Confessions

You are seated at a candlelit table next to the tiny stage of the exclusive nightclub named Confessions, a secret venue, where only a member can invite a guest. Even the tattooed artists, musicians and writers who form your crowd have only heard rumors about this place. It took more than a year of detective work and dropping the right hints with the right people to finally get yourself here tonight.

A waiter brings you a glass of pinot noir. Before you've had a sip, a single spotlight illuminates the stage and the chattering crowd hushes. A woman steps into the curtain of light and you gasp with recognition, and not just because she resembles a 30-something Sophia Lauren. She's wearing a scarlet dress with a plunging neckline and a slit on each side all the way up to the bottom curve of her muscular ass. That's a tango dress. She's certainly built like a dancer. The slits reveal her long slender legs, and her ass, wrapped in scarlet, is a firm, ripe cherry. You notice she hasn't shaved her underarms, and the sight stirs something primitive in the basement of your brain.

It seems as if everyone in the place has leaned forward, eager to hear what this elegant beauty is going to confess. She's holding a microphone in one hand and the other hand is wrapped around the neck of an uncorked bottle of wine. She tells the crowd her name is Magdalena, but she doesn't raise her eyes.

"When I was eighteen," she says and hesitates, then tilts back her head and takes a swig of wine. "When I was eighteen..." She shakes her head and lowers the mike and starts to step out of the spotlight. The audience yells encouragement. "No! Don't go! Please! Tell us! We love you! You're adorable! We want to hear! We won't judge you! We want to know!"

Magdalena stays; but hangs her head as she whispers into the handheld mike. "When I was eighteen... I seduced my stepdad." She lifts her eyes to read people's reactions, ready to flee. A man in a very sissy voice says, "I did that too, when I was twenty-one." The audience laughs. The tension has broken, and Magdalena looks ready to go on. But first, she searches the audience until her big dark eyes lock on yours. You're her chosen confessor! She's going to tell her secrets to you. You nod and gulp.

"Mom was away at a conference for the weekend, and I got the crazy idea to sexually tease my stepdad. I was going to show him that he was not my boss, not my real dad. He'd only been in my life a few months, and I didn't have to take orders from him! I was going to make him wish he'd never grounded me for skipping high school and getting drunk with my friends. I was eighteen! It's not like I was a middle schooler! Let him find out how much power I could wield over him. Because when it came to my looks—my body"— she ran a hand down one luscious breast — "Every day I saw my power to grab the attention of men. I was the boss!"

"Honey, you still got it!" the gay man shouts, and everyone laughs again.

"Of course, I wasn't planning to take the sexual tease too far! I'm not evil. Or I didn't think so, then. Maybe I found out I am evil; I don't know. I just wanted to make my stepdad so horny he'd wish he was nineteen again!"

"The thing is... for a 40-something art history professor, he was damn good-looking! Tall, with broad shoulders, thick salt-and-pepper hair, square chin, blue eyes. He'd been a lacrosse star at Yale, and he was still in great shape. In public, women were endlessly checking him out."

She hesitates again. Takes another swig of wine. "And I could never tell anyone—not even my best friend—that I envied my mom when I heard them through their bedroom wall, really getting it on. I'd hear these muffled screams that I knew was my mom coming, with her head buried in a pillow. And sometimes she'd just go wild like she was getting fucked by superman or something, like he was giving her a super-orgasm! Those screams would go on and on. So, I knew my stepdad could get a lot more passionate in bed than he ever showed me and the rest of the world. He always acted so reserved, so buttoned up!

"He'd entered my life just after my eighteenth birthday, at a time when I felt achingly lonely and way hornier than I knew how to handle. And even though men of all ages reacted to my looks like I had knocked the wind out of them, inwardly I was an insecure wreck. What do they call it these days, "socially awkward"? I would flirt with strangers at the mall or on the subway, just to exert my sexual power, but I still felt lonely as hell. I'd had sex exactly twice, once each with two inept boyfriends. I'd been without a dad in my life since I was five, and I so badly needed my stepdad's male attention. But he wouldn't give it. Ever. Not even in a negative way, to criticize me. He was this mild-mannered Clark Kent art history professor, with his nose always buried in books. And I figured I just wasn't lovable enough to deserve his consideration.

"But my mom and he had this... unh... this sexual chemistry. She turned him into Superman. God, how I envied the looks he gave her! Her power to do that to him; the alchemy of her beauty. Mom really was so physically exquisite—the kind of beauty an art scholar could truly appreciate and give himself to."

"Darling, you are a masterpiece!" a woman from the audience calls out. There is a smattering of applause and murmurs of agreement.

Magdalena shrugs, deflecting the compliment. She goes on, "I'd gotten into..." She's still gazing right into your eyes. "I've absolutely never told anyone this." Her eyes are dark and soulful and hypnotic; it's impossible to look away. She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh. "I'd gotten into... fingering my pussy while listening to them go at it through my bedroom wall, pretending I was on the receiving end of his passion. By the time my mom was muffling her screams in a pillow, I was pressing two pillows over my face. I can't tell you how many times my stepdad gave two women at once a long string of orgasms, and he never even had a clue!

"Of course, I felt totally guilt-ridden and ashamed of doing that, and I tried to stop, but it always felt so damn good! And since I could count on them having sex nearly every night, supplying the soundtrack to my fantasies of receiving my stepdad's devoted attention, I soon found myself in the habit of... well, really... the addiction... of needing that big orgasm, that huge release. I'd find myself thinking about it during the day at school, and the more I tried to not think about it, the more I'd think about it and the more aroused I'd get, which would make me despise myself for being such a shameful slut, not to mention a wicked daughter. But, somehow, all that shame would turn me on even stronger—almost like it was an essential stimulant in my excitement, like caffeine in coffee, and I'd go through a whole school day loop-de-looping with lust for my stepdad. And this had being going on all semester!

"Anyway, one afternoon, with my mom out of town, I paraded into the living room wearing just a T-shirt and panties. My stepdad was on the couch, shirtless, in sweatpants, his head buried in a coffee-table art book—no surprise—trying to pretend he was not even noticing me. I could smell a trace of his underarm deodorant because he always wore too much. I put on a hip-hop track with a deep, throbbing beat—not even asking permission to invade his space with loud music—and suddenly I'm on full erotic display, 'innocently' dancing, my gyrating ass toward him, my torso snaking in sensuous lines. But my stepdad wouldn't look up, not even in outrage at the dirty lyrics, as the rapper chanted, over and over: 'Check out da girl with da bubble butt! She be teasin'! What a teen-age slut! Don't just gaze at dat ass and let it go to waste! Pin her down; make her give you a taste!'

"My stepdad kept on acting like he was unaware of my twerking ass, but I knew I was getting to him. And I was pretending to be unselfconsciously dancing for my own pleasure: 'I love this song!' I shouted at the speakers. As if was not even aware of my stepdad's presence. Yeah, Right. Even with my ass toward him, my female radar could sense he was getting strongly turned on by my moves.

"Check out da girl with da bubble butt! She be teasin'! What a teen-age slut! Don't just gaze at dat ass and let it go to waste! Pin her down; make her give you a taste!"

From on stage, Magdalena is still facing you, but her eyes have closed, she's lost in memory.

"I turn around to face him. Good, he's closed his book. Now he's watching me openly as I dance so sensuously, so sexily, and I see his eyes have gotten big, his pupils are dilated, his face has that look of deep desire. I wish my high-school boyfriends knew enough about sex to get that heavy-lidded, hungry look. It excites me to realize how desirable I am! Men just can't keep themselves from wanting me!

"She be teasin'! What a teen-age slut! Don't just gaze at dat ass and let it go to waste! Pin her down; make her give you a taste!"

"Now I feel as if can sense in my own belly how terribly strong and conflicted my stepdad's desire for me is. His need is in his face, in his body language; it wafts off him like a heated aroma. I sense the torture of his hunger for forbidden fruit.

"Abruptly I cool my dancing way down. I didn't mean for it to go this far, but just as I start to regret my little game, I'm surprised and shaken by the abrupt force of my own arousal—it hits me like rolling thunder, and I feel my pussy tingle and begin to throb.

"Wait! This isn't okay, I tell myself. This I so wrong! It's totally wrong to want my stepdad to grab me and fuck me! I'm being bad, and now I do feel evil—I'm a wicked little slut. What's the matter with me? But now my sexual desire is surging through me like a swollen river, and my pussy has gotten so slick I can smell it."

You've been getting more and more aroused while listening to Magdalena's secret. When she mentions being so wet that she can smell her own pussy, she steps closer, and now it seems you can smell her. Not just the scent of fresh, clean sweat, from standing under the hot spotlight baring her soul, although that's part of the mix. You think you're detecting a trace of pussy. A flash of bare ass tells you she's not wearing underwear, and you're certain of it now—you're smelling the dark perfume of her sex! Damn, it's so... close. So intimate. Does she know I can smell her pussy?

"I stop dancing." She says. "I gulp and swallow. I'm frozen. I don't know what to do! How to get out of this situation? But I don't WANT to get out of it! I feel a string of pussy lube drool down my inner thigh."

"Don't just gaze at dat ass and let it go to waste! Pin her down; make her give you a taste!"

My stepdad stands up from the couch, and the crotch of his sweatpants bulge out like a pup tent. I can't read his expression—I've never seen a look like that. I expect him to slap me for teasing him, and I want to run away, but his ferocious, ravenous gaze is pinning me in place, like a butterfly in a wax dish."

"Pin her down; make her give you a taste!"

"Without a word, he crosses to me and I flinch, expecting a slap, but his hands dive under my T-shirt and he caresses my breasts and his hands feel hot and my nipples are achingly hard, and his body smells like a mix of male sex and Old Spice deodorant and warm, yeasty bread, and I start to pant because it feels so damn exciting, but so damn forbidden, and I say, "No, wait! Stop! We can't be doing this!

"But my stepdad's face is an animal mask. His chest is heaving. Things have gotten so out of control! And now he's tugging off my panties, yanking them down so fast it almost trips me as they slide past my knees.

"No, Daddy! Stop! Don't! We can't!" I try to push him away. "Daddy, it's me! We can't do this!"

"But he just says in a growl, 'We can't do this?' as he roughly shoves me face down onto the couch, my knees dropping to the carpet, my ass jutting in the air. 'We can't do this?' he yells and pins down my head and shoulders in the couch until my face and nose are mashed into the leather that's still warm from his sitting.

"Oh, hell yes, we're going to do this! You played with fire little girl!" His hard cock slides down the crack of my ass and I feel like I'm going to faint with arousal! But a voice in my head is shouting at me: THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! IT'S WRONG! WHAT ABOUT MOM?

"I struggle and kick and try hard to push him off me. Maybe if I cry, he'll stop, and I try to bring out tears, but I'm so beside myself with lust, I don't know up from down. I don't want him to stop! I can't believe I'm so wicked that I badly want him to take me! It's insanely selfish, but I've never wanted anything so much in my life!

"I keep on wrestling, trying hard to squirm out of his grip, but just like my looping thoughts at school, the more I resist, the more it turns me on! And I can feel his strength—He's ten times as strong as me! And then I know he really is going to fuck me—there's no turning back—and just knowing that is about to make me cum!

"Even so, I don't stop thrashing. I'm kicking at him, behind me, and now he slaps my ass HARD, a stinging blow on each cheek, and I gasp with each slap. I catch my breath and it's like something has gotten triggered in my brainstem, like it just received the primitive message to submit to the alpha-male, and I find that my whole body has involuntarily surrendered. Now I offer no more resistance than a kitten. He rains down a dozen hard slaps on my burning ass cheeks, and his voice is choked with lust as he spanks me: 'You played with fire little girl! You're gonna get what you deserve!' The raw energy of the spanking brings me even closer to the edge of orgasm, pain and pleasure blending into one huge wave of emotion—a crazy mix of shame and bliss that sweeps me under and now I do start crying.

"My stepdad groans once, like a wounded beast, then he yells, 'Goddammit, I'm gonna rape you! I'm gonna rape you! I can't help it! I've got to! I can smell you!' and his big hard cock plunges into my wet pussy from behind, and I moan loudly, instantly starting to orgasm.

"I hear squishing sounds and the thuds of his pelvis slamming into my ass, and my pussy is madly in love with the big cock that's pounding it. 'Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh goddam!' I yell, with my face mashed into the cushion, and now his arm that's got me pinned to the couch starts rhythmically shoving my face deeper into the leather, matching the tempo of his ramming me from behind. I can't tell if the shoving hurts my face or if it's the most ecstatic thing I've ever felt, and I can barely breathe and I don't care, I just love the rhythm of it and I just want to be made of this drumming, this humping, and nothing else, forever. I'm so lost in a gigantic orgasm that I'm no longer just crying; I'm sobbing. And screaming loud and long.

"'So, you love getting raped, little girl! You love it! Oh, Goddamn you, you love it so much! Goddammit, we both love it!' I hear tears in my stepdad's voice, but he's keeping up the steady pounding. His hefty cock is a sledgehammer driving the bliss deeper into my core. My face feels raw from the friction of the leather, but I can't stop coming and coming. And screaming. Goddamn, I do love it—so much!

"'You little tease!' he yells, and he pumps harder and faster, like a piston, jamming my head against the backrest of the couch. 'YOU LITTLE TEASE!' he cries, and his breath catches, his thighs clench. With a howl of anguish, he pours himself inside me, and I feel his cock jerking and bucking. He collapses on top of me and his weight knocks me onto the floor. Now we're on our sides, fitting like spoons, with his cock still impaling me, filling me. My orgasm has died down to twinges, but my pussy is still twitching and clutching at his manhood. 'We're doomed!' my stepdad whispers. 'We're doomed!'

"I become aware again that the rap music is blasting away. The singer is chanting the same line to the throbbing bass beat: 'Check out da girl with da bubble butt! She be teasin'! What a teen-age slut! Don't just gaze at dat ass and let it go to waste! Pin her down; make her give you a taste!'"

Magdalena finally opens her eyes, taking in yours, returning to the present moment.

"That was the beginning of a torrid affair with my stepdad that was intoxicatingly lusty, and saturated with guilt and shame for both of us. Lust and guilt and shame—what a combo! Every day. You might think that only that first fuck could feel so intense, but oh no; all our licking and sucking and spanking and fucking had that kind of power over us. It ruled us. We were trapped like a snake in a tube, no way to back out! We really were doomed.

"Our family dynamics got more and more strained with all the hiding and secrets, the lies and cover-ups. For starters, whenever I heard him and mom having sex in their bedroom, I no longer just felt envious, I suffered the agony of a lover's jealousy.

"One morning, while mom was out jogging, my stepdad grabbed me by the wrist and towed me into the upstairs bathroom and locked the door. He spun to face me and roughly shoved me onto my knees and opened the front of his bathrobe. You see, from the first, each of our encounters had the thrill of rape. He gripped my head in both hands and shoved his bulky cock deep into my mouth. 'Little girl, I'm fucking your face!' he moaned. 'Little girl, I'm fucking your face!' He kept repeating it, like a kind of chant, in tempo with his thrusting cock. He grunted loudly as he finally came, and so much cum gushed into my mouth, it leaked out the sides before I could gulp it all down. That same morning, when mom got home from her run, she drove me to the mall to buy him a Father's Day gift. It was like that. And we were too weak—like addicts—to end it. It dragged on for half a year, until my stepdad got an ulcer and told me he couldn't handle the stress any longer. He wanted to confess everything to my mom. The incredibly stupid thing is, he thought that he would leave my mom and we would move in together! I was 19 by then and he was 45. His delusion made me snap out of my own folly. It's like I became instantly sober. I threatened to report him to the law to get him to promise that he would simply divorce my mom without trying to unburden anything from his chest onto her, to make himself feel cleaner. The divorce went through, and I left for college that summer."

Magdalena swills wine from the upturned bottle, without taking her eyes off yours. "No, I haven't told my mom—and I never will. I wrecked their marriage! But it wasn't all my fault; it takes two to tango" —she swivels her hips in a quick tango step— "that is, to suck and fuck like fiends who need a fix.

"I've never told anyone my secret, not even my closest friends, and tonight I've revealed it to a roomful of strangers. Now that you know, let me ask you," she says, and her eyes are still locked on yours, so you know that you are the one she is really asking. "Which is naughtier? That a teen-aged girl played with fire, got herself roughly used, and found she craved it? Or that, to this day—decades later—the smell of couch leather makes me slippery wet?"