Letters to Penthouse XXI

by The Editors of Penthouse Magazine

  I watched Sarah’s hips move softly to the rhythm of the music and the man’s stroking fingers. Her partially exposed breasts jiggled under her dress top as she moved her body. With her eyes half closed, her hands worked open and closed as she came closer to orgasm. My cock grew harder at the sight.

  “Oh God,” she moaned. “Stop for a second.” The man pulled his hand from between her legs and rested it on her inner thigh. His fingers were wet. I stepped back before I was noticed.

  I returned to my seat and watched another stripper take the stage. At this point, I was so excited at what my wife was doing that the stripper made little impression on me. Sarah leaned toward the man again, then straightened and leaned my way. “He wants me to go with him,” she whispered.

  “You want to have sex with him?”

  She stared at me with glassy eyes, not saying anything. I knew she was so sexually aroused that I couldn’t say no.

  “All right,” I choked. “We go together, though. I’m not letting you go away with a total stranger.”

  She had a quiet but firm conversation with the man. A minute or two later, she turned to me and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

  I stood with Sarah, not fully aware of what was going on. The man beside her stood and followed us out of the club. Outside, Sarah said for me to drive. I opened the door and watched her slip in the back seat with the man. I turned on the ignition and hit the headlights. Looking in the rearview mirror to back out, I saw my wife locked in a passionate embrace with the man—before I could even back out of the parking space. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight as he kissed her. One hand was cupping her firm breast, squeezing gently. Just as I moved the car into forward, Sarah groaned. The man, I saw in the mirror, was pressing her against the back seat, fondling her breasts through her dress.

  Traffic was light, but I still had to watch the road while driving. The next time I looked in the mirror, Sarah was nude from the waist up. The man was still kissing her passionately while fondling her now-bare breasts. I continued to glance back, watching the man roll my wife’s hard nipples in his fingers. His head dipped now and then, and I heard soft moans. As I tried to keep the car in our lane, I noticed her bare arm moving as he pressed her against the back seat and kissed her.

  I had to move up in order to see what was happening. It turned out that Sarah had the man’s pants unzipped and was masturbating him slowly.

  I watched for and found a dirt road that was totally dark and disappeared over a hill. I turned onto the road, driving slowly. Before I could find a suitable place to park, Sarah was totally naked. She scooted down in the seat and spread her lovely legs. I watched as the stranger positioned himself over her naked body brandishing his hard cock and slowly entered her.

  “Oh God,” she groaned as his hips began moving. “Yes,” she gasped. “Fuck me.”

  The man tugged his pants down completely. I watched in the rearview mirror as his large cock plunged in and out of my wife. He fondled her bare breasts and kissed her. His pace quickened. Sarah groped at his shirt as she raised her hips to accept his plunging cock. I couldn’t believe my wife was having sex with a complete stranger in the back seat of our car. My eyes locked onto the scene in the back, and my own cock strained at the zipper. It throbbed with excitement as I continued to watch the sex going on in the back.

  “Oh, man,” the man groaned, moving even faster inside my naked wife. I heard clothing rustle and smelled the odor of illicit sex. Sarah gave out another long groan as the man’s hips pushed forward. She groped at his back. Her hips rose upwards. She wrapped her legs over his hips. Then his body shook in orgasm. She pushed upward, harder, as he came inside her. She let out a long, soft moan.

  The man relaxed on Sarah as she held him close. I figured it was over, and they would get dressed again. I was surprised to see her kiss the man again and pull him close. I continued to watch as she helped him undress completely. They lay back on the seat again and embraced. He moved over her, between her open legs. She took his large cock deep inside her. Their nude bodies moved together as they kissed. Sarah raked a long fingernail down the man’s back, over his bare butt. She moaned and groaned as they began sex for the second time.

  “Oh yes,” Sarah whispered as the man’s cock moved deep inside her. “Oh yes,” she repeated over and over as her hips rose to meet him. She groped at his back as they kissed. This time, he took his time. Through it all she kept groping his naked body until finally he filled her with a second load of come.

  They both sat up, and he put his shirt on but didn’t button it. I started the car, once again thinking that their sexual fun was over for the evening. I was hard, to the point where I was hurting and wanted my wife back desperately.

  As I turned the car around, I glanced in the mirror again. When I couldn’t see my wife, I pulled over and looked in the mirror again. Sarah was bent over the man’s lap with his cock in her mouth. She stroked the exposed portion while continuing to swallow it deep in her throat. He pushed deep into the cushion of the back seat, with his eyes closed. She worked his soft cock back into a solid shaft. He moaned.

  She pulled his shaft from her mouth and licked her lips, then moved up and whispered in his ear. He nodded, and she stretched out naked on the back seat. He straddled her again and entered her for the third time. Again their sex was slow and sensual, with a lot of deep kissing and fondling. This time it took a good hour. Finally Sarah gasped. I watched her grip the man’s butt cheeks and pull him deep inside her until he came for the third time.

  This time I was determined to have my wife for myself. As I drove back toward the strip bar, she and the stranger dressed, simultaneously kissing and hugging all the way. The smell of fresh sex wafting through the car made it harder for me to concentrate on driving. After I pulled into the empty parking lot, I saw in the rearview mirror that my wife and the man were still kissing and playing around with each other, and they kept at until I turned the engine off.

  Sarah walked the man to his car and gave him one last long hug and kiss. As she walked back to the car, I thought, now finally I can have my wife back. We drove home without talking. I took the baby-sitter home, then rushed home. Sarah lay on the bed, still dressed. Her eyes were closed, and I figured she was asleep after her passionate night of sex.

  “Are we going to make love?” she asked as I undressed. I looked down at her and smiled.

  “I thought you might be satisfied.”

  “Not until I have you,” she said in a deep-throated voice.

  I lay beside her and kissed her as my hands wandered over her clothing, savoring the firm body under the clothes. Caught up in passion, I forgot that I still had her panties—until I reached under her dress and found her bare pussy. She choked a passionate groan as my finger slipped insider her wet slit. I didn’t care that another man’s come was in my wife’s pussy. I moaned as I finally let my hard cock free. I rolled toward her, lifted her dress above her hips and entered her. It didn’t take long until I added my semen to the stranger’s. We made love until the sun came up, then lay beside one another, touching gently.

  I asked if she had fun with the guy. She turned to me, smiled and said it had been exciting. I fell asleep, wondering if she would see the man again. She never did. Soon after that night, we entered the world of wife swapping, but that’s another story for another day.—N.T., Fayetteville, Arkansas

  IF MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS, IT CAN SURE BUY LOTS OF THE FIXINGS

  Before the collapse of the dot-com industry my wife’s company was bought out, and after seven years of long, hard hours she came away a multimillionaire—at the age of thirty-five. I have continued to work long hours at my job, because I continue to find it interesting and challenging. Meanwhile Trish has been able to explore other aspects of her talents and personality. In particular, she has become quite a hedonist.

  Although she was always nice-looking, she used to be fairly casual about her looks, dressing conservatively and wearing a mini
mum of makeup. Immediately after leaving her job, she began to exercise regularly at a gym, and in three months she had toned her body in a noticeable way. She lost about ten pounds, flattening her stomach and shedding several inches from her waist and hips. Her breasts also appeared perkier. She said proudly that she now measured 35C-24-35. She also got contact lenses for the first time, and spent several days at an exclusive spa.

  When she returned home, she was a blonde with a new, mod hairstyle and was wearing makeup expertly applied to accent her features. She had on a skimpy sundress, revealing most of her legs and considerable cleavage—it was obvious that she didn’t have a bra on. She looked about ten years younger and unbelievably sexy. I immediately got a hard-on. When she came over to give me a hello kiss, she pressed her body against mine and said happily that it appeared the new her was having quite an effect.

  She started to rub my neck and said she wanted to see whether blondes really did have more fun. We wound up having sex for several hours. I had never experienced her so voracious.

  Unfortunately, I had to leave the next day on a two-week business trip. Before I left, Trish had me take some digital photos of her nude so I wouldn’t forget what was waiting for me. The photos were very explicit, including shots of her spreading her legs and revealing her cunt lips and neatly groomed pubic hair. When I asked what she planned to do while I was away, she said she would hang out with friends and I wasn’t to worry. She said the best way to reach her would be via her cell phone.

  I called Trish every evening. Most times there was considerable noise in the background, and she said she was out to dinner with one of her friends. A few times there wasn’t any background noise, although she sounded as though she had been breathing heavily.

  When I got back, there was a note saying that Trish would be home after midnight and couldn’t wait to see me. She got home about one. I had waited anxiously, not knowing what to expect. She was wearing a short black leather skirt, fishnet stockings, red high heels and a black lace top that was cut low and was held together by silk ties in the front. Her makeup looked freshly applied, and her hair glistened. She was wearing perfume that smelled sweet.

  She gave me a big smile, then a deep kiss. After asking perfunctorily about my trip, she announced that we had to talk. She hoped I wasn’t too tired. I nodded okay. She said that while I was away she had been experimenting sexually. She said her adventuresomeness, even promiscuity—about which she was going to explain—wasn’t about not loving me. Indeed, her greatest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to take what I was about to hear. She was hoping, however, that the way we had left things indicated that I was open to her new sexuality and new experiences.

  She had always been the good girl, the hard worker, even the nerd. But now that we were “comfortable,” she wanted to experience what it was like to walk on the wild side. So for the last two weeks, she had done just that.

  She asked if I wanted her to continue. I said I did. She said that for those two weeks she had been driven by an urge to have sex constantly. It began with the photos I had taken. She went to an Internet sex-club site and posted the photo of herself nude with her legs spread. She wrote that her husband was out of town, and she wanted to have hot sex sessions with well-endowed men. She asked respondents to send photos to an Internet box. Within two hours she had photos of twenty guys.

  The one she liked best was a muscular hunk in his twenties who had posted a photo of himself with an erection. It turned out that he didn’t live too far away, so she e-mailed him to meet her at a suburban hotel in its lounge that evening at nine. She went in the same outfit she was wearing on my first evening back. She arrived an hour early, and registered as a hotel guest, to considerable stares from the staff and the other guests. She went up to the room (that’s where she was when I called my first evening away) and left her purse, some sex toys she had bought, some condoms and her overnight bag.

  She went down to the lounge about half past eight and sat at a fairly visible table with her drink. There was a small group of men in town for a meeting at a table nearby. They kept staring at her. One of them came up to her, started to make small talk, then asked how much it would cost for her to take on his buddies and him. She was momentarily caught off guard, but quickly realized that given how she looked, she would be viewed as a hooker.

  The thought of guys paying to have sex with her was exciting. She said she was expecting a date at nine, but asked how long they would be staying. Two more days, he said. She said she would meet him and his buddies tomorrow night—same time, same place. For the four of them, she said, it would be a thousand dollars each. He grinned and said, “No problem.” She turned to his friends, smacked her lips and spread her legs slightly so that they could see her garter belt and thong undies.

  When the hulk came in, he came directly to her. He was every bit as buff as his photo, and taller than she expected, well over six feet. He sat down and ordered a drink. As they talked, he touched her legs and her neck. She put her hand on his cock, which was getting hard. She told him she already had a room, and they left. As she passed the group of businessmen, she kissed the cheek of the guy who’d talked with her.

  The hulk couldn’t keep his hands off her in the elevator. He bent over to give her a kiss. She played with his increasingly hard rod as they tongued each other deeply. In the room they didn’t waste time. The hulk had an incredible cock, incredibly long and thick, way out of my league. He took off Trish’s clothes as she did the same for him. He began to play with her clit as she began to lick his cock. She had a hard time getting it in her mouth. It took her about five minutes to adjust to his mammoth tool. Though she never was able to get it all in, he seemed happy, and soon his precome mixed with her saliva.

  Between his playing with her and her thinking about being a whore and having group sex (for pay!) the next night, she was experiencing periodic convulsions. She said she needed him to fuck her hard, soon. She got out a condom, which fortunately slid on easily, and he took her missionary-style, pumping her for about fifteen minutes before he shot his wad. She built to an overpowering orgasm. Nothing had ever touched her and filled her that way.

  They spent the night together, and he worked continually to make her come off. He had enough endurance to fuck her twice more, once from behind and once with her on top. The next morning she took his telephone number, thanked him for a great evening and said she would be in touch real soon. When she checked out of the hotel, the young desk manager said he hoped that she had a pleasant time.

  That night she returned to the hotel shortly after we talked on the telephone. This time she wore a short low-cut black dress. She didn’t bother with lingerie. The men were waiting in the lounge and invited her to sit down. They were all in their early thirties. She had a drink, and they laughed and joked. Then she said it was time to get down to business. They all went up to one of their hotel rooms, where she asked for her money up-front. They each gave her ten crisp hundred-dollar bills. She put them in her purse, then told the men to relax.

  She tuned in some cool jazz on the radio and slowly took off her dress. Once she was nude, she undressed each of the men. As their erections grew, she sucked them in turn. None were as well-endowed as the hulk the night before, but she liked the variety of shapes and sizes. Over the course of several hours she fucked them all twice. She had a couple of them fuck her in the ass. At one point she had them all going at once—one in her mouth, one in her cunt, one in her rear and one in her hand. She experienced a mind-blowing orgasm. She left them about midnight. She found the group sex exciting and relished the thought of being so trashy as to have become a hooker, even though she didn’t need the money.

  By the time Trish completed her second night’s story, I had an incredible hard-on. Rather than continue talking, she said she wanted to give me relief. She proceeded to give me an extraordinary blowjob. When I was about to come, she sat on my cock. She wasn’t wearing panties, and I slid right in. It felt as though she was al
ready full of come. Too quickly, I shot my load. Then we went to bed hugging each other.

  The next day Trish finished telling me how she had spent the week. She had gotten together with the hulk several more times, once with three friends of his, all incredibly endowed. On other nights she went to dance clubs and picked up strangers. One turned out to be a photographer, who took an incredible set of nude shots. She sent several off to a magazine that publishes photos of nonprofessionals. (They were published several months later.)

  Although she didn’t take money from anyone again in those two weeks, several months later she started an escort business. She didn’t like being unemployed, and felt she now knew so much about pleasing men that she should turn pro. She also felt it was best to put some limits on her promiscuity. Essentially, my wife the dot-com executive has become a high-class hooker. She keeps her customer base small. However, her extramarital stories are keeping the zest in our marriage. I particularly like that she dresses so sexually provocatively when she is with me.

  Trish’s experiences those two weeks I was away were totally liberating for both of us. Her inhibitions, and to a lesser extent mine as well, are a thing of the past.—L.H., Seattle, Washington

  FOR HIS BIRTHDAY, HIS WIFE TURNED FROM A NICE GIRL INTO A NYMPHO

  My wife and I have been married for fifteen years. Paula is five-four, a hundred ten pounds, and has a terrific figure, with full, round breasts and great legs. She has shoulder-length blonde hair, green eyes and a strikingly lovely face. She’s always gotten lots of attention because of her looks, but for most of our marriage dressed relatively conservatively. Although I frequently encouraged her to dress more provocatively, she would say that she wasn’t comfortable flaunting her body.