The big day finally came. I approached him in his office, and he was surprised to see me. Shaking with fear, I just blurted it out. “Randall, I’m taking my car in for repairs tomorrow. Would you be able to give me a ride home?” His reaction was cool and calm. He acted as if he had heard this a million times from a million women. He smiled at me in a nonchalant, sophisticated way.
“No problem, Betsy,” he said, as he undressed me with his eyes.
“Thanks,” I blurted out, and turned to leave. Before I could, he said loudly,
“You know, Betsy, I really like the way you look in that red dress of yours.” I froze and blushed. I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Speechless, I left.
Back at my desk, I was still shaken. We had used different words, but we both knew what it was all about. Yes, he would fuck me tomorrow. And yes, he wanted me to wear red.
That night I could hardly sleep. I tried to forget the whole thing and considered calling in sick the next day. It was the first time I wore my Christmas dress in May.
When Randall spotted me, he grinned like a cat who’d just eaten a mouse. I dressed exactly as he told me to. When Judy asked, I made up a story about why I’d worn the dress. The day seemed to drag on forever.
Finally, I was alone with him in the car. Being so close, it was hard to ignore his size. He was simply gigantic. I was extremely nervous. Driving me home, he was polite and pleasant. It was actually the first time I had really talked with him.
He pulled into my driveway, and casually turned off the engine. We both knew he was coming in. Clumsily, I invited him in for a drink. “Sure,” he laughed. He never even asked about my husband. Inside, with the door closed, I fumbled with my purse. He walked directly to me and took the purse away, placing it on a table. He towered over me. He came close and embraced me, first gently, then urgently. Within seconds his tongue was deep in my mouth and his hands were all over me. I could feel his immense power. We kissed passionately. I had never been kissed like this. It wasn’t a kiss of affection; it was the way a man kisses a whore.
When we broke our kiss, I was so excited that I was panting like a dog in heat. Randall asked me where the liquor was. The preliminaries were over. He wanted a drink before fucking. He then told me to put on something more comfortable. As I walked away, he added, “Don’t forget, Betsy. I like you in red.”
Alone in my bedroom, my mind was a blur. It was too late to stop, even if I had wanted to. Within seconds, I stood before him in the outfit I’d bought for my husband’s fiftieth birthday celebration—a red bra, sheer red crotchless panties and red heels. I had even applied fresh red lipstick for him.
When Randall saw this, he raced up to me and stared deep into my eyes. As we spoke, he casually placed his gigantic hands on my boobs. Examining the merchandise, he gloated, “Very nice, Betsy, very nice.” He then kissed me passionately. This time, he worked a finger deep into my pussy. As we broke our kiss, I dropped to my knees. I unzipped his trousers. Like a child opening a Christmas package, I was anxious to see my present. When his trousers fell to the floor, I gasped. All the stories were true! He had a huge, huge cock. Without question, Randall’s was the biggest prick I had ever imagined, big and thick, possibly ten inches long.
With my husband, oral sex was an event. He begged for months for me to do it for him. In recent years, I had only done it on special occasions, like our wedding anniversary. For my black stud Randall, things were much different. He casually leaned against the sofa. I knelt and worshiped him and his prick. I rubbed and sucked, kissed and licked it. I strived to give him the special hot blowjob that he expected as his due. He relaxed and guided me. He reached down with one huge hand and cupped my boobs. Many women had obviously knelt for him. Caressing my head with the other hand, he told me what he wanted and exactly when he wanted it. With my husband, no words were ever spoken. Randall issued instruction after instruction on how best to please him. It was terribly exciting. As he neared climax, he stiffened and clutched my tits. He came massively, and I swallowed what I could, blast after blast.
As I stood, he lifted me off my feet. His strength was incredible and he was nearly twice my size. How hot we must have looked: a small white woman dangling in the arms of her black stud, his come fresh on her lips.
He carried me to the master bedroom and placed me on the bed. He had already decided he would fuck me in my husband’s bed. With our eyes locked, he stripped. Before me stood the perfect male specimen—big, bold, muscular and black. His prick was still erect. It looked like a billy club swaying between his legs. He smiled at me with total confidence. He knew that he was special and that I was in for the fuck of my life.
Soon I was naked and he was all over me. Our faces were inches apart. He placed his cock on my vaginal lips and gently slid it back and forth. I took a good look at his cock. It was so huge—could I take it all in? He looked into my eyes, into my soul, and said to me, “Oh, Betsy, you’re so wet! Do you get this wet for your husband, or just for black men? Do you want my black cock, Betsy?” Soon I was begging for that black cock. The entire time, I felt it sliding up and down my pussy lips. My clit was on fire. I grew wetter by the second. He then got into position for penetration. Slowly, he slipped that nightstick into my pussy. I attempted to draw him closer, deeper, but he pulled back.
“What’s on your mind, Betsy?” he asked.
I knew what to say: “Please fuck me, Randall. Please.” In response to my words, he thrust his cock into my welcoming pussy. Half of his length filled me on the first stroke. Even at that, it was more cock than I had ever had in there before. I climaxed immediately, and the orgasm was intense. There was no stopping him now.
He began to thrust that huge cock until he filled every inch of my pussy. When I had him comfortably accommodated, he eased up and began a slow rhythmic motion. It was time for a hot, slow fuck, a fuck only he could administer. All the way in and all the way out. In and out. In and out. On and on. Oh, my God! He was an inspired lover. I lay back, moaning and cooing to him continually. After a few minutes, our bodies were bathed in sweat.
As he slowly fucked me, he kissed me passionately, fucking my mouth with his tongue. He tongued my ears and licked my face like a piece of candy. My body responded to him in every way. My pussy opened up for him as if it had been designed only for him. When he was ready to come, he raised my legs over his massive arms and gripped my ass firmly. The pace quickened. Once again, he began to thrust in and out of my pussy. “Have you ever fucked a black man before, Betsy?” he asked.
“No, no, no,” was all I could say. He was quite pleased.
“Wonderful!” he proclaimed. “I am going to cream you now,” he said. “When I do, you will be mine forever!” With those words, he began to climax forcefully, thrust after thrust. He came so hard and strong that his eruption triggered yet another one of mine.
That night, he fucked me like no other man ever has done before or ever will again. That glorious night of sex was two years ago. Since then, I have been a changed woman.
I am still married and yes, my sex life with my husband remains nonexistent. But now I don’t care in the least. I bought Bob a new phone for his last birthday. I have joined a health club and now exercise and lift weights regularly. I am in the best shape of my life. My new wardrobe is much sexier and bolder. Of course, my favorite color is now red. My daughter has remarked about the change in me, but I don’t dare tell her about Randall. I’m afraid she’ll want him as much as I do.
And Randall? He is the man in my life. Although he sees many women and I’m only one of them, I couldn’t care less. When I get the chance, he fucks me into total bliss. By now he has taken me in every way imaginable, and some ways I had never imagined.
Most of my friends at work suspect that he fucks me regularly, but I don’t really care. Judy, of course, knows every detail.
There is nothing I would not do for him. He’s even used me to help him get other women. I’ve only done it twice, but when he asks, I w
alk up to him and the woman he has targeted, usually young, beautiful and white. In my sexiest voice, I’ll coo some compliment to him, like, “God, Randall you were wonderful last night, absolutely wonderful. Call me. Please.”
It worked like a charm both times. Each woman probably figured that if he can get a middle-aged woman like me strutting around and cooing to him, he must really be something special. (He is!)
In closing, I would like to offer some advice to other middle-aged women whose sex life has vanished: take on a young stud. You will never regret it. If you choose a black one, you’ll probably be in for the fucking of your life. And if you want it all, get a boob job. Your life will turn up-side down.
—B.A., Greensboro, North Carolina
UNIFORM DESIRES
I’m a corporal in the United States Army, stationed overseas—I won’t say where. I’m in my twenties and I have a pretty strong sex drive. The women here are beautiful and ready for love. I have had more than my share of these ladies without speaking a word of the language. Some of the soldiers have had relationships with other soldiers, and I must admit that two young specialists have contributed to my enjoyment. One absolute taboo is for an enlisted man like me to have sex with a female officer. My story is about exploding that taboo.
Last month a group from my office got together for a night out. It was the middle of the week, so I didn’t expect anything exciting to happen. Our woman captain joined us and before long she was slamming down all the drinks we put in front of her. I think she knew we were trying to get her drunk, but she went along with it.
Out of uniform she looked great—a brunette with blue eyes, nice tits and ass. She looked younger than her thirty-nine years. After a couple of drinks, I forgot about the rules and started talking to her. Soon, we were dancing and she was pressing her body against mine in a way that told me anything was possible that night. She even kissed me on the way off the dance floor.
The sergeant gave me a high five and said, “Go for it!” Just a few minutes later, she told me it was time to take her home, so we left. On the way to her apartment she gave me all the right signals. I knew this would be memorable. At her apartment, the captain lit some candles, put on some music, took off her clothes and said, “Well, are we going to fuck, or what?” I was out of my clothes in an instant. She was like an animal, sucking my cock into her hot mouth as soon as I joined her in bed.
In minutes she had my cock deep inside her as she clung tight to my back. She was quite aggressive, kissing and making out as if we were long-time lovers. I found her cunt tight and dripping wet. I have never fucked a woman who got so wet so quickly. I fucked her hard for twenty minutes before shooting my come into her hot pussy. After we had finished I could tell she had gotten what she wanted from me and wished me to go. I wasn’t sure who had seduced whom, but I do know we both got what we wanted.
Now, every day at work, I sit at my desk and watch this good-looking brunette captain, all the time remembering that I nailed her good.
—Name and address withheld
HEALTHY LIAISON
I still can’t believe this! My husband has always had an overactive imagination, like a lot of other guys. His biggest fantasy is for me to have sex with another man. He wanted to have a threesome, but I wasn’t going to do it. He decided it would be all right for me to have an affair—if I told him all the details. I’ve been stringing him along on this one. It drives him crazy. But between you and me, I’m strictly a one-man woman. I’ve had ten different guys in my life, but only one at a time.
Several months ago we visited a town where we used to live. I decided to visit my chiropractor. I used to see him on a regular basis; I always called him Doc. I should tell you that when my husband asked me to fantasize about another man, it would always be about him.
Doc is a tall, good-looking hunk, and ten years younger than me. When we first met ten years ago, he said, “Too bad you’re married. I think we would have been good together.”
He hadn’t seen me for a long time, and said right away that he missed me and our visits. I’m a good-looking petite brunette. I’m a snappy dresser and I take good care of myself. As usual, he started off with a gentle, sensuous massage. This one seemed more urgent and longer than usual. The snap-crackle-pop was great, as always! Then, to my surprise, he massaged me again. When he finally had to stop for his next appointment, he asked if I could come back in an hour. He wanted to have lunch with me. Great!
Lunch was fun but way too short as far as I was concerned. We talked and joked and teased, and brought each other up to date on our lives. I felt great. He could only stay for an hour, but he made me feel important, sexy and needed. He asked if I could meet him for a drink after work. I called my husband, and he said, “Fine, but be careful.”
We went to dinner at a great spot. We shared a bottle of wine and nibbled on appetizers. It was obvious we were enjoying each other’s company. The evening melted away as we got to know each other again. We talked about our families, our interests, our work and, of course, sex.
It’s funny how you can relay your sexual desires to some people. Occasionally we would catch each other’s eyes and hold the gaze. He finally asked if I would like to come to his house and “see the new digs.” I have known Doc for years, and going to his home was no big deal, certainly no threat.
At his house he opened another bottle of wine, and we sat on the couch and talked. If I had too much wine, I certainly didn’t feel it. But suddenly, and without due cause, I kissed him. I started to pull away, embarrassed, but he didn’t let me—he pulled me back and lifted my chin. We kissed again, gently. He looked into my eyes and told me he loved my taste. Then, ever so gently, he touched my breast with his fingers.
I could feel his urgency through my blouse, and I didn’t stop him. My head was thrown back in ecstasy. His lips replaced his fingers on my small breasts, kissing me through my shirt.
He told me that he had dreamed of tasting my female essence. I didn’t say anything. His lips left my breasts and he slowly slid down to my thighs, kissing all the way. I felt him place his lips between my thighs, I felt his fingers gently brush, then feel my bush.
My dress came up and he slowly started to pull my panties down, ever so slowly—like he was expecting me to stop him. In a singsong voice, I said, “What are you doing?”
“I want to taste you,” he said in a voice thick with desire. I felt his mouth playing with my honey trail, knowing full well that I would soon feel his mouth, his lips, his tongue, in my thick bush.
That happened very quickly, and then I felt him gently trying to push my legs apart. I held them tightly together. If you were me, what would you do? Damn it, that’s what I did.
I opened my legs just enough to let his tongue inside, and taste me. After only a few seconds he stopped. Still nestled between my legs, he slowly began to kiss and nibble playfully back up to my breasts, and then my face.
Then he really kissed me deeply, and I kissed him back. I could smell and taste myself on his lips and tongue. I was glad I did it! But just then there was a knock on the door. Wasn’t this a great time for my husband to show up? He’d followed us here. All I had to do was pull down my dress to be presentable, and we opened the door together.
My husband took one look at us and asked, “What’s going on?” I know we both looked guilty. Now here is the problem: Yes, I had played out this fantasy before, but in my own bed and with my own husband. A fantasy is something you dream about, but maybe don’t really want to have happen. But I had toyed with fire while we both were a little drunk.
I wanted the Doc to want me, but I didn’t want to cheat on my husband! I had voluntarily let the Doc go a little too far, thinking I could control the situation. Now, here I was, staring into my husband’s face, when the Doc’s face had just been buried between my legs. What could I tell him?
You guessed it. I said, “I told the Doc about your fantasy of seeing someone else fuck your wife. Well, this is your lucky day! Do
you still want to do it?” Doc started to say something, but I grabbed him hard by the hand, and looked seductively into his eyes. My husband stared at me, trying to come to grips with his emotions.
I started to take off my blouse before either my husband or the Doc could say another word. I had to do something; I couldn’t just stand there. As my blouse came off my husband turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. I completely undressed and the Doc undressed too. We stood nude in front of each other. I thought, What am I doing? Am I crazy? This time it was not going to be lust or romance. I was going to be acting out a fantasy for my husband.
I said, “Where the hell is my husband? I want to get this show on the road and over with.” So I kissed the Doc and pushed him down onto the couch.
The Doc told me to get him ready. When I heard my husband coming back, I opened my mouth and let Doc’s cock slip in. It took him only seconds to get hard, and then he wanted to mount me. When the door started to open I allowed his penis into my body. The electricity struck when I looked up and saw my husband staring at the Doc’s penis going into me.
I spread my legs wide, allowing him all the way in. The Doc noticed my husband and hesitated. I said, “Don’t stop, keep fucking me!” Then the Doc turned to the side and pulled up my leg so my husband could see another man’s shaft disappearing into his wife’s wet, hairy pussy. He could see the Doc’s shaft slowly going in and out, a sight only a dirty old man could love!
My husband bent down to look into my eyes. The Doc told him to undress and join us, but my husband never said a word. He just looked into my eyes and gently kissed me on the lips. The Doc continued to slowly move his penis in and out of me.
Letters to Penthouse XXIV Page 16