Letters to Penthouse XX

by Penthouse International

  She didn’t waste any time making her move. She put an arm around me as soon as the first performer of the night took the stage. I leaned my head against her shoulder. She turned her face toward mine. She must have read my expression of yearning desire, because she put her mouth on mine. I was thrilled when I felt her tongue touch mine. I reached to embrace her and accidentally brushed one of her big breasts with my hand. That made her probe her tongue even deeper into my mouth.

  Taking that as a sign, I put my hand back on her breast, gently caressing its round firmness. I could tell that Katherine was not wearing a bra. Her nipple made a little point against my palm, which I rubbed back and forth across her blouse.

  I noticed that we were not the only girls who were feeling romantic. Several other female couples on the lawn were kissing and caressing each other to the acoustic music and high harmonies coming from the stage. That made me feel less self-conscious about what Katherine and I were doing. I wanted to go on kissing her soft lips.

  She surprised me by reaching for my loose skirt. I gasped when she put her hand up under its hem and touched my thigh. I hoped that no one around us would notice what she was doing. I liked feeling her hand on my bare leg while we kissed. Then she got even bolder. With her mouth still on mine, she traced her fingertips up my inner thigh and cupped my pussy in her palm. Besides being shocked, I also was suddenly very embarrassed. I knew that the crotch of my panties was soaked with my love cream, because I was lubricating so much with my excitement.

  “Mmm, you’re nice and wet,” she sighed. “I know just what you need now.”

  I felt her pull the cotton crotch of my panties aside, pressing the material into the crease of my leg as she bared my pussy under my skirt. Then her long middle finger was sliding up and down in the slit between my lips. She found my pussy’s opening and pushed her finger up inside me.

  I let out a strangled gasp. She clamped her lips onto mine again, then fucked my mouth with her tongue while she fucked my cunt with her finger. At the same time, she worked my clit with the pad of her thumb. I knew that I was going to come. I had to tell her, so she would stop before I cried out and drew attention to us.

  I pulled away from her kiss and panted into her ear, “You’ve got to stop or I’m going to come. Please, I don’t want everyone to hear me come.” Still, I couldn’t push her hand away from my pussy. It felt too good.

  That was when Katherine gave me the biggest surprise of all. Keeping her hand on my pussy, she looked around us and spoke loud enough for anyone in our vicinity to hear. “My girlfriend is afraid of making too much noise if she comes,” Katherine said. “Would anyone mind hearing me make her climax?”

  I was mortified. I wanted to cover my head and run. But then I felt the first of the hands on my body.

  I looked around. Nearly a dozen women had moved close enough to caress my back and shoulders and breasts. They pulled me backwards onto the blanket, so I was lying flat. Two strangers pulled my loose skirt up around my waist. Everyone around us could see Katherine’s hand working my pussy. Katherine leaned over and kissed my mound, then ran her tongue down to find my clit. I reached for the nearest woman, a pretty blonde, and said, “Kiss me.” Katherine was flicking my clit back and forth with her tongue. I couldn’t hold back. I felt my pussy spasming with my climax. I arched my back, but Katherine held on tight and kept eating me. I cried out with release just as the song from the stage ended.

  I’m not sure how much of the subsequent round of applause I heard was for the singer and how much was for me. This all-girl concert had more than lived up to my expectations, and I was glad that I came—in more ways than one.—E.N., Poughkeepsie, New York

  DOES THE MILE-HIGH CLUB HAVE A

  BRANCH FOR THESE GIRLS?

  You probably get a lot of letters from straight couples who have joined the “mile-high club” by fucking in airplane restrooms. But my girlfriend and I wanted to write and tell you about our “ladies only” experience.

  Kim and I work for a company that has no idea we sleep together when we go on business trips. Our conservative boss probably thinks that we are good “team players” for the firm, because we never complain about not getting separate hotel rooms when we have to travel. If he only knew!

  We always request two beds, so that the hotel bills we submit with our expense reports will not look suspicious. But the maids only have to worry about making up one of those beds when we check out.

  We were coming back to San Diego on an overnight flight from Montreal last week when Kim started getting frisky. Neither of us likes to sleep on planes, but we had to take the red-eye because of a reservations screw-up. Just after midnight, when most of the other business-class passengers were dozing, Kim reached for my hand. When I looked at her, she kissed my fingers and said, “I’m feeling horny.” She placed my hand on her crotch.

  Kim was wearing light-wool grey slacks and a white cashmere sweater. As I gently rubbed her mound through her pants, she squeezed one of her breasts. The two men in the row across the aisle from us were asleep, the cabin lights were dimmed, and the flight attendants were nowhere in sight. Kim reached over to massage my pussy while I rubbed hers. She put her hand up under my short charcoal skirt. I was not wearing panties, and I liked the feel of her fingers on my pussy just fine, but that was just a little too risky. After a few seconds I whispered, “Don’t!” and pushed her hand away.

  She said, “I want to fuck you. Let’s see if we can get into one of the restrooms.” From the look she gave me, I knew she was not kidding around. This was a girl who was definitely in heat.

  I smiled when I noticed that Kim was carrying her bag as we walked to the back of the plane. I knew exactly what that meant.

  Both of the restrooms were vacant. We glanced up the aisle to make sure that we were not seen by anyone, then we ducked inside one of the lavatories.

  Airplane restrooms are so small that it is hard for even one person to maneuver very much in one of them, let alone two people. But that also made things sexy. Kim put her bag on the stainless steel counter and turned to face me. Crowded into that tiny space, we put our arms around each other and started making out. Kim reached for my pussy, and this time I didn’t stop her. She hiked my short skirt up around my hips and fingered my bare cunt lips, making me nice and juicy.

  As for me, I had tugged Kim’s sweater up to bare her big-nippled tits. Sometimes I think she likes titty-play even more than having her pussy played with. Her areolae are the big, spread-out type. The nipples at the center of those dark pink halos are almost unnaturally large. When Kim is excited, those thick tips stand out almost an inch from her tits.

  She was pretty excited already. I gently pinched and twisted her teats. As she got hotter, she worked her finger in and out of my pussy faster. “Let me fuck you now,” she said. “I’ve got to fuck you.”

  Kim unfastened her pants, let them drop around her ankles, then skinned down her panties. She opened her purse and took out our constant traveling companion: a foot-long silicone dildo, along with a soft leather harness. A smaller cock-shaped protrusion stuck out of the wide base of the dildo. Kim squatted to wedge that part up inside her own pussy, situated the longer cock so that it stuck out at the correct angle, and buckled the harness around her waist.

  She rummaged in her purse again for a tube of K-Y. I always love watching her lube up her fake dick. The dildo has a molded head with a hole in its tip, and even fake veins running up and down its length. Even though I’m not into having sex with guys, I get incredibly turned on when I see my girlfriend with a big cock sticking out from her crotch.

  I turned around and bent over the metal sink, putting my face up close to the restroom mirror. I reached back to hold the cheeks of my ass apart. That gave Kim’s surrogate cock easier access to my pussy. I felt its head pressing against my lips, finding my opening. Then Kim pushed the huge thing deep inside my twat, stretching me wide. She grabbed both of my tits through my blouse and started fucking me hard,
pumping her monster dick in and out of my body. I groaned, “Fuck me. Fuck that big dick in and out of my cunt. Fuck me hard, I love it so much.”

  The part of the dildo that was inside Kim’s own pussy moved with each thrust, too. It was as if both of us were getting fucked whenever Kim took me this way.

  I rested the side of my face against the cool mirror, muttering “fuck me” over and over, while Kim kept pumping my cunt. She reached around to rub my clit. That was it for me. I went weak in the knees and started climaxing, trying not to cry out.

  Kim pulled the dildo from my pussy. I turned around to face her. I unbuckled the harness around her waist and slipped the smaller cock out of Kim’s cunt. Then I rubbed the part that had been up inside her pussy against her wonderful nipples, making them glisten with Kim’s cream. When I bent over and sucked those shiny, stiff teats, Kim groaned with her own orgasm. That’s how sensitive her beautiful tits are.

  We made ourselves presentable and put away our flexible friend. I opened the lavatory door so we could go back to our seats. A pair of female flight attendants were waiting outside with stern looks on their faces.

  They looked at each other in complete shock when they saw us. Obviously, they had overheard our noises from inside and expected to confront a man and a woman—not two girls.

  Kim innocently said, “It’s vacant now, girls. You two have fun together.”—A.F., Glendale, California

  LOOK FOR THIS AUTHOR’S BOOKS

  IN THE “CLITERATURE” SECTION

  As an assistant to a high-profile literary agent, I see lots of first-novel manuscripts submitted by desperate “wannabe” writers. Most of those efforts are so awful that they never make it past my desk.

  A writer named Molly was a special case, though. Her lavishly researched historical romance showed real promise, but it had one fatal flaw. Instead of sending Molly a form rejection letter, I called to ask if she would come by my office. That way, I said, I could explain what I thought was wrong with her book and suggest how she might improve it.

  I had not seen Molly in person until she showed up for that critique session. I felt like a horny schoolgirl again when I got my first glimpse of her in the flesh.

  I have read that women do not react as strongly to visual stimuli as men. We are supposed to be more cerebral, or maybe more compassionate. The theory is that females are less looks-oriented than males because we are more interested in the “whole” person.

  What a load of nonsense. As soon as Molly walked in the door, I knew at first sight that I wanted to push up her wool skirt and eat her pussy. She looked so innocent and naive that I ached to be the first woman to corrupt her.

  I told her that the criticism I had of her work might surprise her. “Please, go ahead,” she said. “I need to hear your feedback.”

  I have to admit that she was showing no outward signs of being interested in me sexually. Judging solely by appearances, she could have been the type of girl who never would even consider making love with another woman.

  But I knew better. I had read her novel.

  “It’s kind of a delicate subject,” I began, “but I had a real problem with the sex scenes you wrote.”

  “My . . . sex scenes?”

  “Yes. They were very awkward; not at all convincing. The rest of your book was realistic, but you seemed to stumble badly each time you started writing about people fucking.”

  Her eyes went wide at that last word. How charming! Already, I could almost taste the flavor of her pussy.

  She nervously brushed at her bangs with one hand and looked away from my stare. “Well, I . . . I mean, I don’t know what to say.”

  I leaned forward, putting my elbows on my desk. “Molly, listen. We’re all alone here. Just between you and me: You’re not interested in sex between men and women, are you?”

  I got up and walked to her side of the desk. Behind her, I locked my office door. Molly would not look up to face me when I stood beside her chair. I touched her shoulder. “It’s all right, Molly,” I said. “I’m only trying to help you.” I gently touched her chin, then turned her lovely face up to look at mine.

  “I can’t help what I am,” she said. “I tried to fake it when I wrote those scenes, but I just didn’t feel anything. It’s not like when I . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  I asked, “Not like when you what?”

  Now that she had started opening up to me, she seemed emboldened to go all the way. She looked into my eyes and said, “It’s not like when I write about making love with other girls. I’ve never shown those stories to anyone, but I know they are my best work.”

  She showed no reaction when I let my hand wander down her slender neck. I unfastened the top three buttons of her white blouse. Slipping my hand down inside one of the snug cups of her bra, I said, “I would love to see those stories.” I found her nipple. It was plump and stiff. I gave it a light pinch that made Molly go, “Oh!” She did not push my hand away.

  “How did you know?” she said, pushing out her chest against my hand.

  I answered her as I massaged that firm tit, then unsnapped the front clasp of her bra. “You always concentrated on the woman in the romantic scenes,” I said. “You went into incredible detail about women’s bodies, the way they taste and smell and feel, but you practically ignored the men. You’ve never been with a man, have you?”

  “I never wanted to,” she said, unbuttoning her sweater vest and the rest of her blouse. I knelt between her legs when she bared her chest. Her nipples were situated up high on her pretty tits. They were as thick and firm as pink gumdrops. She tugged and twisted them as I reached under her plaid skirt. Molly lifted her ass from the seat of the chair so I could tug down her white cotton panties.

  As I pushed up her skirt, I said, “I wanted to eat your pussy as soon as you stepped through the door. You’re beautiful, Molly.” Then I looked at the gorgeous muff between her thighs.

  Her golden pubic hair was so light and downy-fine that she may as well have been shaved bare. Her pussy lips were the thick, meaty kind. I held them apart with my thumbs and leaned forward to taste her.

  Molly held onto the back of my head as I lapped up and down the folds of her cunt. She practically purred when I slipped a finger up her pussy. Her clit was unusually large, like a small cock, which made sucking it a kinky pleasure.

  Even though I was kneeling on the floor and still completely dressed, I was getting as much pleasure as I was giving Molly. The scent of her pussy was making me lightheaded with lust. And just seeing how much Molly enjoyed what I was doing, with her eyes half-closed and a sheen of sweat appearing between her breasts, made my own clit start to throb.

  Molly seemed to know exactly what I needed. She kicked off one of her loafers and put her foot up under my skirt. She used the toes of that foot to massage my mound through my panties. The friction of her wool socks against my satin underpants made crackling little sparks of static between my legs. The electricity made my wet pussy tingle. When Molly pushed her big toe against my clit, I groaned with a climax that shook my whole body.

  That made me determined to get Molly off, too. I sucked at her oversized slit, sawing my tongue back and forth across it. Molly’s fingers dug deep into my scalp as she held my face against her crotch. When she came, she sounded like she was crying with joy.

  We’ve made love lots of times since then. Also, Molly has been rewriting her novel to make it something unique: the first all-female historical romance. I have been giving her a lot of encouragement and advice along the way.—C.W., New York, New York

  GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT THESE TWO

  WOULD DO IN THE PRODUCE SECTION

  I work as a night cashier at a twenty-four-hour supermarket. The guys who work there are always trying to get in my pants, and they don’t even bother to be subtle about it.

  The only fellow employee who turns me on is my checkout supervisor . . . who happens to be a girl.

  Lindsay is one of those rare women who is both femini
ne and tough. She looks like a fashion model. She stands nearly six feet tall, with blond hair, high cheekbones and the figure of a goddess. But despite her womanly appearance, she doesn’t take any shit from anybody. When I’m around her, I want her to take me in her arms and protect me.

  She came to my rescue last week when one of the bag boys was acting like a dickhead at my checkstand. She overheard him telling me, “I’ve got something in my shorts that I’ll bet you’d like to scan.”

  Lindsay appeared behind him and cuffed him on the back of his neck. “Hey, fuckhead,” she said, “how about if you head out to the parking lot and scrape up any gum you find there?” She shoved him toward the sliding doors so hard that he nearly fell on his face.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling. I was glad that no customers were around, because I knew I was turning red. I felt like I could have melted into a warm, grateful pool in front of lovely Lindsay.

  “It was a pleasure. You’ve got to stand up to pricks.”

  I don’t know what came over me in that instant, but I knew I had to say something about the way I felt.

  I grabbed Lindsay’s hand and said, “Wait.” She gave me a curious smile. I wanted to throw my arms around her neck and kiss her.

  I said, “I wanted to ask you . . . I mean, I thought maybe you and I could . . . oh, this isn’t coming out right.” Now that the moment was here, I still could not find the right words. How the hell do you ask another girl if she wants to go to bed with you, without risking putting an end to a beautiful friendship?

  Lindsay’s smile turned into a different expression. I had the feeling that she knew what I meant. Keeping her voice low, she said, “How about if you close up your register for a few minutes and come into the manager’s office with me? Brenda on aisle four can take care of things.”