by Letters to Penthouse V- The Ways of Sexual Pleasure (epub)
Our grunts and cries echoed through the cave. These were followed by applause. It seems the other members of our crew had been watching us the whole time. Luckily this woman was no more shy than I. Seeing she had an audience made her even hornier. She turned around and bent over at the waist, inviting me to enter her from behind. My cock was still hard, and I slipped it into her with one sure stroke. I held her hips and thrust into her, fucking her soft, sweet pussy in front of the entire film crew. I looked around to see that, one by one, they were dropping their pants, lifting their skirts and pairing off. In no time the cave was filled with the symphony of lust. People were fucking, eating cunt, sucking on cocks, to the left and right of me, on the floor of the cave, leaning against the film equipment. It mattered to none of us that we had work to do. We were all turned on to the point that nothing mattered besides the need to satisfy our carnal instincts.
That experience showed me that everyone, at one point or another in their life, can enjoy the pleasures of public sex. I am currently living in New York City, and I am lucky to have found an uninhibited American girlfriend. The day we met she told me that to be a real New Yorker, you have to fuck in Central Park. Before an hour had passed, we did just that, on a huge rock beneath some trees in the shadow of the apartment houses and hotels that line Fifth Avenue.
We’ve fucked all over New York, in view of all sorts of people. We even did it in the Empire State Building—although we had to do it in a stairwell, and as a result didn’t have the great view we’d anticipated.
Now that I plan to stay in America, my two main goals for public fucking are the Statue of Liberty and the White House. Until then, my girlfriend and I will busy ourselves screwing in parks, horse-drawn carriages, taxis and movie theaters. Perhaps someday my girlfriend and I will be listed as one of New York’s greatest tourist attractions!—CM., New York, New York
WOMEN LIKE BARBARA MAKE IT EASY TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE
I love mornings more than any other time of day. After you read this, you’ll know why.
My wife Barbara gets up earlier than I do. She’s in the kitchen making coffee by five every morning. While the coffee is brewing, she hits the shower. By this time I’m usually half asleep, listening to her shower, imagining running my hands over the sumptuous curves of her wicked body. Barbara is an accountant, and those nerds she works with would go wild if they had any idea of what’s under her business suit. Or maybe I should say, what’s not under her business suit. Barbara never wears panties.
After she showers, Barbara pours our coffee and sets out two saucers on the counter. On one she pours a pile of sugar, and on the other, a mound of non-dairy creamer. Then she dips her big tits in each saucer—one in the sugar, one in the creamer—being sure to coat her dark, wide nipples with the powder. Now she comes into the bedroom.
“Wake up,” she says softly, but I an already awake. My cock is bone-hard just from knowing what she’s been up to. She is still naked, her tits covered with sugar and creamer. She hands me my coffee. I raise the cup to her sugar-covered tit, letting the sugar dissolve in my coffee. Then I do the same with the creamer-covered tit, jiggling it to make sure all the powder is off.
Now it’s coffee time—but I don’t drink from the cup. Instead, I wrap my lips around one of her big nipples, feeling it grow hard on my tongue as I lick off the sweet coffee taste.
Barbara loves having her nipples sucked, and soon she is writhing with pleasure, rubbing the wet area between her legs. She brings a pussy-drenched finger to my nose and says, “Ready for breakfast?”
Barbara lies back, spreads her cunt lips wide and gets ready for my long cock. I push it in slowly, and when it’s buried to the hilt, fuck her with long, deep strokes.
We have to keep an eye on the alarm clock, as Barbara can’t miss her train. The pace of our fuck increases until we are bouncing up and down on the bed as though it’s a trampoline. When I come, Barbara clenches my shoulders tightly and grinds her clit against me, rubbing herself to orgasm.
Then we both get up and head off to our jobs. As long as we start our days this way, I never mind getting up for work.—Name and address withheld
SMOKIN’ IN THE BOYS’ ROOM—THAT IS, STROKIN’ IN THE BOYS’ ROOM
I recently had the pleasure of experiencing the most erotic encounter of my young life. I am a twenty-two-year-old male attending school in Washington, D.C., and have always considered myself straight. I am popular with women, who seem to like my intelligence, preppy good looks, sandy-blond hair and hard, gym-built body. Even though I don’t pack the ten-inch fuck-tool many of your readers dream of possessing, I’ve never had any trouble getting my share of cunny.
It was a Sunday like any other. I was recuperating from a hard night of drinking in Georgetown, during which I’d met a rich, randy lady who picked me up in a bar, then fucked me in the limo that was taking her back home to her husband. I slept until noon, then decided to hit campus computer lab to do some homework.
After several hours in the lab, I departed for my dorm. Outside the lab I started talking with a very distinguished-looking older gentleman who appeared to be about fifty-five. Eventually we introduced ourselves, and he offered me a Cuban cigar. I never smoke tobacco products, but took him up on the offer because he’d said the cigar was a rare and excellent smoke. For nearly thirty minutes we stood outside, smoking and talking about sailing and politics, two subjects of which we were both quite fond.
It was getting near dusk when I excused myself to go back to the lab and take a leak. My new friend, whose name was Roger, said he also had to go to the bathroom, and followed me inside.
Standing side by side at the urinal, still smoking, we proceeded to relieve ourselves. It hadn’t occurred to me that Roger might’ve been trying to pick me up, so you can imagine my surprise when he asked, rather bluntly, “Have you ever come to this men’s room to jack off?”
I admitted to doing so once, after a long conversation with a beautiful young woman whose pants I’d been trying in vain to get into for many months. Roger told me that he usually went there every Sunday afternoon to jerk off while watching the hot-looking college men come in and out.
By this time, we both had hard dicks. Roger said that his biggest turn-on was to smoke cigars with handsome young men while jerking off. Although this was like no other sexual encounter I’d ever had, I was tremendously turned on. We repaired to a closed bathroom stall, and spent the next ten minutes blowing sweet cigar smoke on each other while pumping our dicks to an urgent climax. Although we never touched each other, it was some of the hottest sex of my life!
Roger eventually introduced me to a small circle of his friends who met weekly in the library of his Georgetown townhouse, where they drank brandy, smoked cigars and masturbated. I was quickly accepted into this group, and was amazed at how soon I grew comfortable with the idea of pumping my meat along with several other men. This small group includes some top government lawyers and officials, as well as many other successful gentlemen.
It’s not the same as having sex with women, as none of us ever touch each other, but watching these men pump their dicks is very exciting for me. There’s a real sense of community when we get together to share the basic, common interests of drinking, smoking and bringing ourselves to orgasm. I have had some excellent climaxes in this way.—Name and address withheld
THEY TACKLE BEDROOM BOREDOM BY PICKING UP A STUD IN TRAINING
After several years of marriage, sex between my wife and me became a subject of unspoken contention. I started looking for ways to bring back the romance. One evening I stumbled across some letters in Penthouse Letters about sharing fantasies. When it turned out later that night that Cleo was feeling sexy, I decided to give it a try. Without much preliminary action we moved into position for sex but, before we could fall into our old tired pattern of lovemaking, I began filling her ears with talk of other men sharing her body with me, and how we would take turns getting between her legs and shooting our loa
ds of come up her pussy.
Wow! What a turn-around in sexual interest! All this smutty talk really got Cleo aroused. It was a great discovery for me too, and not just because it drove her into a fucking frenzy. I realized that releasing my hidden desires excited me as much as it obviously did her.
My storytelling became a regular part of our encounters. Instead of physical foreplay I would lie on top of her, my penis resting against her vaginal lips, half hard but making no attempt to enter her. I spun tales of me catching her in the arms of a delivery boy, or watching her blow some movie star while I jerked off in the shadows. She knew when I was excited by these stories because my dick would get hard. I knew she enjoyed them because she would get wet and open up. If we were both turned on by the same story, my dick would just naturally slip inside her without either of us moving much, and soon we would be fucking away.
While Cleo was still enjoying these scenarios as fantasies, my thoughts had already taken the next step—wanting to act some of them out. I couldn’t shake the exciting idea of seeing my wife actually having sex with another man. On the one hand, it seemed like a crazy idea, and I was uncertain if it would be dangerous to our relationship. But it was also causing me incredible sexual stimulation just dreaming about what she would look like, how she would be dressed, the color of her lipstick, whether she would be driven to climax when someone else was pumping away inside her. I wondered about the sensation I would have in entering her right after some other man had come in her pussy. More importantly, I was afraid that in time my imagination would fail me, my stories would slip into the same kind of boring repetitiveness that our lovemaking had, and that would be just as bad for our marriage.
One night during foreplay we had a serious conversation about turning our fantasies into actual experiences. Cleo was very turned on to the idea, because I had explained to her that it was as much for my own enjoyment as hers that I wanted her to have sex with another man.
That night we shared some very juicy, slow lovemaking, continuing to talk until first she and then I were overcome by the throes of orgasm. Afterward, I couldn’t believe how far we had already gone just to be able to discuss this so openly, especially when I consider the very conservative backgrounds we come from. It was happening, though, and for better or worse we were both keyed up by the idea.
That very weekend we decided to go to our favorite dance bar. We had been there often before, but never with the thought of picking up men. Cleo spent a lot of time making herself up in a very sexy way, with lips so thick, red and wet that no man living could possibly resist wanting to kiss them.
The place was packed with people. A live band was playing, and we had a couple of drinks to loosen up, then started dancing. Several times I walked away from Cleo, leaving her alone to accept the advances of other men. Just past midnight she started to dance a lot with one guy to whom she had obviously taken a liking. It was clear, from the way his hands kept seeking out her hips, her bottom and her breasts, that he was as horny as a bull elephant.
From across the room, lost in the standing-room-only crowd, I was thrilled by what was going on. When I saw them walk out of the main barroom toward the adjoining lobby, I pretended to head for the rest room so that I could follow them. It was lighter in the lobby, and I saw that my wife’s suitor was a lot younger than I had previously realized. It was even more exciting knowing that my heretofore monogamous and conservative wife was attracting such a young cocksman.
Cleo was in the ladies’ room for several minutes, and when she came back out, I could see that she had freshened her makeup. Because we had planned the evening, I also knew that the reason she had gone there at that particular moment was to insert her diaphragm. They walked outside and sat in his car, which was a good distance from the door of the club.
I probably should have been extremely patient and waited for my wife to come back to the bar, or just waited in my car for her to leave in hers, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to take a walk and hope for a peek of what was happening. When I got near his car, I was gloriously stunned by what I saw.
My wife was on her back in the rear seat, and I was only able to see her naked left leg draped over the top of the seat. Her guy was butt naked. The car was rocking from side to side, and I could see the top of his ass humping up and down on her. God, I could have come right there, and I wanted so much to get closer, maybe even hear whether my wife was groaning or saying anything. After about a minute I forced myself to walk away for fear of interrupting their fuck session.
I couldn’t wait to have the opportunity to get her home and fuck her myself, but it turned out to be a longer night than I had anticipated. When they were done fucking he whispered to Cleo for a minute, then they drove off! I had no alternative at this point other than to go home and wait for her to come back.
She finally rolled into our driveway at about three in the morning. Cleo was so thrilled by what had happened to her that she wanted to share every detail with me. As for me, that’s exactly what I was waiting for.
She said that he had driven her to his apartment, which was very near the bar. “And it’s a good thing it was so close,” she added, “because his hard-on never went down after he came the first time.” She was at least partly to blame for that, as she kept his dick in her mouth the whole time they were driving. He didn’t get dressed for the drive, which is another reason it’s a good thing they weren’t going far. Cleo had gotten partly dressed, at least putting her blouse and skirt back on, though without any underwear. “It was so sexy, feeling my pussy lips rubbing together and feeling his come dribbling out between them every time I shifted my weight to get a better hold on his cock,” she said with a warm smile.
I wasn’t used to Cleo talking so openly about sex, even our own, and by the time she was five minutes into her story, I was so incredibly excited that I started fucking her. She continued the story, telling me that when they arrived at his apartment she had tackled him right inside the door. He kicked the door shut with his foot and just lay there on his back. Cleo took the opportunity to climb on top and slip his still-rigid pole into her cunt. “He’s kind of a body builder,” she said with a sexy smirk. “I loved rubbing his big chest and seeing his nipples stand out like a woman’s.” This little piece of information made me, if possible, harder, and Cleo moaned as I thrust into her. She continued her story.
They galloped on, with her on top of him thumbing his nipples, until they both had another massive orgasm. “Still he was hard!” she squealed, and the memory made her pussy start to contract on my cock. She went on to describe how they had moved at that point to his bed, where he made love to her much more slowly, in the missionary position. They held each other close and slid together and apart for almost an hour before he had his third, much less dramatic, orgasm.
By the time she told me that, I had held my come for as long as I could, and added my load to the three her other lover had already dumped there earlier in the night. I asked her what had happened next. “He wanted me to stay,” she confided, “but I told him I had to get home so my husband could suck his load out of my pussy. You should have seen his jaw drop!” Of course, I immediately applied my lips to her cunt and did just what she had described. The combination of the two juices was indescribable, and sucking it out got me hard again. I was afraid Cleo would be too sore and tired to be happy about this, but on the contrary, she was delighted, and we fucked until almost dawn.
Your magazine, and a little imagination, have completely changed our sex lives.—M.A., San Diego, California
A COP’S GIRLFRIEND STOPS TRAFFIC, BUT STILL KEEPS THINGS FLOWING NICELY
My lover and I have been together for a little over three years, and our sex life has improved steadily. Our continued growth is due in great part to the openness and honesty which your magazine has fostered in us.
We are both in our mid-forties, and in good shape physically. Lee works in law enforcement, which gives him both the incentive and the opportunity
to take care of his body. I was until recently an aerobics instructor, and continue to work out, which of course has kept me fit. I admit that I’m pretty vain about my looks and my body.
When I first started dating Lee, I thought it was rather perverse of him to suggest, during a warm Sunday ride in his car, that I take my blouse and skirt off and let the warm springtime sun play on my skin. The thought stayed in my mind, though, and I started to like it. Eventually I decided to try it. I was shy at first, but it felt great, and Lee was delighted.
He helped me get the seat all the way back, so that I was actually lying down, and we drove for what seemed like hours, letting the sun dance across my naked tits and pussy. I was so mesmerized that I didn’t notice when a tractor trailer pulled alongside so that the driver could admire my nudity.
When I caught on I felt shy again immediately, but when Lee gently put his hand on my legs and eased his fingers into the pool of moisture between my thighs, I decided to go back to dreaming and enjoy what was happening. His artful fingers teased and played in the increasing wetness that flowed from my pussy.
I was surprised, the next time I opened my eyes, to find that our companion was still with us. Not only that, but he’d begun to signal us. He cupped one hand under his chest and pointed at me, to indicate my tits, then kissed his fingers to say that he liked them. This attention was making me wetter and wetter by the second. I began spreading my legs even further, to allow him a better view of Lee’s fingers sliding in and out of me. He showed his pleasure by pulling the cord on his airhorn, letting out a long blast that was a shout of approval.
