Letters to Penthouse XXXIX

by Letters to Penthouse XXXIX- Hot, Horny

  Once I got that idea in my mind, there was no way I could hold back. My balls exploded, and I shot a hot load right into Melissa’s cunt. Then, as my cries filled the room, the rest of the group followed suit. Robert released his cream into Beth as both women continued writhing above us, and it seemed like none of us might ever come back down to earth.

  When it was over the girls untied us, and we all got dressed. Then we went down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Even though we had just eaten a few hours before, I was so hungry I ate like a pig. It seems that all that fucking had helped me work up an appetite.

  As we ate, I still had the sensation that my wife’s stocking was tied around my wrists, and my cock began rising once more. I’d had no idea how much I’d like being bound, and I brought up the subject to the group. Robert felt the same way, and we decided that we would make this a regular activity. We’ve gotten together many times since that first night, and don’t think that we always let Melissa and Beth take charge. We’ve cooked up some pretty hot scenes for the women as well, though we also let them have their own games sometimes. As they say, all’s fair in love and war, but especially love, I guess.

  —Mr. B.W., Baltimore, Maryland

  My Next-Door Neighbor Caught Me With My Panties Down

  My husband and I have been married for seven years, and our sex life can be described as satisfactory. Actually, it’s more than satisfactory. We have sex all the time. We especially enjoy making love at unusual times—like when we’re already late for an appointment—and are having quick sessions on the living room rug, the kitchen table, the couch, etc. We have sex most nights of the week, sometimes even when Frank is so tired from work that he comes and then falls asleep while he’s still on top of my body, his cock softening in my well-fucked pussy.

  But something different happened the other day. We thought we could steal a quickie right when Frank got home from the office, while waiting for a pizza to arrive. We were going at it in the living room when suddenly the doorbell rang. It was too early for the pizza guy; our neighbor, Louise, had arrived unexpectedly to borrow a shovel for her husband. I had just enough time to pull down my skirt before Frank let her in.

  My husband went off to retrieve the shovel while I sat down in the living room with Louise and chatted. She only stayed a few minutes, since Frank was anxious to get back to what we were doing and quickly returned, but all the time she was with me I knew something was up. I couldn’t help noticing the way she kept fidgeting and the way she kept glancing at me with a funny little smile while she said good-bye to Frank.

  It was only after Louise had left that I realized what was going on. In my excitement, I had forgotten to put my panties back on. All during her visit, my short skirt had ridden up on my thighs, leaving my pussy totally exposed to her. For a few minutes afterward I was totally mortified, but then the shock wore off, and I was left with an odd feeling of excitement. Unfortunately, the pizza boy arrived soon afterward, so Frank and I never got to pick up where we’d left off.

  That night I could hardly wait for us to get to bed. It ended up being one of the most exciting sessions of sex that I’d ever had. I practically ripped off Frank’s clothes and threw him down on the bed. Then I stripped myself, not even bothering to hang anything up, and straddled my prone husband, quickly impaling myself on his rigid cock. He felt so good inside my pussy, since it was all I had been able to think about throughout dinner and the evening news.

  I rode Frank wildly, bouncing up and down on his throbbing dick. He held me tightly by the hips, and if he hadn’t, I probably would have flown right off since I was moving so fast. My breasts slapped against my chest, which caused my nipples to tingle, and very soon my whole body was involved in the act. I had a series of small, light orgasms, moaning and groaning as I got more and more aroused, and then Frank couldn’t take any more of my wild movements. His fingers dug into my hips as he thrust up into me hard one last time, shooting me full of his warm, sticky come. That was it for me, too. Seeing Frank come that hard brought me right to my own orgasm, and my pussy clamped around his cock and milked him of a few more drops of semen.

  I lifted myself off Frank’s prick, which was shiny with our combined juices, and collapsed beside him, breathing heavily. Smiling from ear to ear, my husband rolled onto his side and asked what had gotten me so aroused. I had sort of expected that it would make him angry when I told him about Louise, but it ended up being the exact opposite. Instead, the idea that another woman had been staring at me like that, had seen my bare, exposed pussy, excited him so much that he immediately got hard again and got right back on top of me.

  This time it was Frank who fucked me hard and fast, his fat cock pistoning in and out of my still-sopping-wet cunt. Usually when we make love more than once in a night, it takes him a long time to come the second time. But not so this time. After a few minutes of thrusting into my pussy while licking the sweat off my nipples, Frank tensed and filled me with another load of his cream. This time, it was almost like an explosion, and I was so filled up that come overflowed and dripped down along my asscrack. I came again, too, squeezing my husband’s ass cheeks tightly to hold him inside me as I got off one more time.

  It was as though the idea of being watched by someone, especially a woman that we both knew, had given a whole new dimension to our sex lives. Now when we’re making love, it’s almost impossible not to think of our next-door neighbor, and sometimes we even talk about her, imagining her masturbating as she watches us together, or maybe joining us for a threesome. Who knows? Perhaps someday we’ll work up the nerve to invite her over for a night of fun!

  —Ms. V.Y., Corpus Christi, Texas

  Erotic Book Lovers Take a Novel Approach to Arousing Each Other

  I had never even thought about exposing my body in public, let alone masturbating outside my home, until I met Thomas. And one could say that I did it not only for physical pleasure, but for a nobler purpose: the love and pursuit of literature. Thomas and I met at the rare-books store in our neighborhood, although I’d noticed his tall, lithe body—always clad in an expensive tailored suit—on several prior occasions in the store. I was attracted to his dark hair and confident demeanor, especially as he seriously pored over novels in the British early-twentieth-century section, but I never gathered the courage to actually approach him, despite my meager efforts at catching his eye by perusing the shelves near where he stood. He’d often look up and down my shapely body, then slyly smirk and brush past me as he left the store.

  On this particular day, we had both been lured in by an early hardcover edition of D. H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers, which had been prominently displayed in the store window. It had been my favorite novel when I was in college, and I felt it was inextricably linked to my time of burgeoning sexuality. I had to have it. When I went inside to inquire about the book, he tapped me on the shoulder with his long slender fingers and informed me with a brusque toss of his head that he was there first and was himself interested in the very same book.

  When the bookseller announced the remarkably reasonable price for the book, I desperately tried to hide my desire to possess it, but my competitor was well aware of the bargain and smugly exclaimed that he would take it. Dismayed at having lost this treasure, I had lowered my head and turned toward the door when once again he tapped on my shoulder.

  “Miss,” he said, “if you are truly interested in the book, I will give you the opportunity to convince me you deserve it. You have a cup of tea’s worth of time to do so. Let us begin.”

  With that, he led me down the block with his hand firmly pressed against my back. The heat of his long fingers was pleasantly arousing through the thin silk of my blouse—my nipples stiffening in response. That I was enthralled by his arrogance, coupled with my determination to make the book mine, kept me following his direction.

  We arrived at an antique shop that served afternoon tea in its small but comfortably cozy back room. Thomas stepped in front of me and grabbed my ha
nd, then guided me through a precarious maze of porcelain figurines, mismatched pieces of china, and glass vases and ornaments. I suddenly felt larger than my thin five-foot-six frame, as I carefully avoided breaking the delicate objects in my path. Despite my desire to capture the book from him, I had to admit that there were chills of sexual energy climbing up my spine. As we meandered our way to the back room, with him tightly gripping my hand in his, I felt a wonderfully lush feeling enveloping my pussy.

  We parted the billowy white curtains that separated the back room and sat at the lone table that was surrounded by several velvet-covered stools in rich red hues.

  Thomas sat directly across from me and didn’t lift his gaze from mine. I was about to launch into my argument for the book when he silenced me by touching a long finger to my lips, insisting that we order first. I licked my lips to taste his mark on them, feeling like Mata Hari on a covert mission. An old woman brought a tray of scones to the table and then recounted the selection of teas. Thomas chose a Darjeeling for himself and a Moroccan blend for me.

  “We may be able to see your future in the tea leaves,” he said with a bold smile. Unaccustomed to a man choosing for me, I was surprised by his bravado but charmed and excited by his brazen behavior, from the tips of my toes to my dampening pussy, although I was careful not to gratify him and thus kept a stoic grimace etched on my face.

  After our tea arrived, he waved off the woman’s offer of sugar and milk, without diverting his eyes from me, and instructed me to begin. I recounted special memories of my earlier twenties, linking them with scenes from the book. I discussed the characters, Paul and Miriam, specifically their doomed love relationship, and compared them to elements of my own psyche, exposing myself to this stranger. I even referenced large chunks of my thesis, hoping to elicit a nod or a sigh or some acknowledgment from him, some sign of understanding, but there was none. He simply continued to stare at me while sipping his tea, slowly and meticulously, not even clanking his cup against the saucer. His complete poise baffled me, and my speech became more rambling as I felt my face flush hot and my cheeks grow red.

  Realizing that my efforts to claim the book, and him, were futile, I got up to leave. But he grasped my hand and coaxed me back to my seat. He said that I’d told him enough, and then suggested that if I really wanted the book, perhaps I’d like to show him what it meant to me. A cool shiver spread through my body, and after a moment of contemplation, I figured out how I would not only seduce the book away from him, but how I’d seduce this handsome man for my own pleasure in the process.

  I saw the old woman head back between the folds of the curtain to the front, and through the white material I could make out the silhouettes of several browsing patrons, each of whom could easily see me if they turned my way.

  Resolved at this point to finish what I’d started, I quoted lines from the novel—deliciously erotic lines that when I read and reread them brought tingles to my pussy and made me swoon with desire—while I unbuttoned the pearly white buttons of my blouse to reveal my ample breasts barely covered in a cream-colored lace bra. My nipples were fully pointed and pressing hard against the filmy fabric, begging to be released.

  Still sitting and returning his direct gaze, I uncrossed my legs and lifted my round ass from the seat to slide my skirt up over my hips. Thomas’s eyes descended on my body as I hooked my thumbs in my lacy panties and slowly drew them down over my thighs, all the way down till they were a puddle around my ankles. I whispered, “He could smell her faint natural perfume, and it drove him wild with hunger.” It was one of my favorite lines, and I spread my legs so that he could get a good glimpse of my pussy, which was shaved bare and glistening with the juices of arousal. I knew that he could now smell my fragrant scent, and I watched the lump of his Adam’s apple jump as he swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, staring at my delicate pink folds.

  I could hear a customer haggling with the old woman a few feet away, but I continued, taking my index finger into my mouth and sucking on it, fully coating it with saliva. I trailed it over my nipples, circling the areolas through the lace, down my flat belly, to my aching pussy. I spread my labia, continuing to recite, “She’s not like an ordinary woman. She wants to absorb him,” while rubbing my clitoris until it fully hardened under my touch.

  My breathing grew more rapid, but my recitation went on as I slipped my finger into my vagina, then removed it, shiny wet, and sucked on it again, tasting my own flavor and closing my eyes in delight. Thomas was fidgeting in his seat, no longer the steadfast Lothario, shifting his weight from side to side, inching his chair back from the table, his large cock tenting his slacks. He undid his pants and stroked his released shaft, his hands shaking as he watched me insert two and then three fingers into my pussy. I sighed deeply, sliding them in and out of my hot, wet hole, and bucked my hips to their rhythmic and knowing penetration.

  The idea that someone could be watching, catching us in this exposed position, got me so hot and excited. I clutched my breast with my free hand, pinching my sensitive nipple between my fingers. I brought it to my own mouth to suck, then lick, gripping it tenderly between my lips. I moaned my words as my cunt muscles squeezed my probing fingers. My seat was slick with pussy juice, and my ass slid back and forth on the soaked velvet as my puffy clitoris quivered under my thumb’s ministrations.

  Thomas glided his fist over his engorged purple cockhead, and a thick drop of precome blossomed on the tip, making his hand slide smoother and faster down its rigid length. His other hand grabbed his balls tightly, as if they would burst, and I kept whispering Lawrence’s words, titillating us both. He bit his lip, stifling a groan, as a creamy white arc of come surged from deep within his cock, landing in heavy drops on the table. All the while, he was looking at me intently, watching me make myself come.

  I scooped up his come from the table, spread it over my full lips and licked it off with my tongue, keeping my eyes on him. I pushed my fingers deep inside my vagina, and my orgasms rushed through me in waves, one after the other. I threw my head back, finally breaking my gaze, the pleasure engulfing me as my cunt walls quivered and my clitoris throbbed against my hand. I cried out my ecstasy as my whole body trembled, and then, satisfied, I brought my eyes back to his.

  Suddenly the sound of breaking glass caused us both to look toward the curtain, where the old woman stood white-faced, broken glass at her feet. We hastily replaced our clothing and Thomas left a generous tip on the table. Smiling, we scurried out of the shop, exhilarated by our public acts. On the street he faced me and said, “There was so much to come out of him,” another great quotation from the novel, then handed me the book and added, “She was to see herself fulfilled, all his work was hers.”

  And we’ve been quoting to each other—whenever and wherever the mood strikes—ever since that exciting day.

  —Ms. M.K., Boston, Massachusetts

  An Exhilarating Going-Away Party for Two Good Friends

  It was the end of the summer, and our neighbors and good friends, Tracy and Ian, were moving to Seattle. Ian had accepted a job with a large software company, nearly doubling his income. Tracy, a radiologist, had little problem securing work at a major hospital. We would miss them, but we were excited for them almost as much as they were for themselves.

  That summer we had spent untold weekends together beaching it, boating, partying, and hot-tubbing on the deck of our oceanfront home. Clothing never seemed to be an issue with us: We never bothered to wear any in the tub or on the beach late at night. There had been an air of sexual tension between the four of us since our first meeting, but until that afternoon, none of us had ever acted on it or spoken about it to the other couple. As it turned out, we had all spoken to our respective spouses in great detail about possibly taking our shared fantasies a little further.

  We had decided to throw our good friends an intimate going-away party. Maggie, my beautiful wife, had the tub at a perfect 103 degrees. The outdoor fridge was stocked with beer, margarita mi
x, fresh limes from our front yard, and various munchies. Rock music was blaring from the stereo’s outside speakers. I completed the scene with the blender, four glasses, and a bottle of tequila.

  Tracy and Ian arrived, and after they passed through the foyer, Maggie locked the front door and turned off the outside lights—a signal to all that we were unavailable for the rest of the evening. Maggie looked so hot that night. She was draped in a one-piece wraparound, and her smooth, tanned skin shone in the soft lights. Her hair was pulled back, exposing a freshwater pearl necklace, which accentuated her large breasts.

  Walking onto the deck, Maggie was silhouetted by the gentle light of the gas torches. It was very obvious to the rest of us that she wore nothing beneath the wraparound. Tracy seemed to take as much interest in this as did Ian and I. Actually, not only did Ian take notice, but he became immediately and very obviously aroused. He hugged his wife around her waist and kissed her on the neck, pressing against her sweet, round ass. When he released her a moment later, her nipples were hard as well.

  We all settled with our drinks on the deck, Ian and I on the rattan loungers and the girls in hanging basket chairs. After a while, Tracy got up to refresh our glasses. Reaching over to get Maggie’s glass, she gently cupped my wife’s breast in her hand and kissed her on the lips. “I really love you guys,” Tracy said, just above a whisper. “I’m going to miss you a lot!” She kissed Maggie again, and I could see that the evening was about to take a wonderful turn.