I worked my way down to her belly button, massaging her fleshy charms with my hot hands and hot tongue. I opened her jeans and slid her pants to her ankles. She succumbed to my direction. I pressed her hand over her throbbing mound. She gasped as I had her dip two fingers in her dripping honeypot. She wanted more, and I wanted to give her more. I had her rub her honey over her nipples, which were standing at attention.
I leaned her against the camper and held her arms over her head. As she writhed hungrily, I brought her hand—the one that had been in her pussy—to my mouth and sucked on her fingers one at a time.
Then we kissed. Her mouth tasted amazing. Her lips, as I imagined, were soft and supple yet firm and demanding. My clit was hard. I kissed my way down to her breasts. Her nipples were as erect as soldiers on guard awaiting my return. I circled them teasingly, licking and lapping at them, then took each nipple in my mouth, reveling in the taste, throbbing firmness, and obvious desire.
I felt for her crotch. Honey was dripping down her legs. Finally I laid her down on the cool ground. She was intoxicated with ecstasy, and so was I. I lavished butterfly kisses on the insides of her thighs, running my hands feverishly over her hot body. She sucked her fingers and played with her straining nipples, awaiting my tongue’s next move.
I was so hot, I needed to taste more of her juices. Still kissing her thighs, I gently inserted two fingers in her wet snatch. She squealed and pumped my fingers as if they were a pulsing cock, begging me to fill her, harder and faster. My hand was drenched with her love juices. I removed my fingers and inserted my tongue, making love to her with it until she came.
I moved up to her pulsing clit and licked all around it. It throbbed without my even touching it. Holding her lips apart, I blew gently on her clit, watching it grow bigger, as if pleading with me to take it between my lips. With my fingers back in her honeypot, I engulfed her clit with my mouth. God, it tasted good! I sucked and sucked until she came again.
When she recovered, she did to me as I’d done to her till we fell exhausted in each other’s arms. We could have sucked and kissed till morning, but we knew we had to get back to our husbands.
Still, there’s always next Friday night. I’m getting wet just thinking about it!
—F.S., Plymouth, Minnesota
When Your Wife Is Cheating, Don’t You “Always Just Know”?
People who know about these things say you always just know when your wife is having an affair. When mine came home from shopping one afternoon, I just knew she’d had sex. She seemed utterly, delightfully screwed. By some dude in a motel, I assumed—what other explanation was there? Funny, but it didn’t make me angry, or jealous, or hurt. It made me horny as hell. The idea of Laura fucking a dude while she was supposedly shopping turned me on something fierce.
That night as I stretched out in bed next to her, I saw her in a motel room on her back, knees up, with a hunk between her legs pumping away at her like in a porn video. I couldn’t get those images out of my mind.
I thought about it every day, especially since Laura remained so cheerful, so agreeable. I had no idea of confronting her about “not being faithful.” Still, I wanted desperately to know all the particulars, the uncensored juicy details. For some reason I wanted to be able to see it. What was he like? Would I like him? (I hoped so. It’d be awful if she was fucking a guy I couldn’t stand.)
I now read every letter in Penthouse Letters, with special interest in “Take Her, She’s Mine” and related letters sections. “Stepping Out” was my special turn-on.
And this all surprised the hell out of me!
At the company Halloween party I met Laura’s new coworker, Guy, and instantly knew whose cock had her in such a fine mood. He’s over six feet, handsome, articulate, with a confidence that turns women to jelly—at least it does to Laura. And she loves blue eyes! The way they moved around each another, I knew he’d been fucking her on her shopping trips, after work, whenever.
Guy is a sports nut, and we hit it off right away, chatting about our teams while we stood by the food table. I liked him right away, and kept finding it hard not to blurt out, “So when did you start fucking my wife?” But I resisted. We talked about the NBA—about Kobe, Lebron, and Shaq—but all the time we were talking, I was seeing him screwing Laura.
The next time we were together was when Laura invited people from work for a barbecue. Cooking the meat, I started a conversation with Guy about movies.
“What’s the name of that one about the woman who’s having an affair with a guy she works with?” I asked.
Guy got nervous and tried to change the subject.
“If you were her husband, how would you feel?” I said.
He looked as if I’d hit him with a pipe. He studied me, then mumbled something.
“Actually,” I said, “if I liked the guy, I wouldn’t mind if my wife was fucking around.”
Guy looked like a guy who was coming unglued.
After ten minutes of unsubtle hints, I said, “I should tell you, I know you’ve been fucking Laura, and it’s only a problem if you aren’t good to her.” He didn’t speak, and fumbled with his drink. “If you’re fucking her, fuck her good,” I said. “Be gentle, and make sure you’re satisfying the woman I love.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” he finally said in a low voice, “but it’s not me.”
“You’re not having sex with my wife?” I said, bewildered and embarrassed.
“Honestly? I’d like to,” Guy said quietly, as if she might hear him if he spoke up. “But I haven’t, really. I’ve heard the stories, but—” He looked at me with his arms outstretched and his palms up. “Honest to God.”
“She’s been in such a fine mood,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” I paused. “I mean, a mood that good can only be caused by great sex. Seeing you two together, well, you look so good as a couple, I naturally thought—”
“It’s really not me,” he said. “But thanks.”
So maybe the people who say that you just know are just wrong? Was I totally mistaken? I thought back to that first day when I was sure Laura was cheating on me. All the signs were there, and her state of mind was so positive, so joyful, that it couldn’t be anything else. Plus, Guy said he’d heard “the stories.”
So if not him, then who? I glanced around the people from Laura’s work, surveying possibilities. Nothing!
For the next week all I could think about was how wrong I was, and how hurt she’d be if she knew. Still, I wondered, what besides an affair could cause her near euphoria? And if I was right, who could her lover be?
That night when Laura got home, I confessed that I had suspected her of being unfaithful and asked her to forgive me. Graciously, she said she could understand why I suspected her.
I apologized many times over the course of the evening, and that night we had absolutely marvelous sex. I must admit, though, that the whole time, I was picturing her having sex with another man. I saw him eating her, with his face against her pussy, and her squirming and screaming just the way she was doing with me.
After sex, while we dozed and cuddled, I kissed her and apologized once more for doubting her. Then I confessed that it actually turned me on to think of her having sex with someone else. She was silent. I asked her again to forgive me for thinking she could be unfaithful. “I didn’t get angry about it, but I just should have known.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she whispered. “I do.”
I waited to hear why she should apologize. “I have been seeing someone,” she said finally—so soft that I had to ask her to repeat it. “I am having an affair.”
I shot up in bed, propping myself on an elbow, and let her go on. She did so, tearfully.
“It’s made me feel so wanted, so sensual, so alive.”
Finally I spoke. “It’s not Guy?” I said quietly.
“You thought it was Guy?” she said, chuckling.
I nodded. She smiled, kissed me, and brushed the hair o
ut of my eyes.
“Is it Herb?” I said, totally addled. “Or Charley? Jake?”
She shook her head and put a finger over my mouth to stop me from guessing. She said softly, “It’s Sandra.”
It took a minute for this to sink in. I frowned, looked at her out of the corner of my eye, and, sounding about as foolish as a person can, said, “What? Sandra what?”
“Sandra and I are lovers,” she whispered.
I rolled her over on her back and climbed on top of her. Looking down at her, I began to laugh.
“That’s funny?” she said.
“No, baby,” I said, punctuating my point with a kiss. “It’s just, there I was imagining you getting fucked by Guy, and enjoying the mental picture, and all the time you were making love with another woman! I was sure it was him. I imagined all the things that you did together.”
She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“So, you still enjoy sex with me?” I asked naively.
“Yes, yes, sweetheart,” she said, hugging me. “It’s just, well, I love having sex with Sandra. I, ah, well, I love the way she eats my pussy.”
“How is it different?” I said, sincerely curious.
“I don’t know,” she said pensively. “It just is. She’s, well, gentler, more patient, more attentive. She makes love to my pussy with her tongue and mouth and lips more than any man does. Oh, you do it well. She just does it differently—more slowly, more gently, more like a woman would.
“I love kissing her,” she went on. “Tasting her. Everything we do together is just different than with a man. When she sucks my nipples it’s childlike the way she savors suckling, like a baby.”
I smiled, kissed her, and nodded for her to go on, pleased she felt comfortable enough to share these personal details of her lovemaking with Sandra, secrets she had no way of knowing that I could accept. “I love the taste of pussy,” she said.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “You taste wonderful.”
“That’s what Sandra says,” she said, grinning.
I guess I’d convinced her I had no problem with her affair, because that Friday Sandra came for dinner. I guess Laura told her I knew, because at the door they exchanged a very passionate, very tender kiss. Thinking of what Laura had said about the way Sandra ate pussy, I kept imagining them in bed, with Sandra tenderly eating my wife’s pussy. After the kiss, Laura took Sandra’s hand and reached for mine, and we walked to the family room all holding hands: my wife, her husband, and my wife’s lady lover. We broke for dinner, and when we were nearly done, I said to Sandra, “Would you like to spend the night? I’ll stay in the guest room if you like.”
“Please stay,” Laura said, leaning over the table to kiss her lover—a passionate kiss that raised my heart rate a notch or two. They kissed for over a minute, openly sharing tongues. When at last they ended their kiss, Sandra looked over at me and said, “Thank you, I’d like that.”
We adjourned to the family room, where we visited like close friends, except that Sandra sat with Laura on the couch, holding hands and cuddling like a couple—like Laura and I would have if Sandra hadn’t been there.
About ten, I excused myself and went to the guest room, leaving them on the couch wrapped in each other’s arms. In the guest bedroom I imagined what they were doing down the hall. I pictured Sandra eating my wife the way Laura had described—gentle and slow, loving and intense. I saw my wife with her mouth over Sandra’s vulva, flicking her tongue between her labia.
I imagined my wife on the bed on her stomach, with her girlfriend kissing the soft mounds of her ass and then spreading her cheeks and darting her tongue against my wife’s anus. I pictured them savoring each other with kisses and licks, then penetrating their vaginas with fingers and tongues.
At just past 11, my reverie was broken by soft knocking at the door. When I opened it, I saw Laura and Sandra standing naked in the hallway holding hands. “Can we come in?” Sandra said.
“We’d like to thank you for accepting us,” Laura said.
“And for giving us this night in Laura’s bed,” Sandra said.
I let them in, and the lovers removed my pajamas. When I was nude, they set me on the bed on my back, then knelt on each side of me. Laura let her friend be first to slide her mouth over the end of my erection. Then they both bathed my organ with licks and sucking.
“Before you come, let us know,” said Sandra. “We both want some.”
I nodded dumbly and watched them work on my penis in unison, tongues curling and lapping around the tight skin. My wife’s lover swung her leg over me, positioning her pussy over my dickhead, moved back and forth to wet my organ with her juices, then eased herself on my rod. She pushed down steadily, forcing me between her puffy labia. My wife offered words of encouragement as her lover began bouncing on my rod, forcing it repeatedly in her sloppy canal. “Fuck my lover, darling,” Laura urged as Sandra pumped up and down on my shaft.
Laura leaned over and kissed me, sucking on my tongue. “Get her nice and juicy, baby,” she said, “so I can taste both of you when I eat her pussy. Remember, I love the taste of a well-fucked pussy in the morning, especially Sandra’s.”
Sandra bobbed slowly up and down on my hips, repeatedly forcing me into her vagina, gradually increasing her pace until she was bucking rapidly on top of me. Each time she came down, my cock hit bottom in her pussy and a grunt burst forth from deep in her throat. “Don’t come without telling us,” Sandra reminded me in between bounces. I fucked her for ten minutes or so. Then Laura took her place and rode me like a naked cowgirl on a bucking bronco. She came quickly and explosively, then stopped to catch her breath.
I tapped her leg, gasping, “I’m going to come.”
Laura climbed off and the two women got on each side of me; leaned forward, putting their mouths over my cock; then caught as much of my spurting come as they could. They licked the last spunk off my spent cock. Even when my cock began shrinking, they continued giving it long licks.
Spent, we cuddled on the bed, holding each other in a fleshy, sweaty heap. I had fucked my wife and her lover, then come in their mouths as they shared my semen. The only thing left to fulfill my fantasy was to see them having sex. We all dozed, and when I woke up they were kissing, gently, still with their heads on the pillow.
As they kissed, I asked if they could do me one more favor. “Could I watch the two of you?” I asked, kissing each on the cheek.
“Of course,” Laura said, looking at Sandra for confirmation. Sandra nodded, and she turned back to me smiling. “But then you’ll need to leave,” she said. “I want to spend the night with Sandra.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I said.
We left the guest room, and I followed my wife and her lover down the hall toward our bedroom. I relished the sight of their bare bottoms just a few feet in front of me, each gorgeous in its own right, though quite different in shape and size: Laura’s tight and round, delightfully sensuous, with dimples in the small of her back; Sandra’s less full and symmetrical but no less sensuous, with a much longer crack, which accentuates the length of that butt, with its softer, flatter-looking cheeks. What a lucky man, I thought, to walk behind two such beautiful women, with such scrumptious asses, knowing that soon I’ll be seeing their owners make love.
In the bedroom I went straight to the overstuffed chair in the corner, turned, sat, and watched my wife and her lover caress, then get comfortable on the bed. They kissed and petted like lovers on a date. Then Laura put her arms around Sandra and pulled her close, kissed her passionately and massaged and fondled her medium-sized but well-shaped breasts.
Sandra lay on her back with Laura sucking and kissing her hardening nipples, then opened her legs for my wife’s hand, which cupped her shaved pubis. Her fingers curled down between Sandra’s puffy lips and probed her lover’s box.
Laura moved between Sandra’s knees, her face so close to the smooth pubic mound that I bet her breath made the lips twitch. I
moved from the chair to the side of the bed so I could see Laura’s tongue swab the length of Sandra’s vulva—sucking, then licking, tasting the pussy she had become addicted to.
Around midnight they arranged themselves in a 69 position and lapped and sucked each other’s coonies voraciously. After they both came with a wild scream, Sandra helped my wife to the head of the bed, facing the wall, on her knees, her ass pointed toward the end of the bed. Sandra sucked and licked Laura’s hole until my wife came once more. The women stretched out beside each other with their arms around one another. Laura smiled, then waved—the signal that it was time for me to return to the guest room. I waved back and left, blowing kisses to both women as I went.
What they don’t say when they say you always know if your spouse is having an affair is that we aren’t always as smart as we think. I drifted off to sleep with images of my wife’s pussy being eaten by the person she’s having an affair with—just not the person I expected.
—C.M., Killeen, Texas
He Was Dreading a Grim Talk. Instead They Had a Bit of an Orgy
I heard the car and went to greet my wife on her return from several weeks of caring for a sick relative. I dreaded the conversation we would have, but some things have to be addressed right away.
Before Kris left, she had made a revelation that had revived all my fears of losing her. She said a friend of hers (unnamed) had taken her out to lunch and shopping. That told me I had a rival, and it was a woman! I felt my love was inadequate to hold her.
Kris is a statuesque brunette with eyes that tighten my nuts a notch whenever I look into them, but I would never have described her as a sexual animal. She always said her orgasms were satisfying, but her desire for sex had dwindled to near nil.
The lunch, she said, had been relaxing. They drank a lot of wine, which induced a pleasant euphoria, relieving the week’s stress. They went to the friend’s house to try on their new clothes. They had more wine, and all the dressing and undressing eased their shyness. They ended up in each other’s arms.
Letters to Penthouse XXXIV Page 21
