Letters to Penthouse XXI

by The Editors of Penthouse Magazine

  My hand slid down to the juncture of her thighs, and my fingers delved in her warm pussy. It was juicy, and pulsed against my fingers. I stroked her gently, then gradually quickened my pace until she was on the verge of climax. I plunged my fingers in her warm depths, then slid them rapidly in and out while I continued to rub her clit with my thumb. It didn’t take long for her to burst against my hand in orgasm. I licked the remains from my fingertips.

  I couldn’t resist the temptation any longer and began to kiss a trail of fire down her slim torso—below her belly button, below her waist, below the swell of her pelvis. Sensing my intention, she writhed in anticipation. My mouth closed over her hot cunt. She gasped as my tongue flicked across her clit, then sank in her pussy. While my tongue reveled in its task, she went wild.

  When I couldn’t hold her still any longer, I rolled over, pulling her with me, so her pussy was pressed in my face again. She rubbed it back and forth over my face, becoming more and more excited. Her body tensed, and she erupted, screaming, “Oh God, yes!”

  By now my cock was hard and eager to be buried full-length in Sandy. She seemed just as eager, judging from the way she slid down and straddled my hips. The head of my cock was pressing against her tight hole when she paused to flash me a teasing grin. The heat of her pussy on my dick was too much! I grabbed hold of her ass and held her still while I thrust my hips off the bed to bury my dick in her. I remained still for a moment to allow her tight pussy to adjust to me before I fucked her. I began slowly, but then she began to grind forcefully against me. Soon I was fucking her fast and hard, driving deeper and harder with every thrust.

  Suddenly Sandy cried out, “Oh fuck, Larry! I’m coming!” I forced my hips up off the bed and shot a full load of come in her pulsating pussy.

  She gasped in giddy surprise. “Oh, you’re coming. Don’t stop!” She continued to ride me until my dick was spent. I hoisted her gently off me and slid out of her. We remained side by side, cuddling and caressing until we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  I awoke the next morning to find Sandy gone. She had left a note on a fax she found on the desk. It said she’d had a wonderful time, and I should call her anytime at the following number. I decided that a few extra days of business wouldn’t be such a hardship after all.—L.R., Pensacola, Florida

  IT’S SUMMER, AND THIS YOUNG MAN’S HORMONES TURN TO AN OLDER WOMAN

  Since her divorce, my mom’s friend Andrea has called on me to do various chores at her house. I’ll cut the lawn, clean out the gutters, and when I have a break between college semesters, I’ll paint a room or two.

  There was always something special about Andrea. She would pass a group of us young guys hanging out around town, and she knew she was turning us on. She works out and looks so much younger than she is. Like a lot of guys my age, I would always fantasize about doing the deed with an older, more experienced woman. Girls my age are fine, but they have limits in the lust department. I mean, say she’s giving you a handjob. Guaranteed she’s going to duck when you start churning out your version of Alaskan crude. I just knew an older fox like Andrea would be like a Hollywood movie ho.

  One day when I showed up at her place, as usual unable to stop eye-fucking her fine figure, there was something different about the way she positioned herself, with her weight resting on one leg. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something in the air. For a moment there, I was almost afraid. Part of me wanted to cut and run. But the rest of me was rooted to the ground. And my root was growing rapidly.

  Andrea was wearing a light beige blouse and no bra. For a woman her age, her full tits were still firm enough that she could get away with it. She welcomed me with a kiss on the cheek, and just happened to press those warm orbs of hers into my chest.

  “My, you’re looking so grown-up lately, Timmy,” she said.

  The woody in my pants was doing a lot of growing up, as I couldn’t keep from staring at her beautiful breasts. The nipples were pressing through the flimsy beige fabric.

  I told Andrea I would get busy hauling the boxes out of the attic, the task I had been set for the day. She made me stammer and sweat just by turning those dreamy eyes on me. As she brushed back some sandy brown hair from her forehead, I couldn’t help feeling once again that there was something different about this day, that something was happening. Somehow my attention was drawn to her mature face and in particular to those experienced lips. I wondered how many cocks she had sucked.

  Andrea went to the living room couch and picked up a romance novel. Before opening the book, she opened her legs. I couldn’t believe it. Was it my imagination, or was she Sharon Stone-ing me? She crossed her legs slowly. Her short brown skirt climbed her thighs until I caught a glimpse of white. She saw me staring and just smiled.

  After a few trips up to the steamy attic, then carrying those heavy cartons down, I was so overheated, it felt like my blood was boiling. I headed to the kitchen, intending to snag a cool drink from the fridge. But there was no cooling off in store for me just then.

  Andrea called to me from the living room. She set down her novel and motioned for me to join her on the couch. That made me all the more self-conscious about the rivers of sweat pouring off me.

  “Your muscles really stand out when you perspire,” she said, gazing at my bare chest. Then she reached out and grabbed hold of my belt, and pulled me toward her on the couch. Now she started in playing touchy-feely with my chest, making my sweat sweat. She ran a soft hand over my abs, meanwhile drawing me still closer.

  Now she was pressing her warm thigh against my leg. “You’re so cute,” she said. She had always called me cute, like when she asked about my social life and what I did with my girlfriends. But now, suddenly “cute” seemed to mean something different. While still massaging my gut, she inched closer. Her perfume penetrated my nostrils. She blew her warm breath onto my chest. Then her tongue was darting around my pecs, attacking my nipples. I didn’t even notice her drawing my head down to hers until our lips made contact, and her tongue was inside my mouth.

  We started making out like it was prom night. While kissing me, she peeled off my shorts and briefs, and my rod was out in the open, throbbing between us. She licked her lips before bending down slowly to kiss my cockhead. She was an experienced tease, pressing the tip of her tongue in my slit, making the spunk simmer in my balls. The next thing I knew she had whipped off her blouse and was thrusting those ample breasts at me. The nipples were dark and chocolate-looking, and I knew I had to have a taste of that candy. I lowered my mouth to it, and she held my head in place, urging me to suck hard. I did, and soon her beautiful boob was coated in saliva. Then she moved my head to her breast’s succulent mate.

  I hadn’t had nearly enough of my new candy when Andrea interrupted my work. She insisted that she get nude too. I couldn’t object to that! So I just enjoyed the show as she slid free of her skirt. Her jogger’s legs were so firmly muscled, yet so shapely and feminine. I must have been dreaming about them when I became aware that she had taken my hands and rested them on the waistband of her panties.

  “You take them off, Timmy,” she said. Apparently her undressing was a two-person job. I wasn’t complaining! I was on my knees between her spread legs, ready to worship at the altar of love. I eased down her panties and made a mental videotape of the smooth flesh passing before me. For some reason I smiled at the sight of her pussy, shaved except for a small landing strip. I found myself wondering how her slug of an ex-husband could have abandoned this lusty fireball.

  Andrea reached between her legs, gently strumming her guitar. “Pleasure me now, Tim,” she sighed, “and you can have your way with me.”

  What I lacked in experience, I made up for in boyish enthusiasm. I just followed Andrea’s lead and instructions, knowing I would apply all the carnal knowledge I acquired here to other women down the line. I licked her with slow tongue strokes, tasting the warm juice easing from her slit. Then I pushed my tongue all the way in until my ch
in braced against her mound. I tongued her with cocklike strokes until she urged me to work overtime on her clit. I kissed it and licked it, then sucked it big-time. This brought her to the edge, her hips pushing hard into my face.

  She let out a moan as she pounded her fists on the couch. “That’s it!” she cheered, “You’re making me come!”

  Feeling like a real stud, I wiped the juice from my smiling lips. Smiling back, she said, “What will be your pleasure?”

  It was like Christmas, with my every wish come true. Andrea started with the basics, bringing me close until she was kissing my knob. She wet-kissed a trail down my boner and licked each of my nuts. I lasted about a nanosecond before shooting. Andrea smiled a “Got milk?” look at me before leaning back and spreading those beaver lips.

  She wanted me to cock her, and you know darned well that I did.—T.D., Providence, Rhode Island

  Open Season

  HIS WIFE RINGS IN THE NEW YEAR BY MAKING A DIVORCED BUDDY A LOT LESS LONELY

  It had been literally years since we’d gone out together like this. Between work, the kids, Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts, mowing the lawn and all the other activities that consumed almost every waking moment, there was little time for just us. Last summer we moved slightly closer to our families. Early in December Jean’s parents called and said they wanted to visit for the holidays, and even volunteered to watch the kids if we wanted to go out New Year’s Eve.

  At first we hemmed and hawed and procrastinated about what to do. Then my company offered us free tickets to a black-tie affair at a major downtown hotel, the only catch being that we had to pay for our own room for the night. It seemed like a pretty good deal to us.

  So Jean and I checked in in the afternoon of December 31. “This is going to be fun,” she said as we walked through the hotel unencumbered by little arms and little voices crying: “When can we go to the pool?” “Can we have some candy?” “He’s bothering me.”

  Our room was a suite with a king-size bed, a couch and a little living room. It was pretty damn nice. I took a shower while Jean got dressed. When I started getting antsy, she said I should wait in the bar. There I ran into a couple of guys from my office, and we had a few drinks while I waited.

  Doug and Howard were attending the party stag. Doug’s wife couldn’t come, while Howard was recently divorced. We sat together critiquing the women as they came in: “Nice. Nice. Average. Average. Yuck, owww! Average. Very nice.”

  The “very nice” was for a blonde who was walking right toward me. “Very, very nice,” I said to myself as I recognized my wife of twelve years. Jean had on a sparkling long black halter dress that showed her shoulders and had a slit up to mid-thigh. The string of pearls I’d given her the day I proposed was draped around her neck. Her hair was tied in a tight bun on her head, and she had small pearl studs in her ears. She wore strapped black high heels, with a small gold chain draped around one ankle. The back of the dress was open almost to her tight ass. I was getting hard just looking at her, and my coworkers were impressed too.

  “Hello, handsome,” she said. “Buy me a drink?”

  I was smiling ear to ear. “You look fantastic,” I said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I thought you might like it.” Talk about understatement! Between sips of her drink she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve been away for the weekend.”

  I offered her my arm, and we walked to the ballroom. I was pretty sure more than one guy caught a second glimpse as she walked by. There were hundreds of people in the huge room. We knew the other couples seated at our table, but not well, so dinner was filled with idle social chat.

  The band was pretty good, as it should have been considering what the company had paid for the tickets. Jean and I danced like a couple of college kids. I was having a blast. They switched to a slower song, and she hung her head on my shoulder. I smelled the faint hint of her perfume.

  My hands rested on her hips, and I slid them down to her rear. I felt the silky fabric slide over her ass and looked down at her. She had a slight smirk. “No panties,” she whispered. I was getting hard again. She kissed me gently on the lips and said, “I love you.”

  I said, “I love you too.”

  We sat back down. I noticed that a bit of the crowd had slipped away.

  Jean said, “Who is that waving at you?”

  It was Howard, sitting by himself two tables over. “He’s one of the guys I work with. You know, the one whose wife left him last year. He goes to the gym with me.”

  Howard waved again.

  “That’s too bad,” she said. “He looks lonely tonight.”

  “Why don’t you go dance with him?” I said.

  “It’s not my night to tend to charity cases,” she said.

  “Oh, go ahead,” I said. “He doesn’t bite.”

  “No way,” she said. “Besides, I couldn’t just walk over there and ask him to dance. What kind of woman would he think I was?”

  “Jee-zus,” I muttered. I looked over at Howard and waved to him to join us. At first he gave a friendly “no thanks” wave, but I waved again and he brought his drink over to our table. I introduced him and Jean, he sat down, and we started talking. I goaded him about being there alone, which seemed to bother Jean.

  “Leave him alone, you big lout,” she said to me.

  “It’s okay,” Howard said. “It comes with the territory.”

  The band started up again, and Jean looked at me with a “let’s dance” look. “I’m tired,” I moaned. “You’re wearing me out. But maybe Howard wants to dance.”

  “No, that’s okay,” he said.

  “No, really, it’s all right,” I said. “Go ahead.”

  He asked Jean, “Would you like to dance?”

  “I’d be delighted,” she said. She stood up and followed him to the floor.

  He was a good dancer. They danced several uptempo numbers. Then the band switched to a slow one. I was waiting for them to come back. Instead, he held out his hand. She hesitated a second, then took it. He put his right hand on the small of her bare back and took her hand with his left. I was thinking that he couldn’t help but feel every bit of her body through the thinness of her dress. Hell, it only took me a minute to realize she had no panties. I wondered if he’d get hard—like I was now!—at the thought of her. Could she feel him if he did? Of course she could.

  The dance finished, and they hesitated for a second, a second too long, before they broke and headed back to the table. There was a bulge in Howard’s trousers. I can’t say I’ve checked out many other guys’ packages. Anyway, I couldn’t tell much in the dim light.

  Jean sat back down, took a big sip of wine and said, “I’ve got to go freshen up,” excusing herself and leaving.

  “You’re a lucky guy,” Howard said as he poured himself some more wine, then offered me some.

  “I am indeed,” I said.

  He excused himself to go get another bottle. Jean returned to her seat, and I said, “He’s quite a dancer.”

  “He’s okay,” she said, not looking at me. Then she looked up and smiled. “Okay, he’s a very good dancer.”

  “Dance again if you want. We have no place to go.”

  Howard came back and asked if Jean could handle one more. This time she didn’t hesitate, and off they went. They danced another half hour—fast songs and slow, close-in, like they’d been doing it for years.

  Finally it got really late. Howard thanked Jean for making it a most enjoyable evening and went off to the bar with one of the other stragglers. She came over, sat on my lap, bent down and gave me one hell of a kiss. “Are you ready to call it a night?”

  “Indeed I am,” I said. “Let’s go.” I took her hand, and we went to the lobby.

  The elevator took forever. She put her arms around me and nuzzled my neck. When the elevator finally came, we slipped inside. We were the only ones in it, but we had only a few floors to ride. I spun her around, pinned her against the wall and kissed her. My hand slid up
the slit in her dress, past the top of her thigh-high black stockings. She stifled a moan as I cupped her ass cheek. I slid a finger around to her front and eased it between her legs. She moaned harder as I slid it gently along the slit between her legs, parting her lips. She was wet, and there was no resistance. She was practically humping my fingers.

  Then the elevator door opened. I jerked my hand away like some kid caught in the candy jar, looking a bit red-faced, I’m sure. She whimpered like she was very disappointed. I took her hand and led her to our room. As I fumbled with the damn plastic key card, she ran her hands over my back.

  “Hurry up or I’ll have to do you in the hall,” she joked. “I need to feel you in me.”

  “Damn card,” I snarled.

  “Someone’s had too much to drink.” Howard had just got off the elevator and was walking past us to his room.

  Fuck you, I thought. I’m getting what you can only dream about. Then the card was in. The door opened, and I grabbed Jean’s hand and pulled her inside. She grabbed the door frame, and I stopped dead.

  She pulled me back to the door, stuck her head out and yelled, “Howard, come here a minute.”

  My heart leapt, and my mouth suddenly was dry. What the hell was she doing? Howard came back to the door, and I felt this ache in the pit of my stomach.

  She pulled him inside. “Come in,” she said. She closed the door behind him.

  Howard looked at me, like “what the fuck?”

  I looked back, like “don’t ask me.”

  Jean pulled off my jacket and led me to the couch. “Sit, and don’t move.”

  I sat. She led Howard over to the king-size bed and said, “Don’t move.”