Precisely at midnight I heard the apartment door open. I got a little nervous about what was to happen next, but I was too sexually aroused to either chicken out or, for that matter, lose my hard-on. I heard Joel say, “Wait out here for a few minutes, then come into the bedroom.”
Joel walked into the bedroom and gave me a big, broad grin. He stripped to his underwear and asked if I was ready for a really fun evening. I told him I'd been getting ready all night long. Joel was now wearing only his blue paisley boxer shorts. He turned toward me and pulled them down. His cock was already stiff. He pulled the shorts down slowly, revealing his fat penis an inch at a time while looking me straight in the eye. As the waistband cleared the head of his penis, his erection sprang back up so that it was pointed at the ceiling. The head was shiny and huge.
“Should I keep the shorts off or put them back on?” he asked. I replied that Wanda would probably like to take them off for him, so he pulled them back on, slid between the sheets and lay down beside me.
“Are you ready?” he asked. Without waiting for my reply, he slid his hand down and gently grabbed my hard shaft. “I guess you are ready!” he said. He told me how much fun we were going to have, and what a big surprise this was going to be.
Then he said, “I have good news and bad news. First the bad news. Wanda drank too much before, during and after dinner. She ended up getting sick in the car on the way over here. I had to take her back to her place to sleep.”
Disappointed, I said, “What's the good news?”
“The good news is that I am still prepared to make your evening fun,” he responded. “That is, if you're up for putting a little variety in your sex life.”
While Joel was telling me this, he had begun to slide his hand up and down my stiff prick. I didn't tell Joel that I'd slept with several men in my younger days, but the fact that I didn't back away from his caress was encouragement enough for him. He began rubbing and stroking my cock with more intensity. I knew I was going to go along with whatever he wanted to do. I was just too sex-crazed at this point to stop!
Joel played with my hard-on for quite a while, rubbing it, tickling it, pumping it and holding it. He moved his head down to my crotch and began to lick every inch of my penis and balls. He teased the head until I thought I was going to explode. Finally he took my cock deep into his mouth and pumped it, stroking the shaft each time it emerged from his lips. As I approached orgasm, Joel pulled my cock out of his mouth, pumped it with his fist and licked hard on the crease on the underside of the head. When I came, it spurted out over his head! The volume of come I shot was unbelievable—it could have filled a juice glass. Joel placed my spent organ back into his mouth and gently sucked it until it was soft and drained dry.
He then asked if I had enjoyed getting the blowjob as much as he'd enjoyed giving it. I told him I certainly had. “Are you up for returning the favor?” he asked. Without hesitating, I gave him my answer—but with actions, not words. I reached down between the satin sheets and wrapped my hand around Joel's hard, hot cock. Although, as I've said, I'd been with many men when I was in college, I was young then, and nervous, and in a hurry to get those encounters over with. But I was in an entirely different frame of mind with Joel. I found the feel of his hard-on very enjoyable, and wanted to prolong the pleasure for both of us.
I pulled the sheets away so that I could see his prick and watch what I was doing to it. His penis was about the same length as mine, but a little thinner. His shaft was very light, shiny and smooth, and the head was pronounced and reddish pink in color. I moved down until I was resting my head on his stomach so that I could look at his prick while I played with it. I stroked it, pulled the skin up and down over the crown and cupped his warm balls in my hand. In short, I spent a good twenty-five minutes exploring Joel's beautiful and sexy erect penis.
Joel was loving the attention. I moved my head down on his belly so that I could stick my tongue out and touch the head of his prick. I licked a clear drop of pre-come out of the slit. It was sweet as candy. I licked the head for several minutes, working my tongue up and down the fleshy tube like it was a lollipop.
The effect of my attention was visible on Joel's face. I sensed he was approaching release, so I stuffed his fat cock between my lips and all the way into my wet mouth. I rolled my tongue around the silky-smooth head and pumped the skin of his shaft up and down. Within seconds, Joel unloaded a gusher into my mouth. I held it all in my mouth until he was finished ejaculating. Then I kissed him on the lips, sharing his load of semen with him. We caressed as we swallowed down his come. It really tasted good.
I don't know if your readers will understand this or not, but I don't really have sexual feelings for Joel, no more than I have true sexual feelings for my hand, or for the cantaloupe I jerked off into once at college. I lust after women. I love women. But I also love the feeling of having my hard cock rubbed, licked or stimulated to orgasm, and I guess it doesn't matter who's doing it. As long as I get off, that's the only important thing.
Joel and I are completely at ease with each other in the apartment. The other night I was reading Penthouse Letters while lying nude on the couch. I had a full erection and was not ashamed of it. Joel walked over and said, “Here, let me help you with that.” While I continued to read the magazine, he gently played with my hard-on, eventually pumping it to orgasm. I thanked him for beating me off, and he said, “You owe me one.” Believe me, I've returned the favor—and then some.—Name and address withheld
MASSEUR TEACHES NEOPHYTE THE INS AND OUTS OF THE BUSINESS
I am a single bisexual male living in a small rural town. Although it's near to two bustling major cities, things are pretty dead around here. Nightlife is almost nonexistent, and you can't even get any action with the ladies. If anyone around here even suspected I like men, they'd probably lynch me, so I do my best to be discreet about my proclivities. Mostly all I can do is fantasize fondly about my experiences of the past.
I had my first bisexual experience several years ago in California. At the time I had recently been discharged from the military and was working nights as a bartender in a bar that attracted a mixed crowd: professionals, models, bodybuilders, bikers and so forth. I had done quite a bit of weight lifting while in the military, and even though I'm only five feet ten inches, I didn't have an ounce of fat on my one-hundred-ninety-five-pound body.
I had one customer who came in every night—sometimes two or three times a night—who was a particularly good tipper. He was young, tanned and very well built. He would order a shot of Wild Turkey on the rocks and sip it until his beeper went off, at which time he would give me a twenty-dollar bill, say “Keep the change” and leave. Naturally curiosity was killing me as to what his line of work was! I thought he must be dealing drugs or something, as he always had a lot of cash and kept very much to himself.
One night he came in for the third time just at closing time and ordered his usual. As I cleaned up and prepared to close the bar, he struck up a conversation with me for the very first time.
After the usual small talk about sports and the weather, he asked me how much money I made in tips and salary. I admitted that more than half of my money came in tips from him. He laughed and told me that I was wasting my time. He said I should consider quitting my job and getting into his line of work. When I asked him what he did for a living, he replied that he gave massages to people in their homes or apartments, and smiled. When pressed for details, he said it would take a while to explain and invited me back to his apartment for a drink if I wanted to hear the rest of the story.
I agreed, locked up and followed him to a very nice apartment in an exclusive section of town. He said he shared the place with a coworker who was on vacation at this time.
As we settled down to talk and sip bourbon, he explained that he worked for an out-call massage service that beeped him whenever he had an appointment. Most of his customers were older women or men who paid very well to have him massage their nude bodi
es while he was also nude—several of the older men actually paid him to allow them to give him blowjobs!
He added that he had a very few married men—bankers, lawyers, doctors—who wanted to have a young stud suck them off, and that he could easily make two- or three-hundred-dollar tips for doing so. He also said that they were in the minority, and that I may never run into one of them.
Well, the combination of Wild Turkey and wild talk, combined with the promise of money, got me real excited. He said that he made more than two thousand dollars a week and only worked about four hours a day. He told me that he knew the owner of the massage parlor well enough that he could practically guarantee me a job if I wanted it. I was so fucked up that I called my boss at home, cursed him out and quit! Too drunk to drive home, I slept on his couch that night.
The next evening, as I was preparing for my job interview, he dropped a bombshell on me—part of the interview was to give the boss a blowjob!
I explained to him that I had never done that before and didn't know how. Since I had already blown my other job, I was in quite a panic! He tried to reassure me, telling me that he'd show me how to do it.
We both stripped naked, and he sat me on the couch and began to nibble and lick at my cock and balls—I never felt anything so good in my life! He then had me try the same technique on him.
He finally worked me up to taking most of his cock into my mouth. It was long and very big around, circumcised with a beautifully soft, red head. I sucked until he came, and even though I tried to swallow it all, some of his come ran down my chin.
He told me that the boss wouldn't hire me if I was sloppy like that, and said I needed more practice. Since he had to save himself for his clients that night, he said he'd call up a friend for me to practice on. He got on the phone, and about fifteen minutes later his friend Biff showed up. Biff, a blond surfer-type, had the situation explained to him and was quite amenable to serve as my guinea pig. I soon found myself on my knees in front of him, eagerly gobbling down his cock, which was at least eight inches long and almost as thick as my wrist. When I finished sucking Biff off, I was proud of myself as I hadn't spilled a drop of his delicious joy-juice. The two of them, however, decided that I needed more practice and got back on the phone.
Within twenty minutes, two gorgeous muscle men arrived. After hearing of my predicament, they stripped, exposing beautiful cocks. I carefully and lovingly gave my best effort yet. I was beginning to really enjoy sucking cock. After finishing both guys off, they all decided that, despite my sore jaw, I was ready to meet the boss.
Since the boss was an older man with a very short, skinny dick, I passed my interview with flying colors.—T.P., Dallas, Texas
BUSINESS TRIP TURNS INTO PLEASURE JAUNT WHEN HE'S RUBBED THE RIGHT WAY
Last month I attended a marketing seminar in San Diego I flew in about midafternoon and took a taxi to my hotel. It was a luxury hotel located right on the beach. My room, which was quite large, overlooked the ocean. After I unpacked, I stretched out on the bed and read the material describing the facilities available to the guests of the hotel. Since I had plenty of time before the opening reception that night, I decided to check out the men's health club on the top floor.
A tall, thin young man with longish blond hair, pale blue eyes and a sensuous mouth greeted me when I walked in. He wore tight white slacks and a T-shirt that was a size or two too small for his broad, muscular chest. His name tag read Byron. I requested a massage, but he explained that they were fully booked for the rest of the afternoon and suggested a sauna instead. He led me into the changing room, where I stripped, and then to the sauna. Several other men were inside. In about twenty minutes sweat covered my body and I decided I'd had enough. Byron ushered me into the shower room and sprayed me with cool water. He then suggested that I go onto the private sundeck and relax in the late-afternoon sun. I joined several others who were stretched out nude on lounge chairs.
The warm sun felt good on my naked body. I was about to doze off when Byron brought me a large glass of cold fruit juice. He said that if I still wanted a massage, he would stay late and give me one. I said that would be great.
The other guests began to leave as closing time approached. Byron led me into an alcove, and I lay on my stomach on the massage table. He helped the other attendants close up. I heard him say good-bye to them and ask them to lock the door.
“I really appreciate this,” I said when he returned.
“I'm glad to do it,” he replied. “I get tired of massaging fat, hairy, old men with short, ugly dicks all day. Once in a while someone like you comes in, but not often. You have a good body—very well proportioned, with long, lean muscles. You must be a runner.”
“No, but I swim a lot,” I admitted.
“Your shoulders and back are well developed, and your ass is quite firm,” Byron commented as he spread warm oil on my shoulders and back. He began working on my neck and shoulders, then down each arm. He rubbed and kneaded my hands and snapped the joints of each finger. Turning his attention to my back, he began squeezing muscles I didn't even know I had. His strong hands worked their way down my spine. He poured oil on my lower back. Some ran into the crack of my ass. Slowly he pressed and rotated my buns, massaging them thoroughly.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Great, but you're about to give me a hard-on,” I told him.
“That happens sometimes. I hoped it would with you.” Byron patted me playfully on my buttocks. Spreading my legs apart, he massaged my thighs, allowing his hands to occasionally brush against my balls, before working on my calves and ankles. He rubbed my feet and pulled and pumped each toe like it was a little prick. Sexy sensations shot up to my crotch. I moved to adjust my swelling cock.
“Okay, now for the front. Turn over,” he instructed. I obeyed and opened my eyes. Byron was staring at my crotch and smiling. “It's big, beautiful and not even hard yet,” he said gleefully. He had removed his T-shirt and pants. His bikini briefs bulged suggestively.
Byron stood behind my head and massaged my shoulders. He tweaked my nipples as he worked over my chest. He squeezed and manipulated my stomach muscles, brushing against my hard cock occasionally.
“Now it's long and thick, and curved like a big banana,” Byron remarked.
“Hey, you got me this way,” I reminded him. “It doesn't get harder than that.”
“Do you want me to take care of it for you?” Byron asked eagerly.
“What did you have in mind?” I teased.
Byron grinned and ran his tongue over his lips. “You know what I want,” he said.
I grasped my rigid pole and held it up. “Come and get it,” I teased him.
“I'll get it, but you'll come,” he laughed.
Byron tickled it lightly, then gripped it in both hands and pumped it several times. He leaned over and licked off the pre-come that drooled out. His face nuzzled my crotch. My balls were licked and sucked. He gently nibbled along the length of my shaft and twirled his tongue around the knob. I was going crazy. Every nerve in my body tingled. My cock pulsated. He sucked in a couple of inches and pumped the rest.
Suddenly he pulled away and removed his briefs. His big dick jutted out of a tangle of kinky blond hair. Byron placed my hand on it. “Jerk me off while I blow you,” he requested. I pumped him slowly.
Byron lowered his head, opened his mouth and sucked in my cock. I put my free hand on his head, urging him to take more. I thrust my hips upward, and my cockhead hit the back of his throat. Byron could tell that I was getting close to orgasm. He stopped sucking and squeezed my dick sharply under the head.
“That will slow you down a little. You don't want to shoot off too quickly. I'm just getting started with you. I'm going to drive you crazy,” he promised. And he did. His hands played over my body, exciting nerves I didn't know I had. My body quivered. He caressed my balls as he sucked on the knob of my dick.
I knew I couldn't hold back any longer. “I'm coming,” I
groaned. My muscles tightened. I could feel come rush from my balls and surge into his mouth. Byron kept sucking until I was drained and my cock softened.
“Now do me,” he begged.
I sat on the edge of the table. Byron stood between my legs, his throbbing cock standing straight out. I pumped it slowly with oil-slicked hands as I played with his big balls. Pre-come made his cockhead glisten. If I was ever tempted to suck a dick, that was the time. I held him with both hands, and he fucked my fists. Byron moaned and streams of his juice squirted into the air.
“You were tempted to suck me, weren't you?” Byron asked.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Have you ever sucked off another guy?” he asked me.
“No,” I answered.
“Why not? Are you afraid to? Sucking a cock isn't going to turn you off girls. You ought to try it—you just might like it.”
“I might,” I agreed.
“Will I see you again? I hope so,” he said eagerly.
“I don't know,” I told him as I got dressed.
“By the way, no charge,” he called out as I left.—L.D., Muncie, Indiana
HOLIER-THAN-THOU GLORY-HOLE AFICIONADO DOESN'T PRACTICE WHAT HE PREACHES
Not long ago, I paid a visit to my good friend Carl, who's been married for several years. When Carl and I were younger, we would often go out together and frequent strip clubs, X-rated theaters and adult bookstores. Being single, I still visit these places on occasion. However, Carl's wife takes a firm stand against him indulging in such activities. But the weekend I was visiting, Iris was staying overnight at her sister's with the kids, which allowed Carl amnesty from her rule. After all, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
We went out and hit a few go-go bars. We were having a great time cutting loose and catching a buzz. Carl suggested we stop at an adult bookstore to watch some loops, since X-rated videos were also taboo in his house. He commented that he hoped there weren't any “damned cruisers” there, as he put it. We'd never discussed our sexual experiences, so he had no way of knowing about the encounters I'd had with men, and I figured there was no need to bring it up now. Nonetheless, many adult bookstores have become seedy over the years.
Letters to Penthouse VI Page 26
