Letters to Penthouse XXXI

by Penthouse International

  After that, Chuck and I crossed paths quite frequently before we actually hooked up. One day while I was driving through town, I saw his truck at a business he was remodeling. I decided to stop by and say hi. We stood around talking, and after a while he took my hand and led me into the men’s bathroom.

  Once the door shut, it took my eyes a while to adjust from the bright sunlight outside. I stood there in anticipation. Chuck moved closer, and I felt his breath on me. I felt his hands on my arms. Then they moved slowly down to my ass. I quivered with excitement, as I had in my fantasies.

  Chuck moved me slowly against the wall and undid my pants. He ran his hands in them along my ass, and moaned out that my ass felt as good as it looked. He slid his hands up to my shirt and unhooked my lacy bra, then took off my shirt. He kissed my neck and licked his way down to my tits. He held them in his hands and took each nipple in turn and licked and sucked on them until they were harder than ever.

  With all the excitement, I couldn’t wait to feel that bulge I had noticed the first time I ever saw Chuck. Now it was pushing up against me. I pushed him back enough to get my hands on his pants to unbutton and release the beast inside begging for freedom. I gasped as I slid down, holding it in my hands, then took it in my mouth.

  I couldn’t believe how big and hard it got. I felt it grow with each lick and suck. I ran my tongue along the vein that stuck out. Chuck stopped me and stood me up. Then he put his hands on my pants, knelt, and slowly pulled them off. He rubbed his nose along my pussy to get a good smell of me. He said how good I smelled and how he wanted to taste me.

  I spread my legs open a bit for him to get a taste of the juices that had been flowing with all the excitement. His tongue lunged into my wet pussy. He licked and sucked my swollen clit, which was throbbing from his teasing, keeping at it till I came. He moaned with satisfaction as he stood up. He said he wanted to feel my hot, wet pussy. Boy, did I ever want to feel his hard penis inside my ever-wanting pussy!

  He led me over to the toilet and sat down carefully, then pulled me to him and positioned me over him. He kissed my stomach and slid me down on his hard cock. My pussy was so wet from all his teasing and from my coming that I slid right down on him. We both moaned with joy and sighed as if we could come right then.

  I slid up and down on Chuck’s rod. He grabbed my hips to help guide me. He was so hard and I was so hot that it didn’t take long for me to come again. He held me tight and ground his cock inside me. I slid off him as he leaned me against the wall and inserted his hard, wet cock in me again. As he thrust back and forth, our bodies slapped against one another. He grabbed my ass and thrust in and out, harder and harder. With each thrust, I knew he was closer to coming.

  We were both about as hot and horny as you can get without coming. Chuck rasped that he was fixing to come. He pulled out, and I grabbed his hard cock and stroked it until it exploded. It throbbed as I slid down and licked up whatever come I could. He stood me up, took my face in his hands, and kissed me deeply.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  With a sigh of satisfaction, I said, “No, thank you!”

  After that day Chuck and I talked and met as much as we possibly could. A few months later we started to see each other exclusively. We’re still together a year later, and our sex life is crazier and more intense than ever.

  —M.L., Amarillo, Texas

  Just When You’re All Set to Pack It In, the Love of Your Life May Come Along

  I was having your basic day from hell when my life was totally turned around. Now I’ve never been happier.

  I work in river shipping mostly, thirty days on and thirty days off. I’m a work-hard, play-hard type of guy, and when you play hard, sometimes you fall hard. This particular day was one of those “fall hard” times. The girl I was seeing was pressuring me to take our relationship to the next level. She found out about Amber, who in turn told her about Hope—you get the picture. Bottom line was thirty days at home with no girlfriend and no girl on the side. I’ll admit I’m your basic male slut. Hey, if you’re not in love and there’s no ring, no paper, no promise, anything goes. I always loved the thought of marriage, kids, and the home-and-yard scene. I just never found it. Twice I thought I was in love, but it turned out to be lust.

  Anyway, here I was, lonely, depressed, fed up, tired, and just plain irritated with everything around me. I took drastic action. I found a place to move to down in the Florida Keys. Then I had to come to grips with leaving family and friends. The Friday night before I was going to leave, I was having a few beers at the country club. It was still early, before the band fired up for dancing and fun. I was saying my good-byes to the people I would miss the most when suddenly she appeared, wearing a yellow blouse and jeans on legs that went all the way up. It was a small town, and usually everyone knew everyone plus who everyone was sleeping with. She glided across the room in one fluid motion that exuded class and grace. Her every move commanded the attention of every man in the place, and drool built up quickly on the floor beneath all of our mouths.

  I was in such awe that I forgot I was in a serious discussion regarding the lease of my farm with one of my old high school chums. He finally saw what I was mesmerized by. Soon he, too, was staring helplessly.

  I’ve been around the block, traveling all my forty-five years, including five years of minor-league baseball, and I’ve had my share of women. But it didn’t take much for me to know that this was something special, something you can’t easily put into words. I was so taken with her that I almost didn’t think of going over and asking to buy her a drink.

  What could she do? Say no, I guess. Well, she didn’t. We exchanged small talk for about an hour before we finally got a table. Claire was with a friend, a girls’-night-out deal. They lived in a town seventy miles away and were looking for some fun, dancing, and laughs. We danced and talked. I sensed she was interested but wasn’t the type to be picked up at a bar. I got her number and said I would call her.

  I called Claire the next morning, and we set our first date for the following Wednesday, the day before my scheduled departure. I picked her up, we ate, and we stopped in for a drink and danced a little. I could tell that this was “the real McCoy.” I was being swept off my feet. I canceled my flight and made a weekend date with her to visit her sister in a neighboring town. I was anticipating sleeping with her and felt like a boy getting his first piece of ass. I felt great but very stupid.

  Her sister and brother-in-law and I hit it off really well because they were avid golfers and I carry a two handicap and used to give golf lessons. After visiting and going out to eat, we returned home and began to settle in for the evening. Claire and I were to stay downstairs and her sister and brother-in-law upstairs. Perfect, I thought.

  Claire and I talked, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I placed my finger over her lips and stopped her from talking and kissed her softly but seriously. Whoa! It was the fireworks thing you’ve always heard about and dreamed of. I lost all track of time. She melted into my grasp, and I laid her back on the couch and kissed her more passionately.

  God, I was about to have an orgasm when she said, “Please, not in my sister’s house”—the worst six words I’d ever heard in my life. Her lips were saying yes, her body was saying yes, but her head was saying no. She kissed me passionately again, this time moaning with desire and urgency. “Please,” she said, “I want to, but I’d feel awful in the morning if we did this.” I smiled and said okay and kissed her again. No one will ever know the desire I had for her. I knew I would stare at the ceiling all night and not sleep a wink. I kept telling myself it was for the best, because I already loved her and that would seal my coffin. I’d eventually ask her to marry me.

  We still kissed and fooled around for an hour or so. Then Claire said she would sleep in the small bedroom at the foot of the stairs, and I could have the main basement bedroom. She tucked me in and lay next to me. We kissed passionately for half an hour or so, and she began to want me as mu
ch as I wanted her. I was about to unload when she jumped up and said good night. She kissed me on the forehead, then pecked me on the lips, and away she went.

  I was panting like a dog but tried to understand. My mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. I was falling for her. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted any woman. It was totally different. Should I go to her bed? Would that make her mad? Was all the passion a dream or was it real? Did she really want me as much as I thought, or was it a front? I couldn’t believe that. I’m not saying I couldn’t be fooled, but not that bad.

  I lay there for an hour thinking, reliving every touch, every kiss. I was so hard, I couldn’t roll over. I had to lie on my back.

  What the hell? If I was right, she wouldn’t be able to resist. If I was wrong, I needed to know. I walked toward her door, slowly. It was open. I saw her lying there. She was so beautiful. Crouching beside her bed, I struggled with the decision whether to wake her or just watch her sleep. Finally, I leaned over and kissed her lips softly. She returned my kiss. She lifted the bedding and invited me to join her. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen. I kissed her softly and passionately, then backed up and looked at her.

  “Please don’t break my heart,” she said. “Don’t change on me. Always be as you are now.”

  I kissed her again, but this time with urgency. I kissed her neck, her breast, and her neck again. I kissed her below her breast, her navel, and her panty line. I reached her womanhood and kissed it softly. I ran my tongue over her lips and inside her. She met my tongue with her hips moving forward. Within seconds she was having an orgasm to a point I’d never seen.

  She asked me to put my shaft inside her. I did, slowly. She begged with urgency for me to let her have all of me. This was sex like nothing I had ever known. The seconds became minutes, the minutes hours. I was so lost in her, I lost all track of time and space.

  I couldn’t tell you if we were loud or quiet. All I wanted was to have her completely. I’m not sure if I moved fast or slow. Just kissing her made me totally oblivious to anything else. She was constantly on the verge of climax. All I could think of was, I could never let her get away. I had to have her again and again.

  We made love till daylight. My mouth was sore from kissing, and the bone above my shaft was sore also. I’d had oral sex with several women in my day, and each tasted different. Claire was a whole different ball game. She tasted so good, I could’ve eaten her for days. She said she had never really liked having that done till that night.

  We are in total love, and we may get married soon. Claire has been the answer to all my doubts in life. I’ve never loved this way before. We have been seeing each other for two years now and hope to have many more, especially if they’re as exciting as the last two, or even if they’re half as exciting.

  —T.S., Talladega, Alabama

  She Didn’t Even Jerk Off Before Marriage; Now She Gushes Like Old Faithful

  I am not normally the type to brag about my accomplishments, but I do have one talent worth talking about. The strange thing is that before I was married I was kind of backward when it came to sex. I had never even masturbated until my husband encouraged me to try it.

  Now I have become quite good at it, and we both love it when I bring myself off as John tenderly sucks and fondles my tits. Our lovemaking sessions are now a learning experience for us both, and we are always exploring new methods of bringing each other to higher levels of ecstasy.

  We discovered my special talent quite by accident a couple of years ago. John was fingering me and stroking my G-spot, and I was attaining a peak of excitement I had never known before. Suddenly I ejaculated! We were both quite surprised. Although it wasn’t a tremendous amount of fluid, I still had actually done something I hadn’t thought was possible for a female.

  After that it happened regularly, and over the years I have perfected this feat, until I can say that I now often spray my juices as far as three feet. My husband loves to be drenched in my come. It makes his cock so hard that I have grown to love it as well.

  Last Sunday evening we were coming home from a shopping trip, on which I had bought a few necessities, such as a pair of fishnet stockings, a new pair of heels, and some delightful new lingerie—plus, of course, the new issue of Penthouse Letters.

  As we traveled down the interstate, I read some of the letters aloud by the map light in the car. The more I read, the more we fantasized and the hornier we both became. I reached over to feel John’s hard-on swelling in his jeans. I knew my juices were running.

  We were only about five minutes away from home, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Off came my jeans, and up came my top, to give John access to my tits.

  As he squeezed my hard nipples, I massaged my swollen clit. I came so fast and hard, I was oblivious to everything around me. Luckily, I had turned off the map light, or every trucker we passed would have gotten quite a show.

  John begged me to continue, and I massaged my pussy until I came again. He wanted to take more of a hands-on approach now—his hands, that is—so I moved closer to him and spread my legs. As we continued down the road, he began to fuck me with his hand. Oh, God, did it feel good! Soon he had several fingers inside me, stroking my G-spot as I teased my clit. Within seconds I came again, filling his hand with my juices.

  By the time we got home, we were so hot, we could barely keep our clothes on till we got inside. We made it to our bedroom and continued with our passionate foreplay, arousing and torturing each other to the point of insanity. I don’t think there was a spot on our bodies that wasn’t stroked, sucked, or licked on with the greatest of passion.

  John couldn’t believe how hot and horny I was. As my juices flowed, his cock throbbed with anticipation. Finally it came to a point where I couldn’t wait. We had brought each other to the point of climax several times and stopped. Now I wanted it all.

  John began fucking me with his hand, hard and fast, which beats a dildo any day. I came so hard, I squirted all over his chest. That made him wild, and he moved to put his face between my legs so he could taste my juices. But before he could, I rolled him over and slid my well-lubricated pussy up and down his chest, then down his stomach and onto his massive cock. I rode him hard, pumping and grinding faster and faster until we both came.

  My husband and I strive to bring each other to new levels of pleasure every time we make love. However, I don’t think we’ve ever quite duplicated the wild passion of that night. Lately we have been fantasizing about bringing a third party into our bed to add to the excitement, but we still haven’t found the right person. As soon as we do, I’ll let you know all about it.

  —F.E., Chevy Chase, Maryland

  What Do You Do if You Meet Ms. Right—While Married to Ms. Wrong?

  You hate to start out a story apologizing for your actions, but sometimes I embarrass myself. I’m not a bad person. In fact, I’ve been told I have a wonderful personality, bordering on too friendly.

  I feel better already.

  This is probably a guy thing, but have you ever just seen someone, made eye contact and thought to yourself that you just have to have that person? This was one of those moments.

  To set the story properly, let me fill you in on some pertinent details. I met Ronnie while married to my first wife, Marcia. She worked for Marcia’s father. The first time our eyes met, I was smitten. She had that glowing smile, perfect teeth, beautiful blonde hair, and a perfect build. She just sort of, well, floated across the room demanding every man’s attention, but with an air of class few women possess.

  She was one of those types I label as a “keeper.” This is not someone you would love and leave. If you were lucky enough to share a bed with this one, you wouldn’t want to leave.

  Now let’s get something straight. I was a successful, happily married man, and had never fooled around on my wife sexually. You flirt and have those ego-boosting moments, yes. Ronnie was married also—but unhappily, word in town was.

  Yes, I sometimes de
lve into local gossip. You have to keep up on everyone when you live in a small town. Our gossip ring keeps tabs on everything, so you can’t get away with anything. If you listen up, you’ll know whose dog is in heat.

  You have to do something when you live in a dry county (no alcohol) and the headline in your local paper reads, “Cousin Visited From Peoria, IL.” Come on, don’t pass judgment before you have all the facts. You also can believe the gossip you hear at the round table at the local restaurant for breakfast. Be early, because there are only eight seats, and six are taken by regulars, me being one of them.

  I heard on several occasions that Ronnie’s husband had a roving eye. Now in the Bible Belt, “roving eye” means he was fucking around. I hated that, because I liked Ronnie. Okay, I lusted after her! But lust is okay as long as you don’t touch, right? I know it’s a commandment, but shit, I’ve already broken five or six of them, so what the hell, would one more hurt?

  I’m ’fessing up here. I even thought of Ronnie during sex with my wife a few times—okay, maybe four or five times a week. But before you think or say anything, you would really need to see this woman.

  One night I came home and my wife and I were having a little foreplay on the couch after dinner, when out of the blue she asked if I ever thought of anyone else while we were having sex!

  Shit! Now I had to lie—another commandment!—but she forced me into this lie. What are you going to do, look into the eyes of your wife of fifteen years and say, “Yes, honey, I think about fucking Ronnie all the time?” I was in a tight spot. I wonder what George Clooney would have done here.

  What I said was, “No, honey, why would you ask that?” Isn’t that the correct response to someone you’ve spent many happy years with? Only, when she said she’d thought about three or four different guys during sex with me, I felt like a goddamn idiot! Next I expected to hear her say she had a collection of sex toys she played with while thinking about other guys.