My mouth was dripping with her juices as I worked my way back up her body. She moved into position below me, arching her hips so that her cunt was directly beneath my cock. I teased her for a moment, just barely sliding the tip between the lips of her pussy, then pulling back out. I moved higher, positioning my cock over her mouth while I began to stimulate her clit with my hand. She swallowed me hungrily, and soon I was cradling her head as I slowly fucked that hot mouth. By this point, Martin had removed the rest of his clothes and was on the bed with us, catching every minute of the act on tape.
I felt my orgasm beginning to build, but before I came I wanted to put on a good show for Martin and his camera. I pulled out of Julie’s mouth and moved between her legs, placing her hand on my firm cock. “Guide me in,” I whispered, my cock several inches above her pussy. She angled me toward her opening and lifted her hips high.
When she had slipped her wet pussy over the head of my cock, I held that position for a moment, savoring the feel of her warmth around me. Looking deeply into her eyes I thrust home, and immediately her first orgasm of the night washed over her. All the while Martin was at the foot of the bed, his camera tightly focused on this intimate act his wife was committing. Julie came again and again before I let go, flooding her with my sperm. Our juices ran thickly down the crack of her ass, mine and hers, commingled for the camera.
As I rolled over, Martin immediately slipped into my place and I picked up the camera to continue filming. The rolling motion of Julie’s hungry hips hardly missed a beat between the thrusts of my cock and the newly energized thrusts of her husband. She was lost in a sexual frenzy that kept the three of us going until well after midnight.
The next night we watched the videotape, an erotic tribute to Julie’s awakening, and I don’t think any of us was surprised when we all ended up back in bed. In fact, we spent almost every night of their vacation together, and I was as sorry as they were when it came time for them to leave. Fortunately for me, new guests arrive at the resort every day.
—J.Y., Via E-Mail
COUPLE FALLS IN LOVE ALL OVER AGAIN DURING WEEKEND IDYLL
Four years ago, after a decade of living and working in what my husband often referred to as “urban chaos,” he and I decided to abandon the corporate rat race and go into business for ourselves. As we both loved books of all kinds, we decided to open a small bookstore in a quaint village upstate we had visited several times and enjoyed immensely. We knew we’d be working hard, longer hours, perhaps, than what we’d had to put in with our city jobs, but we would be doing something we both enjoyed in a clean, quiet community. We were giving up frantic for relaxed, trading in hurry-up-and-do-it-now for take-it-nice-and-easy.
More important, we’d be spending so much more time together. No more would we have to practically schedule an appointment to see each other. “We might get sick and tired of each other,” my husband would sometimes say with a grin. “After all, we’ll be together twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Can we stand the strain?” I would respond with, “Well, we’ll just have to cope as best we can, darling,” thinking how great it was going to be having my man around all the time. Little did we know that we would eventually come to understand that it is indeed possible to have too much of a good thing.
In the beginning everything was great, with Thomas and I having fun learning to be small business owners while at the same time getting comfortable in the small house we had purchased after unloading our city condo. It was all so new and exciting, we hardly even knew we were tired at the end of each long day. But then, as time went by and we settled into a comfortable routine, a certain uneasiness crept into our relationship. Thomas and I were together all the time, and while familiarity certainly didn’t breed contempt, it did, much to our dismay, cast a pall over how we related to each other. Where once we would have tackled a problem with good cheer, now we tended to blame each other for it. Hours would pass in the store when we did not say a single word to each other, and this pattern carried over to home, where we would each go our separate way as if thankful for the time alone. Our lovemaking, like our relationship, became routine, with both of us going through the motions in a seeming hurry to get it over with.
I was becoming increasingly concerned where all this was headed when fate stepped in to save the day—perhaps even a relationship. A promising young author we had befriended published his first novel, and while not a runaway best seller, it did well enough to earn him a nice book contract with a major publisher. By way of thanking us for our support and encouragement, he offered us the use of a beach house he had purchased with his newfound prosperity. Thomas brightened considerably at this opportunity, as did I, thinking that it could only help to get away from things for a weekend.
The following Friday morning we tossed our luggage into the SUV and began the three-hour drive to the Hamptons. Thanks to our author friend’s detailed directions we had no trouble finding the beach house, which, to my amazement, was more like a mini-estate off the Atlantic Ocean than the cozy beachfront property we had expected. Beautifully, if sparsely, furnished, it had a deck that wrapped around three sides and large windows offering magnificent views. There was a sunken living room, a decent-size kitchen, a bathroom, a dining area, and a large bedroom that overlooked the Atlantic. And to top it off, our author friend had stocked the refrigerator for us and left several bottles of wine for our enjoyment.
“Wow!” was all either my husband or I could say.
After a bite to eat, Thomas and I donned our swimsuits and went for a dip in the ocean. Within minutes of swimming and frolicking in the ocean, I felt like a new person, invigorated by this total change of scene as well as the refreshing chill of the water. I could tell from the look on my husband’s face that he, too, was enjoying himself. As we splashed each other, I tried to remember the last time I’d seen him this frisky.
We spent the balance of that afternoon lazing on the beautiful deck, not talking all that much, really, but every so often turning to smile at each other as we sipped our wine coolers. For the first time in a long time I was getting genuinely turned on by my mate. Seeing him there, stretched out on the chaise longue, I renewed my appreciation of his fine physique and the special appeal of his bearded face. “This is really nice, isn’t it?” he said at one point. “Very,” I answered, returning his little smile.
That evening, on the deck, Thomas grilled the swordfish our author friend had left in the fridge for us while I prepared a complementary salad, all of which we washed down with a fine white wine. Later, more relaxed and at peace with the world—and each other—than we had been in some time, we took a walk along the beach. Almost tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure I’d appreciate it, Thomas reached for my hand.
My heart jumped a bit as I accepted it eagerly, and hand in hand, we continued our walk. Conversation, which so recently had seemed a formidable task, flowed easily, as did the smiles and laughs, and by the time we started back to the house I was more than ready to make love. It had been ages, I thought, since I’d wanted my husband so bad.
Still holding hands, we entered the house wordlessly—two minds with but a single thought—we quietly made our way to the bedroom.
Our pace quickened considerably as we started removing our clothes, and by the time we fell into bed we were like a pair of newlyweds on their honeymoon, moaning and gasping with pleasure as we groped and kissed each other with a passion neither of us had felt in so long.
Thomas went down on me, licking, sucking, and kissing my soaking pussy as if tasting it for the first time, which is pretty much how I tended to his mighty hard-on some twenty minutes later, after I’d come not once but twice from his magical tonguing of my cunt. I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoyed sucking on him, how thrilling it was to take him deep, until his hairy balls were resting on my chin and he was making these funny little sounds in his throat.
The fucking that followed was wonderful, spirited and joyous, not at all like the mechanical, let
’s-do-it-and-get-it-over-with sex we’d engaged in during the previous months. We started off missionary style, with Thomas alternating between long, slow strokes and short, fast ones, and then I got on top, riding my man like a rodeo cowgirl, relishing every inch of his cock as I bounced up and down in it while he held fast to my heavy breasts.
We finished doggy-fashion, our favorite position, with Thomas giving my round butt a good smack every so often as he plowed into me from behind, which is something he knows only propels me closer to orgasm. We came within seconds of each other, Thomas announcing his climax with a guttural moan while I let loose a shrill shriek of total delight, my happy pussy contracting wildly around my man’s spurting cock.
Already we were coming back, I thought happily as I drifted off to sleep in my husband’s strong arms. Here in this idyllic setting we were rediscovering each other, learning anew what it was we found so special about each other in the first place. And we had two days to go!
Saturday and Sunday were just as satisfying, with lots of hand-holding, kissing, and enthusiastic sex. After a day spent relaxing on the deck and swimming in the ocean, we drove into East Hampton for a delicious steak dinner at a charming little restaurant. Then it was back home for a nightcap on the deck under a full moon as in the distance the ocean waves lapped at the shore. Later, in bed, we went after each other as if possessed. So aroused was I that I let my husband penetrate me anally, something we seldom did even in the early years of our marriage. I came so hard I thought for a moment that I’d pass out.
Sunday we drove to Southampton for brunch and to browse among the many charming shops on Main Street. We bought ice cream cones and enjoyed them on a sidewalk bench as we people-watched. And then it was back to the beach house, where we changed into our swimsuits for a dip in the ocean before dinner, with Thomas again playing chef by grilling our food on the deck. Then, as a fitting conclusion to this magnificent holiday, during which dormant feelings of love and desire had been reawakened in my husband and me, we had sex on the beach. Right on the beach, mind you, on a blanket, under the stars. It was so romantic yet exciting at the same time.
Thomas and I returned home refreshed, rejuvenated, and eager to get back to our little business. Yes, we’d be together twenty-four hours a day, and wasn’t that just grand.
—E.M., Wilton, Connecticut
SMALL-TOWN COUPLE SAMPLES A VARIETY OF BIG-CITY THRILLS
When I handed over the dollar bill for the raffle, I never thought that I would win anything. At least I’m helping out the needy, I told myself, and then didn’t think of it again until about a week later, when Carol called me and told me that I’d won.
“Won what?” I asked, in the middle of cooking dinner for myself and Sam and having no idea what she was talking about.
“The raffle,” she replied. “An all-expenses-paid weekend in New York City, including airfare. Don’t tell me you forgot!” After I’d hung up with Carol, I called Sam into the kitchen and told him to start packing. We were going to New York City!
On the flight there, Sam and I argued almost the entire way about what to do our first day. I wanted to go shopping, especially at all the big department stores, but he was set on seeing the sights. However, when we got to the hotel, our argument was put on hold, since we were both so overwhelmed.
We were on the twenty-first floor, with a beautiful view of the skyscrapers and the river to the west. Windows lined one entire wall, so from the king-size bed it was like we were floating in the air. I couldn’t believe that there were buildings even higher than ours, but Sam was most fascinated by the bathroom. At his beckoning, I went in to check it out. It had a huge whirlpool bathtub that was big enough for the both of us, and the room even had its own phone extension. Now that’s luxury!
Deciding that New York could wait, Sam and I filled the tub instead. We climbed in as the warm water swirled around us and settled back, glad to relax after the long, uncomfortable flight. I sat between Sam’s legs and he massaged my shoulders and upper arms, occasionally bringing his hands around to caress my breasts. As my nipples hardened so did his cock, which I could feel prodding the small of my back.
I turned around in the tub so that I was facing Sam, my legs bent over his thighs and my feet flat on the bottom. I reached for his cock and pumped it a few times in my fist, watching as my husband closed his eyes and pursed his lips. Then, with my hand firmly around the base of his shaft, I lifted myself and managed to guide him into my slick cunt.
I slid down his member until I reached the root. Then I balanced myself on Sam’s shoulders and began bobbing up and down in the water. I felt the soft pouch of his balls flatten against my ass on each downward stroke, and his glans scraping along the inner walls of my vagina. Sam grasped my hips to guide me, and we built a steady rhythm that grew faster and faster.
Water splashed over the side of the tub as our movements grew more frenetic. My large breasts bounced as we fucked, and Sam leaned forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. He bit down slightly and I gasped, feeling that slight pain race straight to my pussy. My orgasm loomed closer and closer as he moved his mouth to the other breast to lick, suck, and nibble that nipple. Finally I tensed, my knees pressed against his sides as I was gripped by my orgasm, and I leaned against Sam and bit down on his shoulder. This triggered Sam’s release, and within seconds I could feel warm liquid inside my body as well as around it. He pumped me full of his sperm, clasping my body tightly to his until his cock was totally spent.
Our coupling in the bathroom had left us happy but tired, so we chose to stay in that night and take advantage of room service rather than dress and find a restaurant. Besides, our package included reservations at the recently renovated world-famous Russian Tea Room the next night, so we figured we’d wait until then for our gourmet meal.
The next day we were up bright and early, ready to explore the Big Apple. Everything was just so romantic. We went to the top of the Empire State Building and the view just about took my breath away. You can’t see anything like that where we come from! Then I wanted to see a Broadway play, but Sam talked me into the Circle Line tour, and I’m sure glad he did. It was a beautiful spring day, and the boat trip was a definite treat. After that we were starving, so we headed to the Russian Tea Room for dinner. We ate Chicken Kiev, washed down with lots of vodka. Everything was wonderful, but looking at the prices on our menus, I was glad that this meal was included in our prize!
After dinner we went to Central Park for a hansom carriage ride under the stars. Sam thought it was silly and sentimental of me to want to do that, but once we got going, I could tell that he enjoyed it just as much as I did. But that may be because when the driver wasn’t looking, I reached over and fondled Sam’s cock through the front of his slacks. Soon we were necking in the back of the carriage, oblivious to the world around us, and it felt a little like a scene in a movie. I caressed Sam’s erection as we rode, and he squeezed my breast in his hand, bringing my nipple to life with a stroke of his fingertips. By the time the ride was over we were both hot and eager to get back to the hotel.
We hailed a cab, and after a few passed us by, one finally stopped. Sam gave the driver the name of the hotel and then we got back to our kissing, not caring what the cabby saw. I explored Sam’s mouth with my tongue as he thumbed my nipples, making me wet and ready for his invasion when we got back to our room. Reaching between his thighs, I cupped his balls in my palm and felt them throb, and I hoped we’d get to the hotel soon. The trip was taking longer than I expected, and I wondered if the driver was lost.
We finally got to our hotel, and by then I suspected that we’d purposely been driven out of our way, but I didn’t care, I just wanted to get Sam into bed. The wait for the elevator was agonizing, and when it finally came we were the only passengers, which was lucky because we were able to keep the flame of passion alive by kissing and fondling each other for the twenty-floor ride. At the door to our room Sam fumbled with the card key, and as soon as the light t
urned green we fell inside, leaving a trail of clothing behind us as we made our way to the bed.
The bedspread had been turned down, so we threw it to the floor, along with the mints that had been left on our pillows. Once the bed was clear Sam and I got down to business. He pushed me back, then dove into my pussy with his tongue, licking and sucking my moist folds and my clit until I was writhing in ecstasy. Then he filled me with his fingers, pumping what felt like at least three of them in and out of my cunt as he lapped at my sex. I pinched my nipples, gasping, as I raced toward my climax, desperate to come.
Finally, my husband pulled his fingers out of my cunt and slid them into my asshole. They were moist enough from my pussy for his easy entrance, and he only had to thrust two or three times before my body was jerking all over the bed as my orgasm finally hit me like a ton of bricks.
I slowly came down from my sexual high and unclenched my fingers, letting go of the handfuls of sheet that I hadn’t even noticed I’d been grasping, and pulled Sam up on top of me. I opened my legs wide for him, eager to have his cock inside me. To my surprise he flipped me over, so I got up on my hands and knees so he could fuck me from behind. I felt him line up his cockhead with my sopping canal and push through my opening. Then, with one strong thrust, he sank his cock home, burying his shaft to the root.
Sam kneaded my fleshy buttocks as he pumped into me. His shaft ran along the walls of my vagina and stimulated my clitoris with each forward thrust. Soon my cries were mingling with his grunts, our orgasms climbing simultaneously. His movements quickened as he slammed into me, his balls bouncing against my thighs. Just then he stopped, his fingers pressing holes into my asscheeks, his cock swelling and pumping inside me. As he filled me with his cream I came as well, my pussy milking him of the last drops of warm semen.
Letters to Penthouse XXVI Page 13