Letters to Penthouse XXIV

by Penthouse International

Then my husband reached down and put his hand between us—on my soaking bush with his fingers reaching down, lightly holding the Doc’s shaft with two fingers. God, what a feeling! With his hand nestled between our bushes, he could not only smell and see his wife being fucked; he could literally feel our fucking bodies. My husband is a strange man!

  With a gasp, then a long scream, the Doc ejaculated into me. Lucky man! My husband said nothing—just kept kissing me with his eyes staring into mine. The Doc got up, dressed and left, leaving us in the room alone.

  My husband sure is lucky he has other redeeming qualities! I certainly wouldn’t do that for anybody else. He loves to talk about it. I’m sure he wonders if we will ever do it again. If I do, I will write again.

  Meanwhile I feel guilty that I didn’t tell him the first part of the story. I was scared that night, but in the light of day, I knew he would love it. So my Christmas present to him will be my story. Boy, will he be surprised when he gets his next issue of Forum.

  —Name and address withheld

  BETWEEN FRIENDS

  Shortly after being discharged from the military, I was able to land a job as a printer at a large local company and, with a new bride, I began married life with a lot of optimism.

  After working this job a few weeks, I became buddies with a guy who was on the same page as me. He had a beautiful, young wife named Cyndy. Soon we were a foursome and did everything together.

  While I respected nuptials, Cyn seemed to look at me for just a few seconds longer than normal whenever our eyes met. Yes, I fantasized about slipping a little something into that sweet, tight little bottom, but because she was my buddy’s wife, I figured fantasizing about her lusciousness was as far as it would ever go.

  Dave and I worked together and sometimes Cyn would bring his lunch to him. When she did, they would sit in the parking lot, and holler for me to join them. As I walked up to their vehicle, Cyn would make sure I was looking in the proper direction when she got out to let me get in back. That would give me a clear, unobstructed view of her entire panty-covered crotch by spreading her legs as she turned to get up. Her sweet little pussy sure looked good! She would also initiate body contact whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  To me, this was a subtle hint of the greater things I could sample if I just played my cards right. As I mentioned, I wasn’t going to initiate any behind-the-back fucking, because she was someone else’s wife. Besides, my own cute little bride was taking good care of me. It wasn’t like I was starving for pussy.

  However, Cyndy soon got a job working at a local deli and because it was so close to where we worked, I would stop in there often. One night, I stopped by when Cyn was just about to go on break, and she told me to stick around till she got off.

  “Hey, that sounds like a proposition to me,” I said.

  Cyn smiled big and said, “Now, don’t tease.”

  I was only joking around, and assumed Cyn was too. When her break came, she said, “I’ve got thirty minutes. Let’s go somewhere private, and we’ll burn one.”

  We got in my car and I headed to the parking lot of a huge apartment complex nearby. I found an empty space concealed in shadows. Without a word, Cyn reached over and started to fumble with my belt buckle. I was dumbfounded. Was she actually going to just help herself to someone else? It looked that way and I must admit I was damned glad that it was going to be me.

  She pulled my cock out of my jeans and engulfed my meat before I was even hard. It wasn’t long, however, until she was having a difficult time opening wide enough to get more than just the head in her pouty little mouth.

  After sucking me for a few minutes, she pulled off long enough to say, “The head of your cock is so smooth, and you taste so good!” Then she ran her tongue back and forth across the underside of the head of my cock, driving me absolutely nuts! I couldn’t take too much more of this obviously talented fellatrice.

  Soon I felt that oh-so-familiar feeling begin coursing through my loins, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. She suddenly began sucking me with increasing vigor and, as my cock tightened and began blasting love juice, she swallowed as fast as she could.

  I recall thinking—as she coaxed yet another pulsating shot out of me long after I thought I was completely spent—that this was no ordinary blowjob. I realized that in order to impress me with her sensuality, this luscious young thing was giving me the best she had. All women, I believe, have the capability, but they really have to want to.

  This little encounter, and I’m not proud of this, led to several more. I knew at the time that I was way out of line, sampling the wares of somebody else’s beautiful young wife, but in all honesty, I just could not resist the absolute lust she aroused in me. Let me tell you, I fucked that girl with all the fury I could muster!

  Cyn, if you happen to read this, I’ll never forget the passion we shared and your unique taste. Thank you!

  —T.D., Cherry Hill, New Jersey

  GOOD NEIGHBOR POLICY

  It all started when the company I worked for was reorganized and I got laid off. It was rough, but my friends and neighbors were very supportive. I was looking for another job, but in my free time, I found myself doing painting, electrical work, carpentry and automotive repair throughout the neighborhood. This kept some cash coming in.

  One day, after installing a radio in a neighbor’s car, we spoke for a few minutes. As she was leaving, she looked at me over her shoulder and said, “You’re a great mechanic. You can give me a lube job anytime!”

  My heart was pounding. Was this an opening to an affair? We were both married. Her kids were in the car. I had a few flings in the past, but never so close to home. Was this just a flirtation or were we going for something serious?

  A week or so later, she called and asked if I could do some electrical work. My fantasies went wild. I had lusted for this woman for years.

  On the appointed day, I picked up the necessary supplies and went to her home. Pam was in the kitchen making jelly. She let me in and I went down to the basement to work. I did the job as quickly as I could, because if things went the way I hoped, we would have more time in bed.

  It was just before noon, and I was about done, when my wife called. I could hear Pam talking to her, completely calm. If she was thinking what I was, it certainly didn’t show in her voice. I heard her ask my wife, “Do you mind if I give my electrician some lunch?”

  A few moments later Pam hung up the phone and called down the stairs. “That was your wife. She said you could stay for lunch.”

  My hands were shaking as I put on the last cover plate. “I’ll be right up.”

  When I got upstairs, Pam asked what I wanted to drink with lunch. Then she opened the refrigerator and pulled out two beautifully arranged salad plates. She had obviously planned this.

  We were eating lunch when Pam asked me if I was just flirting, or if I was serious. She looked right into my eyes and said, “Do you want to go to bed with me?”

  “Yes,” I answered and took her hand. “But I want to be your lover, not your stud.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I want an affair, not a passing lay,” I said. I stood up and drew her to me. We kissed. God, what a kiss! I had not even held her hand before this. My hands caressed her back and her ass. Her kisses were so responsive. Mouths open, tongues gently fencing with each other. I brought my right hand around and gave her breast a squeeze. It was full, soft, yielding in my hand. She undulated against me as I fondled her.

  I wanted to tear off her clothes but, instead, slowly unbuttoned her blouse to the waist. I reached underneath and felt the soft, warm skin of her back as I continued kissing her.

  I looked down at Pam’s large, beautiful breasts in a sexy, lacy bra. I cupped her breasts again and felt what seemed like a marble in her bra. It was her nipple, huge and hard as stone. I wanted to see and feel it directly.

  I reached behind her, unhooked her bra and two large, soft mounds
fell out. They were beautiful! Her nipples were so hard. It was time to get serious. I pushed my right hand past the waistband of her slacks down between her legs. She was not wearing underpants!

  “I thought you’d like that,” she said. Her pubic hair was a thick carpet. I love that. I reached down to her slit and realized her lower hairs were soaked with her secretions. My fingers glided into her slit and I slowly caressed her.

  “Where?”

  “The stove’s still on.”

  “Okay. Upstairs.”

  We ran up the stairs to her bedroom. I unbuttoned my shirt on the way and threw it on the floor as we walked in. Next, I yanked my boots off. Pam sat on the edge of the bed, already totally naked. She looked as casual as a teenager at a pajama party.

  My jeans and underwear came off in one motion, and we were into the bed and each other’s arms. Five minutes before I hadn’t even held this woman’s hand, and suddenly we were naked, in bed. We pressed our bodies close to one another and explored. I took my cock in hand and stroked it as I kissed and caressed Pam’s body. When my erection strengthened, I got on top between her legs and slowly started to penetrate her.

  My skin was totally charged with electricity. I was so excited that I was afraid the slightest quick movement would send me crashing into a writhing, convulsive orgasm. Slowly I entered her incredibly wet softness, like a swimmer slowly entering the water the first time in a season, getting acclimated. After four years of desire, I was on the way to fulfillment.

  Our lovemaking that afternoon was what poems are made of. We talked as much as we had sex, always touching, always caressing. The slow rhythm of our hips kept us tingling. When my shoulders began to tire I slid off and asked Pam to get on top. She gave me the strangest look.

  “You’ve never been on top?”

  “No.”

  I told her how to position herself and she straddled me. I aimed and she slowly sat back, smiling as she impaled herself on me. Her breasts undulated in front of me, large and full, with those beautiful nipples. I held them with both hands and sucked on the nipples, alternating from one to the other, keeping each nipple as hard as stone, while the movement of our hips, slow and gentle, kept on. I was having such pleasure looking at her, talking, moving my hands all over her body, and playing with her breasts.

  After I had rested in this position for a bit, I moved Pam onto her back and got back between her legs. I was thrusting harder, watching her breasts glide and flow up and down on her chest. The talk and the kisses continued. Time and space were left behind. We were all there was.

  Pam looked over at the clock and brought us back to reality. It was two-thirty. “I think you’d better finish. The kids will be home soon.”

  Had we spent over two hours making love? It seemed like only a moment and I felt as if I could go on forever.

  I increased my rhythm. The orgasm was always there, suppressed, but making love to this woman was so great I didn’t want it to end. Pam watched me with pleasure as I started to climb. I went past the point of no return and the gates opened. All the energy in my body flowed out of me and into my woman. My toes curled with spasm after spasm until my energy was gone.

  I could no longer hold myself up, and I moved to slide off her, but she held me there.

  “Stay in me. Relax.”

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “I want you in me longer.”

  I lay on top of her without supporting myself at all. My erection slowly melted and my cock popped out of her.

  Pam kept talking to me and stroking my back. Just before three, I got out of bed and into my clothes. I quickly gave her a hug and a kiss, and a kiss on each nipple. Then I grabbed my tools and headed out the door.

  I had just gotten home when the school bus came by. I collapsed on my couch. That all took place nine years ago, and our lives haven’t been the same since. Our affair continues.

  We remain married, but now we are each other’s best friend, confidante and lover. Our first experience was only an appetizer for the banquet of love that followed.

  —P.T., Provo, Utah

  CONVERSION EXPERIENCE

  I am sure your readers would like to hear about how a demure thirty-four-year-old married woman became a nymphomaniac.

  Working nights as a nurse at a local hospital, I was assigned to work with Louis. He had a reputation as a stud because he bragged about seducing married women, and he was reputedly well-endowed. He would pull his chair close and whisper about my shapely legs or full breasts, telling me how lucky my husband was. He would urge me to shorten my skirt or go without a bra to emphasize my assets.

  I ignored him at first, but his little teasing touches and innocent hugs led to touching my neck and my knee, or caressing my back. Weary of pushing him away, I let his hands linger and found him bolder as his hand crept up my skirt. My breath came in gasps when he boldly grazed my breasts. My nipples stiffened and my panties began to moisten. I let him continue. He trailed kisses around my neck and pressed his hungry, searching lips to mine.

  I managed to stop myself, but each night his advances continued. I figured he would be satisfied if I let him touch me. One night as I was changing, he burst through the door and I knew he could see my nipples through my filmy bra. Pressing me up against the wall, he took off my bra, letting my breasts spill free into his hands.

  I have large breasts topped with protruding silver-dollar nipples, which are always sensitive to the touch. He brought his mouth down on my nipples and his hand to my crotch, and I was swept away by waves of pleasure. Unzipping himself, he pulled my wet panties to the side, pressed his penis against me and slid up inside while I panted in anticipation. He was gigantic.

  Moaning in ecstasy, I gyrated against him wantonly, urging him on. Finally, he shuddered. I was wracked with orgasm after orgasm, such as I never experienced before. He pulled out, leaving me trembling and panting. Smiling, he took off with my soaked panties as a souvenir.

  I resolved to keep this encounter a secret, but his advances continued. After work each night I would be impaled on him, reclining in the back of his plush van in the dark and deserted parking lot. Whipping my hair around while his hands kneaded my breasts, I would cry out lewdly as we fucked.

  About a week later, the back door of the van opened to reveal two of his friends, who crawled in waving a pair of my panties. They reached out toward me, and their warm hands, kneading my nipples, excited me as never before. I was soon stroking an erection with each hand. The power I had over men filled me with new pleasure and, in a frenzy, I alternated sucking each one until they both ejaculated.

  I knew I was hooked, and made frequent excuses to my husband about overtime as I crawled into bed, flushed, in the wee hours of the morning. Because of diseases, I limited my extramarital affairs to medical personnel at work. I began to dress provocatively in tight, scanty clothing, which drew horny looks from men in malls as my breasts jiggled invitingly.

  I loved my new-found exhibitionism. I ordered over a hundred pairs of panties with my initials on them since guys are so fascinated with lingerie.

  My antics were the talk of the hospital and modesty had vanished. Suddenly, I found myself invited to pool parties and private functions. My reputation always preceded me wherever I went.

  I had an arrangement with the guys to call me at home so I could tell my husband I was called into work. I would sneak into the bathroom and slip into a leather miniskirt and sexy low-cut top. After dousing myself with pungent musk perfume, I’d drive over to the club at a major hotel with a reputation as a pickup club.

  While men gazed hungrily at my body, I would meet three or four guys from work, and we’d grope each other on the dance floor until we drifted off to a room. Some hot sessions of group and oral sex took place in the hotel. The bartender reserved a choice seat at the bar for me, and when I was waiting for my friends, it was difficult to resist the advances of the horny businessmen who flocked around me.

  I almost begged them to take me to
a room as their hands roamed over my boobs and under my skirt, but my friends rescued me from their clutches in the nick of time.

  I would be invited to doctors’ parties and, after a few drinks, I would strip down to my underwear and pose for pictures perched on their laps. I am sure my pictures made their way around the hospital. I would swim topless as guys frolicked after me in the pool or the steamy jacuzzi. My collection of monogrammed panties disappeared fast.

  I would accompany the guys to strip clubs in distant cities and enter wet T-shirt contests, and they’d all bet I would win. As I strutted across the stage with my transparent shirt showing my charms, I got a real rush listening to men screaming for me.

  On weekends I occasionally accepted the manager’s offer to do sultry strip routines and, as I’d bend and shake, I’d fondle myself. The audience would go wild. I displayed my talents at some private parties where I sat on the edge of the stage signing autographs, and got off as the men squeezed my breasts.

  A friend at work begged me to perform at a bachelor party. I set up strict rules: I would only have sex with those at work who were clean. I satisfied the others with my hands. It was a night to remember. When my husband found discarded panties in the rear of my car, I don’t think he bought my excuse that they fell out of the laundry basket.

  Over the last three years, I have slept with over thirty guys and have never felt so liberated. Now I even phone men and arrange a rendezvous if my urge becomes too intense.

  I know a lot of women who are uptight the way I used to be, and I urge them to let go and discover their sexual potential. With proper safeguards, sex is great.

  I am no longer ashamed of being called hot pants or nympho because the ones who say that about me are just jealous. I know men will find this letter exciting. I would only like to say to these guys that there are literally millions of women just like me all over the world. I think, actually, that most women feel the same way as I do, but they are often too sexually repressed to act on their basic instincts.