When she’d wrung every last drop out of me, I slid out of her and then kissed her sweet cheeks, amazed that they were still warm to the touch. I had to ask her the question that was suddenly uppermost on my mind. “Baby, where’d that come from? I had no idea you were the kind of girl who liked to have her ass smacked,” I said, pulling her close and covering her face with kisses.
“I was checking my e-mail, and in a piece of spam was a photo of a girl with a well-spanked ass. I was intrigued, but I didn’t know if you’d think it was dirty or not,” she confessed.
“Well, I do think you’re a dirty girl, but you’re my dirty girl, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I didn’t know I’d be that into spanking, either, but with an ass as fine as yours, there was no way I could refuse,” I said.
She snuggled against me, and I took the opportunity to deliver one last blow—at least for the night. “Don’t forget—there’s more where that came from,” I told her before we drifted off to sleep.
—Mr. S.T., Dallas, Texas
My First Love Affair—a Valentine’s Gift to Treasure Always
I love Penthouse Variations. Each issue is good for at least a dozen orgasms. It is one great “handbook.”
Last year you featured a series on “Romantic Valentine Evenings.” I was happy to learn that for many of your readers this holiday was a special night. It surely was for me.
I lived most of my undergraduate sex life vicariously, through my best friend Lucy. Her experiences became my masturbation fantasies. The favorite object of my sexual fantasies, and those of half the other girls on campus, was Timmy, star halfback, gorgeous hunk and, for a while, Lucy’s steady boyfriend.
I would lie in bed at night, my finger on the button, and dream of what it would be like to wrap my hand around his cock and make him beg me for it, as Lucy claimed to do. I’d move my fingers between my lips, penetrating deep into my pussy, imagining how it would feel to have Timmy’s cock sliding in and out. Then I’d put my fingers in my mouth and fantasize that I was sucking Timmy’s prick. I must have had at least a hundred orgasms thinking of Timmy. Never did I believe that he would be my first lover. But he was.
It was a Saturday night, the other girls were out on dates, and I was, as usual, home alone doing my homework. I was startled by someone pounding on the door. Even more startled to find out it was Timmy. He pushed his way in, demanding to talk to Lucy, and was angry to find out she was not there. It was clear that he had been drinking. He was different from the polite, gentle boy I had thought him to be. He kept muttering about “that little blonde bitch, Lucy.” I was shocked. And titillated.
It was clear to me what had happened. Lucy had a date with her new boyfriend but had told Timmy that she was going to do homework with me. She sometimes did actually do that. But there was no way I could lie Lucy out of it this time. She wasn’t there. Period.
Timmy stormed into the kitchen, saying he was going to get a beer, and before I could say anything, he had helped himself. I sat there, too thrilled to protest. After all, here was my dreamboat. Right here! In my own house!
He sat there drinking his beer, and after a while he began to calm down. “You know,” he said, looking me over, “you got great legs,” and he grinned. I melted. Jeez, he had really noticed me! He started talking about Lucy again, only now he didn’t seem so angry. And he kept looking down at my legs.
Somehow I knew I was missing My Big Chance. After all, he had said he liked my legs. But I couldn’t spread them open and say come and get it. Instead, I tucked them up on the couch, making sure that my skirt rode up high on my thigh. I was pleased to see his eyes following my movements. I wished I had on pantyhose. Or, better yet, a pair of stockings.
The conversation began to lag. I tried to make small talk, but I was too nervous. When he jumped up, my heart sank at the prospect of him leaving. Instead he went over and turned on the radio, searching around the dial until he found some music he liked. “C’mon. I wanna dance,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.
Slow, dirty-dancing music was playing, and he held me tight around the waist as we moved around the room. I was so thrilled I could hardly breathe. Could this really be happening? There we stood, swaying together. It was good that he was holding me so tight. My legs were like rubber. My belly was pressed up tight against his crotch, which was growing noticeably harder; the feel of his full manhood against my body began to drive me absolutely wild. Timmy, my dream man, my sexual fantasy, was actually getting a hard-on because of me!
I felt my breasts being crushed against his chest. He looked down at me. Then he kissed me. I damn near fainted. I stood there, not even kissing back, and let him put his tongue in my mouth. His hand had moved down to caress the curve of my ass. I nearly came right then.
He picked me up in a bear hug and carried me to the couch, never breaking our kiss. When he put me down, he was lying half on top of me. When he kissed me next, I did kiss back and let our tongues play with each other. Then his hand was on my breast, and my short skirt had ridden up to about my hips. I knew that if he looked, he could see my panties. For some reason, modesty seemed terribly important.
Timmy put his hand on the inside of my thigh and started moving it up. I wriggled beneath him. Then I felt his fingers touch my pubic area. I knew that my panties were really wet by now. His fingers began to probe for my slit through the nylon.
All of a sudden, he let me go. He sat up with a laugh and said, “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna pop your cherry.” He got up then and headed for the door, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Timmy…” I stammered. I had to do something. The memory of his hand against my panties burned in my mind. “D-don’t go. Just… b-be gentle.”
He took me in his arms then and kissed me roughly. I could feel the urgency of his mouth and his hands squeezing my ass, then reaching down inside the back of my skirt. This time I didn’t resist. He put his leg between mine, and I almost came again as his thigh touched my crotch.
Timmy took my hand and led me to the couch. He unbuttoned my blouse and put his hand inside, playing with my nipples for a while, and I knew I was right on the edge of orgasm. When his hand slipped under the leg band of my panties, I came hard. My hips convulsed, jerking forward involuntarily. I heard myself gasp in excitement. It was the first orgasm I had ever experienced that was not induced by my own hand.
I put my hand on his, guiding his rhythm, until I came again, almost as violently. It had never been like this, and I was reveling in the eroticism of the moment. I wanted more, but he moved my hand to his own body, placing it on his bulging crotch. “Now do me, baby,” he said as he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Take it out,” he said urgently.
Was this the time to make him beg for it, I’d wondered. What would Lucy do? But I couldn’t. I unzipped his jeans and reached in, but try as I might, I couldn’t seem to get it free of his jockey shorts. Timmy was amused at my ineptness and helped me out. In a second his cock was free, standing up stiff and hard. I stared at it in total fascination. It was as Lucy had described—thick and long, the pink skin topped by a deeper purplish-pink of the bulbous head, a vein tracing its prominent path along the shaft.
I reached out and felt it jump under my touch. As if in a dream, I wrapped my hand around it and squeezed gently. Timmy put his hand on mine and began moving it back and forth along the length of his cock, his motions slow, sensuous. Drawing it out. I recognized the tempo immediately. It was the same one I used on myself when I was riding the edge of orgasm, trying to prolong the feeling until I exploded. It lasted less than a minute before I heard a sharp intake of breath, then a strangled cry.
Timmy’s prick erupted, shooting semen into the air in convulsive spurts. It was everywhere. Some of it landed on my skirt. Some of it was on the slipcover. There was a big blob of it on his jeans. “Oh, baby,” he cried and looked at me with positively adoring eyes. I still couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
He sat silent
ly for a while. I continued to stroke his rod, more gently now. Intuitively, I knew how sensitive it would be. Like an enormous clit. I was on intimate terms with clitorises. At least with my own.
“Let me have your panties,” he demanded suddenly. What for? I was puzzled. No one had ever asked me for my panties before. But this was no time to be modest. I reached up and skinned them off. The crotch was so wet, I could probably have wrung them out.
“I gotta clean up here,” he said and started to wipe the come from his jeans.
“Here, let me,” I said, taking the damp nylon from his hand. I cleaned his jeans, then the couch and my skirt before turning to his cock. It hadn’t gotten much smaller, and I was too naïve to realize how wonderful that was. I cleaned him gently.
After a minute, he lifted my panties and buried his face in them. “You smell so good,” he breathed. That really turned me on. My panties. On Timmy’s face! What a kick.
He pulled me over to him and kissed me gently, licking my lips tantalizingly. “I thought white panties were for virgins,” he teased.
“What makes you think I’m not,” I answered and kissed him hotly.
“Don’t worry, we can fix that,” he said with a grin when we came up for air—and then he wrapped my panties around his prick and began stroking himself.
I sat there, fascinated, as he casually masturbated. Right in front of me! In my panties! What a turn-on. Should I help, I thought?
Timmy’s eyes widened in surprise as I leaned over his lap. I could see the little pink slit up close, smell the semen drying in my panties. I opened my lips wide and took Timmy’s prick in my mouth. It tasted salty. And it felt warm. I began moving my mouth up and down, fitting my lips tightly around the cock shaft. It wouldn’t all fit in my mouth, even though it was not fully erect. My tongue explored his rod’s contours. I resisted an urge to bite the delicate instrument. Instead I let my teeth glide along its length, grazing the ridge marking the cockhead. I heard Timmy groan. My ministrations were definitely having an effect.
I was really getting into it. I got up and repositioned myself on my knees right between his legs. I moved my mouth rapidly, stopping frequently to suck as strongly as I could. I was having a ball! My saliva was flowing freely as I slurped noisily on his joystick.
The prick seemed to grow in my mouth. Timmy was trying to match my movements by thrusting his hips forward as I moved down on him. In one long stroke, I took as much of it in my mouth as I could, then slowly sucked it all the way back up to the head, and as I reached the top, he picked me up by my armpits and laid me down on the couch and climbed on top.
Often girls describe their first time as unpleasant, painful, disappointing, degrading, embarrassing, or in some such negative way. For me it was none of these. I was so ready. Totally aroused. I was so lubricated that my juices were practically running down my legs. I started coming as soon as Timmy’s prick touched the lips of my cunt. He slid into me in one smooth stroke, filling me up as I’d never been filled before. Oh, what a feeling! It was so much better than my fingers or any of the objects I had experimented with as dildos.
Timmy started pumping in and out. It was like one long, glorious orgasm. It took my breath away each time he shoved his cock up into me. I couldn’t seem to get enough. I never cried out when I masturbated, but now I heard myself moaning and whimpering and egging him on with little urgent cries. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but then I heard him start to make noises of his own, and I could tell he was ready. At the last minute he pulled out of me and shot his load over my belly and skirt.
Timmy wiped up the puddles of semen with my nylon panties, and we lay there for a while in each other’s arms. I had never felt more complete. Timmy looked down at me. My legs were still spread wide for him. Suddenly he bent down and planted a kiss right on my cunt. I was absolutely thrilled. Especially since this was one of the things he never did with Lucy. And he said he was going to keep my panties. I felt flattered.
I had lost my virginity, and suddenly I felt like I was a woman of the world. It had brought me unbridled happiness and had given me a feeling of confidence. I never regretted my first love affair. And, of all the love affairs I’ve gone through since, including one marriage, I’ve never seen anything so wonderful and so erotically exciting as the sight of Timmy’s beautiful, hard prick thrusting into me.
—Ms. L.D., Columbus, Ohio
Expert Cocksucker Makes Him Recall His First Blowjob
Ellen was bobbing up and down on my shaft as I sat on the bed and watched her go at it. She was a talented fellatrice, probably the best I’d ever had, and she knew exactly what to do to make me come.
As she sucked on my cock, her tongue teasing the underside of my shaft, I felt myself getting closer to orgasm. Ellen took more and more of me into her mouth, lovingly caressing my cock with her soft lips and wet tongue. It wasn’t long before she deep-throated my entire length. With a few more strokes of her tongue, I was pushed over the edge, my climax coming fast and hard.
Grunting loudly, I spurted my seed deep into Ellen’s throat. She swallowed it hungrily, milking my cock until she had gotten every last drop. Then, standing from her position on the floor at the foot of the bed, she leaned in and kissed me. As her tongue slipped between my lips, giving me a taste of my own salty semen, I flashed back to the first blowjob I had ever received.
I had started my second year of college and had begun dating a girl who lived downstairs from me in the dorm. She was a petite blond named Melody, and she was by far the hottest girl on campus. At five-feet-four-inches, she was a foot shorter than me. She had a slim figure, too, except for her large, voluptuous breasts. Until I met Melody, I had never seen a girl with such glorious tits—at least not a girl who wasn’t a porn star. She was incredible, and I knew I was the envy of every other guy at the university.
Unfortunately, Melody, as perfect as she was, did have one flaw: She was waiting until marriage to have sex. At first I thought she was kidding. How could a girl that gorgeous be celibate? It made no sense to me. But sure enough, whenever we would be kissing and fooling around, the minute I went to move things further along, she would stop me dead in my tracks and remind me that there was no way anything was going to happen.
After a few months of this, I was starting to get frustrated. But Melody was perfect in every other way, and I didn’t want to lose her by pushing the matter. I figured she’d give in eventually and then everything would be amazing. Besides, she was more than happy to give me handjobs and talk dirty to me when we fooled around.
Six months into our relationship, we were at a party with a bunch of friends and things started to get out of control. It seemed that everyone there was pairing off and going to find somewhere more private to continue having fun without an audience. When Melody suggested we head back to her dorm room, I figured she’d had enough of the raucous crowd and wanted to get some peace. But she had other plans.
The minute we stepped over the threshold into her room, she grabbed me by the collar of my polo shirt and began kissing me passionately, shoving me up against the wall and ravaging my mouth. Melody had never been so rough before, and I was taken by surprise. Even though she would occasionally initiate our kisses, it was always me who had to take things to the next level, and always slowly and gently. This harsh, abrupt passion was new for us—and I loved it!
After several long minutes with my back pushed against the door, Melody pulled away and looked me in the eyes. “You’ve been so patient these past few months,” she said, and I instantly thought I was going to get lucky. What else could she mean? “I want to thank you for understanding why I want to wait,” she continued, utterly confusing me. She wanted to thank me for waiting, but she still wanted to wait? What the hell did that mean?
I barely had time to contemplate the sexual riddle before she was on her knees, her hands undoing my belt. I had never gotten a blowjob before; my last girlfriend found it “unappetizing” and refused to go down on me. Handjobs w
ere almost as rare with her. It was full-on intercourse or nothing—not that I ever complained. But the girls in my favorite porno films always made blowjobs look so sexy that it was my number-one fantasy to have a hot, sexy girl sucking on my dick. I never thought Melody would be the girl to make that dream come true.
She made quick work of my belt, and before I knew it, she had my pants undone and—along with my boxers—pooled at my ankles, with my belt buckle resting atop the toe of my right sneaker.
Reaching up, she began fondling my semi-hard cock. She started by running her hands up and down my shaft, one after the other. Then, she kept one hand pumping my shaft while the other moved down to my balls. Her hands were warm and soft, and as she caressed my balls, I felt my prick growing stiffer. She continued playing with my sac, gently at first and then more roughly, until I thought I was going to come.
Stopping her ministrations, she removed her hands from my cock and let me cool down for a moment. Then, without any hesitation, she leaned in and licked my shaft from head to base, her soft, wet tongue traveling sensually over my aroused flesh. She did this several times, each lick exciting me more than the last.
I had never felt anything so incredible—until Melody took me into her mouth. It started with her placing soft, feathery kisses on my cock. After trailing a number of kisses all along the shaft, she focused her attention on the head, kissing it over and over from every possible angle. The teasing was almost unbearable, which Melody clearly sensed, and before I could even open my mouth to ask her to stop, she had sucked the head of my cock between her lips.
Letters to Penthouse XXXXII Page 23
