Penthouse Uncensored VI

by Penthouse International

  By the way, Joey and I got married last year, and yes, we still enjoy flying!

  RIDE ’EM

  I bought a horse on a whim, and then found out I couldn’t ride him. He was an ex–racing thoroughbred named Miracle, and he would ride away with me. Either I found a good trainer, or I’d have to sell him. I decided to try the trainer route first.

  Her name was Trish, and the people at the stable where I boarded my horse told me that she was the best trainer around. She was petite, with curly red hair and a tight little ass. When I first saw her she was wearing a pair of tight, white britches and tall, black riding boots. I introduced myself and explained my problem, and she agreed to look at my horse.

  Trish was impressed by Miracle’s size and asked if she could ride him. “Fine,” I said, and helped her tack him up. She was very businesslike. I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice her tasty ass and the way her pert breasts pressed against her shirt. She popped right on top of him with no assistance. Trish was muscular but still very feminine, and I was strongly attracted to her. I envied Miracle as she mounted him effortlessly. I wished it was me she was about to ride.

  My horse put Trish to the test, taking the turns fast and bucking erratically. But she countered his every attempt to throw her, and pretty soon had mastered the beast. After about forty-five more minutes of riding his graceful form, she got off and said, “He needs to learn some manners, but he really can move.” I asked if she would train us together. She agreed and we set up a lesson, adding that this session was a freebie. But I insisted on doing something, so she let me buy her dinner.

  That evening, her transformation from stable hand to elegant woman was spectacular! Her shimmering red hair lay in ringlets around her shoulders. I looked closely, for the first time, at her green eyes and high cheekbones. She was wearing a silky, black dress that was gathered with a clasp at her breasts. High heels and black stockings completed the outfit.

  Trish was quiet and shy as we drove to dinner—quite a difference from the woman who had so handily tamed Miracle a few hours earlier. I found the contrast appealing indeed. The meal was delicious, and although we made small talk as we ate, by the time we’d finished our second bottle of wine all I could think about was how hot I was to make love to her. Remembering how well she had handled herself in the saddle, I knew she’d be a spirited partner in the sack. Hopeful that we’d have a long and rewarding night together, I ordered dessert.

  We shared a great big wedge of cheesecake dripping with strawberries. I offered her a piece on my fork. Taking my hand in hers, she slid the cake into her mouth and slowly withdrew the empty fork. A bit of strawberry juice lingered on her lips. It was making me very horny and she knew it too. As I moved to remove the juice with my napkin, she deftly caught it with the tip of her tongue. She smiled coyly and giggled at my growing discomfort. I shifted nervously in my seat.

  “Now it’s my turn to feed you,” she said. Taking the fork, she offered me some cake. As I took it in my mouth, she let out a muffled sigh of pleasure. This really unnerved me, and I blushed. She giggled again, and this time I laughed back.

  We really began to enjoy each other’s company. As I offered her piece after piece of cake, I felt a nudge on the inside of my calf. She was working her toe up my pants leg. I almost dropped the fork as I watched her tease another piece of cake into her sensuous mouth. We laughed at our flirtations and moved closer together, feeding off of each other’s desire.

  As she leaned toward me, I got a good look at her nipples, erect and straining under her dress. I moved my hand to her leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked approvingly in my eyes and opened her legs slightly. I moved my hand to her inner thigh and began to stroke her leg. She squeezed her legs together and moaned with pleasure at my touch. Her fragrance began to intoxicate me. Our heads moved closer together—but just as we were about to kiss, the waiter approached the table with the check. Trish began to laugh. I asked her if she was ready, and she replied, “For the last half an hour, at least.”

  Before we got in the car, I pulled her to me and kissed her passionately. It was as if a floodgate had opened and released our pent-up passions. Hungrily we explored each other’s mouth as our fingers searched out the sensitive parts of our bodies. Realizing that this was not the place to consummate our passion, we got in the car.

  As I drove, I told her I wanted to make love to her. “Yes,” she answered, putting her hand on my thigh, “so do I. But first we must stop off at the stable. I need to check on a horse. He pulled a tendon earlier today and I want to see if the swelling is down.” She moved her hand over my growing bulge. “I just hope it’s not as swelled as this is right now,” she said of my throbbing member.

  I was embarrassed by her brazenness. Trish apparently enjoyed sex as much as I did and was not afraid to show it. I’d never had the good luck to be with such a woman, and I was ready to enjoy every moment.

  The stable was dark and quiet. Taking Trish by the hand, I kissed her again. Laughing, she pulled her head back and said, “I bet you’ve never made love in the hay before.” Well, she was right. Before I could say anything, though, she pushed me away and ran, giggling, into the barn, tossing her shoes off behind her. I followed in hot pursuit. When I found her she was hiding behind a door. I picked her up and carried her to an empty stall that had been cleaned out. On the way, she snatched up a blanket. I put her down and she covered the ground with the blanket. Kissing hard, we eased ourselves down. The only sound, other than our pounding hearts, was the stirring of the sleeping horses.

  I slowly ran a hand under her skirt. As I ran my hand along the inside of her creamy thigh, I realized she wasn’t wearing any panties. I began to squeeze and explore. She unbuttoned my shirt, then sucked and bit my nipples. Our hips gyrated in unison. With my free hand I unfastened her dress and peeled it away, as if pulling petals off a rose.

  Trish had a beautifully toned body. Her breasts were petite but firm, the nipples erect and proud. Her pussy was framed by closely trimmed wisps of red hair, and glistened in the moonlight streaming in through the stable door. I removed my shirt and our bodies met, their warmth insulating us from the cool night. We kissed and fondled each other with unbridled passion. The horses began to stir as our moans grew louder.

  She rolled me onto my back and unbuckled my pants. Sliding her hands inside my briefs, she pumped my throbbing prick. In an instant she had stripped me naked and was rubbing the head of my cock between her fingers. When I tried to suck her nipples into my mouth, she pushed me away and said, “Just relax. We have all night.” Starting at the center of my chest, she traced a wet path with her tongue down to my stiff cock and guided it into her waiting mouth. With her tongue she tickled the head and shaft. Slowly, she worked my engorged cock into her hot, hungry mouth. The pleasure was intense. I was completely at her mercy!

  I ran my fingers through her hair and caressed her body. It felt so good I didn’t want it to end. I felt a familiar rumble in my balls that told me I was close to climaxing. I told her this, but she wouldn’t let up. All she said was, “Relax and enjoy it.” I ran my fingers through her hair as I climaxed. With half a dozen spasms of pleasure I came in her mouth. She continued sucking and swallowing until the last drop was gone.

  Getting up, our strength slowly came back. I took her in my arms and said, “Now it’s my turn.” I kissed her, tracing circles around her lips, ears and nipples with my tongue. Sliding my hand between her thighs, I stroked and squeezed them gently. Her moans told me I was on the right track. I ran my fingers through her pubic hair and searched out her pussy. It was moist and responsive. She squirmed under my caresses. I worked my finger in and out until she was dripping with pleasure.

  After sucking each breast in turn, I drew a wet path with my tongue to her waiting pussy. Gently spreading her lips, I found her clitoris with the tip of my tongue. I maintained pressure on her breasts by pinching her nipples between my fingers. She gyrated, bucked uncontrollably and begged
me to increase the tempo. I did so, and she responded with a shriek of pleasure that echoed through the quiet of the stable.

  “Boy,” she said when she’d caught her breath, “I sure needed that.”

  It wasn’t long before we were ready for another round. This time I slid on top of her and rubbed my hard cock between her legs. She wrapped her fingers around it and whispered, “So what do you plan to do with this?” In answer, I slipped my rod past her velvety cunt lips with one quick stroke.

  She kept her fingers wrapped around the base of my prick as I worked it in and out of her grotto. She was tight but wet. As our passion grew, so did our rhythm. She whispered in my ear, “I love to feel you fuck me. Do it hard.” I pumped with all of my might and we soon exploded in mutual ecstasy. Our bodies covered with sweat, we lay in the dark, completely satisfied.

  Eventually we got up and picked the straw from each other’s hair and body. We got dressed and looked over her horse. He was doing fine. Then we returned to Trish’s place, showered, and enjoyed a restful sleep. In the morning we were refreshed and started the day off by making love. I guess I lucked out. Not only did I find an excellent horse trainer, but I got a great lover in the bargain.

  WIVES ON THE WAVES

  It began innocently enough. I was working through my vacation as first mate on a forty-foot cabin cruiser in the Caribbean. The captain, my friend, was kind enough to keep me employed all of my summers through college. As a charter, we usually had from four to six people aboard for short cruises. Generally our passengers were middle-aged businessmen and their wives or girlfriends. On one particular cruise I really lucked out, having two young couples on board for an extended weekend. I certainly didn’t expect any sex, but it was nice to see two beautiful women sunning themselves on the deck, even if their husbands were also on the boat. While serving brunch to the two ladies our first morning out, one of them kept staring at me—and at my bathing trunks. This struck me as odd, considering she had an attractive husband below who was, presumably, sleeping. I might as well interject here that I am five feet nine inches tall, and have brown hair and brown eyes. I am in good shape, although I’ll admit I’m certainly no Adonis.

  When they finished eating, the women asked me to sit with them for a bit. Henry, the captain, was managing the ship, so I felt comfortable relaxing for a few minutes. They introduced themselves as Christine and Nancy. I told them my name and we exchanged pleasantries. I finally got up enough nerve to ask where their husbands were. Christine leaned forward to speak, and in doing so her towel fell off her shoulders, expressing a pair of incredibly full breasts. She blushed and put the towel back in place, although I must say she didn’t seem in any big hurry to do so.

  Christine and Nancy told me that their husbands were bi-sexual and, as Nancy put it, “hot for each other.” Both wives were willing to let the men have their little getaways, like this one, as long as they didn’t go off to find any other men. As part of the deal, the trysts always took place in an exotic setting, and the women always got to come along for the ride. And this, they explained, was one of those rides.

  The two beauties went on to say that while they didn’t mind getting it on in a group, straight girl-on-girl action didn’t excite them much. I pointedly asked if they wanted to party with Henry and me, and was pleased (even a little shocked) to hear them both say yes.

  I excused myself and went to tell Henry the good news. He smiled but, brandishing his wedding band with a sigh, told me I was on my own. “Knock yourself out,” he said with envy dripping from his voice, adding that I could use the crew’s quarters in the bow of the boat.

  I ran back to the ladies, escorted them down to the cabin and carefully locked the door behind me. I got out some tequila and poured three generous shots. We continued to get acquainted, with lots of physical contact between the shots of tequila. Soon Nancy and Christine had my trunks off. Their hands and mouths were all over my body. It was a dream come true.

  Those two sumptuous, raven-haired women did things to my cock I still think about to this day. Nancy positioned herself between my legs and gave my balls a tongue bath, while Christine offered the same treatment to my cock. Christine, in particular, had an incredible mouth. Her tongue never seemed to stop moving. It felt as though my prick was being given a nonstop massage. Looking down, I was so turned on I almost passed out.

  I asked Nancy to remove her bathing suit and have a seat. She laughed and asked me where. I flicked my tongue in response, and soon she was astride my face, her thick, pink love lips parting for my tongue. The exotic smell of her cunt filled my nostrils. I had never been so happy in all my life. The sensations, tastes and smells were driving me insane with lust. My tongue and lips danced over Nancy’s pussy so quickly and with so much intensity that for a minute I didn’t notice what had happened: Christine had taken a seat as well—right on my throbbing cock!

  It didn’t seem as though any of us would ever tire out, so intense was the fucking and tonguing taking place in that little cabin. I’m proud to admit that I always last a good, long while in bed. I can exercise excellent control over my orgasms, which guarantees that my partners and I always get our fill. When I finally do come, though, I’m like a wild animal. And I knew that time was approaching.

  Nancy was really getting into riding my face, and Christine was slowly easing her way up and down my cock. With one hand rubbing her clit and the other stroking my balls, she looked incredible. Her hair was tossed back. A dew of sweat covered her smooth body. Her eyes were glazed over and her tight stomach was heaving in what I knew was the beginning of an orgasm. She looked more sensational than any actress I’d ever seen in an erotic video. But what made this picture perfect was the frame: I was watching the whole fantastic scene through the gap between Nancy’s luscious thighs!

  Soon Christine was bucking frantically, grinding herself all the way down against the base of my shaft. She came, and I felt her juices massaging my cock as they dripped out of her satisfied pussy. I felt an incredible sensation beginning in my stomach and spreading through my entire body. I swear, I blacked out for a split second when I came. But come I did, blasting jets of hot sperm into Christine’s cunt.

  Nancy collapsed by my side on the bed, and I quickly lifted her leg and began feasting on her again from a different angle. I was happy to feel Christine’s lips again at work on my prick. The best surprise, however, was glancing up to see Nancy eating Christine’s sopping-wet pussy. What a turn-on! I couldn’t help myself and emptied another load into Christine’s mouth.

  After a while we all collapsed in a heap on the bed. The smell of sex threatened to overpower the tiny cabin. I opened a porthole to let in the cool sea air,. thinking of poor, married Henry upstairs in his captain’s chair.

  Soon Christine suggested a shower and a swim. The shower turned into another suck-and-fuck fest almost as intense as the first, but nothing will ever equal that first time with those two special women. I shake my head sadly when I think of what their husbands missed out on.

  HEART & SOUL

  A few years ago I tended bar in a soul club that catered to a mostly black clientele. I was the only white person that worked there, although, since I have a shaved head and a dark, rich tan, people often mistook me for black in the club’s dim light.

  The minute Anita walked into the room I knew she was special. She carried herself like royalty and her clothes and jewelry spelled class. She was super fine, and she knew it.

  There was chemistry between us from the start. We spent the entire evening talking. I couldn’t let her get away without asking for a date, and with a dazzling smile and a soft laugh she said, “Yes.”

  When the day of our date finally arrived I picked Anita up at her home. After I met her family we left for the restaurant. But something was wrong. She seemed stiff and uncomfortable. She sat against the door with her hand on the handle.

  Suddenly it dawned on me. “You didn’t realize I was white, did you?”

  There wa
s a quiet “No.” Her eyes never left the road ahead.

  I asked her if she wanted me to take her home. Again her answer was “No.”

  Anita never totally relaxed the entire evening, but from this awkward beginning came a long and eventually beautiful friendship.

  Anita was proud of her ethnic heritage. As a Black Muslim she was extremely angry about the way the white power structure treated her people. Our discussions on the subject were often heated.

  One night she said, “Greg, you know we don’t often tell people, and we are not too proud of it, but I’ve got a grandmother who is part white.”

  After a few minutes of silence I responded, “What would you say, Anita, if I told you that we don’t often tell people and we are not too proud of it, but I’ve got a grandmother who is part black?”

  For a while she just looked at the floor. Then she murmured, “I didn’t say that, did I?” For all she taught me, I was able to show her that the very thing she hated most—prejudice—was lurking in her own heart.

  James Baldwin once wrote that white men lust after black women because they want to be the “master,” to subjugate and violate them. I am not sure where Mr. Baldwin got his information, but he sure wasn’t talking about Anita and me. She made it rough on me. She kept making rules, erecting barriers as if she wanted me to become discouraged and quit. Many times I almost got to the point where I was ready to give up on her, but something about Anita kept me coming back.

  After several dates Anita began to notice my frequent use of slightly risque humor. “Sex is a big thing with you, isn’t it?” she asked. I admitted that I thought it was an important part of a male/female relationship, something of great beauty when shared.

  She nodded and said, “Okay, next Thursday.” It was as if she had just made up her mind to have the car lubed. I protested that it was not necessary, preferring no sex at all to a cold, passionless “service job.” But she had made up her mind, and nothing I said would make any difference.