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Copyright © 1996 by Penthouse International, Limited
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First eBook Edition: January 1996
ISBN: 978-0-446-53563-2
Contents
True Romance
Different Strokes
Someone's Watching
Pursuit & Capture
Three-for-all
Crowd Scenes
Girls & Girls/Boys & Boys
Domination & Discipline
Serendipity
Head & Tail
True Confessions: The Wife Watcher
IT'S SEXY. AND IT'S SIMPLE.
They talk. You listen. And every great talker loves a great listener. Now, in new letters that leave a scorched trail through the U.S. postal system, Penthouse readers have a lot more to tell about their latest, sexiest escapades. And their intimate encounters and orgiastic revels are more sizzling than ever. Believe your ears. ‘Cause you ain't heard nothin’ yet. Party with teasers and peepers, lovers into heterosex and multisex, the dominated and the dominators—taking you all the way from the first shiver of foreplay to the fireworks finale.
LETTERS TO PENTHOUSE VI
OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:
Erotica from PenthouseLetters to Penthouse XIX
More Erotica from PenthouseLetters to Penthouse XX
Erotica from Penthouse IIILetters to Penthouse XXI
Letters to Penthouse ILetters to Penthouse XXII
Letters to Penthouse IILetters to Penthouse XXIII
Letters to Penthouse IIILetters to Penthouse XXIV
Letters to Penthouse IVLetters to Penthouse XXV
Letters to Penthouse VLetters to Penthouse XXVI
Letters to Penthouse VILetters to Penthouse XXVII
Letters to Penthouse VIILetters to Penthouse XXVIII
Letters to Penthouse VIIILetters to Penthouse XXIX
Letters to Penthouse IXPenthouse Uncensored I
Letters to Penthouse XPenthouse Uncensored II
Letters to Penthouse XIPenthouse Uncensored III
Letters to Penthouse XIIPenthouse Uncensored IV
Letters to Penthouse XIIIPenthouse Uncensored V
Letters to Penthouse XIVPenthouse Variations
Letters to Penthouse XV26 Nights: A Sexual Adventure
Letters to Penthouse XVIPenthouse: Naughty by Nature
Letters to Penthouse XVIIPenthouse: Between the Sheets
Letters to Penthouse XVIIIPenthouse Erotic Video Guide
Penthouse Letters will captivate you with its latest collection of erotic letters. They're romantic, sensual and provocative. Have you been naughty and in need of some chastisement? Try a dose of “Domination & Discipline.” If you're into voyeurism, then turn the page to “Someone's Watching” and get an eyeful. Are you fantasizing about making love to someone of the same gender? Then “Girls & Girls/Boys & Boys” is what you'll need to fulfill your desires. Feel the need to make a confession? So did this gentleman in “True Confessions: The Wife Watcher.” Whatever your preference in sexuality is, we at Penthouse Letters are sure you will enjoy our newest accumulation of carnal letters.
Kate Kraig
Penthouse Letters
True Romance
MORNING MINGLING PROVES SWEETER THAN THE MIDNIGHT LOVING MISSED
It was a cold, cold day, and the bed was so warm. I pulled the covers more tightly under my chin as I rolled over to snuggle into Margie's back. Her long, strawberry-blonde hair gently covered my face and tickled my nose. It smelled of springtime and sunshine. Her skin was soft and hot, like a hug in the shower. A little sigh escaped from Margie's lips as I pressed my morning hard-on into the crack of her ass. She wiggled her hips and arched her backside against me slightly. She always did enjoy a little appreciation for her ass, even in her sleep.
We slept nude. It was a Saturday morning. The previous night had been one of our rare party nights. Hours of drinking with good friends and dancing to good music had given us both a healthy desire for the opposite sex. The plan was to crawl into bed for a night of screaming, barking, shake-the-headboard, scare-the-cats, call-the-fire-department, knock-the-lamps-over sex.
Two friends offered to drive us home in their van. The ride had been full of sweaty teasing. Margie had slipped her panties off earlier, to tease me while we danced a long, groping slow dance. In the darkened back of the van I had employed two fingers to explore her pussy's most sensitive spots while she stroked my cock through my jeans. In time, Margie even put her head in my lap, telling our friends she was sleepy. She pulled my zipper down, ever so quietly, and licked my swollen dickhead as a kitten licks cream.
We sat on a blanket and kept quiet so as not to arouse anyone's suspicion. The thrill of sneaking around was reminiscent of making out on her parents' couch after a late date. When my fingers quickened their rhythmic pumping in and out of her pussy, Margie muffled her little whimpers by taking as much of my prick down her throat as she could. She pulled it out to grin at me and lick her lips when I bucked my hips.
“You little wench!” I hissed into her ear.
“I like to tease,” Margie giggled. She laughed out loud when I humped my hips up toward her mouth. When she turned her head, my cockhead only managed to touch her ear. My fingers were tangled in her hair as we kissed passionately. All this movement finally drew the notice of our friends, who joked and teased and generally put a stop to our fun.
At the house our two friends, another couple, stayed to talk and drink some more. After an hour Margie disappeared, only to return in a short, red satin robe that did nothing to hide the fact that she was naked underneath. For some reason, no one got the hint until I suggested that our friends stay the night in the spare room.
I took them up to get them settled. The door had barely closed before the bed began its telltale squeaking. When I returned to the kitchen, it was clear the night had finally taken its toll. Margie was asleep, her head on the table. I carried her into bed and settled beside her for a long night of frustrated dreams.
Apparently her dreams were just as hot as mine. As I lazily floated back toward consciousness in the morning, the strong scent of Margie's pussy juice filled my senses. My hand slid along the curve of her waist and across her belly. Hugging her tightly, I slid my hard-on up and down her ass-cheeks in fast thrusts. My cock jerked and throbbed with every brush against her sweet crack. If it hadn't been morning, I would have come right then and there.
Margie moaned quietly, and her legs reflexively spread apart a little bit. My hand went gliding over the rise of her hips and down to her wet, slippery cunt. It was smooth and hot, soft, quivering and very wet. Two of my fingers drove deeply into her with one smooth thrust. Once they were in as far as I could reach, they ran in little circles around and around that little rough spot in her pussy just behind the clit. Margie's moans turned to whimpers as I rotated my wrist and circled my fingers around the smooth walls of her vagina.
“Yes, yes, yes,” was all she said when I replaced those probing fingers with my cock. Lying on my side, entering her from behind, my chest against her back, my pole only reached about halfway in. M
argie responded after a few thrusts by wiggling her ass and pressing it hard against me. Then she rolled over onto her belly. I stayed with her, ramming my cock as deeply inside her as I could. She grabbed the headboard with both hands, raised herself onto her knees and pushed against every thrust with her whole body.
I grabbed her hip with my right hand, tangled my left hand in her hair and eased her onto my prick. Her back arched like a panther's. She growled deeply in her throat to complete the image of a cat in ecstasy. I pumped and pumped, deeper and harder with every move. She matched me stroke for stroke. We were sweating profusely. The sun had become noticeably brighter and higher in the sky while we fucked. I had never lasted so long in this position, and began snorting and bellowing like an animal myself. Just as the pressure in my balls built too high to hold back, Margie lay flat on her belly, then rolled over onto her back.
I lay on her belly and reached underneath to grab both ass-cheeks while I licked her right nipple. Margie screamed and bucked like a woman gone mad when she came. I kept my cock buried as deeply in her pussy as I could, and held on. Margie's pussy grabbed and sucked on my cock. The feeling drove me wild. I leaned back and grabbed her legs. She spread them as wide as they would go, and I rammed and slammed until I couldn't hold back. I bellowed and hollered.
“I love to feel you come,” Margie cooed as I lay on the bed panting and trying to come back to reality. “Want to join me in the shower?” she added.
I was still breathing hard and gasping weakly, but was not about to give up a chance to shower with this beauty. “Sure,” I said, trying to sound recovered.
In the shower, we soaped each other up. Margie paid close attention to my balls, which I keep clean-shaven for her. She says it's sexy to lick and suck them that way. This time she wasted no time getting down on her knees to enjoy them.
It took maybe two licks, combined with the sight of her kneeling in front of me, to get my prick back up to its full size. Margie swallowed the whole shaft in one move. I fell back against the wall as she bobbed up and down on my staff. She moaned almost as much as I, showing how much she was enjoying this. Just as she felt my balls tighten up to blow a load down her throat, Margie stood up and giggled. Turning around, she asked me to wash her hair.
Naturally I was frustrated, but comforted myself with the idea that I could once more rub my turgid cock along her ass and at the same time have both hands full of Margie's glorious hair. I washed and rinsed and rubbed and bucked, and whispered into her ear how hot she made me. Margie pushed back against my cock, arched her back, wiggled and giggled. Finally, when we were both clean and I expected her to turn off the water, she looked over her shoulder and asked if I could come for her again. “Oh, yes!” I replied.
She braced one hand on the wall, bent well over and reached between her legs to grab my cock and rub it against her pussy. “Do it, baby!” she yelled. I grabbed both hips and thrust. Under the hot spray we humped and pumped, until I exploded deep inside her. Margie held still and gripped my cock with her pussy until it softened and popped out. She turned to kiss me good morning, adding, “Let's spend the day in bed.”
How could I say no?—L.A., Memphis, Tennessee
TWO WOMEN, A MAN, A BEAUTIFUL HOUSE, A WORK OF ART
It was one of those rare days in Southern California. Rather than bright sunlight and cool ocean breezes, cold winds raised white, gauzy draperies of mist. Rain gently pattered down on the waxy leaves outside the window.
Lying next to me was my wife Marlene, whom I'd married just twelve months earlier. Ever amazed by her glossy black hair, and its tendency to relax into a flowing pattern that mimicked the smooth, soft contours of her slender body, I sat staring at her great, dark curls. From time to time I glanced into her jet-black eyes. Entranced by the soft shadows the dim light was pushing across the ceiling, Marlene languidly followed them with her glance as they shifted shape.
She didn't notice that I had awakened, which gave me time to gaze downward, enjoying the complete picture. The blue satin sheet clung to her naked body as though it were a second skin. Those magnificent breasts, which I had spent countless hours appreciating in my mind as well as with my lips and hands, could never be copied by a sculptor. Her thin, high waist seemed to point like an arrow toward the flare of her hips and the treasure that lay between them. From that juncture sprang two of the most beautiful legs ever seen. It was those legs that made me give up trying to paint the human figure, for no brush could ever capture her smooth, flawless skin. Thighs like a bowl of cream, calves with curves that should shame the designers of exotic cars, and sexy, thin ankles, completed the picture.
Then she turned that goddess's face, and with the softest smile on her lush lips, said, “Do you want eggs for breakfast?”
“Any other options?” I asked. Her hands, pressing lightly on my shoulders, suggested an alternative, and she met little resistance from me. So began a memorable day of unhurried pleasures.
I lay for several minutes just nuzzling her pubic hair with my lips and chin. My hands roamed over the silk of Marlene's thighs. The scent that rose from between them grew ever stronger, beckoning me to explore her mysterious depths. Finally placing my hands behind her knees and raising them, I watched her legs fall open and reveal her lovely secret. Her outer lips were already pink and swollen with impetuous desire.
Perhaps a stronger man would have sat back and observed this miracle of beauty a little longer, but I dove forward with a little cry and buried my tongue in her nectar. Her rich, thick honey coated my tongue and drove me into a frenzy. I began lapping at both her inner and outer lips, wanting to touch her everywhere with my mouth.
The pretty rosebud of her clitoris peeked shyly at me from under its hood. I rained soft kisses all over and around it. Then I closed my lips over the swollen morsel and slowly rocked my head left and right. The pace at which Marlene thrust her hips up, pressing herself against my chin, told me how fast she wanted me to move. The tempo increased steadily. So did the urgency of her surging hips. Soon I let her clit slide free, but continued shaking my head as fast as I could, my lips running smoothly over her swollen button.
When her orgasm arrived, her hips remained in the air, still vibrating but no longer banging against the bed. My mouth was plastered against her slippery opening, and Marlene twined her fingers through my hair, pressing my face even more firmly against her. She gasped and moaned for a good two minutes, then collapsed.
By noon we were both thoroughly relaxed and glowing, but the idea of rising from our bed held no charm at all. Nonetheless, there were things to do. Marlene insisted that we pull ourselves together and spend the afternoon looking at houses, something we talk about endlessly but never seem to get to. My paintings were selling well, after years of hard work, but the commitment to years of debt still scared me. Marlene melted me with a look and said, “I've made an appointment with a realtor for one hour from now. Please, lover, be nice.” How could I resist?
The house was perfect, which of course translated as out of our price range, but Marlene said it would cost nothing to look. She mentioned that the owner was the realtor, and had just lost her husband.
Lilly made an immediate impression. She was perhaps fifteen years our senior, but her face and figure gave no clue to the fact. As she walked us through the spacious rooms, her heels clicked almost musically on the marble floors. Furnished with style and taste, the house also displayed some of the finest art we had seen in some time. Nearly all the works were by the same artist. Many were nudes, and many of the nudes were of Lilly, well-painted pictures of her flowing red hair and graceful body. She explained that her late husband was the painter, and the next stop on our tour would be his studio.
I was, of course, instantly engrossed in a close study of the studio. Lilly told us that she had an appointment, and we offered to leave, but she suggested that we make ourselves comfortable. Saying she would return in about an hour, she left us in her husband's beautifully appointed workroom. It had h
uge northern windows, a twenty-foot ceiling, and room for monumental canvases. We were both aghast at its sheer size.
Marlene walked over to the daybed in the center of the room. A sly smile told me what was on her mind. “Maybe we can't own it, but we could make love here just this once,” she said. As she slipped out of her dress, she spun like a ballerina, letting the sun play on her porcelain skin. Marlene has never been one to appreciate underwear, so as soon as her dress slid to the floor, she reclined naked on the bed. Her head on the pillow, one leg raised at the knee, she instructed, “Off with those clothes, lover.”
Leaving a trail of my clothes, I advanced toward the bed, but stopped short when, from behind me, I heard a gasp.
Turning, I saw Lilly in the studio door with a bottle of champagne in one hand and three glasses in the other. Staring and short of breath, she walked quickly to the table by the bed and set everything down. Marlene had not moved. She sat on the bed wide-eyed with embarrassment.
Lilly turned and smiled at me, then turned to Marlene. She bent over the bed and firmly planted a quick kiss on Marlene's lips. Then she stood up, slipped off her dress and knelt, spread-legged, over Marlene. She again kissed Marlene, then turned her head to me and said, “I am sure you can afford this house.”
Marlene looked at Lilly, but spoke to me: “Lick her real good, lover, because I want this real bad.”
Always one to face a challenge head-on, I moved to the foot of the bed and caressed the soft, white cheeks of Lilly's bottom. It was perhaps a little wider than when her husband had painted her, but no less firm. Bending forward, I placed a kiss on either cheek. At the same time, Lilly was laying kiss after kiss on Marlene's lips, eyes and cheeks. The breasts of the two women were pressed together, flattened by the pressure of their rapidly increasing passion. When Lilly lifted herself for a moment to look at Marlene's face, I could see that both women's nipples were swollen, wrinkled and as dark as cherries.
Using both hands, I parted Lilly's thighs to make way for my exploring tongue. Her scent was different from Marlene's, but no less pungent or compelling. The groans that greeted my first licks let me know that it had been some time since she had been caressed by anyone but herself.
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