Letters to Penthouse XIX

by Penthouse International

  After about ten minutes we decided to find a place to eat and get to know each other, get a little more personal. We decided on a little restaurant down the street from where you were staying. I had already planned to stay the night and leave in the morning. It would be easier on me, and I wanted to spend the time with you.

  We dragged out dinner getting to know what we each liked and disliked, including sexual desires and some fantasies. Two hours passed. It wasn’t late, but it was getting dark.

  Since it was privacy we were seeking, we agreed that renting a movie would give us some quiet time alone as well as something to watch so we wouldn’t get bored. All evening I had been giving you little pinches on the butt and pecks on the cheeks. Your smiles and blushes made me want to do it even more. A movie would let us just relax in each other’s arms.

  Which movie wasn’t important. Together we picked one out of the millions to choose from, and we drove back to your place—a dark, quiet room with a neatly made bed waiting to be torn apart. We arranged the bed and bedding so we could both see the movie and still be close, and then we both changed into “something more comfortable.”

  The movie actually turned out to be pretty good, and we stayed awake to watch the whole thing. In fairness, I’m not sure whether it was the movie that kept us awake or the fact that we were playing with each other under the covers.

  By the time the movie was over, it was four hours since I had arrived. We had talked a great deal, but it was in that last hour that we’d gotten the closest and most daring. We both knew where the night was going to lead, and I think we were both ready, even eager. As the credits rolled, I snapped off the TV and turned on the radio—a little something to hear in the background.

  You looked at me and attempted to say something, but I whispered “sshhh” and placed a finger gently over your lips. I began to kiss your neck and ears slowly, staying with them for a few minutes, then kissed my way slowly down to your chest. You were wearing loose-fitting pj’s that let my hands move freely about your body. Every time you felt a kiss, you also felt my hand slowly working a new spot.

  I removed your top slowly, baring your soft pale skin. I continued to kiss your chest and stomach, trying not to miss a single spot. I also caressed your nipples gently, rubbing one while I kissed the other. They hardened with every kiss, which made me hornier than I was before. I felt the heat roll off your body. I looked in your eyes when I touched you, and your look drew me closer to you.

  With every kiss I felt you wanted to lash out but were still restraining yourself. I decided to help. I took your hand in mine and, while continuing to kiss you, guided it to my chest. I let you feel my heartbeat, how soothing it could be. Then I moved slowly downward to let you take my already-swollen mass in your hand.

  Within a second you were pumping it with a smooth, firm motion. I removed my hand and let you do whatever you wanted. I went back to running my hands wherever they wanted to venture. They were now down to your warm mound. Something attracted me there—maybe knowing that no other had been so close, or that no other would have my touch. That made me smile, and I began to slide my fingers gently over your clit. I changed my speed with each pass, leaving you knowing that it was coming, but not when.

  I began to rub slowly around your clit, making you tingle all over and share your juices with me. I could wait no longer, and moved my kisses quickly downward to where my hands just were. I kissed the sides of your wet mound. With each kiss, you quivered. I kissed the most sensitive spots when you least expected it. I moved my tongue around slowly to everywhere I could find, everywhere you dreamed a man would go.

  With each kiss, you squeezed harder. I assured you that I enjoyed that, that the harder you squeezed, the better it felt. You smiled and closed your eyes. I continued to tantalize your clit with my tongue. I would stay in a particular spot for a couple of minutes, then retreat to be able to see the look on your face, then go back to work on a new spot.

  Gradually your grip on me tightened, and my blood pumped faster, and I moved faster. I felt you tighten, and with a burst of speed I lashed out and fucked as fast as I could.

  Within seconds I felt your whole body tense up and then instantly relax, leaving you with a smile and with your body bathed in sweat. I knew what had just happened, and was a little proud, to say the least.

  You smiled and said, “Thank you.”

  I smiled and said, “Save that for when I’m through!”

  I rose up slowly until we were face-to-face again, and again kissed you on the neck while gently touching your most sensitive parts. You knew what was coming, and reached around my back and gripped me firmly, letting me know you were ready. I eased myself in your pussy. You were a little tight, but wet as you were, it was easy enough.

  You gasped as I entered, then relaxed once you felt what followed. I pulled out slowly, then pushed right back in. You quivered all over and smiled. I continued to kiss the lower part of your neck and worked my way down to your cheeks. You couldn’t stand it anymore and lashed out with your tongue to my mouth.

  We kissed rapidly, and with each kiss I pumped more rapidly. You seemed to use it as a speed control. I felt you breathing heavy on my face and pumped some more. Each time I moved, I also touched your nipples gently with my fingers. Within a short time I saw your toes curl, and you tensed up like the time before. Then, with a moan and a burst from me—I began to drive like I needed to, with your fingertips digging into my back—you gasped for breath and relaxed to a point where I knew I had done enough.

  We decided that we would end on that note, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms—both naked and free, both warm to the touch and with smiles on our faces. We drifted away slowly to dream—to dream of whatever you might want to do in the morning when we wake each other up.—G.H., Winnipeg, Manitoba

  HE WAS HER SON’S SOCCER COACH, BUT OFF THE FIELD SHE TOOK CARE OF HIS BALLS

  I am a twenty-five-year-old soccer coach, and I have come to love fucking married women.

  Coaching youth teams has given me the chance to meet and bed my share of horny soccer moms. Most of them were a couple of years older than me, but few seemed to have any problem about fucking me. I guess it’s not all that surprising. I’m young and healthy, with an athlete’s body and a good-size cock. I dig it because the thrill is awesome and there’s little commitment required.

  Maryanne, however, was a little different. She was a hot thirty-six-year-old redhead, the mother of one of the best players on my team. Although we flirted some, I realized from the start that getting between her legs would be harder than usual. She had a less casual attitude than most of the women I had fucked, and she made it clear that she was committed to her husband.

  Loving a challenge, though, I set out on a mission to seduce her. I knew that this husband to whom she was so devoted was short and on the chubby side, so I made sure I had my shirt off as often as I could when she was around, to give her every opportunity to see the contrast. And I wooed her unobtrusively but persistently.

  It took me about two months, but finally I managed to talk her into playing tennis with me at my condo complex. After our tennis session we went up to my apartment for a drink. Maryanne did seem nervous, but she wasn’t unresponsive when I tried a few subtle moves. Things soon heated up, and before I knew it we were making out like crazy and tugging at each other’s clothes.

  When she saw my rapidly swelling shaft, she reached for it, gasping, “Oh my God, oh my God!” She said she had never seen a bigger one. Her hand was all over it as it continued to grow. She was almost hyperventilating.

  I removed her shirt to expose her beautiful tits, and my mouth went to them like a magnet. They were amazingly firm and shapely, as were her long legs and perfect ass. She began jerking me off with gusto, her eyes glazed with passion. I was sure I was about to fuck her. But when my fingers began to stroke her clit, she suddenly embarked on a guilt trip, going from ecstasy to uncertainty.

  “I’m sorry, I just can�
�t do this,” she groaned, and she stood up.

  I tried to reason with her, but obviously I wasn’t going to push it. She apologized over and over again as she quickly gathered up her clothes. “I’m sorry. I really want to, but I just can’t!” she said before she went out the door. Frustrated after coming so close to the goal, I was left to whack off in my living room.

  I thought it was over at that point, but the next week at soccer practice I kept catching Maryanne staring at me. And even when I caught her staring, she didn’t look away. Afterward, while I chatted with her husband about soccer and the kids, she gazed at me with an unbelievably sexy look that made it hard for me to concentrate—and gave me a hard-on. I didn’t know if she was running hot and cold or if she was just a tease. But I knew I had to fuck her if I could.

  Her son had told me that his dad was taking him to a car show the next day, so the following afternoon I headed over to Maryanne’s house, knowing she would be alone. She seemed surprised when I showed up at her door. Nevertheless, she invited me in. We talked awkwardly for a few minutes, and then I just started kissing her.

  She kissed me back, and then, just like before, we tore each other’s clothes off in a fury. This time, however, she seemed noticeably less reluctant. She did say something about this being wrong, but she seemed to agree when I said that that made it all the better.

  She began to hyperventilate again when she saw my big hard-on, but this time she started begging for it right away. “Fuck me, Roger,” she panted. “Fuck me, you big stud!”

  Clearly the situation allowed no time for foreplay. I fell on the sofa with my cock throbbing so hard, it ached. But Maryanne quickly soothed it by lowering her wet pussy on it.

  I had been anticipating this fuck for a long time, and it was every bit as intense as I had hoped. Her tight snatch took in all of my manhood, and she instantly began moaning. As she bounced up and down, I lay back and held on to her sweet tits. It didn’t take her long to come. She squealed with delight as her vaginal muscles clenched around my cock like a vise. Juices flowed out of her and onto my lap.

  As Maryanne reached the heights of pleasure, I was thinking how I had finally managed to seduce this innocent married woman, which served to turn me on even more. Hornier now than ever, I lifted her up and flipped her onto her back. Then I stood up, lifted her legs up onto my shoulders and began pounding her into ecstasy.

  Soon she was almost screaming with renewed pleasure. In between calling out my name, she gasped, “Oh my God, the neighbors will hear us!”

  As I quickened my pace, she only got louder. Her pussy was amazing, wet and tight. As I fucked her like a jackhammer, I could feel the head of my cock pounding against the back of her snatch. We were both in a frenzy, and we could barely hold it.

  Finally Maryanne let out a giant climactic scream, and then she began shaking like a leaf. She in came in another violent outburst, bucking up against me in an effort to possess every last inch of my cock.

  I gave her one final thrust, then pulled out and came hard. I had never seen so much semen come out of me as I sprayed all over her stomach and tits. It felt so fucking good! Maryanne moaned and started rubbing my essence all over her still-spasming body.

  When we recovered, we both broke into giggles. It was probably the best fuck I’d ever had, and the only thing Maryanne could say was, “Wow!”

  Finally we decided to take a shower together to clean up. Ten minutes later we were fucking again in the shower, and then again on the bathroom floor. And we have been fucking at every opportunity ever since.—R.Y., Danbury Connecticut

  SHE HAD A RED CONVERTIBLE, BUT HE HAD A BIG OLD TRUCK WITH A BED IN THE BACK

  I was tired of staying home, so I put the top of my convertible down, jumped inside and headed toward the interstate. I wanted to just drive for a while.

  The weather was warm, and the wind felt good in my hair. I hadn’t taken much time to look at myself when I headed out the door, and it didn’t take me long to realize that I had left the house wearing just a pair of jeans and a shirt with half the buttons missing.

  Oh well!

  About a half hour out of town I glanced at the fuel gauge and noticed I was low on gas, so I headed to a favorite station of mine out there. A lot of truckers used it too, but they usually hung around in the back.

  The “pay at the pump” feature wasn’t working, so I headed inside to settle up. There was a guy standing behind me who tried to make some small talk. Nice night, and so on—you know, all of the usual bullshit.

  Then he said, “You drive that red convertible?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, a little apprehensive.

  “I see you in it a lot. I drive about three hundred miles a day up and down the highway and I usually give you a toot when you pass by.”

  I turned around and saw that he wasn’t a bad-looking guy. “You do?” I said.

  “Yeah, it’s a nice car,” he said. “And I look out for you. I saw you at the side of the road the other day, and called the Smokies to give you a hand.”

  “Well, thanks,” I said.

  Sure enough, I had had some car trouble the other day, and the troopers had showed up pretty quick to help me out. I had wondered about that.

  “My name’s Burt,” the man said, extending his hand in my direction.

  “Amy,” I said, accepting the shake. He had a nice firm touch.

  “Yeah, a lot of the truckers notice you,” Burt said. “I know I’m not the only one that gives you a little attention.” I was blushing now. “That car have a leather interior?” he asked.

  “Yeah” I said. “I like that car a lot. Gives me some real freedom.”

  “I know what you mean,” he said. “Say, would you like to see the inside of a truck? Mine’s a pretty big rig. You’d like it. Come on and let me show you around. I won’t take much of your time. If you’re not in a hurry, that is.”

  I didn’t let myself think too much. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.” I couldn’t believe I said that. We headed out to the back parking lot. At his truck, Burt opened the door. It looked way high off the ground. He put his strong hands on my hips to lift me up. It felt good.

  The cab was roomy, and I slid over so that Burt could get in. He showed me the controls, talking me through each dial and knob on the dash. There was even a coffeemaker in the cab. He leaned over me a couple of times, brushing gently against my arm or leg. The heat of his body was causing reactions inside me that I didn’t expect. Suddenly I was no longer concerned about exactly how many buttons were missing from the shirt I was wearing.

  “I’ve got a sleeper cab,” Burt said, pointing to the back. “You know, for the long hauls. Want to see what it’s like?”

  He opened the heavy fabric curtain, and suddenly there was a cozy bed in front of me. This I couldn’t resist! I was already tingling all over, and my body was taking over my mind. I crawled back on my hands and knees and sat on the bed. Burt was right behind me, and he pulled the curtain shut as he settled in next to me.

  He put his hand to my cheek and stroked it. “You look even better close up than you do in your car,” he said. Okay, yeah, so I fall for cheap lines. So sue me!

  I placed my hand on Burt’s chest, feeling the hardness of his muscular body. He reached out and ran his finger down my shirt from button to button, then back up to where there were buttons missing, slipping a finger inside. It was getting hot, and when he began to open the buttons that were left, I gave him a hand. This guy had a touch that I needed to feel.

  Then the shirt was gone, and Burt was caressing my breasts. My nipples wanted more, and he licked them. I reached out to feel his hard cock, which was pushing against his zipper. I unbuckled his belt, unzipped him slowly and reached my hand inside, stroking his dick slowly as I freed it.

  He pulled a condom out of his pocket as he took off his jeans, and I put it on him. He eased me back, removed my jeans and then proceeded to explore every part of me. He stopped at my shaved cunt, and with his tongue eas
ily found the spot that sent me flying. It wasn’t long before he had me shuddering in orgasm, but he didn’t stop. Another climax followed closely behind the first.

  I could hardly stand it. “Please,” I gasped, “let me fuck you.”

  Rolling him over, I climbed on top and slid myself down over that hard rod he’d been showing me. It was finally inside me, and I rocked up and down, taking it in deeper and deeper. He took charge then, rolling us over again and lifting my legs over his shoulders. He began pumping me, slowly at first, but hard, and then deeper and faster.

  I heard myself moaning loudly as I bucked upward to meet Burt’s every stroke, until finally we came together in an explosion that flowed into every muscle in my body. After a while I pulled my clothes on and climbed out of the truck, with his help.

  “Come on over anytime,” Burt said as I waved him good night. “You know where to find me.”

  Yes indeed, I do.—A.C., Gary, Indiana

  THE MOTEL LADY OFFERED FRESH COFFEE CAKE BUT SERVED HIM MUCH MORE

  This happened one summer night a couple of years ago. I was returning home after a business trip down in Texas.

  Sleepy and ready for bed, I pulled into a small motel a little off the beaten track, just a few miles south of Amarillo. I was greeted by two women sitting in rocking chairs outside the motel office. Immediately, one of the women led me inside to fix me up with a room. I am from England, but have lived in America for the last ten years. As soon as she heard my voice, this woman started going into raptures over my accent. She told me her name was Brenda, and began asking me all kinds of questions about where I came from and so on.

  As we continued to talk, it struck me that Brenda, while not stunningly beautiful, was quite a nice-looking brunette. Probably in her late thirties, she had big dark eyes, a large heavy bust and full curvy thighs, and on the whole was the kind of woman I like to fondle in bed. Taking advantage of her obvious fascination with my accent, I lingered at the desk, engaging her in small talk as I sought a way of inviting her to my room.