Letters to Penthouse XXXXV

by Penthouse International

  All of these are simply games we play, because truthfully, I love anything Maurice and I do together. I crave his cock inside me as much as I crave his hand on my ass, and he’s generous with both of them. By the time he was done using the flogger on me, my pussy was dripping wet. Maurice always likes to tease the crowd, and he made me stand up, then bend over and spread my legs to show everyone how wet I was. I thought that was the end and that we could go into a corner of the dungeon and fuck, but he had one more surprise in store for me.

  “For our finale, I brought something I know my wife will appreciate,” said Maurice. He positioned me against the wall, and I stood there facing it with my hands over my head.

  Then I heard the crack of his belt as it whizzed through the air before he struck it against my ass. The sting of leather on skin is one that always makes me shiver in delight. Even though I’ve taken his belt hundreds of times, that first lash took my breath away. He striped my ass with the belt again and again, until my nails were digging into the wall in an effort not to sink down to the floor in a puddle of arousal. I pressed my chest against the wall, grinding my nipples to give me added stimulation. The way Maurice wields his belt is almost enough to make me come all on its own.

  Finally, when my ass was sufficiently whipped, he stopped, then bent down and kissed my buttocks. I smiled at his display of tenderness as the assembled crowd applauded. I thought Maurice would take off my blindfold then, but he didn’t. Instead, he shoved two fingers in my pussy and ordered me to walk to the dungeon, which was all the way across the room. He helped “steer” me, every step making my cunt contract around his digits. If I stumbled at all, his fingers plunged even deeper inside me. “You were so good up there, Jeanette. You made my cock so hard, and I think the whole audience wanted to fuck you. I almost felt bad to be gloating about what a hot wife I have.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, concentrating on walking.

  “We’re almost there,” he said. “Don’t come yet—wait for my dick.”

  The agony of holding off my orgasm was offset by the promise of a good, hard fuck. Soon we were against the cold wall, my body smashed against it as Maurice pressed against me. His cock was out of his jeans and inside my cunt in no time, that familiar stretching combined with the heat my buttocks still held making me cry out.

  “Who’s my favorite spanking slut?” he asked. It was rhetorical, in that we both knew the answer, but I was expected to respond anyway, or he’d pull out midfuck, a lesson I’d learned early on.

  “I am,” I said, and I was rewarded with his fingers pinching my nipples and then lightly tugging on them.

  “And whose ass is this?” he asked, shifting so he could pinch my butt the way he’d done to my nipples.

  “Yours, Master,” I said, meaning it fully. I love being his plaything, his toy to show off or spank or fuck whenever and however he wants. To me, being his sub and being his wife are intertwined.

  “That’s right, baby,” he said, then slammed me against the wall, his face pressed to the back of my neck as he came inside my pussy. I rubbed my clit, setting off the orgasm that had been waiting for me the whole night.

  The bonus of sessions like that is the opportunity to relive the moment in my mind when I look in the mirror later to see my ass, marked with the souvenirs of my spankings. Maurice has told me that he wants to take photos of my punished cheeks and submit them to an amateur porn site. He is always looking for ways to add to our spanking fun, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

  —Ms. Jeanette D., Chicago, Illinois

  Clothes May Make the Man, but Boots Make Her Man Come Like Nothing Else

  Johnny’s had a thing for boots since we first got together. I know some men prefer high heels, the way they make a woman’s legs look longer and sexier with every single click-clacking step, but Johnny craves boots. He adores the way I look in any type of boot, from combat to thigh-high, but his favorites are the ones I wore last night.

  “Oh, Dora,” he sighed as soon as he opened the door. I was standing in our hallway, naked except for fishnet stockings and boots. “Naughty” doesn’t even begin to describe this particular pair. They are, for want of a better word, stripper boots—glossy, patent leather with heels that make the perfect sound on a hardwood floor, and we have hardwood floors.

  I stalked closer. Johnny’s blue eyes got that glazed look in them.

  “Baby,” he said. “You love me.”

  I do. How much do I love Johnny? Well, listen to this. These boots come in sixteen different colors, and I own all sixteen. Last night, I was wearing Johnny’s favorite color of the favorite boots—the cherry-red ones.

  “Look what you do to me,” he said, indicating the instant hard-on that was already tenting his gray slacks.

  “What do I do to you?” I asked, all coy innocence.

  “You make me want to fuck those boots,” he said dreamily, and he went down on his knees in our foyer and began to stroke his hands from the toes of the boots to the very tippy-tops where the patent leather met the net stockings.

  “I’d rather you fuck me,” I told him.

  “Then you’re a lucky girl,” he said, smiling up at me, “because this is your lucky day.”

  Pleased with the response so far, I turned on my heels and began walking down the hall to our bedroom. I didn’t look back to see if Johnny was following me or not. I was that sure he was on my tail. When I got to the bedroom, I hesitated for a moment. How would Johnny most want to find me? Then I remembered one sizzling time we’d shared together, and I got on my back on the bed and waited.

  When Johnny walked through the doorway two seconds later, he was already naked. He must have stripped in a hurry and left his clothes in the hall. He saw me on the bed and climbed onto the mattress immediately. I wondered if he’d remember the scenario I had in my mind. I shouldn’t have worried. Johnny got me into proper position right away, with my ankles over his shoulders, so he could feel those slippery boots against his bare skin, so he could turn his face and kiss and lick their shiny surface, and so that he could also grip my legs and stroke the boots with his fingertips.

  “You love me,” he said again, this time in a husky whisper as he slid his cock up and down between my juicy pussy lips.

  “I do,” I sighed. He was rewarding me for the surprise I’d given him when he’d walked through the door after his long day. He was sliding the head of his cock against my clit until I thought I’d come from that action alone. Johnny has such a nice, thick cock. Of course, I like when he thrusts inside me, hammering my pussy so I can feel him pounding me to the core of my body. But I adore when he takes the time to really prep my clit—like he was doing now. He rubbed the head of his cock in a circle around my little throbbing button, and then he actually used his cockhead to tap directly against my clit so that I tightened my thigh muscles and got entirely still, waiting for the climax to break.

  That’s when Johnny moved back slightly and plunged inside me. I whimpered at being robbed of the orgasm, but I shouldn’t have doubted Johnny. At first, he fucked me with his cock and gripped my legs so he could feel the boots—as if he couldn’t help himself—but then he let one hand find my clit and pinched and tweaked that swollen nub while he worked me.

  “What did you think about when you got dressed?” he asked me as we fucked.

  Sometimes I forget that Johnny likes to talk during sex. I love to listen, but words can escape me when the pleasure builds too high.

  “Tell me, Dora,” he said. “I want to hear what was going through your dirty little mind.”

  He stopped touching my clit when I didn’t respond, so I realized the game. I had to talk to him if I wanted that sweetness to continue.

  “I couldn’t choose which pair of boots at first,” I told him honestly. “I had on the fringe ones you like.”

  Johnny sighed and stared into my closet; the doors were open and all of my boots were lined up neatly. “The white ones?”

  “Yeah, my trashy boots.”


  He sighed again and began fucking me faster, never forgetting to tease my clit as he worked me.

  “And then I had on the dark purple suede,” I continued. The suede ones have a sixties look, and I often wear scarves with the boots and nothing else when we play with those. Johnny ties me down with the scarves and leaves the boots on while he fucks me until we’re both lost in lust.

  “How did you land on these?” Johnny finally asked.

  “I wanted a pair that you could come on,” I told him. “I like when you get so hot you can hardly wait, and then you pull out and shoot all over the boots. I know you like to do that to my glossy boots.”

  I was pretty impressed with myself for keeping up my part of the conversation. Now our power had shifted, and Johnny seemed to have lost his ability to speak. Fortunately, he didn’t lose his finesse while fucking. He pinched my clit in a powerful rhythm, and when I began to come, he let me ride out the climax on his cock. Only when he sensed that the orgasm had fully subsided did he pull out and jack his fist over his cock. I watched, breathlessly, and then put my legs together so that he had the best surface at which to aim his load.

  With a groan, Johnny shot his come all over my boots, up and down, patterning them with his semen. I shivered all over as he used his palms to rub his cream against the slick surface. There’s something so fucking sensual about that—how much Johnny loves these boots and how he almost seems to reward them with the liquid result of his pleasure.

  I stripped out of the sticky boots and stockings, and we climbed back into bed together. But Johnny made sure that the door to the closet remained open. He held me in his arms as we looked at my boot collection together.

  “You know what, Dora?” he asked.

  I waited to hear what he’d say.

  “I don’t think you have enough boots. I think we ought to go shopping tomorrow.”

  Johnny’s right—I am a lucky girl. In fact, I think I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

  —Ms. Dora L., Paris, Texas

  Sexy Lawyer Gives Studly Paralegal a Bare-Bottomed Performance Review

  After I’d joined the firm as a senior attorney, I had my pick of the paralegal candidates who came through the office. I could say that I chose Chad for his resume, but that would be a lie. Those blue eyes, that dark hair, and a chiseled body that his three-piece suit couldn’t hide got me positively wet the moment I laid eyes on him.

  Chad was very efficient, but when I happened to be sunbathing at the beach one weekend, I quickly discovered that his legal filing wasn’t his best asset: Clad in only a tiny thong, he had the most bodacious male behind I’d ever seen! Thong-clad myself, I didn’t want him to see his boss in such a revealing outfit, so I hid as best I could. As he strutted past with his super-round buns jouncing sexily, he didn’t appear to recognize me. With my long brown hair down and my preppy glasses off, he obviously didn’t realize who I was.

  Hurrying home, I stripped off my thong bikini and masturbated furiously as I imagined my new paralegal as the participant in my ultimate fantasy: me spanking a sexy male fanny!

  Little did I realize then, but I would soon be acting out this fantasy for real.

  As the months passed, Chad and I got along famously. He frequently came over to my beach condo as we prepared legal briefs. He liked my digs so much that when I went on a two-week vacation to visit friends, I gave him the key and invited him to stay, water my plants, and take care of my cat while I was away.

  I returned a little early from my trip, and when I walked in the door, I heard some squeaking noises coming from the bedroom. I realized that the sound was my bedsprings, based upon my recalled memories of many a night of personal poundings. I had to suppress a giggle. Was I going to catch Chad fucking some lucky chick in my bed?

  I walked quietly to the bedroom and peeked in. I saw rolling buttocks that were unmistakably the back end of some serious pelvic thrusting. But rather than a lucky girl as the recipient of all this pumping, there was only a pillow! And I could see Chad flipping the pages of some obviously very dirty skin magazine. I could see all the naked womanflesh on display from where I stood in the doorway.

  I guess I should have been angry with him for jerking off on my thousand-thread-count sheets, but I wasn’t. Instead I was mesmerized by the first male-masturbation session I’d ever witnessed!

  Chad shifted his position somewhat, bringing his ass higher on the pillow and making it look even rounder, which is when I noticed that the dark cleft of his ass was highlighted by a strip of fabric. As my eyes trailed upward, I noticed a lacy waist. He was wearing my black thong panties! Masturbating in my bed was one thing, but soiling my panties—that was outrageous! And then I looked to the side of the bed and saw a pile of my panties on the floor. They were all bunched up, and I realized that he’d probably jacked off in all of them!

  That got me mad, and I wanted to yell, but then I had another idea. Those amazing butt cheeks were too tempting to pass up, and I decided that a bit of old-fashioned discipline was called for in this situation. I walked over stealthily and then swung my hand in a great arc until it connected with the middle of one butt cheek! The loudness of the slap surprised even me. His hand shot out in surprise to soothe the soft flesh that I’d struck.

  “How dare you abuse my generosity by jerking off in my bed and ruining my panties!” I shouted at Chad. As he sat up, I couldn’t help but notice his massive cock, which was swollen to impressive proportions inside my silk panties. I swiftly sat down on the bed and grabbed his magazine. “And this filth!” I said, shaking it at him. My gaze caught a picture of a chick getting fucked from behind—my favorite position—and I had to struggle to avert my gaze. I wanted to stay in domme mode, but chastising him was seriously turning me on. And from the look on Chad’s face, he was grooving on it, too.

  “Obviously you need to be taught some respect!” I said as I yanked him across my lap.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Chad murmured, sounding penitent.

  His tanned, round ass cheeks were in the perfect position. I could feel his hard cock in my lap as he squirmed against me. I twisted one of his arms behind him to hold him in place—not that it was necessary—then raised my arm high in the air. I slapped his ass, first one cheek and then the other. I spanked him with a perfect rhythm and far harder and longer than I would have thought possible. With each swat, my pussy grew wetter, and Chad moaned and groaned, clearly becoming more turned on with every passing second.

  Chad began grunting toward the end as my smacks picked up in pace and intensity. His glorious behind had turned a pleasing shade of crimson, and my hand was a little sore. I made a mental note to invest in a good paddle for future discipline sessions. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I took Chad across my lap.

  Once I thought he’d been punished enough, I allowed him to get up. His erection was still raging—hard, tempting, and seemingly more stiff than before. Chad seemed to enjoy being spanked as much as I enjoyed doing it. I was so horny that I pulled up my short skirt and demanded that he eat my cunt. He had no objections to giving me a thorough tongue-lashing. He buried his face between my legs, and I grabbed his hair and bucked my cunt against his face. As he furiously lapped at my sex, I further scolded him for his bad behavior, until my words became unintelligible moans as he sent me over the orgasmic edge.

  I docked his pay for all the panties he had soiled, but Chad didn’t mind. Now he follows my every order at home and at the office. We’re the hottest legal team at the firm. And when he doesn’t do his work to my satisfaction, I have a brand-new paddle that I use to remind him who’s in charge.

  —Ms. Adrianna K., San Diego, California

  Kinky Couple Enjoys Bondage Fun Thanks to Their New Leather Tethers

  I tried to wiggle free of my restraints, but they were too tight. I was lucky I could move around at all; escape was not an option. Not that it bothered me. There’s nothing I enjoy more than being tied up and letting my lover have his way with me. And B
rent was definitely enjoying me being his captive, too, judging from the hard-on he sported as he watched me struggle against the leather straps holding me in place.

  Things had started innocently enough. Brent had invited me to dinner at his place for our six-month anniversary. He cooked a delicious meal for us to share and then we exchanged gifts.

  I insisted Brent open his present first, even though I was dying to know what was inside the package he’d given me. As soon as he’d opened the box and expressed his gratitude for the handcuffs I’d bought him, I tore into my own neatly wrapped package. As the paper fell away and the box top came off, I got my first glimpse of… well, I had no idea what it was. I pulled it out of the box and attempted to decipher what the web of straps was supposed to be, to no avail.

  “You have no idea what it is, do you?” he said, with a laugh.

  “It’s for bondage,” he explained. When I rolled my eyes, he continued, “For when you don’t have a four-poster bed. It slips under the mattress and then you can tie someone up with the tethers. The guy at the store said it works great, and I figured since you like being bound so much that this would be fun.”

  When he said he could tie me up tight without a fancy bed, I was thrilled! Though I had a four-poster canopy bed, most people didn’t, including Brent, and it was hard for me to really enjoy being bound if I wasn’t actually tied down to anything. I immediately jumped on him and kissed him in thanks before dragging him off to the bedroom to test out our new plaything.

  As soon as we were in the bedroom, our clothes started coming off. I had lost my heels on the way up the stairs, and Brent hadn’t been wearing shoes to begin with. My sweater was pulled over my head and thrown to the side, along with Brent’s shirt and blazer. Before we knew it, we were naked, and I pushed him to the bed and began kissing him fiercely. Our lip-lock didn’t last long, however, because we were both too excited.