my destination dressed like an escort. I have a nice figure, but I'm no Julia Roberts, and my hubby's no Richard Gere. I dress to travel if only in a coat today.

It's nearly five. We've planned on five till eight, with the option of going a little later if I want to. I'd love to think I have the energy, but I'm not so sure right now. The corridor is empty, thankfully, and we're moving quite quickly. The elevator he came down in is still here, so we're in.

You know that feeling? Before an exam, or a driving test, or a job interview, or a gangbang? The nerves are all the same.

The door to the suite is right in front of me now. We've entered, and hubby is taking me straight to the bathroom. My coat is off, and the blindfold is going on. It's a good blindfold. I can't see a fucking thing.

Hubby is off to round up the troops from around the place and get them to the bedroom to wait for me. I have a minute.

I've just realised how horny I am. There's a heat emanating from between my legs. I am on heat, it seems. I like this feeling – even if I am kinda shitting myself simultaneously.

You're wondering how many aren't you? So am I. He wouldn't tell me. I said five to seven, so knowing hubby, that means six, but it might not.

I'm being led to the bedroom. No turning back now.

There's talking, a few whistles, and a round of applause as I enter. The clapping frightens me; I feel like I'm on stage at the Hollywood Bowl. It's so loud. Is it really only six?

It smells of men in here, too. Women know what I mean. Not men who need to shower, just men, horny men. My sense of smell may be heightened by the absence of vision, but they are here, waiting to take me. And now he's said those words.

She's all yours.

He's let go of my hand, and I'm standing in my underwear and a blindfold in a hotel bedroom surrounded – at least, I think I'm surrounded.

Yes – I'm surrounded – I can feel their body heat, and now there are hands, many, many hands, touching my body. One guy has stepped in behind me, groping my tits. My senses are on fire. Every touch is like electricity through my body. There's a hand on my clit, I shudder. I want to reach out, but I don't. My arms are welded to my sides. The guy behind me has unclipped my bra, and it's off in a heartbeat. Now there are a lot of hands on my tits, a lot. It's fucking ecstasy.

Sit her on the bed.

I'm being taken by the hands and led to the bed. I sit. I wait. I know that sound, it's underwear coming off, lots of it, and it's not mine. I can feel them around me. One is kneeling behind me on the bed, I feel his cock brush against my back, and there's one on either side of me, playing with my nipples. I feel a pair of hands separate my knees, and someone steps between them.

'Is that me moaning?'

My hands are taken and placed, one on each cock either side of me. Gloriously semi-hard cocks. I close my hand around them straight away. This isn't a time for holding back.

Open your mouth.

I do, and here it is, slipping past my lips and into my mouth. It's big and isn't hard yet, but it will be. I hold him still in my mouth and flash my tongue over my prize – it's a technique – it works, and he starts to swell. I lower my tongue to the base of my mouth and let him in deeper.

'That's him moaning.'

Fuck she's good. You need to try this.

'Thanks, next?'

And there's some movement. The guy behind me is still there, rubbing his cock against my body while he plays with my tits. The guys I'm jerking off are still there – no amount of magic could switch without me knowing, but now there's another cock in my mouth. That makes five.

This one is already hard and not quite so big. I bob my mouth up and down on it a little, then give him the tongue treatment, drawing a mental image of his cock as I study every inch of it with the tip of my tongue.

Ten minutes later, I have a mental image of all of them, everyone having enjoyed some time in between my lips. At least, I think they have.

Are you not going to?

No, I'm waiting to fuck her, and since you all had a go already, I'm first.

'I like him already.'

Someone stands me up and pulls off my thong. I help. I feel fully exposed. And wetter than I've ever felt in my life. I know this is supposed to be about them using me, but...

Beautiful.

Sounds of agreement

'Thanks, boys. Now, where were you?'

I'm led back to the bed. I know someone's about to fuck me. There's no point playing shy, I've jumped on, rolled over, and I'm lying on my back with my legs open, inviting anyone, everyone, to slip their cocks into my pussy and have their way with me.

One climbs onto me, number six, I assume, the one that's been patiently waiting to feel the warmth of my pussy walls, grasping him and milking him for all they are worth.

You wanted to feel used, your husband said.

Yes. I'm panting. I'm definitely on heat, and I need it, him. Whoever the fuck he is.

A hand brushes my clit (of course, I moan), and someone is testing me for readiness, and wetness, with their fingers.

"Wow, she's