Joanie and I spent the next twenty-four hours in the nude, eating, drinking, talking, and exploring every aspect of lesbian love. Joanie told me about some of her former lovers, including one of our professors whom Joanie eventually invited over to join in our lovemaking. It was incredible that a thirty-seven-year-old “proper” history professor turned into a Sapphic slut when she walked into a bedroom where two young women were locked in a lusty 69.
Joanie was well-connected in the gay community, and that summer I got a chance to meet and make love to many fascinating women. To squelch rumors, Joanie and I each had boyfriends. However, at the end of our double dates, we girls ended up in the backseat while the guys sucked each other off in the front.
Today, Joanie and I live together in Minnesota, our love for each other growing stronger with each day.
—Ms. S.Y., St. Paul, Minnesota
University Professor Succumbs to Charms of Fashion Model
I met Marie this past spring at a downtown café in Manhattan frequented by fashion executives, agents, and models, as well as other chic and youthful MTV and entertainment types. The place was an old-fashioned coffee shop done over with long mirrors and kitschy pink neon clocks and turquoise accents. That warm afternoon, as I was admiring the scenery from my corner seat, Marie, newly arrived from Paris, mistook me for someone “important in the industry” who could give her career a boost.
She was willowy and dark, with jet-black hair streaming down her otherwise bare shoulders, her blue-green eyes sparkling at me from the other side of the table. I nearly melted. The steadiness of her ocean-deep gaze, the whiteness of her eyes and teeth against the smooth olive skin of her high cheekbones—I was for a moment overwhelmed.
Regaining my composure, I began to talk to her, gently disabusing her of the notion that I was in the fashion industry at all. I am, in fact, a history professor at a nearby college. It was tempting to get her to remain by spinning some kind of yarn, but to her credit, Marie did not abandon me for any of the other middle-aged and well-tailored men in the place, even when I pointed out a couple of them I knew were agents.
Bless her, she even blushed a little at her faux pas, and the tinge of rose beneath the olive made her appear even more desirable to me. Her pouting lips begged to be kissed, and our conversation somehow shifted to the realm of sex. Her plainly visible cleavage in her simple black dress was a ferocious temptation for me to miss the class I had coming up in a few minutes, but I steeled myself, gave her my card with my home number written on it and got up to do my duty.
I didn’t expect her to call, but sure enough, a week later she did, asking if she could come over and see me. She looked delectable, if a bit tired, in a black halter and billowy gold satin pants. She planted herself on my couch and let forth a torrent of French and English, telling me all about how humiliating it was, going the rounds of agencies and being treated like meat on the hoof—albeit potentially expensive meat.
Marie obviously trusted me not to objectify her sexually the way the agents did, but I was only half sure about myself on that score. I was certainly turned on by her, but I tried to sympathize with her as a person, telling her how some men couldn’t deal with the intimidating fact of real beauty in a woman—that they had to objectify her to be able to cope. This seemed to make her feel better, and she leaned over and brushed my cheek with her lips.
I made us some coffee and reminded myself sternly that I was a good twenty years older than she was. But when I came back and sat down, she cuddled up close and kissed me full on the lips, her lovely pink tongue forcing its way between my teeth. I was surprised and, needless to say, pleased by this turn of events. My hand fell to her thigh, stroking her through the satin. Marie’s sensuous mouth moved to my throat, and her perfect white teeth nipped in search of sensitive spots. I gasped, and she rubbed against me like a cat, telling me she needed a man like me—right then.
Her hand was already on the bulge of my cock, stroking me through my pants. Planting my hand on hers to keep it firmly in place, I eased her back on the couch and took the lead, kissing her mouth and bringing my other hand up to her throbbing throat. My cock pulsed under her hand. I reached for her halter top, to spill her breasts into my hands, but she asked me to wait for that.
I slid off the couch and knelt between her legs, kissing her exposed belly and rubbing my face between her thighs as she ran her fingers through my hair. The cloth of her pants was damp over her pussy, and her scent was arousing me still further. I was afraid I would come in my pants like a nervous virgin!
Marie tugged at my ears, and I obediently sat back up on the couch while she unbuttoned my shirt. Then she knelt as I had done and removed my shoes and socks. Her tongue darted between my toes, promising later delights when she reached even more sensual parts of my body.
Still on her knees, she undid my belt and pulled down my slacks and underwear, tossing them aside. She ran one red nail along the underside of my cock, and I whimpered. Only now did she remove her halter, revealing her full breasts, each topped by an exquisite pink nipple. She bent over me again, rubbing her breasts against my exposed cock before enveloping me in her greedy little mouth. I noticed one red-tipped finger working its way into her vagina and hazily wondered when she had had time to shed her satin pants and panties.
I put my hands into her flowing hair and stroked her head as she wrapped me into the heat of her mouth, tongue-massaging my cock. Overwhelmed, I came, and she swallowed deeply, gulping down my thick cream. It was the best blowjob I’d ever had. As she swallowed one last time, I felt her body shake in a self-induced orgasm as fierce as mine.
Marie was a creature of whim, impulsive, volatile, demanding. Just then she simply stretched like a cat and curled up on the rug for a nap. I quietly spread an afghan over her, looked at my watch and decided it was time for me to go to bed. Part of me wanted to carry her with me; I decided in the end to leave her undisturbed.
I woke when I felt a catlike tongue lapping my balls and a pair of skillful hands massaging my cock to another erection. I began to moan with pleasure at the wonderful sensation of her mouth on my balls, and Marie was almost purring between my legs.
Finally, I pulled her up my body and she sat astride me, looking down with those spectacular sea-green eyes that had transfixed me in the café. Her face was perfect, smooth and calm, until some interior spasm echoed across it and she bent to kiss my nipples, my belly, my throat. She rubbed her breasts over my face, rasping their tender nipples on my stubble, and then suddenly turned around, presenting her wet pussy to my mouth while she laved my balls and cock again, taking my hardening shaft into her hands. My whole groin was on fire, ready to explode. I bit her ass cheek to keep from crying out.
Marie turned again and pointed my dick at her opening, rubbing it back and forth a couple of times before impaling herself and rocking and twisting to have my hardness in every part of her cunt. She was moaning heavily, but she had the presence of mind to pull my hands up to her swinging breasts. We came together in an unequaled sweaty rush of pure lust.
Eventually, Marie moved back to Paris, but we keep in touch, and I attend every history conference I can that takes me to the City of Lights.
—Mr. E.Y., Newark, New Jersey
Beautiful Virgin Captures Man’s Heart
Several years ago I was a student at a large eastern university. It was there that I had my greatest sexual experience, which I would like to share with you.
Iris was her name. She had straight brown hair that hung a few inches above her shoulders. She had dark brown eyes, wonderful lips and an extremely beautiful face. She was of average height with sexy, firm legs, a great ass and fabulous breasts. We had the same major and were in a lot of classes together, but I never really knew her that well, just well enough to say hi.
One night, I was all alone in the study room of our library when in walked Iris. She noticed me, said hello, and quickly pulled a chair up to my table. We began talking, and I was soon lost in he
r beauty. I asked her if she had a boyfriend. Iris responded by saying that she had broken up with her boyfriend because of his roving eyes. “I don’t see how any guy could cheat on someone as beautiful as you,” I told her. Iris said that was the sweetest thing any guy had ever said to her. She then asked me if I really thought she was beautiful. I said yes and began telling her how I always stared at her in class and wondered what it would be like to hold her, kiss her, and even make love to her.
Iris leaned forward and kissed me. “Would you like to find out?” she asked.
I said, “Hell, yes.” Grinning, Iris told me to wait right there until she got back.
A few minutes later, she returned and sat down next to me. She handed me her panties. They were black bikinis and they were really wet. She was wearing black cotton shorts and a gray cheerleading T-shirt. She looked really hot!
Iris unzipped my jeans and found my cock. She then went down under the table and started to give me head. After a few minutes, I got up, turned the light off and locked the door to the study room. I went back over to her and gave her a long, deep kiss, feeling her body up and down. I then began undressing her.
I stared with amazement at her sweet body. Her nipples were a light pinkish color and nice and hard. Her bush was dark black and neatly trimmed. She took my clothes off. I couldn’t believe it. We were standing stark naked in the fucking library with light from a street post outside the window illuminating our bodies.
Iris got down on her back on the floor, and I kissed my way down her stomach until I reached her pussy. It was beautiful. The lips were thick and resembled folds of rose petals. I licked her lips and she let out a slight moan. Her pussy smelled like vanilla. I inserted my tongue and began to lap up her pussy juice. She began to climax, so I moved my tongue faster. She grabbed the back of my head and pushed it toward her pussy, squeezing it between her thighs as she exploded in orgasm.
I climbed up her body and she gave me a tender, delightful smile. I then kissed her lips. She looked at me and asked me to make love to her. I looked deep into those beautiful brown eyes as I began to press into her. There was some resistance, and when I broke through Iris let out a whimper. She was a virgin!
Slowly, I worked the rest of my cock in her tight little hole, making sure she was okay as I went along. It was the hottest, wettest and tightest place I had ever been!
Iris became more and more excited as I pumped into her. Sweat ran down her face. I started pumping her faster and harder. I came, filling her with my come, and that started her climaxing, too. I lay there, exhausted. I climbed off her, noticing my semen trickling out of her cunt. Iris told me she had been saving herself for the right guy. I looked at her and smiled. She confessed that she had a crush on me since the first time she saw me.
We got dressed, laughing about how we had just screwed in the library. It was almost ten o’clock at night, and I needed to get home since I had football practice the following morning. I walked Iris back to her dorm where we exchanged phone numbers and made plans for the upcoming weekend. I gave her a long, deep, passionate kiss, and we said good-bye.
The best part of this story is that today Iris is my wife. She’s one in a million.
—Mr. H.V., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Newly Created Female Rejoices in Her First-Ever Orgasm
I am a twenty-eight-year-old post-operative transsexual. After many years of confusion and stress, I’ve become what I always knew myself to be—an attractive young woman. My shoulder-length brown hair frames delicately feminine features. My breasts are firm and shapely without any help from silicone; my legs are absolutely terrific and my voice is throaty and undeniably female. In short, I’m as happy as any newly created female could be.
Surprisingly, it was hard for me to start having sex. For years I daydreamed about having a vagina and how it would feel for it to be penetrated by a thrusting male organ. Once I was fully recovered from surgery, I set out to turn my dream into a reality. I loved the foreplay, but I could never achieve a real orgasm. No matter what I tried, or with whom, I couldn’t get off. I read books and talked to experts in transsexuality, but the results were the same—zero. After months of frustration, I was almost resigned to the absence of a major part of what it means to be female.
I was taking evening courses in psychology at the local university that winter. My goal was to become a counselor and work with people with gender-identity problems. My favorite class was the one on the psychology of sex, and it was in that class that I became friendly with two guys who I thought might help me break through orgasmically. Clay and Arnold were serious students. One Friday, I finally worked up the nerve to invite them to meet me at our local pub. When Clay and Arnold walked in, I waved them over to my table. We ordered drinks and began to talk and laugh as I worked up the courage to invite them over to my apartment.
Once there, I snuggled between them on the couch and took each of them by the hand. I saw them exchange incredulous grins. I turned to Clay, cupped a hand behind his head and began kissing him. Our tongues snaked and slithered together. We were both a little breathless when I finally pulled away. I turned to Arnold and gave him the same treatment. Then I pulled my sweater over my head and unhooked my bra. Cupping a soft breast in each hand, I leaned back and closed my eyes. “Come on, boys, kiss them,” I murmured.
Clay’s tongue softly stroked one of my stiff nipples, while Arnold’s lips sucked the other, and soon a wave of desire swept over me. I sighed and pulled their heads closer. Clay added fuel to my fire by sliding a hand under my skirt to fondle my thighs. Almost involuntarily, I slid down a little and spread my legs. His fingers reached beneath the waistband of my bikini panties and dipped into my wet pussy. His expert caresses began gently but soon escalated into bolder, more urgent strokes.
It was getting to be too much. I twisted around toward Clay, opened my eyes and mashed my lips against his. After a moment, he broke away. “Which way to the bedroom?” he gasped.
“Over there.” I gestured weakly. “Carry me, Clay!”
In a flash, he swept me up in his arms and headed toward the bedroom. It was beautiful. Here I was, half-naked in the powerful arms of an obviously aroused male. I sighed, slipped my arms around his neck, and surrendered happily to my fate.
Clay carefully lowered me onto the big waterbed that dominates my boudoir and began to strip. He had a gorgeous body—slim, trim, and well-muscled. At the moment, however, I only had eyes for his huge erection. Never taking my eyes off him, I wriggled out of my skirt. When Clay joined me on the bed, I was wearing only my lacy black bikini panties.
I began by showering soft kisses on his face and back. Slowly I worked my way down his chest and belly. After tantalizing him for as long as I could stand it, I opened my mouth and engulfed his massive cock. Lovingly, I swirled my tongue around the tip, then began licking my way down the long shaft. I pulled back, then eased forward again, trying to take as much of him into my mouth as possible. Soon I was sucking him in a steady rhythm, my mind focused exclusively on giving him pleasure.
I was so wrapped up in sucking Clay’s cock that I had forgotten all about Arnold. I was suddenly reminded of his presence when I felt strong hands pulling down my panties. Reluctantly, I released Clay’s delicious cock and looked around. I saw a naked and grinning Arnold crouched behind me. Tossing aside my panties, he gripped the soft globes of my ass and thrust his cock into my pussy.
It was the most amazing sensation I’d ever experienced. Each long, smooth stroke doubled my pleasure. The three of us became one seething, interconnected mound of flesh, with my mouth and pussy as the center.
It all happened at once. As my mouth slid halfway down Clay’s cock, he erupted in a torrent of hot cream. Then, as I gulped down what seemed like gallons of semen, Arnold exploded inside me, and my pussy convulsed in a glorious orgasmic spasm. For a moment I thought I was going to pass out, but instead I rode wave after wave of lust—a woman at last!
As I stretched content
edly between Clay and Arnold in the aftermath of our little orgy, my fingers gently probed my still-tingling pussy. Already I was imagining future encounters, confident that my female body was ready for any and all kinds of sexual activity.
—Ms. V.C., New York, New York
Pretty Grad Student Schooled in Passion Shows What She Knows to Crowd of Admirers
I am a twenty-four-year-old female, and I would like to share with you one of my most exciting and memorable sexual experiences ever.
I am presently doing graduate work at a prestigious East Coast university. One day, as I was listening to a lecture, I became aware of a really cute guy two rows across from me looking my way. As it doesn’t take much to make me wet, I started getting horny right away and wondering how large a cock my admirer was prepared to offer me. He kept smiling at me all through class, and I, naturally, flirted right back.
Sparks were flying, and I knew something great was going to happen between us soon, but I was surprised when Jim—that’s his name—came right over to me after class and grabbed my ass. Fortunately, all the other students had left when he said he wanted to fuck me in the worst way. Before I could consider when and where, he started squeezing my breasts through my sweater and my crotch through my jeans. “Now, baby,” he said thickly. “Right here.”
Jim had the presence of mind to go lock the door before we started pulling each other’s clothes off. I’d done some pretty crazy things before, but I didn’t know about fucking a guy on the floor of an empty classroom! On the other hand, my pussy was hungry and wet and telling me to go for it.
Letters to Penthouse XXXXII Page 13