Letters to Penthouse XX

by Penthouse International

  Mary Ann opened some wine and we all got comfortable in the living room. Mary Ann asked me if I’d had a good time with Sena earlier. I blushed at her forwardness, then nodded yes. Sena left the room and Mary Ann gave me a kiss, with her huge breasts pushing against my chest.

  It felt exhilarating, and I boldly began taking off her clothes. Sena returned completely naked with a box of sex toys and helped me off with my clothes. Mary Ann looked hot with her large pink nipples. I immediately took one into my mouth and then we all made our way onto the thick rug.

  I began to rub Mary Ann’s clit. Her pussy was trimmed into a small stripe and her labia were very, very pale pink. I couldn’t wait to get a taste. She lay back on the rug, spreading her legs and guiding my head between them. I began to slowly lick her protruding clit. She opened her large lips with one hand and pulled my face closer to her wet hole with the other.

  Sena handed me a long dildo and I began working it in and out of Mary Ann’s tight cunt. I was sucking on Mary Ann’s clit when Sena told me to smile. I looked up to see she had a camcorder and was filming me eating Mary Ann out. I got even more turned on knowing my experience was being recorded for posterity (or at least for my husband).

  I had the dildo shoved up this babe’s hole and I was sucking her swollen clit on film. The very idea made me squirm with pleasure. Mary Ann pushed her hips forward and flooded my mouth with her juices as she came in a shuddering climax.

  Mary Ann lay glowing with pleasure for a few minutes, complimenting me on what a good pussy licker I was. Sena set the camcorder on a low tripod so it would film any activity on the rug, and positioned herself in Mary Ann’s place. Sena then spread her legs, telling me it was her turn to come as she pulled my face into her crotch.

  I gladly began munching away as I reached down between my legs to rub my newly shaved snatch. It felt weird down there, but it felt cool too. Mary Ann reached into the box and pulled out a big ten-inch strap-on dildo. After putting it on, she brushed it along my slit, telling me she was going to fuck me with it. I was in another world.

  Sena told Mary Ann to fuck me good because I was such a nice queer girl and I deserved it. Their dirty talk made me want it more and I arched my back for Mary Ann. Then I felt the tip of the dildo pressing against my dripping entrance. Sena asked me if it felt good. I nodded yes while tongue-fucking her hole.

  Mary Ann pushed almost the entire length of the plastic cock into me, stretching my cunt to the max. (Steven is big, but he isn’t that big.) She started pumping it in and out, slowly at first, then gradually faster and faster. I loosened up and then she really gave it to me.

  I felt the desire to come building deep inside of me as Sena pulled my head firmly against her mound, crying out and rubbing her soaking pussy all over my face. I felt a rush of heat pummel through my crotch as Mary Ann drilled me from behind. My cunt contracted around the huge fake cock, and Mary Ann kept pumping away, sending me into repeated orgasms. I soon collapsed onto Sena’s pussy, which I continued to lick.

  Mary Ann then gave Sena the strap-on dildo to wear and Sena positioned herself in front of Mary Ann as the two were kneeling on the bed. Sena began fucking Mary Ann’s cunt with the strap-on as I sucked on her enormous breasts. Then Sena handed me a small vibrator and told me to stick it up Mary Ann’s ass.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I told her.

  “What are you afraid of?” she asked.

  “You want me to stick this thing up Mary Ann’s ass?”

  “Why not?” she asked me.

  “Are you getting all this?” I asked Mary Ann.

  “I’m getting all of this dildo,” she playfully answered, “but I haven’t felt the vibrator in my ass yet.”

  “All right, you crazy bitch, whatever you want.”

  Sena kept fucking her cunt as I lubed the slim toy and parted Mary Ann’s firm butt. I slowly slid the vibrating dick up her ass. When I had all six inches of it as far up as it would go, I turned the dial to high and held it snugly in place. Then I went back to sucking her swollen tits.

  Mary Ann gasped and then began shouting in total abandon as Sena slam-fucked her pussy with the huge dildo and I held the smaller one vibrating in her rear. Her huge nipple hardened in my mouth as she orgasmed for several minutes. Now I was in another galaxy.

  The three of us shared many more intense experiences that night, and we continue our erotic friendship regularly. Mary Ann let me borrow the video of my lesbian initiation as a special surprise for Steven.

  I made him a great dinner when he returned from Hong Kong and then popped in the video. I had never seen Steven so turned on. His big hands roamed all over my body while he watched my first lesbian experience.

  Steven, my baby, was so turned on that he sucked and fucked me all night and all the next day. Knowing what to expect on his return, he doesn’t feel so bad anymore when he has to leave me for long periods. And knowing what I have at home, neither do I.

  If there are any women out there reading this letter who have thought about getting it on with another woman, I implore you not to wait another minute. Call your girlfriend, the waitress at your favorite restaurant, hell, call your husband’s secretary, just call somebody as soon as you can and start licking some pussy, because it will change your life. And if my wonderful husband’s reaction is at all typical, it will do wonders for your relationship.

  Thanks, Penthouse Letters, for letting me share my experience. I hope you hear from me again real soon.—M.T., Washington, D.C.

  GROUPIE PLAYS HOT LICKS ON

  GIRL GUITARIST’S FUZZBOX

  I don’t know how the fuck I ended up with a lesbian cult following. Just because I’m a girl who plays the guitar and sings in rock clubs shouldn’t automatically mean that I prefer pussy to cock. But my audiences began consisting of more and more females as I toured the Northeast last year in my beat-up van.

  Some of the women who hung around backstage after my shows were pretty damned blatant.

  “Show us your big tits!” “Let me eat you!” “My pussy is all yours!” It got pretty damned tiring after a while.

  The truth is that I’ve been a lesbian since puberty, but I had hoped I could keep that fact in the back of the closet. I didn’t want to get thrown into the Melissa Etheridge and k.d. lang club.

  When people heard my songs, I wanted them to think of me as a singer, not as a gay singer.

  For the sake of my career I avoided all of the pretty little temptations who presented themselves to me on a nightly basis. Then last week I blew it.

  I was about to run the gauntlet of estrogen-crazed babes who were clustered between the stage door and my wheels when a tall, blonde beauty shouldered her way through the crowd. The other girls couldn’t seem to decide whether to resent her or drool over her.

  She looked like she just stepped off the cover of a kinky fashion magazine. Her white, neck-to-boots patent leather jumpsuit was so tight against her body that I could see her stiff nipples and the lips of her pussy through it.

  “You want to play?” she asked me, cool as ice.

  I tried to sound equally casual, but it was tough. She looked like every girl’s dream, strong and beautiful, with high-riding tits and narrow hips.

  I said, “No, I’ve got to get on the road and head over to . . .”

  “Bullshit,” she said. She flicked a purple business card so it hit me in the chest and dropped to the ground. “This is where I’ll be tonight.”

  She turned and walked away. Her rear end was as firm as her tits. A back seam of her jumpsuit ran right up the crack of her ass, separating her cheeks. She was hot enough to turn the Statue of Liberty queer.

  So, okay, I went. I’m only human, and there are some offers that are just plain irresistible, you know?

  The address on the card, which also said her name was Catherine, was a top-floor condo in a luxury building. She answered the door with a simple expression on her heavily made-up face.

  “Step right in, little waif,”
she said. “I knew you would come.” I accepted the “waif” remark. I’m five feet tall, weigh ninety-five pounds, and have fine blonde hair, but I’m still all woman. Maybe she was just trying to make me think I had to prove it.

  I said, “I just thought I would . . . I mean, I . . .”

  “You’re here because you want some pussy,” she said, cutting me off. “Just admit it. I don’t mind.”

  As she talked, she unzipped the front of her jumpsuit and pushed it off her pale shoulders.

  Her firm, perky tits had thick nipples that were like pink thimbles, with almost no halo surrounding them.

  I was getting wet watching her. She pulled off her high-heeled boots. When she pushed the jumpsuit down from her crotch to reveal that her pussy was shaved completely smooth, I reached for my own belt and unfastened it.

  “That’s the way,” she said, stepping from her outfit and tossing it over a chair. She was completely nude now, and not a bit self-conscious about it. She stepped toward me and unbuttoned my blouse.

  When I was naked, she surprised me by standing back and looking at my crotch, as if she were appraising it. I keep my bush trimmed and neat, since I don’t think there is anything grosser than a sloppy bikini line, but Catherine’s stare made me feel funny.

  “Very nice,” she finally said. “Very pretty. But you’ll need a little preparation first.” I didn’t know what that meant, but soon I didn’t care.

  I was lying back on her bed with my knees pulled up while she lapped me from asshole to clit. She knew what she was doing down there. She lingered just long enough on my clitty to bring me to the edge of orgasm and then backed off, over and over again.

  When she had gotten me good and hot, she slipped two fingers up my box. After fucking them in and out for a few minutes, she said, “Now you’re perfect.” She got up and hurried from the room. She returned with a big jar of what looked like Vaseline. Without a word, she began slathering it onto my crotch.

  “Hey!” I said.

  She paid no attention, just kept rubbing it on my flesh until she had completely coated my pussy, asshole and inner thighs with the slippery stuff. To be honest, it felt pretty good.

  Catherine left the room again. This time she came back with a large mixing bowl. It had what looked like an oversized tongue depressor sticking out of it.

  “I’m going to immortalize the best part of you,” Catherine said. “Pull up your knees, so your feet are resting on the bed.”

  I did as I was asked. Now I knew what was in the bowl.

  She fucked her fingers in and out of my coated pussy again, until she was satisfied that my lips were gaping open in exactly the way she wanted. Then she pulled the wooden stick from the bowl. Its end was covered with what looked like liquid Silly Putty. She plopped some of it between my legs and went back for more.

  Before long my entire crotch was covered with the flesh-colored latex, from my asshole to the middle of my abdomen. Catherine had patted it firmly into place so that it conformed to every hair, fold and crease of me.

  Now she was sucking my nipples and squeezing my tits to keep me aroused. That way, my clitty would remain erect while the mold hardened.

  I’d heard lots of old stories about “plaster-caster” groupies who made molds of guys’ dicks and kept them as special mementos of their encounters. I thought that kind of thing was just a rock-and-roll legend.

  Apparently it was not only true, but there were mold-makers for girl performers, too.

  “Is your clitty staying nice and hard?” Catherine said, twisting one of my nipples.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, trying not to move my lower body. “You’re incredible. You’re the best.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she said, looking stern. “I think you may need a little something extra to keep you hot.”

  She climbed onto the mattress and straddled my mouth. “Eat my cunt,” she said. “Eat it until I come.”

  There was not even a wisp of hair on her smoothly shaved pussy. I licked and kissed it. It was torture knowing that neither one of us could do anything to my own pussy until the mold had finished hardening.

  I wanted her fingers and her tongue in me. I wanted to rub myself to orgasm. I wanted to get off while I ate her juicy, sweet cunt.

  She tilted her pelvis forward so her asshole was against my mouth. I circled the smooth dimple of her anus with my tongue. That made her moan. I’d finally found something to break her icy reserve.

  I rubbed her clit with my thumbs while I ate her asshole. When she came, she shook the bed so much that I was afraid she would damage the hardening glop on my crotch.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the mold was ready to come off. A few of my pussy hairs came with it. I had no idea what the next step in the mold-making process was, and I was too horny to care.

  I hurried into the shower to scrub myself, then came back to bed so Catherine could take her turn and eat me.

  She turned out to be an artist in more ways than one. I was gasping and groaning in no time.

  I was so fuck-happy and beat that I left her apartment in a daze. It was late, but I got in my van and headed to the next town on my tour itinerary. It’s a wonder I didn’t drive off the road, but I guess there’s a goddess somewhere who watches over struggling rock dykes like me.

  Or maybe not.

  Remember how I said that I blew my chances of remaining in the closet when I let Catherine seduce me?

  It turned out that she used the mold of my crotch to manufacture lifelike models of my asshole and cunt, and started selling them in the underground rock scene. They came with certificates of authenticity that described Catherine’s night with me in loving detail.

  Some of my female fans actually began bringing the damned things to my concerts and asking me to autograph them. I had to admit that they were a good likeness. My clit was swollen with excitement, my pussy was gaping open, and my asshole was clenched into a tight asterisk.

  At first I refused to sign those counterfeit crotches, but then I figured, “What the hell?” After all, every girl deserves her own rock-and-roll fantasy. And there’s only so much of the real me to go around.—Name and address withheld

  EXCUSE ME, LADY,

  BUT HAVE YOU SEEN MY PUSSY?

  I left college in May and moved to a new city for a great job that I had heard about during Careers Week. I was nervous about relocating, but I hadn’t considered that I was not the only one who might have trouble adjusting. My Siamese cat, Miss Priss, kept looking at me on moving day as if she were wondering when we would leave my newly rented house and head back to the old apartment. The first chance she got, she darted out the front door and was gone.

  I felt nervous knocking on strangers’ doors, but Miss Priss was nowhere in sight and I was anxious to find out if anyone had seen her. No one answered at the house beside mine. At the next one up the street, a woman’s voice from inside called out, “Just a minute.” A curtain beside the door moved aside and an eye appeared in the narrow window, looking at me. The curtain dropped back in place. A deadbolt lock turned and the door opened.

  The woman standing there looked to be about my age, twenty-two, but seemed more together and mature. She was pale-skinned and pretty, in a refined kind of way, with copper-red hair and green eyes. She was wearing a cream-colored blouse with mother-of-pearl buttons. A very narrow brown leather belt encircled the high waist of her linen slacks.

  She looked down at me—she must have been nearly six feet tall—and said, “Yes?” I felt like a slob in my worn jeans and college sweatshirt. I had been carrying empty moving boxes into my garage when Miss Priss slipped out, and I hadn’t bothered to change.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said, “but I just moved in down the street, and I’ve lost my cat, a Siamese. Have you seen her?”

  The regal-looking redhead tilted her head and gave me a smile that looked more like a smirk.

  “Sorry,” she said. “But don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll turn up. You look li
ke a girl who has a way with pussies.” She stared at me with a knowing expression, making no move to close her door. She seemed to be waiting to see how I would react. I felt my face getting hot. Could she really tell just by looking at me? Was it that obvious?

  All through college, I had denied my desire to have sex with other women. In my senior year, though, I had given in to temptation. Unfortunately, I picked someone who was not big on being faithful. Even worse, she was the militant type who didn’t like the idea of gays staying in the closet. She took it upon herself to spread it all over campus that I was a dyke. That might not be a problem for women attending Ivy League or West Coast schools, but at my small Georgia college it made the last semester of my senior year sheer hell.

  I had wanted to break with all of that by moving someplace where nobody knew about my past. But now here was my brand-new neighbor practically calling me queer to my face, with that crude remark.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “And when you do, be sure to come around and borrow a cup of sugar.”

  I may be slow sometimes, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what she meant. She started to close her door. I reached to keep it from latching and said, “Wait.”

  An hour later we were entwined in each other’s arms in her French Provincial bed. She was idly fingering my juicy pussy and sucking my right nipple. With our clothes off, I felt less like a peasant, and she was nothing like a princess. We were two sweet lovers in a world of our own.

  Both of us had climaxed, me first and then her. I had the taste of her sweet nectar on my lips.

  The aroma of our creamy cunts and the perspiration of our passion scented the sheets like a light but heady perfume.

  She rolled on top of me, so her stiff-nippled breasts were pressed against mine. She rubbed the silky, moist flesh of her crotch against my bush, hunching her thighs back and forth, slowly bringing both of us to the edge of another orgasm.