Both Juliet and I enjoy the change in our lives, even if it is one we never thought would happen in our forties. She says she just wishes we had figured this out sooner.
—N.G., Chicago, Illinois
HERE’S A LADY WHO KNOWS HOW TO GET
WHATEVER (AND WHOEVER) SHE DESIRES
My husband and I are spending the weekend in a beach cottage in Baja California. Our afternoon began with a few rum and Cokes and a casual walk along the beach. Later, I changed into a sheer black dress that showed clearly that I was wearing nothing underneath but a pair of black thong panties.
After seeing what I was wearing, Glen suggested we go out to dinner so he could show me off. As we walked through the restaurant to our table, I noticed more than a few men enjoying the view. That evening, we sat on our porch and reminisced about a few of our sexual adventures. We decided we’d like to share one with you.
A few years ago, when we were living in the wine country of California, a good friend of ours came over for dinner and drinks. Carlos always wore a faded denim jacket that I wished were mine. I always used to tease Glen that I would do anything to get that jacket.
As the evening wore on we drank and I began to flirt and tease, as I love to do. By the time midnight arrived, Carlos was in no shape to drive and asked if he could crash on our couch. As Glen and I headed upstairs, I told Carlos I’d bring him down a pillow and a blanket, but he said he was fine.
The minute we got in our bedroom, Glen and I began to kiss passionately. Soon his cock was buried deep in my pussy. As we made love, he confessed how my flirting had turned him on. He asked if I ever thought about having a threesome with Carlos.
Although I really hadn’t ever thought about it before, I got very turned on by the question. Glen suggested that perhaps I should take a pillow and blanket down to Carlos, even though he said he didn’t need one. I replied that if I were going downstairs, I would try to talk Carlos out of that jacket I wanted so much.
Glen laughed and said, “You’ll need to offer more than a blanket and pillow if you want that jacket.”
Feeling a little daring, I said, “Is that a dare?”
With a sly smile, Glen said yes. He knew that I would never turn down a dare from him.
I put on one of Glen’s T-shirts, which barely covered my ass, grabbed an extra pillow and a blanket, and headed downstairs. The living room was dark except for some moonlight coming through a window. Not sure if Carlos was asleep, I called his name quietly.
When he answered, I told him that Glen had passed out and I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to bring him a blanket and pillow. As I stood in front of him, it was obvious he could see what I was—or, more importantly, wasn’t—wearing. In a joking tone, I asked him when he was ever going to give me his jacket.
He laughed and said that a blanket and pillow weren’t enough for him to give the jacket away. I knelt down and, without hesitating, began to kiss him on his neck. He turned his head, and soon we were locked in a passionate kiss. As we continued to kiss, he peeled the T-shirt off, baring my tits. Soon he was rubbing and sucking them. My already wet pussy was dripping.
His hand started rubbing my thighs and soon found my pussy. We rolled onto the floor, and I unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them off. I stroked his hard cock and lay down on the blanket I’d brought for him. Then I guided his cock into my pussy.
We fucked hard and fast, like teenagers going at it for the first time. Within minutes I shuddered as my orgasm took hold, and as it did, his cock exploded, filling my pussy with his come. We lay there for a few moments. Then I got up, swept up my new jacket from the couch where it was lying, and headed upstairs.
When I entered our bedroom, Glen said, “Damn, you sure were gone for a long time.”
Without saying a word, I crawled on top of him and began kissing him. He asked what it took to get the jacket, and I took his nice hard cock in my hand and rubbed it against my freshly fucked pussy. With one thrust his cock filled my come-soaked cunt. He gave a moan, knowing now what Carlos and I had done. We fucked for what seemed like hours as I shared with him every detail of my experience with Carlos.
We haven’t seen Carlos for a number of years now. But I’m sure he wonders every now and then what he would have to do in order to get that jacket back!
—G.S., La Jolla, California
OF COURSE YOU’VE HEARD OF STRIP POKER,
BUT HOW ABOUT STRIP FOOTBALL?
My wife and I have been married for ten years and are both in good health. I’m forty, while Holly is thirty, five feet seven, a hundred and twenty-five pounds, with long black hair and fine, ample breasts.
Me and five friends of mine have been playing poker in our den for five years now, and since Holly loves to gamble, she sometimes sits in. Not because she’s a woman, either—she usually comes out ahead! Since both of us love to gamble, at any given time we usually have a wager on.
Our story is about a bet Holly and I made over a college football game last season. Now, not even the most compulsive gambler is apt to bet on our NFL home team, the hapless Arizona Cardinals—although Holly can tell you how often they beat the point spread, about all they ever beat. But she insists that my loyalty to my alma mater is just as pathetic.
The Clueless Wonders, as she calls them (and I don’t see any reason to embarrass them further by naming names!), haven’t had a winning record since about the time Noah built the ark, and an especially dismal campaign was nearing a close; they were oh-for-the-season.
The only question was if they could finally pull out a victory in their final game, against the already clinched conference champions, who were undefeated and had a Bowl bid locked up. To make matters worse, the game was on the champs’ home field.
Still, I had faith. What Holly calls my fanatical devotion (if you saw the bill for the satellite TV package that includes their games, you’d agree that she has a point) is a running gag with the poker group. Amusingly, the boys scheduled the poker game at our house at the same time as this epic showdown!
I could just imagine the kidding I would take if I announced that I was prepared to put my money where my heart is and bet my alma mater. The boys would just laugh. My Clueless Wonders were getting something like twenty points, and even the CWs might hang tough and beat a spread like that.
I have to have something riding on a game, though. And then it came to me. I knew how badly Holly wanted me to finish building our long-planned deck, instead of just promising. Or rather, I intended to find out just how badly she wanted it!
“Hey, Hol,” I said to her, “how about this? You’re so sure my guys are going down. If they do, I promise to finish the deck.”
That got her attention. “And what’s in it for you?”
“Ah,” I said, “if my guys win, you have to do a striptease in front of the boys here in the living room. Oh, and better still, each time the Wonders score a touchdown, you have to take off one item of clothing. You’ll start with a pair of shoes, a blouse, a skirt, and a bra and panties. I’ll pick the six items of clothing you start with.”
Holly knows I’ve tried for years to get her to play strip poker with the boys, so I can show off her body, which I happen to think is wonderful. And while she may add something about “making allowances for my age,” she won’t disagree.
“What are you worried about?” I said. “You know my Clueless Wonders haven’t scored more than two TDs in a game all year.”
“Let me think,” she said.
“Oh, and to make it interesting,” I said, “if they don’t just beat the spread but win outright, you will have sex with one of the boys—I’ll pick him—here at home tonight.”
I waited nervously while Holly processed all the data in her computerlike brain. In the end, I guess she must have really wanted that deck finished, because she said, “Okay, it’s a bet. But if the boys stand to benefit from it, they have to have something at risk. I say, if you lose, they have to help you with the deck. That way, the thing might ac
tually get done.”
“Done,” I said, and proceeded to select her outfit. To begin with, a red lace bra and panties. With the bra on, you can see most of her tits, including all of the nipples, especially when they’re hard, as they were then. And the panties are so skimpy that they show the black hair of her crotch. “If this doesn’t give the boys a hard-on,” I said, “nothing will.”
A sheer white silk blouse showed the bra very clearly, and a really short black skirt would end up as the backdrop for her black crotch if she flashed the boys. With five-inch red spikes to complete her outfit, they were sure to be ecstatic.
Before the game, Holly was in the kitchen making popcorn. I went in to help with the snacks, and she asked what all the applause was in the living room. I had to tell her that I’d just told the boys all about the bet.
Would you believe she punched me in the gut, saying, “Pig! You didn’t!”
Okay, possibly Holly’s face was a little red when she joined us in the living room just as the game came on our big-screen TV. She did seem to notice the boys’ smiles as they undressed her with their eyes. She came over to my chair and sat on the arm, leaning against my shoulder.
She seemed to forget about her short skirt until she saw two boys looking at it instead of the game. When she looked over at them, they quickly turned back to the screen. Then she noticed that her panties were exposed, as her skirt had hiked well up. She punched my upper arm.
“Ouch,” I said.
Luckily the kickoff came then. The champs kicked to the CWs, and Holly didn’t seem too thrilled when our return guy plucked the ball out of the air and ran it back for a quick touchdown, to the cheers of our group.
It sounded like she said “damn” as she kicked off one of her shoes. One of the boys caught it and kissed it, then laid it at his feet.
On the CWs’ kickoff, the champs ran the ball back to the fifty-yard line, but on the next play, their Heisman Trophy-candidate running back fumbled the ball! The CWs recovered it and ran it in for another quick touchdown.
“Damn, damn!” Holly now said unmistakably as she kicked the other shoe to the same boy, who kissed it too and placed it by the first. All of the boys had big grins on their faces, as they hoped more would come off soon.
Now, five minutes into the game, the champs were down by 14, and my beautiful wife didn’t seem too happy sitting on my lap in her bare feet. I wondered if she regretted taking my bet.
Neither team could score again until just before the quarter ended, when the CWs’ quarterback threw a bomb that was caught by the tight end for another TD. With the extra point, they led by 21 points, which brought forth a loud “Damn, damn, damn!” from Holly.
I reached around her and unbuttoned her blouse. She had her eyes closed, so perhaps she didn’t know that all eyes were fixed on her as the blouse came open and then off. I handed it to another of the boys, who kissed it and set it on top of the TV where we all could see it.
Holly’s face reddened a bit as several of the boys said “Wow!” or whistled. As she opened her eyes and looked down, she saw that her nipples were very hard by now, as they tend to get when she’s nervous or sexually aroused. Her breasts seemed to be trying to push their way out of her bra, which had large wet spots around each nipple. I had never seen her breasts so hard, and this was the first time I’d seen them leak.
It was certainly getting me hot. I leaned forward and French-kissed her, then held her tight. I nibbled on her neck and whispered, “Only three items left, love!”
She said, “Shit! Why don’t you just watch the game?”
The champs finally scored a touchdown to make the score 21-7, but after a series of three-and-outs, my CWs ran back a punt for a touchdown—28-7.
Holly stood in front of me, waiting to see whether I would go for her bra or her skirt. A difficult choice! I decided that for now the bra was revealing more of her breasts than it concealed, so I slowly unzipped the skirt and lowered it for her to step out of. Then I handed it to one of the boys, who kissed it and set it on top of the TV next to her blouse.
Once again all of the boys were staring at Holly. She looked down and noticed the large wet spot covering the crotch of her panties. Her whole body seemed to shiver, and I hoped she wasn’t embarrassed. Didn’t she notice how excited we all were? Or maybe she did, because her panties quickly became wetter still.
She turned around and bowed to the boys, then sat back on my lap and avoided looking at the others. I saw her looking at the TV with her blouse and skirt atop it, and wondered if she was seeing her bra and panties soon joining them there.
It probably occurred to all of us that with two more touchdowns by the CWs, Holly would be totally nude, assuming she went through with it. I wondered if she would. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t make her.
I noticed she was holding me tighter now, and she seemed to relax when the champs got two quick touchdowns in a row, one on a long pass and one on a CWs’ fumble. That made the score 28-21. Then the CWs marched the ball all the way down the field in a brisk five plays. With the extra point, that made it 35-21.
“Oh shit!” Holly snarled as she stood slowly and faced me. I couldn’t help but smile, which probably didn’t help matters. She flashed a look like she wanted to slug me. Slowly and methodically, I turned her around to face the boys. Then I unhooked her bra and removed it, a little at a time—first one breast, then the other.
Holly had her eyes closed, but all other eyes in the room were on her beautiful tits. She talks a lot about how they’ve started to sag, and perhaps they have a bit, but they were standing out proudly now. And the nipples were larger than I’d ever seen them. As familiar as the sight was to me, I was still kind of in awe.
Boys will be boys, though, and Holly blushed as they said things like, “Wow, look at those big beautiful tits!” “Her nipples could hold a coat hanger.” “Boy, would I love to suck them dry.” “And they sure look like they need it. Look how they’re leaking.”
“Pigs!” she barked, which I’m afraid just brought forth more cheers. Then her bra joined the rest of her clothes on the TV, draped over a corner so you had to see them as you watched.
Now I had Holly on my lap in just the skimpy panties. I guess we both wondered what would happen next. The champs scored to make it 35-28. Then in the last two minutes of the half, the CWs moved the ball from their own ten down to the champs’ two, with ten seconds to go.
The CWs ran the ball up the middle and came up short—as time ran out! I heard Holly mutter, “Thank you, thank you, God.”
Then we saw the flag on the field. The champs were offside, so the CWs would get another try—from the one-yard line! The quarterback ran the ball in the end zone untouched for the TD that would cost Holly her panties. With the extra point, the CWs led 42-28 at the half. The boys were staring at Holly with the look of men who’d just won the million-dollar lotto.
She stood in front of me, and again I turned her to face the boys, then slowly pulled her panties down, moving my hands over her black crotch as I did. No one said a word until I tossed the panties to the crowd. Then there was bedlam. Holly must have stood there for five minutes as the boys ogled her black bush and big bare breasts.
Finally I turned her around and gave her a big hug, and then a kiss. “My God, you are beautiful,” I said.
One of the boys came up to her, kissed her lightly on the lips, and said, “Thank you, Holly. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and the bravest sport I’ve ever known.” All the others came up in turn, kissed her, and said something similarly complimentary.
If I didn’t know better, I might say that she seemed rather full of herself as she sauntered into the kitchen to start a new batch of snacks. I followed her in, took her in my arms, and said, “I love you, Holly. I didn’t know if you’d go through with it. You are some woman. I wonder if any other woman would have done what you just did. And damn, I’ve never seen you look sexier.”
She blushed—all over!—but s
he was too honest to disagree with me. I tried to help her with the snacks, but my usefulness was limited by my inability to keep either my eyes or my hands off her amazing naked body. We took the snacks and a new supply of beer into the living room, and were about to get settled for the kickoff when one of the boys took Holly’s hand and pulled her gently to the chair he was going to sit in. At the same time he looked at me to see if it was all right. Holly and I looked in each other’s eyes.
She seemed okay with it, so I mouthed, “Go for it!”
She sat in the guy’s lap, and he rested one of his hands on one of her breasts as the other went between her legs. She put an arm around his shoulder and snuggled up to him. Seemingly without thinking, she spread her legs, allowing his hand freer access. She seemed to be enjoying it!
All this time she was smiling at me. What she saw in my eyes was probably a glazed look of lust. This whole thing was turning me on wildly! Watching my wife being lusted after and even fondled sexually by other men had given me a raging hard-on! I had no idea something like this could have such an effect on me.
It was pretty clear that mine wasn’t the only hard-on in the room. Unless I missed my guess, Holly was literally sitting on one. She turned to face the owner, and as she did, her tit grazed his face. He licked the nipple, which must have tasted good, because he proceeded to suck it hard. Then she moved his mouth to her other tit.
She kept looking at me, and then moved from one boy’s lap to another, letting each of them enjoy her until all of them had had a turn. Naturally each made a point of sucking on her tits, and so did I when my turn came.
As the second half got under way, I had an impulse to pray, which isn’t unusual when you root for a team like mine. This time, though, the stakes were higher. I pointed out to God that the champs didn’t even need a win. They wouldn’t play another game that counted till they got to their Bowl.
I got an inkling that God wasn’t signing on when the champs tied the score. The boys all booed. It stayed that way until the champs went ahead for the first time in the game, kicking a field goal with a minute left.
Letters to Penthouse XXVII Page 14
