Then I met my roommate, Concetta. Connie was exactly like me, an only child spoiled by years of never having to share. We got along wonderfully from the very first day. And our schedules were so different that much of the time it really felt like I still lived on my own. Though Connie and I always had breakfast and dinner together, the rest of the time we rarely saw each other. We both took early classes, and while she would go back to the apartment in the afternoon to nap before dinner, I was so busy with school and work that meals were the only times I saw her. By the time I settled in for the evening, usually around midnight, she was asleep, and on weekends she generally went home to visit her boyfriend. It was the perfect arrangement for both of us. Then one weekend, our signals got crossed.
In March, on the weekend I was supposed to go home, one of my professors assigned a last-minute project, forcing me to stay behind. Since Connie was supposed to be gone that weekend as well, I figured I’d have plenty of time and privacy to work on my paper on Saturday, so Friday night I went back to the apartment and went right to sleep.
I was wiped out after a long week, and while I usually wake at the slightest noise, I managed to sleep soundly for several hours, not waking until I heard the apartment door slam shut. The sound made me jump and put me on edge, but I refused to budge from my spot in my bed. However, my nerves were calmed when I heard Connie’s voice coming from the living room. She was telling someone, I assumed her boyfriend, Franklin, that I was gone for the weekend, so they would have some privacy. Thinking she was on the phone, I pulled the blanket over my head and cuddled up to my pillow once more.
Then the bedroom door opened. Our bedroom was L-shaped and fairly large. My bed was situated in the far end of the room, along the window. While Connie’s bed was right by the door, mine was pretty much hidden from view. And with the shades down, my end of the room was shrouded in darkness. Still talking to Franklin, Connie came into the room, obviously having not seen my suitcase near the coffee table. Oh well, I thought, she’ll hang up the phone soon and then I can get back to sleep. That’s when I heard the other voice.
“I’m glad we have this place to ourselves, babe,” I heard Franklin say. “Now we can have some real fun!”
Inching to the foot of the bed, I lifted the blanket and peered across the room. With the bedroom door still open, the light from the living room illuminated Connie’s area, and I could clearly see her and Franklin standing near her bed. He had one hand on her hip and the other tangled in her long, wavy hair. Clearly they were about to kiss, and when he finally leaned in and captured her lips with his own, a delicious shiver of anticipation ran down my spine. I was pretty sure I knew where this was going, and I couldn’t wait!
The couple kissed for several moments before Franklin pushed Connie onto the bed, stripped off his shirt and climbed atop her. There was enough light filtering in that I could make out his deep tan and the lines of his muscles. Though I’d seen him plenty of times in the seven months Connie and I had been living together, I had never seen him without his shirt, and let me tell you, he was gorgeous.
I watched as the two of them kissed passionately, Franklin running his hands through her hair while she slid her hands up and down his toned back, each time getting closer to the waistband of his jeans. When he moved back to begin undressing her, I couldn’t stand the heat any longer. Reaching down, I slipped my hand past the waistband of my panties and began rubbing my throbbing clit. I couldn’t believe how wet I was already. I knew that before the night was over, I would have a powerful orgasm. Watching porn always got me hot, so a live sex show was sure to turn me on even more.
As Connie’s T-shirt and bra flew across the room, I got my first look at my roommate’s tits. They were smaller than mine, only a B compared to my D-cup breasts, and a creamy white—in other words, they were perfect. Franklin seemed to think so, too, as he immediately dropped his mouth to one tit while massaging the other, then switching. Connie seemed to be enjoying it, as her head flopped back onto her pillow and she sighed audibly. I always loved having my nipples played with, and watching her getting such attention had me hotter than ever. Two of my fingers dipped into my juicy pussy while my free hand moved up to my own breasts, giving them some much-needed attention.
I was so caught up in my own pleasure that my eyes glazed over, then closed, causing me to forget all about the couple a few feet away. It wasn’t until I heard Franklin utter, “Oh God, Con, you’re so wet,” that I snapped back to attention. While I had been lost in my own fantasy, the lovers had obviously been busy, as both were now stark naked. Connie was still lying on her back, her legs spread wide, while her boyfriend, lying beside her, was fingering her cunt. I could hear his fingers moving in and out, and from the sounds they were making, I could tell she was as wet as I was. His fingers were squishing in and out of her obviously juicy cunt, and though I couldn’t see his hand well, because of my angle and the light, I knew when he’d started strumming her clit because of the loud moan that echoed through the room.
My own fingers were busily pumping away at my pussy, and I kept hoping they would hurry up and fuck already because I didn’t think I could last much longer. Connie and I appeared to be on the same page. Seconds after I began to grow impatient, she did too, pushing Franklin onto his back and moving to mount him.
This new position offered me an unrestricted view of his cock, and my heart stopped when I saw it. Even from so far away, it looked huge. He had to be nine inches long at least, and thicker than any dick I’d ever seen. Even the stars of my favorite X-rated films weren’t as well-hung as he was! I couldn’t wait to see my roommate mount her stud, and I was not left in suspense for long.
In one smooth move, she was sitting astride him, his cock buried deep inside her cunt. He let out a deep groan as his prick slipped inside her, and as she sat there, unmoving, he groaned again, thrusting his hips upward. She let out a moan of her own as he began to move inside her, and then she started fucking him in earnest. As she swirled her hips around on his dick, wiggling her ass left to right and front to back, I added a third finger to my pussy and began pumping hard and fast. I didn’t know how long the two of them could keep it up, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I reached my climax.
Moving my other hand down to play with my clit, I kept my eyes on the lovers across from me, not wanting to miss a moment of the action. Connie was bouncing fast above Franklin, her tits shaking in his face and the bedsprings squeaking beneath them. She was panting hard and he was grunting, trying to meet her thrust for thrust. Connie was bucking so furiously that she came in no time, screaming in ecstasy as her orgasm swept through her, never ceasing her movement atop her boyfriend.
When she had slowed her pace and come down from her orgasmic high, Franklin took over, flipping her onto her back and moving quickly between her legs. I barely had time to blink before he was inside her again and pumping away like crazy. His hips were moving frantically, and I could hear his balls slapping against her ass rhythmically. The sight and sounds pushed me over the edge, and I bit my lip to keep from voicing my pleasure. I had closed my eyes and was busily rubbing my pussy when I heard Franklin’s final grunt followed by a sigh, and when I looked over at the other bed, I saw his sweaty body collapse onto Connie’s.
Sated, I rolled over and went back to sleep while my roommate and her boyfriend did the same. The couple was long gone by the time I woke up the next morning, and I took a moment to think back to the previous night before rousing myself from bed and getting to work.
I never told Connie about witnessing her little rendezvous, nor did I have the chance to witness her and Franklin’s erotic coupling again, but I never forgot that wonderful night. And though I moved out on my own again after Connie and I finished grad school, I never again thought of sharing my living space as a burden. In fact, my new roommate is moving in next week. I hope she’s as good a roommate as Connie was!
—Ms. V.A., Charlottesville, Virginia
Dapper Dan Likes It
in the Back of His Van
I had the hottest boyfriend while attending graduate school. He was so sexy—tall, blond, and muscular. The man made me cream every time he stood next to me. For two years we carried on a steamy sexual relationship. Unfortunately, he landed a job in Chicago, and I found one in my native California. But even now, thinking about Dan makes me horny.
Dan and I did it every which way, but my favorite was anal sex. Our first such encounter happened in the back of his customized van. That particular night we parked in an off-campus parking lot. We had just come from celebrating a friend’s birthday at a local pub and were both hot and ready to rip our clothes off.
No sooner had he turned the engine off than I was entertained with a sped-up version of a male burlesque show. As Dan peeled off his clothes, I did the same, with him all the while telling me how much he wanted to fuck my ass!
At first I thought I had heard wrong, for we had never experimented with anal lovemaking, but when Dan produced a bottle of what looked like oil, I knew he was serious. At that moment I realized that I was as game as he was.
He moved over to the mattress in the back of the van. I was already there, lying back on the numerous fluffy pillows in all my naked splendor. Dan bent low and kissed me deeply. His hands roamed to my breasts, and my nipples hardened from the attention. He told me that this was my night, and that he wanted to worship my body.
Dan asked me to turn over. My breasts and belly were flat on the mattress, and I let out a sigh as he started to knead the muscles of my back. It felt so good to be pampered that way. Dan then poured some oil on my back, massaging it into my skin. His touch was tender but determined, and it wasn’t long before my hips started to undulate with each caress. Dan has truly magic hands!
I lay there with my eyes closed, basking in the warm glow that seemed to radiate from my body, savoring the musky scent of the oil. Dan murmured words of love and kept complimenting me on my fine ass. As he caressed my bottom with his oily hands, I felt the first stirrings of a mind-boggling orgasm.
Dan slipped his hand underneath me and played with my clitoris. He whispered to me how hot and wet my flesh felt. With his other hand he kneaded one of my ass cheeks and playfully slapped it. The sting from his palm vibrated toward my cunt, and I gasped when his finger began to burrow between my buttocks.
Dan was intent on my pleasure. He removed his hand from my pussy and now used both hands to knead and slap my oil-coated bottom. His finger then played with my rosebud, and I spread my legs wider to give him better access. Dan must have coated his finger with oil, because it slid right past my sphincter. I was so open to him that it offered no resistance.
He kept sliding his finger inside my asshole. I moved up higher, onto my knees, so that I could finger myself. Dan positioned himself behind me and poured some oil on my crack. When he massaged it into me, the oil warmed up, and by now my insides were slippery and ready for his rigid cock.
I turned a bit and grasped his shaft. It was lubricated with the scented oil, and it felt so smooth. When I let go of his cock, he took it in his hands and pushed the head against my puckered asshole. I pushed back into him and told him to fuck my ass.
Dan entered me slowly, but I was so excited that I pushed harder into his belly, causing his cock to slide deeper into my dark passage. The wonderful feeling of fullness overwhelmed me, and with both hands I grasped the edge of the mattress. A growl of pure satisfaction issued from my lips as Dan started moving back and forth inside my ass.
He held on tight to my buttocks, slapping them lightly and caressing them while pumping in and out. He moaned and told me how much he liked to fuck me in the ass. I couldn’t speak—I was so filled with passion that my only answer to his words was the bucking of my hips. My whole world was filled with the sensations that my asshole was providing, and there was no room for logical thought.
Faster and harder, Dan filled my back hole with precise thrusts. I was panting and moaning at the same time, and when Dan brought one hand beneath me to play with my cunt, I came. It was like a liquid fire filling my veins, and each muscle in my body quivered with my climax. It was unbearably hot in that van, but I couldn’t have cared less, I was so thrilled to be getting it in the ass for the first time.
The sounds of our heated lovemaking filled that van. I can still remember how tight and hot it felt when Dan finally came. He told me how the walls of my back passage felt around his cock, and that he couldn’t hold on for much longer. With one last thrust he fucked me to the hilt and came. He practically roared when his come started spurting from his dick, coating my asshole and spilling from it.
After that night Dan and I often included anal sex during our lovemaking. It was sad to let go of such a sexy man with a wonderful cock, but life goes on. Besides, I recently married a great guy. He’s charming, good-looking, and the proud owner of a seven-inch cock that loves my puckered rosebud. Who could ask for anything more?
—Ms. D.N., San Francisco, California
“Serving My Goddess Is the Only Job I’ll Ever Need,” Says Devoted Foot Slave
My transformation into Sabrina’s mindless house slave was complete. She had graduated from college and was living in an off-campus apartment for the summer before attending medical school in the fall, and she still had her part-time job at the bio lab. My entire existence revolved around serving her, my goddess, and making her life as easy as possible.
Sabrina had gotten used to the routine and realized how much easier her life was with a devoted slave to obey her twenty-four hours a day. She had gotten over her initial apprehension and thought nothing of controlling my actions to suit her needs.
One recent Saturday morning, I was on my knees at the side of her bed by eight o’clock. I waited patiently for her to wake, with my head bowed, content in the knowledge that I was fulfilling my destiny by sacrificing my life to glorify hers.
She stirred and stretched, tossing the covers back lazily. I waited in anticipation of my first opportunity to serve her. She swung her legs around and sat on the edge of the bed, putting her feet on the floor. I hunkered down and kissed each bare foot once. She ignored me, still half asleep, and walked toward the bathroom. I jumped up to get in front of her and went to prepare her shower. I turned the water on and adjusted its temperature, then fetched a towel, and laid out her toiletries as she stepped into the tub.
Sabrina never showers long; every action she performs is efficient. When she turned the water off and stepped out, I was waiting with the towel. I gently dried her hair, then her arms and torso, and then knelt to dry her midsection, her legs and her feet. She didn’t show any emotion. It was as if she were allowing a machine or a robot to assist her.
I picked up the brush and hairdryer and began to blow out her long brown locks, taking special care not to pull at the knots. As with all my other domestic chores, I had gotten better with practice. Despite her ineffectual nature, she was still a woman, and I could tell she enjoyed the decadence of being served so intimately. She appeared content as she let me brush and dry her hair for her.
Next, while she brushed her teeth (I couldn’t really do that for her), I went back into the bedroom to lay out her clothes. I check the weather forecast at 7:30 every morning, so I knew what she would need to wear for her morning jog. That day was easy: sweats, a T-shirt, and sneakers.
Sabrina didn’t like being dressed by me for some reason, so I handed her clothes to her as she came into the bedroom. She did, however, allow me to put her sneakers on for her, so I knelt and waited by the bed. When she sat down, she allowed me to slip on her white cotton socks, and then her sneakers. I kissed each sneaker down by the toes and then got up to go into the kitchen.
“I think I’ll have eggs today,” she said, sitting down on the couch in the living room to watch the morning news. I went about preparing her breakfast, cooking up the scrambled eggs I knew she liked. I put them on a plate with toast, poured her orange juice and brought it all to her. We were long beyond the sil
ly formality of thank-yous; it was accepted between us that this was my duty. I got down on my hands and knees before her while she began eating, and she automatically brought her feet up and rested them on my back, crossing her ankles and using me as a footrest while she enjoyed her meal. I waited patiently on the floor, content beneath the weight of her feet on my back, with my head bowed.
The clink of the knife and fork on the plate signaled me to rise and collect her plate and utensils and deposit them in the kitchen. As I walked back in, Sabrina said, “I need you to do my nails.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and went into the bathroom to get the nail file.
“Hands first,” she said distractedly, still watching television. I knelt at her side and took her outstretched hand. Holding it skillfully, I began filing her fingernails. They weren’t too long—I had done them two weeks earlier—and I was finished with the first hand in ten minutes. I kissed the back of her hand and moved to do the other one, repeating the process. I kissed the back of that hand, and began kissing and suckling her fingers, as well. This was my reward for all of my servitude: being allowed to worship Sabrina’s hands and feet. I was allowed to take liberties here and adore her hands for as long as I wanted—within reason. I was her loyal slave every hour of every day, toiling for her in every way I could, for the honor of kissing her hands and licking her feet every so often. Her hand rested comfortably in mine as I kissed her fingertips, sucked her fingers, and licked her palms. As usual, when I was done, I dried them off with my shirt.
Now I moved down to her feet, taking her sneakers and socks off. I buffed her toenails in the same fashion, holding her sole while I scraped away the unwanted rough edges. Not once had she looked down at me or acknowledged my presence.
When I had finished, I proceeded on to the highlight of my day, the highlight of my life. I raised her foot to my lips, and tenderly kissed her pretty toes one by one. Then, I began licking the sole methodically, starting at the heel and running my tongue all the way to the tips of her toes. She let out a soft, low moan of contentment, as she usually did. This was my one chance to worship her, to make love to her sublime body, to show her my devotion. I lapped at her foot slowly, my tongue adhering to the graceful curves, my senses attuned to the coarse yet soft texture, the taste, and the odors that I had learned to associate with supreme pleasure.
Letters to Penthouse XXXXII Page 20