Letters to Penthouse XX

by Penthouse International

  “What did you—when you—I mean—when . . . when you said . . .”

  Okay, I hadn’t pushed it, but if she wanted to, I sure wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. I pulled out one of my business cards and gave it to her. “My office is here in the mall,” I told her. “Come see me sometime.” And I moved on.

  After that I stayed away from the restaurant for a couple of days. Let her decide what she wanted to do. When she didn’t come around I figured she wasn’t ready yet to explore her needs. It was just as well, and I thought I would eat someplace else from then on. Then, on Friday, just around closing time, there she was.

  I run a real estate office, and most of the people who work for me had left a little early for the weekend, so I was there alone. She came in hesitantly, looking around as if afraid someone might be spying on her. She stood just inside the door.

  I looked at her from where I was sitting behind my desk. In fact, I looked her over, quite deliberately, from head to toe. Letting her know that I knew why she was there, and that I knew that she knew it too. She blushed more deeply than she had the other day. But she didn’t move.

  It was the first time I had seen her without her yellow uniform. She wore a simple blouse and skirt in contrasting shades of blue. Low-heeled shoes, no stockings. Her hair was loose and hung down her back. It occurred to me that I didn’t know her name.

  “What’s your name?” I said.

  “Tara.” Her voice was low and a bit unsteady.

  “Nice name. What do you want, Tara?” I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. I wanted her, but I didn’t want to be the big bad pervert seducer. I wanted her to acknowledge what she was.

  “What—well . . . you said I should—should come see you . . . so . . .”

  “So you did. How nice. And why is that, Tara?”

  “I don’t—what—”

  “Come on, honey. You’re here because I said I like to eat skinny Asian girls and it got all your juices flowing. Right?”

  She blushed again. She looked as if she wanted to leave. But she didn’t.

  I sighed. “Okay, Tara. Why don’t you just lock that door. Just slide the bolt. Go on.”

  She looked at me a long moment. Then she turned and bolted the door.

  “Now come over here,” I said.

  Slowly she approached my desk and stood in front of it.

  “You’re a dyke,” I said. “Right?”

  She looked as though I’d hit her. “I’m—I—”

  “The answer’s yes,” I said. “You had any experience, honey? You ever been with a girl?”

  She bit at her lip. “I—there was . . . a girl at school . . . But we . . . we just touched . . . you know . . . we didn’t actually—I mean . . .”

  “I get it. So you’ve never been eaten. And now you want to be. Just say it, Tara.”

  “I—Yes.”

  “Yes what? Say it.”

  “I . . . want to be eaten.”

  “That’s the girl. How old are you, honey?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Good enough,” I said. “Now come on over here.”

  She hesitated a moment, then began to move slowly around the desk. I pushed my chair back and swiveled to face her as she came around. I reached for her hand and pulled her gently down to me until she was sitting across my lap.

  “Damn, you’re a pretty little thing,” I said. I stroked her face, then her neck, then moved my hand down over her small breast. Even through her blouse and brassiere I could feel her little nipple hardening as I moved my fingers over it. The blouse buttoned down the front, and I began to undo the buttons. Her mouth opened slightly as her breathing quickened, and I brought my face to hers and kissed it.

  She didn’t respond at first, but when I slid my hand inside her partly open blouse and caressed her other breast, her lips softened and the tip of her tongue shyly met the tongue that I had slipped into her mouth. I opened the rest of the buttons before I broke the kiss, and then I pulled the blouse open.

  “I don’t know why you bother with a bra,” I said. “Your tits are so small and tight you don’t really need it.” I was taking the thing off as I spoke. They were small all right, but those little round bumps with their brown nipples standing up were two of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. I put my mouth on one and sucked on it. The nipple seemed to grow even harder under my tongue.

  The girl was panting now. I slid a hand under her skirt and ran it up her leg. She gave a moan. I found her crotch and tickled it through her panties. It was very damp. When I slid my fingers under the panties she began to wriggle and her hands clutched at me. I took my hand out and sniffed at my fingers. The aroma made my own juices flow more copiously than they already were.

  “Okay, little dyke,” I said. “Let’s do it. You served me a lot of meals, but this is gonna be the best of all. Why don’t you just sit up on the desk here. That’s fine.”

  Following my guidance, she got off my lap and perched on the edge of my desk as I turned my chair back to face her. The position was perfect. I slid both hands under her skirt, running them all the way up her smooth slender legs. “Lift up a minute,” I said, and as she raised her ass from the desk I pushed her skirt all the way up, then grasped her panties and pulled them down past her knees. From there they dropped to the floor of their own accord.

  I looked up at Tara as I slid my hands over her soft inner thighs, stopping just short of her crotch. Her mouth was open, her little titties moving up and down with her rapid breathing. “Okay, little dyke,” I said again. “Hitch back just a bit, and lie down. Right down, that’s the girl. Now put your feet up here and open your legs. Ah, good. That’s fantastic.”

  And it was. As she lay on her back with her ass just at the edge of my desk, feet resting on the arms of my chair, knees raised and parted, her young gorgeous pussy was right there, spread out in front of me. All I had to do was lower my head to feast on it. And I did. I started out by giving her tiny button of a clitoris a single swipe with my tongue. This brought a loud gasp from Tara, and her body jerked sharply. “Easy, baby,” I murmured. “Easy there, little dyke. We’re just getting started.”

  I then commenced to show her what it was all about. I have been eating pussy for twenty-five years, and if there’s anything about it I don’t know, nobody has been able to prove it for quite a while. I wanted little Tara’s first experience at having her cunt munched to be memorable, and I set out to drive her crazy.

  At first I used only my tongue. After that first lick I ignored her clit for awhile, tonguing her pussy lips and the surrounding area, not neglecting the sweet spot between her pussy and her asshole. I gave her anus a few swipes too. In a few minutes the girl was moaning up a storm and twisting around on the desk. I had to hold on to her thighs to keep her lower body steady enough for me to continue. When I dipped my tongue into her pussy and really started licking her out, I had to pause a couple of times to let her slide back from the verge of orgasm. I didn’t want her to come too easily. I wanted her to appreciate it when she did.

  When my tongue started getting tired I went on to the next step, bringing my lips into play. And my teeth. Sucking. Mouthing. Nibbling. Munching. Slurping. All over her crotch. I literally sucked her juices out of her, and they were sweeter than honey. Tara was uttering shrill cries and grunts and whimpers and tossing wildly on the desk. When I knew she was going to explode at any moment now, no matter what, I returned to her clitoris, using everything I had, and in a moment she was bucking and spasming and screaming like an animal. I only hoped the mall security guards were not close by at that moment, or they would be investigating for sure.

  I let her recover for a few minutes before starting in again. She made a sound of surprise, almost mewling, when I did, but in no time she was purring and panting and begging me to go on whenever I paused. I brought her to two more climaxes before I stopped.

  I sat back in my chair, a little short of breath myself, the scent of her still clinging to my nos
e and mouth.

  “Oh . . .” Tara said, when she could talk again. “Oh, my god . . .”

  “You like it, little dyke?” I said. “Was it everything you dreamed about? Hmm?”

  Tara only nodded. Then, after a while, she said, “How did you know? About me?”

  “That you’re a dyke? I can always tell.”

  “I could tell about you too,” she said. “But that’s—”

  “I know. With me it’s obvious. Because I’m a big strapping butch type. That’s okay, it’s how I like it.”

  “So . . . if I’m a little dyke . . . you’re a big dyke.”

  “Watch your mouth,” I said mildly.

  Tara took a breath. “I thought you’d want to do that,” she ventured.

  “What?”

  “I thought you’d want to watch my mouth. You know. Doing to you . . . what you did to me.”

  I laughed. “Getting your twat tongued has given you some gumption,” I said. “Is that what you want to do? Eat me out? ’Cause you don’t have to, you know. I’m fine.”

  “I do,” Tara said. She sat up now, perching on the edge of the desk. There was a new confidence in her, and it was as though her orgasms had gotten her a little bit high. “Come on, big dyke,” she said. “Show me that body.”

  I laughed again and got out of my chair. “You asked for it,” I said. I moved a few feet away, turned to face her and began taking off my clothes.

  As I’d said to her, I am a big strapping girl, blonde and broad. I stand five feet ten, and my tits are 38DDs. My body is curvy but solid, and strong as an ox. Tara’s eyes got very wide as I took everything off and stood there naked, with my long red nipples pointing straight at her. Two more contrasting figures than mine and hers could hardly be imagined. Maybe that’s why I like her type so much.

  I let her stare at me a while, then moved back to the desk.

  “Better get off,” I said. “I need a lot of room.” And as Tara slid off the desk I got onto it and lay down. Fortunately it was a big solid oak desk and in no danger of collapsing.

  “Okay,” I said, stretching out. “It’s all yours, kid.”

  “Tell me what to do,” Tara said.

  “Nope. Do whatever you like. Whatever feels good to you. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

  “Okay, big dyke,” Tara said, and she put her hands on me.

  I just closed my eyes and let her play. She explored me with her hands, and she got my juices flowing good when she played with my pussy. Then she kissed my tits for a while, then let her mouth roam around. I remembered what she’d said about watching her mouth, so I opened my eyes and did so. It added to the pleasure. When she got around to my crotch she got up on the desk with me and spread my legs open and knelt between them. Then she started eating my pussy.

  She was a little tentative at first, and her technique was hardly polished, but she was enthusiastic and assiduous, and her fine sweet mouth and busy little tongue gave me a lot of pleasure, and finally sent me into orbit. I came with a shudder and a satisfied groan, and Tara gave a soft happy laugh as she lapped up my flowing juices.

  Then she moved up to nestle beside me. “I made the big dyke happy,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, you did,” I said. “And now that you’ve been broken in right, sweet little dyke, I want you to go find yourself a nice girl your own age, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  But we both knew I’d still be lunching at the restaurant almost every day, and there was always the possibility that I’d decide to vary my chicken nuggets with a little Asian cuisine. . . .—L.B., San Rafael, California

  SHE WAS HAPPILY MARRIED, AND STRAIGHT—AT

  LEAST SHE WAS TILL SHE MET SALLY

  If you should print this letter, please don’t use my name and address, because my husband doesn’t know about what I’m going to tell you. I don’t know what he would do if he did, but I don’t think it would be good.

  I am a woman of thirty-four, and up until recently I led a normal life. Happy marriage, two kids, house, friends, the whole thing. I never thought of myself as anything but straight. In fact, the only time I was ever unfaithful to my husband (before now) was with a man I met on a business trip years ago. We had one night together, and though I felt guilty, I enjoyed it a lot. And I enjoy sex with my husband. So I’m not really a lesbian or anything. At least I wasn’t until I met Sally.

  I met her last week, at a PTA picnic. Yes, she’s married too, with kids, but she doesn’t make any bones about being attracted to women. She came right out and told me, after we’d been chatting for a while. Here we were going on about our kids and what our husbands did and the school and everything, and all of a sudden she says, “You’re very attractive, Ellen. And very sexy. I’d love to have you in bed.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I just stared at her. She smiled. “Sorry if I shocked you,” she said. “I just don’t see any purpose in beating about the bush. Don’t be embarrassed. If you’re not interested, that’s okay. But if you are, I think we could have a great time.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “I—I’m not—” I stammered. “I mean, I—I never—”

  “There’s always a first time,” Sally said. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

  The thing is, she really was attractive. Blonde hair to her shoulders. Blue eyes. Pretty face. And, I had to say, a very good figure. Better than mine. But she was a female.

  “Well . . . yes,” I replied. “You are. But you’re a woman, Sally, and I’m—I don’t think of women in that way. I’m sorry.”

  Sally smiled. “You will now,” she said, and walked away.

  She was wearing shorts, and as I looked after her I found myself noticing the shapeliness of her rear, and how nice her long legs looked. I caught myself up, wondering what was wrong with me.

  I kept thinking about Sally, and what she had said. And when I did I remembered how she looked in those shorts, and in the snug pullover she had worn, which outlined her high round breasts. I was shocked at my own thoughts. Surely I didn’t actually want to . . .

  And then one night Jason and I were making love, and while he was kissing my body I started thinking about Sally. I tried to block her out of my mind, but I couldn’t. Jason went down on me and I closed my eyes and started imagining it was Sally’s mouth down there, Sally’s tongue licking my pussy, stroking my clit. And when I came it was all I could do to keep from crying out Sally’s name.

  To make up for it, I gave him some of the best head I knew how to give, and after he came down my throat I kept sucking him till he was hard again, and then I fucked him like crazy. We both came again, and I figured that would get Sally out of my mind for good.

  But it didn’t.

  It was just yesterday that I saw her again, on the street while we were both out shopping. We went to a Starbucks and had coffee together.

  “Have you been thinking about me?” she asked me.

  “No,” I said. I could see she didn’t believe me. “All right. Yes. I have. But I don’t understand it. I’m—”

  “You don’t have to understand, Ellen. Just go with your feelings. You want me, I want you. Listen, we can go to my place right now. There’s no one there.”

  “Oh my god,” I said. “I can’t believe this. I’m wet.”

  “So am I,” Sally said. “Let’s go.”

  I had never kissed a woman before. Not like that. Like a lover. Sally’s tongue was in my mouth, and her hands were on my breasts, and I was moaning. Then she was undressing me. When I was naked she sat me down on the bed and knelt down on the floor in front of me and spread my legs apart and put her mouth on my crotch. It was like I had fantasized it when Jason was doing it, only better. I fell back on the bed and pushed my crotch harder against her face and started screaming. I came almost instantly, and when she didn’t stop I came again. Then she stopped.

  “Want to do it to me?” she said.

  I just nodded. I couldn’t speak. Sally stood up and took he
r clothes off and got onto the bed with me. When I saw that beautiful naked body I went crazy. I wanted to devour it. I started licking and sucking on her breasts. I couldn’t get enough of them. I kissed and licked my way down over her stomach. I slid my mouth over her thighs. I wanted to eat all of her. I settled for her pussy.

  I didn’t know if I was doing it right, but Sally seemed to like it. I breathed in the strange arousing scent of her, mouthing and licking and nibbling. I stuck my tongue as deeply into her hole as I could get it, while meantime my hands were running all over her body. I loved the feel of her skin, the smooth softness of her flesh, the hardness of her nipples. I heard her moaning softly, and it made me happy that I was pleasing her. I kept it up until her body shuddered, and I lapped up the juices that flowed from her pussy.

  She pulled me up to her and we lay in each other’s arms. “That was great,” Sally said. “Do you want me to fuck you, baby?”

  “F-fuck me? You mean—”

  “You know, a dildo. I have a nice strap-on.”

  “Oh god,” I said. “This is so—I mean I don’t even know what I’m doing here. God, if Jason ever—”

  “He doesn’t have to know,” Sally said. “But you never know, he might not be as uptight about it as you think. I mean, Bobby doesn’t mind at all.”

  I stared at her. “Your husband? He—he knows about . . .”

  “Oh yes. He knew when he married me that I was bi. He’s fine with it. He even likes to watch, when it’s cool with the other girl.”

  “Jesus!” I said, startled. “He’s not—he doesn’t—”

  “No, relax, baby,” Sally laughed. “I wouldn’t play tricks on you. Bobby doesn’t know, and I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to. But if you were interested some time in a threesome . . .”

  “No,” I said, but I was getting excited in spite of myself. “Oh god, Sally, what are you doing to me?”

  “I don’t know, but I like it,” Sally said. “And so do you. Kiss me, baby.”