She looked behind herself. Nobody else was around. She looked back at me. Keeping her voice low enough that no one could overhear, she said, “Know what I think? I think all you really want to do is fuck me. Isn’t that true?” Before I could answer, she added, “First, you want to stick your hard dick in my pretty face. You want me to suck on your huge cock until you come, then you want me to gulp down everything you shoot in my mouth. You want to eat my sweet pussy, then fuck it while you play with my big, fat tits. Right?”
I felt like I was sweating all over. “Fuck, yeah,” I said.
“Do you want to take a little peek at my pussy, just to whet your appetite?”
She placed her hands at the front of her short skirt, with her fingertips at the hem. All I could do was nod. This was way too good to be true. She slowly eased her skirt up her legs. Her thighs were so well-toned that they did not touch each other, even though her feet were together. Jesus Christ, she actually was wearing stockings, not pantyhose! Her skirt rose above the wide, dark bands at the tops of the stockings. No garters; the stockings were the kind that stayed up by themselves.
I had stopped breathing. I saw the dark material of her black satin panties come into view. They were so tight against her crotch that I could make out the impressions of her pussy lips. I saw red threads of embroidery on the panties. It seemed to spell something.
Lynette lifted her hem higher and said, “Now we understand each other, right?”
I managed to smile. “Right.”
She dropped her hem, smoothed her skirt and walked away, swinging that beautiful ass even more than before. The idea that Lynette would wear panties like those just in case she had to deal with guys like me was load of amazing. I wondered how many other times she had flashed her secret message. With a body like hers, it might have been an everyday thing.
Sure, I was ticked off. But any woman who wears panties that say “FUCK OFF’ is a woman that I just have to respect.—G.N., Detroit, Michigan
TASTY FRENCH TREATS HAVE A WAY OF LEAVING A GIRL WANTING MORE
I am twenty-five and attractive, with a steady boyfriend and a great job in public relations. Like a lot of girls who write to your magazine, I never thought that I would be putting a letter like this on paper. At the same time, though, I feel as if I have to get all of this down in words while it is still fresh in my mind. With any luck the right person will read it when it gets published.
Have you ever seen something that totally stopped you in your tracks, bringing back a flood of memories? That was what happened last week when I was walking to work with a couple of my female coworkers. I glanced at some magazines on display as we passed a newsstand, and for a second I forgot to breathe. On the cover of one of the glossy magazines was a full-body shot of a young woman, sitting in profile with her knees drawn up. Her hair was tousled and she had a smoldering sexy expression on her face. She wore a blue sleeveless top—but all she had on below the waist was a pair of ruffled panties. They were cut so high on the sides that she might as well have been bottomless. I could see the entire curve of her left butt cheek, and the smooth underside of her thigh.
Seeing her in that erotic pose made me flash back five years into the past. Back then I was an editorial assistant, part of a three-person staff at a trade association magazine. We had a shoestring budget, and even did our own photography.
I was eager to get as many cover photo credits for my rÉsumÉ as possible, so I carried a camera with me a lot. I was on my way home one day when I spotted a slender girl sitting sideways on a park bench, reading a book. Her knees were drawn up and her leather sandals were resting on the bench. She was wearing tiny white shorts that left her legs bare almost to her waist. If she was wearing panties, they had to be the thong type, because one whole cheek of her creamy ass was showing. But it was her silk pullover blouse that really made her stand out. It was a leopard print, and hugged her firm breasts and flat stomach so snugly that it could have been a second skin.
I knew I should ask her permission before taking her picture, but I couldn’t help myself. I raised my camera and clicked the shutter. She looked up at me with sleepy eyes and gave me a smile. “Did you just take my picture?” she asked. She had a slight French accent.
I knew I was blushing and not just because she had caught me in the act. This girl was so pretty and effortlessly sensual that she made my pussy tingle. I had an overwhelming urge to see her naked, and touch her, and kiss her.
My only past experience with other girls had consisted of a little “messing around” in college. Nothing serious, mainly just kissing and a few late-night massages. The furthest I had gone in that area was the time one of my roommates went down on me. She had said she wanted to see what it was like. Feeling another girl’s mouth on my pussy had been weird at first. But she did such a good job of eating me—I came really fast—that I had the feeling it was not really her first time doing it. I might have let her lick me a few more times after that, but it wasn’t like I had gone lezzie or anything.
So when I stood looking at the girl on the park bench and felt myself getting horny, it was kind of a new sensation. I said, “You looked so pretty sitting there that I had to get a shot of you. I hope you don’t mind.”
She swung her legs around in front of her, placing both feet on the ground. “Of course not. Here, come, sit with me.
Seen straight-on, her high-riding breasts looked very touchable in her leopard-print blouse. Her nipples were two little stubs that pointed up and away from each other.
I told her my name. She said hers was Monique. No last name, just Monique. I asked about her book, which had a French title. She said it was about two women who were very much in love with each other. She actually brushed my hair back from my face and told me I had remarkably pretty eyes. That turned me on so much that I had to look away.
“Do you live near here?” she asked.
She wanted to hold hands on the walk to my apartment I reluctantly avoided her hand, in case someone I knew saw me. She responded by pinching me on the butt, making me yelp in surprise. God, she was sexy!
At my place, she pushed me against the back of my apartment door, holding my arms with both hands. “Now you will not be shoving me away anymore, no?” She kissed me, pushing her tongue into my mouth, making my knees weak. I ran my hands over the back of her silk blouse, then up under it, feeling her warm flesh.
She pulled me to my bed, where she stripped off my dress, my bra and my pantyhose, instead of pulling down my black panties, she said, “Why do you wear these horrible things? I will make it so that you will not be wearing them again.” Then she shocked me by gripping the legholes of my underpants and pulling hard with both hands, ripping them up the middle and baring my pussy and my asshole. I was so excited by what she did that I gasped.
“I think I like you this way,” Monique said, running a finger up and down my exposed sex. “Much better.”
She stopped long enough to peel her blouse over her head, revealing her beautiful breasts and their plum-colored nipples. When she pushed down her white shorts I saw that she was not wearing any panties. Her blond pubic hair was full and bushy.
She knelt over me on all fours in a 69 position, held my thighs apart with both hands and put her mouth on my cunnie. Her tongue felt so good in my slit that I arched ray back and moaned. The fact that I was still wearing the ripped-down-the-middle panties made me feel wonderfully slutty.
The crumpled pink lips of Monique’s pussy were only inches from my mouth. I raised my head and gave her sex a tentative lick. She squatted and pressed her fragrant cunt against my mouth, rubbing it insistently over my lips, while she sucked my throbbing clit.
I gave her what she wanted. I pushed my tongue as deep into her slit as I could, then licked up and down the groove of her cunt. Her clitty was like a small pink pea. I swirled my tongue tip around it.
Monique eased two fingers into my pussy, working them in and out. The tip of her little finger probed the rim of my
asshole, then went in. I cried out with pleasure. What she was doing felt so good, so wonderful.
I started doing the same thing to her. She liked that. Her sighs were quieter than mine, but no less intense. When she came, she sounded as if she were weeping.
We petted and kissed each other afterward. When she noticed that it had gotten dark outside my window, she said she had to go, because she had a plane to catch the next morning. As she got dressed, I asked when I would see her again. She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe next week, maybe never.”
I couldn’t believe how cruel she was being, after what we had just done to each other. “Could I have your number?” I asked, trying not to sound too hurt—or too desperate.
She looked at me as if I were being silly. She shrugged. “Give me something to write with.” She scribbled something, kissed me, and rushed away without asking for my own number, leaving me naked except for my ripped black panties.
The number she had given me turned out to be a disconnected line. I never saw her again. The photo of her that I had taken came out looking so good that the editor used it on the cover. It did not relate to anything inside the magazine, but he thought it was artistic enough to work on its own merits.
It had been a long time since I last looked at that picture of Monique. A framed copy had hung on my bedroom wall for awhile, even though seeing it always made me feel a little melancholy.
Eventually I took it down.
But when I saw that girl in a lookalike pose at the magazine stand, and felt the huge rush of memories that cover brought back, I knew I would be digging out Monique’s picture as soon as I got home. After I did a little shopping, that is.
That night I took a long, candlelit bath. After I dried off I opened the bag of purchases I had made that afternoon.
I stepped into a pair of crotchless black panties, to remind me of the pair Monique had torn. I rolled two leopard-print stockings up my legs, and pulled on two matching gloves that reached above my elbows. They were like the blouse Monique had worn, the one that fit her pretty breasts so snugly.
I put a copy of the magazine with Monique’s picture on it on my bedspread. I lay back against the pillows and stared at sweet, delicious Monique. I could taste her pussy when I rubbed my own. I could feel her mouth on my tits when I tugged and twisted my nipples. I called her name when I slipped my little finger up my asshole and thumbed my clit at the same time. Monique, Monique.
I rocked the bed when I came. My thighs were wet with my juice down to the tops of my stockings. My nipples felt alive and electric. I looked at the magazine and played with myself some more, rubbing my gloved fingers over my breasts, massaging my pussy, caressing my clit. I kept indulging myself that way until I came again, and yet again. I finally fell into an exhausted sleep, and dreamed of my pretty French former lover the rest of the night.
I am writing this letter in the hope that Monique, wherever she is and whoever she might be with, will get in touch with me. I love you, my darling one, even though we only had one night together. I want to see you again, and be with you, and make love with you.
Please get in touch with me by writing to this magazine. Don’t make me go on fantasizing to your picture. All is forgiven, ma cherie. All is forgiven.—L.J., New York, New York
TWO HORNY HIGH-ROLLERS GO TO VEGAS AND SAY, “LICK ME A LADY TONIGHT”
I thought it was pretty great when my boyfriend Donnie and I won a trip to Vegas in a radio station contest. Having our plane tickets paid for and getting a thousand bucks in spending money was like a dream come true. I had no way of knowing that another of my fantasies was going to be fulfilled during that trip, too.
At the airport we saw some men handing out fliers. Donnie took one. The words “New in Town?” were printed on the outside. Unfolded, the sheet showed a full-color, incredibly explicit photo of a blonde girl on a bed.
She was dressed only in black stockings, a black garter belt and black high heels. She was lying back against red satin pillows. Her hands were behind her head, and her knees were pulled up and spread. She was showing off everything she had, and what she had was pretty impressive.
Printed at the bottom of the picture was the name “Lorraine” and a phone number, along with the words “I will come to your room tonight!”
Both Donnie and I were surprised at how brazen the ad was. The back of the sheet said something about lap dances, but it was pretty obvious what really was being offered for sale.
Looking at the flier, I wondered what being in Lorraine’s line of work would be like. No matter how much they might deny it, every girl fantasizes at one time or another about being a hooker. Knowing that a man wants you so much he is willing to pay for your pussy has to be an incredibly powerful feeling.
Donnie was staring just a little too intently at the naked Lorraine. “Don’t be greedy,” I said, yanking the flier away from him. “You’ve already got a girl coming to your room.”
On the cab ride to our hotel we saw other men on the sidewalks handing out similar-looking fliers. Apparently there was a booming business in the “room service” industry. Donnie laughed when I pointed out a guy who was looking at one of the fliers while adjusting the front of his pants, obviously rearranging his stiffening prick.
“Do you ever have that problem?” I asked.
“Why don’t you tell me,” Donnie said. He put my hand on the front of his pants.
I made sure our driver wasn’t looking, then I ran my palm up and down. I could feel Donnie’s dick growing. Both of us were charged up and horny.
Donnie reached under my short skirt to finger my pussy through my cotton panties while I stroked his cock. I noticed the cab driver looking at us in the rearview mirror. He quickly looked away when our eyes met.
Donnie wormed a finger inside the leghole of my panties. He pushed it between my pussy lips. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning.
I was about to take Donnie’s dick out and blow him when the cab turned into the crescent driveway of our hotel. We managed to keep our clothes on until we got to our room. It had a tub built for two, with complimentary bubble bath. We couldn’t resist climbing in together and getting wet and wild.
Donnie was all over me, rubbing my pussy and sucking my tits while the tub filled up around us. I got up on the rounded edge and spread my legs. “Eat me a little before you fuck me,” I told him, holding my cunt lips apart with my fingers.
Donnie clamped his mouth on my crotch. His tongue moved all around my clit. It felt great. I imagined that he was a stranger, and that I was a hooker like Lorraine who had come to his room.
The fantasy made me get even hotter.
”Treat me like a high-priced whore,” I whispered to Donnie. “Tell me what you want, anything, and I’ll do it. I want to be your rented slut tonight.”
I knew Donnie was excited by the idea. “Play with your big tits,” he said. “Let me see you finger your nipples for me.”
I did as I was told. I took each of my nipples between thumb and forefinger and tugged on them, feeling them get harder.
“Now suck your tits, baby,” Donnie said. “I want to watch.” I put my hand under my right breast and pushed it toward my mouth. I swirled the tip of my tongue all over my distended nipple, then sucked it. Donnie went back to eating my pussy then, really going at it. I felt myself start to climax.
“Oh, oh, OHHHH!” I groaned. I felt my pussy flooding Donnie’s mouth with my juice. I wondered if hookers came this hard with their clients, and how many times a night they climaxed. God, I wanted to be a whore. I wanted to be a dirty slut who would spread her legs for any man who was willing to pay her price.
“I’ve got to fuck you now,” Donnie said, getting out of the tub and pushing me backward onto the tiles of the bathroom floor. Water went everywhere. We didn’t care.
“Call me Lorraine,” I said, running my hands up and down his strong arms. “You know, like the girl in the picture. Like the whore.”
He must have
been able to tell from the look in my eyes that I wasn’t kidding, and that I didn’t want him to make any jokes. “Okay, Lorraine,” he said. He worked two fingers in and out of my cunt, spreading me open, getting me ready for his dick. “I want to fuck your sweet, tight pussy right now. What do you think of that, Lorraine?”
“Do it,” I said. “Stick your dick in me.”
He got between my legs. I grabbed his prick and guided its bulging head between my cuntlips. I was so juicy that he slid his cock all the way inside my body with one thrust.
“Wiggle your ass around, Lorraine. Give me my money’s worth. You know what to do. You’re a pro, aren’t you?”
I squirmed on the tile floor, pushing my crotch against his, glad that he was getting into the spirit of things. “Is that the way you like it?” I said, pretending it was our first fuck. “Do you like a nasty girl who moves around a lot?”
“Oh, yeah. You definitely know how to fuck. I’ll bet you’re the highest-priced whore in Vegas. How many guys have you fucked this week? You can’t even remember, can you?”
“Dozens,” I moaned, imagining a roomful of hard, throbbing cocks, all of them wanting to fuck me. “God, your dick feels good in my pussy. So fucking good.”
“You know any hooker tricks, Lorraine? Anything the nasty girls down on the street corners have taught you?” Donnie was pounding me so hard that I knew he was on the verge of coming.
“Here’s one,” I said. As he watched, I slipped my middle finger all the way into my mouth, getting it completely wet. Then I reached behind Donnie and eased that finger deep into his asshole.
“FUCK!” he said, scrunching, his face up. I could feel his dick jumping inside me as he came, shooting his white cream deep in my cunt. He stayed on top after he finished, kissing me and sucking my tits. When his cock slipped out, I stroked it and sucked it until it got hard all over again.
Our second fuck was just as hot as the first Donnie pulled out when he was ready to come. “Eat my come,” he said, putting his dick near my face. “Swallow it down, like a good hooker.”
Letters to Penthouse XIII Page 30
