Letters to Penthouse XXII

by Penthouse International

  Pulling open the button on his pants, I unzip his fly to expose his thick mat of pubic hair, massed splendidly above one of the most impressive cocks I have ever seen. His shaft is thick and long, the velvety smooth head very large and dark with blood. My hunger grows stronger, I can’t wait much longer to taste him. I need to feel this massive cock buried deep in my throat. So I lower my mouth to it, flicking my tongue across the head.

  Moving my tongue around the very edge of his head, I slowly suck him into my hot, wet mouth. Taking more of him into my mouth with each downward movement of my head, I cup his balls in my hands, fondling them as I swallow more of his shaft. His hand rests on the back of my head, pressing me against his probing cock.

  I bury his entire length in my mouth and throat. My throat muscles grasp and caress his smooth head as I suck tightly on his shaft. I slide my mouth over that powerful dick. The thrusting of his hips toward my mouth determines a furious pace.

  I can feel his body growing tense, his dick swollen, under my touch. I know that he is very close to shooting his hot thick jism into my mouth and down my throat.

  I can feel the throbbing of his blood in the veins bulging in his hard phallus. Moving my mouth back until I’m sucking lightly on his dickhead, I apply my tongue to the underside, then rush the entire shaft into my mouth again. He’s close, I can feel it. A couple of further sucks and it’s all over. He comes, gushing like a fountain, shooting copious streams of jism into my mouth. I swallow the salty stuff eagerly.

  He falls away, dazzled but deflated, sinking to the floor in a sitting position, then lying on his back. I sink in my chair, happy with what has happened but now craving that dick in my cunt. Will he be able to recover? He spoke contemptuously of my dildo, but the right woman and that dildo are greatly preferable to this young man, however well he’s built, and his ego.

  But he’s here, and he’s my fun. I let him rest for what seems a decent interval, then drop to the floor and lie beside him. He’s asleep! Lazy dog! I take dick and balls in my hand and gradually wake him up by frigging him half-hard. He smiles after opening his eyes. We’re back in business.

  It’s at that moment that I look out the window and at last spot somebody looking back at me—or at us. I’m staring at a set of binocular lenses. In a dimly lighted office across the street, they rest in a stand on the windowsill. Over in that building, the windows don’t go to the floor. Not much can be seen of the person behind them, but I’ll bet he or she is masturbating furiously.

  But I don’t tell this to my awakening security guard as, speaking of masturbation, I continue to fondle his penis till it’s once again a rod graced with bulging veins. I put the head back in my mouth and get it thoroughly slick with spit. Now, for the benefit of the guard, the watcher across the street, and myself, by the way, I arch my legs over this pylon and climb aboard, sliding my cunt down upon it.

  It’s long, it’s hard and it feels good. I start a slow ride on my security guard, whose face is now aglow with pleasure. I steal a look across the street and see those binocular eyes trained on us. I reach back with one hand to cradle my man’s balls in my fingers. His scrotum feels tense. He’ll come good.

  It’s up and down, ride-the-pony. We get into a rhythm that makes light layers of sweat emerge on our bodies. We also start to pant and grunt in our effort to get it right and get off good. He starts to murmur, “Fuck me, baby, fuck me, fuck me.” I wonder what the watcher across the street is groaning, or murmuring or whimpering.

  Just for something to do, I bend and give him a kiss, then draw back, inducing him to rise and meet me in another kiss. Our tongues tie together and saliva drools out of our mouths. At the same time, I start to ride harder, till I’ve hit a furious pace. We’re bent to our activity and I hope we make the watcher happy. Will that person realize it when we come? Will we look like electricity is passing through us?

  Whatever it looks like, it’ll feel nice. I pull back to a tall-in-the-saddle position, feeling that the moment of coming is near. We’re wet all over, the two of us. The layers of sweat are now heavy, drool is like lacquer on our chins, and my cunt is positively oily. And like an oil well, the security guard’s derrick is about ready to blow a gusher.

  When it happens, when we come, we probably cry out loud enough for our voyeur to hear all the way across the street. We certainly contribute an eyeful. I guess the electricity really does pass through us. “Oh, oh—baby, ah! Aaah!” he cries and I make similar noises.

  There, I’ve had him, in mouth and cunt, so that’s it. I’m not a back-door girl, my asshole’s clean, so to speak. He won’t be getting any of that. I whisper in his ear that it’s time he got back to crime prevention.

  Then I stand in the window. Facing the binoculars, I give my muff several rubs as a final thrill for the voyeur beating meat across the street. With the other hand, I slowly draw the blinds across my window. I’ve got other business now, and I want to be alone with it.—T.Y., New York, New York

  CLOSE TO NATURE

  The day was hot, and the idea of a long walk in the woods sounded wonderfully cool and inviting. Packing a light lunch, plenty of water and a small pair of binoculars, I drove to a nearby hiking trail. But the trail was familiar and unchallenging, so I quickly found myself bored. On a whim, I struck out into the woods, leaving the trail. In a very short time I was certain that I had become lost.

  The woods were too dense to navigate by the angle of the sun, and I had never learned to read a compass. So I was relieved when I heard the sound of rushing water in the distance. The park trail cut across a small river at several points, so all I would need to do was to follow the river and I would eventually find the trail. I headed off toward what I heard.

  I had almost reached the river’s edge when I noticed a man sitting on a fallen tree on the opposite shore. I was about to call out to him, to get his attention so I could ask him how far it was from the trail, when something made me stop. Perhaps it had been intuition; an informed thought that made me wonder what he was doing alone in the woods. So instead of approaching him, I quietly stepped farther back into the woods and took out my binoculars. With them, I could get to see him more clearly.

  He was a handsome man, with strong masculine features. Seemingly lost in thought, he stared at the river. Then, as I was about to turn away, he suddenly sat up straighter and reached into the backpack lying on the ground by his feet. Curious, I continued to watch. He had taken a magazine from the pack and when I saw the cover I felt my face flush. In a sudden rush of insight, I knew what he was going to do, and I was unable to look away.

  He began to leaf through the magazine, pausing on occasion to stop and examine a picture or article more closely. I saw him smile over a cartoon. He had a wonderful, sexy smile. But when he shifted the magazine to one hand and reached down to caress the front of his jeans with the other, I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. Never in my life had I seen a man do that when he thought nobody was watching—but I had always wanted to. Knowing that the right thing to do would be to leave him alone in privacy, I nevertheless had an overwhelming desire to stay and watch. Desire carried the day.

  He stood and stretched his arms high over his head. What captivated and held my attention was the telling bulge in the front of his jeans. He was obviously excited. I wondered why he had stopped reading and fondling.

  Finishing his stretch, he rubbed his erection with both hands. His neck arched back in response to his own touch. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. I was certain that he was moaning even though I couldn’t hear him from where I stood. My legs began to shake as he opened the buttons of his jeans. Using the opposite foot, he worked off each of his sneakers without the bother of untying the laces. Then he pulled off his jeans.

  His erection was a tent pole in his underwear, straining against the confining fabric. He tossed the jeans over the fallen tree he had been sitting on, then sat on them. He looked at the magazine again. I heard myself gasp as he drew out his hard cock
and began to stroke himself.

  I had always wanted to know how a man would choose to pleasure himself if he were completely alone, relaxed, uninhibited. Would he do it quickly, in a guilty rush? Or would he take his time, allowing his mind to fill with sexy, sensual images? I was pleased and incredibly excited to see that he was taking the time to savor the feel of his hands on his own flesh. I was breathing in small gasps as I watched his hand move leisurely along the full length, squeezing the head a bit at the end of each stroke.

  The throbbing in my cunt was increasing, growing more insistent. I felt heavy and deliciously swollen. I knew I was wet. I was unable to keep from touching myself. I slid my hand under the waistband of my shorts and inside my panties. I was unbelievably wet. My breath rushed out. I panted and gasped!

  I continued to watch him, matching the movements of my fingers to his pace. I touched myself lightly, for to increase the pressure would certainly bring on my orgasm. I wanted to wait until he came in order that I could get off a simultaneous orgasm.

  A moment later his head snapped back. The first shot of white, hot semen arched from him. My body responded immediately as my own intense orgasm tore through me. I was helpless to stop the movement of my fingers inside myself as, amazed, I watched his come pulse from the head of his cock. Even after he had finished, I continued to touch myself, prolonging my pleasure, unable to stop. Only when he stood and began to dress did I allow myself to sink to the ground and at last rest.

  Closing my eyes and catching my breath, I decided that I would wait a few minutes, then ask him for directions to the trail, as I had originally intended. I was curious to see him up close, to see the color of his eyes, discover what his voice sounded like. But by the time I had gathered the strength to stand, he was gone.—L.H., Boise, Idaho

  ALL AT ATTENTION

  I am in my late twenties, of average height and build, and have a very stressful but rewarding career. My wife Becky is in her mid-twenties. She is five-feet-two, with long auburn hair and blue-green eyes. She is built like a gymnast, although she seldom works out. We are both so busy that we don’t get as much time together as we’d like, so I arranged for us to spend four days in a resort hotel near Tampa.

  We were having dinner in the hotel restaurant on our first night there, feeling very relaxed after having had a few drinks in the lounge. As we waited for our dinner Becky was watching the dance floor, where a dozen or so couples were dancing close.

  “I feel like dancing, honey,” she said to me.

  “After dinner,” I replied. I wasn’t really in the mood, but to keep her happy, I thought I would try to muster up the energy a little later. Just then I remembered I had to call my office to leave instructions for a new marketing plan. I excused myself to find a phone. It took me a while to find one that allowed charge calls, and by the time I had finished nearly an hour had passed.

  When I returned to our table, Becky was sitting there looking very bored, with an unopened bottle of champagne on ice in front of her. “Sorry I took so long, honey, but there shouldn’t be anymore business interruptions. Shall we pop the cork?”

  “The champagne was brought to us compliments of that table,” Becky said with a slight smile. I followed her gaze to the corner, where two young Marines in full uniform sat facing us. I smiled and nodded at them. They rose and started toward us. I looked at Becky and she gave a little shrug.

  They introduced themselves and said they had seen us earlier at the pool and noticed that we seemed to have a hard time relaxing. Phillip, the taller of the two, offered to give us a few tips on what to see and do in the area.

  I accepted his offer, introduced myself and my wife, and asked them to join us. Phillip pulled a couple of chairs over while Bill, who was of average height with a muscular build, went back to their table to get their drinks. Becky and I had been sitting across from each other so Phillip and Bill sat on either side of us.

  We all began talking and soon finished the champagne. As the discussion turned to sports, Becky lost interest and turned to watch the dance floor again. Not wanting to neglect her, I tried to involve her in the conversation. I knew she wanted to dance, but I was rather drunk at that point and didn’t feel up to it.

  Just then Phillip said, “Well, it was nice meeting you both, and if there’s anything we can do for you while you’re here, feel free to look us up.”

  “As a matter of fact,” I replied, “there is something. Perhaps you would stand in for me on the dance floor.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Phillip said. “Ma’am?”

  He offered his arm and Becky took it. She seemed a bit surprised but pleased. Bill said he had to run up to their room for a minute and excused himself. I lit a cigarette and watched as Phillip and Becky moved onto the dance floor.

  When the song ended Phillip stopped and let go of Becky. They seemed to be talking, then the music started again. Becky took Phillip’s hand and pulled him to her slightly, and they resumed dancing. This song was a little slower, and as they danced they gradually moved back into the crowd until I could see only Phillip’s head and shoulders above the other couples. Becky later confessed to me what happened next, and I’ll tell the rest as she told it to me.

  Becky was feeling a bit giddy from the champagne, and as she and Phillip danced she began to get aroused. She is rather petite and the feeling of Phillip’s big, strong body brushing up against her small form was very exciting. As the second song began she took his hand and said, “Let’s keep going!”

  Phillip asked if I would mind, and Becky assured him that it was okay. She held him closer and he responded by pulling her in tight to his chest. Becky directed them through the crowd until they were in the darkest, farthest corner of the dance floor.

  By this time I couldn’t see them at all. Becky rested her head against Phillip’s chest and gave his hand a little squeeze. With this sign of encouragement, she could feel his prick begin to swell in his pants, and he hugged her tightly.

  Growing bolder, she started slowly rubbing his lower back with her left hand and let a soft moan escape her lips. By now Phillip’s cock was fully erect and Becky felt its hardness against her stomach. He felt big. The tip hit her between her belly button and her breasts.

  Phillip then dropped her right hand and wrapped both his strong arms around her, bringing his firm hands down to feel the gentle curve of her beautiful ass. She responded by gripping his muscular buttocks in both her hands and rubbing her body across his stiff penis.

  Phillip took her head in one hand and kissed her hot mouth, moving his other hand between them to rub her pussy through the material of her skirt. She wore a red pleated rayon skirt that fell about three inches above the knee, and as they continued to kiss he slipped his hand under it and massaged her cunt lips through her panties. She whispered, “Oh God, that feels so good.”

  He pulled her panties aside, inserting the tip of his middle finger into her burning pussy. They were hardly dancing at all now, but nobody seemed to notice them. Becky cupped his balls in her hand and sighed as he slowly pushed his finger deeper into her. Soon he had two fingers buried in her cunt and they found their rhythm again. Their movements, with Phillip’s fingers in her pussy, brought her to the brink of orgasm when the music stopped again.

  “We should get back,” Becky said, suddenly aware of my being back at the table.

  When they returned, Bill and I were laughing and joking like a couple of old friends. I hadn’t really noticed my wife’s absence.

  “Did you have fun, honey?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I need to catch my breath for a minute,” she replied, looking quite flushed.

  It was then that I first thought something unusual was going on. The band was playing slow music, meant for close dancing, which is not normally strenuous. I glanced at Phillip. His face was perspiring slightly and he was wiping his hands on a napkin.

  He smiled at Becky, then turned to me and said, “Your wife is a great dancer.”

 
“I know,” I said. “If I were sober I’d be a great dancer too, but I think I’d better retire. Honey, dance a bit more if you like. Come on up when you’re ready.”

  Thanking our companions for the champagne and the company, I rose to leave. Becky quickly stood up. “I guess I’ll go too,” she said, but it was obvious she didn’t want to.

  “No, no, I insist,” I broke in. “Bill here needs some exercise, don’t you, buddy? Come on, Becky, get him out there once.” I smiled and nodded at her so she would feel okay about staying.

  “Good night everybody,” I said and turned to leave. Becky was looking at me a bit strangely, and I gave her a wink over my shoulder. She grinned and sat down.

  I was becoming really aroused at the thought of my hot young wife flirting and playing around with these two studs, and I wanted to give her a chance to enjoy herself.

  I couldn’t resist spying a little, however, so before going up to our room I pretended to make a call from a pay phone near the entrance where I could watch Becky’s table and the dance floor, but couldn’t easily be seen.

  Phillip then called the cocktail waitress over. A minute later there was another bottle of champagne on the table. As the three of them drank Becky turned her attention to Bill, and they seemed to hit it off. Within ten minutes they had finished the champagne and Bill took Becky out to dance.

  He immediately began to kiss her neck and whisper into her ear as he held her body tightly against his. She giggled and threw her head back, tossing her hair. I watched in fascination as their lips met and Bill brushed his fingertips over Becky’s breasts. Her nipples have always been very sensitive and I imagined how hard they must have been at that moment. That’s when I left, fearing that Becky would spot me and become inhibited.

  She came up to our room about an hour later. I pretended to wake up. I asked Becky if she had enjoyed herself, and she smiled and gave me a very sultry look. “You bet I did!” she said. She went to draw a bath and I just lay in bed thinking hot thoughts.