This girl was into watching porn. Kinky and fun. Her BF seemed to be low on the wild animal sex she likes. She didn’t like the fact that he’s a romantic. And I was thinking, Wow, I wish all chicks were like this.
I dropped her off at her place, and that was it. Good-bye, no phone, no commitment. I’m calling this “the perfect game.” I’ve never seen it before, and thought it was an urban legend. But it happened. One weekend, two girls, no strings!
It’s Tuesday night now, and I’m giving you guys the debrief. I hope you enjoyed it. Now I need to find a new girl. As it happens, tomorrow is ladies’ night! It’s fantastic to be 27 and single.
—F.S., Shreveport, Louisiana
Sometimes You Get a Second Chance With One Who Got Away
I guess I never really got over my ex-girlfriend. We dated for two years, and she was so fucking hot—a size one, five feet tall, with long straight dark hair, just really sexy. (See what bodybuilding gets ya?)
Anyway, we broke up because she has two kids and at the time I was too young to get into that type of situation. But we kept in contact over the years, here and there.
This went on for about five years. Then a couple of weeks ago she called me at my work (I own my own business) and said she really wanted to get together and see me, because she was going through a real rough breakup.
I said sure, and we made plans to meet at the mall and have lunch. Oh, yes, did I mention that she said she recently had a boob job? Oh, yeah! She said that now she’s a full C. So hell yeah, I wanted to get together!
As soon as I saw her, I regretted that we broke up. She just looked really pretty. She said she was happy to see me, but I could tell she was sad. While we had lunch I tried to cheer her up, joking around and stuff, and by the time we finished eating, she seemed to be feeling better.
Oh, yes, by the way, her breasts were just incredible!
After lunch, I said I needed to go try on some shirts, and she said she would come along. I picked out a few and went into the dressing room. As it was the middle of the day, it was kind of empty. I noticed that the dressing-room doors went all the way down to the floor and called out to her, “Hey, come on in!”
She giggled and said she couldn’t. I told her that wives go in with their husbands all the time, plus it was pretty empty. So she came in.
I tried on a few shirts while she sat on the bench and watched. She was just staring at me when I had my shirt off, and I knew I had to go for it. When she said I looked great, I said, “So do you.” Then I said, “Let me see your boobs!”
She laughed and said no. But after a while she took them out. (Remember, we did go out for two years.) I started to feel them, and she just sighed. It was hot! At this point I had no shirt on, just jeans.
I couldn’t take it, looking at her, and said, “Let me go down on you!”
She said, “No, we can’t! Someone will hear!”
I said, “Just be quiet,” and unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down. She was tan and looked just super. Her pussy was shaved, with no stubble anywhere. (I still don’t know how she does that.) She tasted delicious, like cotton candy!
With people walking in and out of the other dressing rooms, she tried to keep quiet, but she made a bit of noise. I glanced at us in the mirror and couldn’t believe how fucking hot we looked.
She said, “I want you, but we’re in a dressing room!”
I said, “So what!”
I stood up, and she undid my pants and pulled them down. At this point I was ten-hut, if you get me. She proceeded to give me the slowest, hottest blowjob I ever had.
I needed to screw her. I pushed her back on the bench and knelt in front of her. I pushed my dick in her slowly, with her moaning the entire time it was going in. This was the hottest sex session I ever had! Her hips moved slowly up and down, meeting my slow thrusts. She bit her lip and almost held her breath trying not to make any noise.
I could see us in the full-length mirror next to us. She looked over, too, and simply stared. It was so fucking hot! I couldn’t believe I was lasting as long as I did, but after a few minutes, when I knew I was going to come, I pulled it out and shot everywhere. Somehow I managed to shoot my load all over her gorgeous little body and her beautiful redone tits!
We sat there catching our breath, and I looked around for something to clean her off with. The only thing I saw was one of the shirts I had tried on. I said, “Fuck it!” and wiped her up. I was going to buy the shirt, but I decided against it. After we got dressed, before we left the dressing room I hung the shirt back up! Wrong as it was, we both laughed. I couldn’t believe it.
Needless to say, we have been talking every day, and it looks like we may move in together. I can tell you, I’m not going to let this gorgeous girl get away again!
—R.H., El Paso, Texas
First-Date Jitters? No Reason to Fret— Just Kick Back and Enjoy
I was new to the area—not so much “fresh off the boat” as that I hadn’t yet seen much of California.
Just when I thought I’d be spending the summer evening alone, I bumped into a stranger named Matthew, a guy with a football player’s physique and deep-blue-sea eyes, a conservative 20-something male I knew I wanted to know more about. (Sexually? I asked myself.)
Around seven, as the sun started to set, I was dressing for my date with Matthew. We had agreed to meet around nine, and everyone knows there’s never enough time for a girl to make a good impression on a first date.
I took out my matching panty-and-bra sets. What color do I feel like today? I asked myself. I chose the black lacy G-string that sets perfectly on my hips and the matching bra that you can see my nipples through. Nice combo, I said to myself as I turned to look at my ass in the mirror.
I took my time looking through the closet, trying on all my cocktail dresses, and chose the tiniest black one I could find, which shows the most cleavage, and hot little black platforms that don’t make me look too much like a stripper. Or was that the look I was going for? I wondered to myself.
All I knew was that I already wanted to fuck him, this stranger I’d met in passing as I was on my way to work. That very morning I had been considering buying myself a new toy at a porn shop down the street from my townhouse! But after I made eye contact with this hot boy, I figured he could be my new toy.
Maybe I shouldn’t wear panties at all, I thought. Yes, crossing and uncrossing my legs would be a little more difficult, but Matthew might be the kind of guy who’d finger me under the table if I played my cards right! The very thought made my nipples good and hard. All in good time, I thought.
Around a quarter to nine on that clear Wednesday summer evening I pulled into the lounge where we were to meet, a sort of higher-class dive bar. Matthew had said he’d be sitting in one of the corner booths. I turned left as I walked in, and our eyes locked.
I could tell he was thinking “great tits,” so I flashed him my best flirty smile and strutted slowly over to our table. He stood up to greet me, took my hand gently, and kissed my cheek. His cologne was so seductive, my nerves were already getting wild.
As I sat, I was thankful I’d worn panties, because my juices were getting in a frenzy. We talked for an hour or so, about bullshit—nothing serious, each other mostly, where we came from, who we were. I just wanted to get the general idea he wasn’t some weirdo off the street. Even though a girl likes to get fucked, she has standards, mostly.
What with drinking cocktails and a bottle of wine, we decided we should take things somewhere else. I didn’t want to give myself away by any means, but I did imagine myself being stripped of all my clothing in the middle of nowhere, looking over the city.
I excused myself and headed for the ladies’ room before we left the darkly set atmosphere of the lounge. As soon as I walked into the latrine, I took my wet panties off and stuffed them in my purse. Did we really have such a stimulating conversation, I asked myself, or was it the way he looked at my curves and mouth and the way he kept rubbing h
is hands together, like he wanted to put them around my waist, that got me so juicy?
At that point I didn’t care. I knew the guy had the same intentions I did. As I walked out, he glanced my way, so I licked my lower lip slowly, biting it and staring into his eyes, reeling him in with my seductive ways. He looked away for a second, saying “Ohmygod” to himself. I smiled ear to ear, knowing I would either eat him alive or be the best he’d ever had.
“I’d like to go somewhere we could be a little private,” I said. “See a bit more of the city. Maybe a lookout? I’ve never been to a lookout here.” I did my best to sound a little innocent.
He drove along the coast a ways. By that time we had discovered that we were on the same level—both of us in need of some pleasure, both ready and willing.
Matthew got out of the car, then came around and opened my door and took my hand, again gently. The place was just what I imagined: dark sky, luminescent reflections from the city gleaming around us, the ocean, the beach. The beach, I thought. Yes, that’s one of my fantasies!
I turned around, feeling his warmth close to mine. But he seemed hesitant, perhaps thinking he expected to be the aggressor and didn’t want to make the vixen uncomfortable, so he’d have to take it slow.
I put my arms around his shoulders and kissed him, starting “soft and wet” and progressing to “hard and animalistic.” He was starting to get the feeling that I’m a naughty girl. He reached for my ass, and I moaned from the electricity that came rushing through my body from his fingertips.
I started kissing his neck under the collar of his Polo and rubbed my hands up and down his back under his shirt. He reached for the bottom of my dress, then moved his hands up my fresh skin, caressing from the cleft of my ass up to the small of my back.
“No panties,” I said, hoping he’d get the hint that I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I heard him give some sort of approval. At that point I didn’t care. I just wanted him to devour me, to worship my little body. So I felt for the bulge in his pants. That was no Vienna sausage I found, but a thick, long, throbbing prick already juicing at its tip.
Since I wanted to make the first move, I didn’t even wait for him to see what kind of treasure my little box concealed. I just unzipped his big member from his tight designer jeans and grabbed hold of it.
“I want to suck your cock,” I said, and promptly seized the opportunity to set my lips on his luscious big dick.
Everything soon got slippery from all the drool pouring out of my cock-hungry mouth. I put my tongue on his scrotum and licked up to the tip of his cock. Suddenly he lifted me up and set my ass down on the hood of his car.
“Do you want to fuck me?” I said. Without a word, with just a happy smirk, he pulled my dress off and unstrapped my bra professionally.
“I want your cock really bad, baby,” I said, looking into his eyes and nibbling on his bottom lip. I took off the rest of his constricting clothing and stood there in just my sexy black platforms. Feeling sexier than ever with my hair flowing in the breeze, I bent over the hood of his car and looked back at him.
He stood there touching himself, not knowing if he had a show to watch or if he was the show. I had to say: “Please stick your big cock in my tight cunt. I really need to get fucked.”
As he stuck his generous prickhead against my hot little box, he mentioned something about for damn sure not being able to get it all in there. I reached behind me and pushed him inside my pulsing gash. I held onto the cleft of his ass the whole way as he slid that big cock in—and back out of—my dripping-wet cooch.
Goddamn! His fucking cock felt amazing, and I was wet the whole time. It felt like I was covered in my own juices. From slow, rhythmic beats to fast, hard pumps and back to pulling it all the way out and sticking it back in, we both were eating out of each other’s hands. We both knew just what we were doing and just what we wanted.
I didn’t mention to Matthew that I’m a screamer and a multiple-orgasmic chick. But he discovered the first soon enough and must have figured out the other when I came a third time.
He was fucking me missionary-style, and when my cunt kept getting tighter and tighter, I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. When I knew he was on his last few poundings, I said, “I want you to pull out and come in my mouth.”
He said he was ready, and I got down in a crouch with my pussy exposed, balancing on my platforms. My box still looked like the sexy flower it is, only you could tell it had just gotten the working of a lifetime. He stroked his cock, and I pulled my head back with my mouth wide open until I took the most massive jizzing of my life.
I swallowed half and took the other half on my chin and tits. It drizzled down to my belly. He shivered and lifted me up. To reassure him, I gave him a shy, flirty smile. Even in the moonlight I saw him blush.
We helped each other dress. On the drive back to the lounge, where my car was parked, few words were spoken, but I could tell he wanted to see me again. I mentioned I wasn’t doing anything that weekend. He slipped me his number and address—in case I “would like to stop by sometime for a nightcap,” he said!
He walked me to my car and then kissed me on the cheek. As he did, I whispered in his ear, “Your cock is so damn good, and you made me so damn wet.” All this time I was groping his balls gently and rubbing the front of his pants. I gave him a wink and smiled.
As I turned, he slapped my ass. You could hear the echo clear across the empty parking lot! I smiled even wider, knowing I was the best he’d ever had.
—G.M., Santa Cruz, California
That Tape Measure Came in Handy for More Than Carpeting
Mrs. Jones answered the door. Talk about jugs! She was wearing one of those blouses you could almost see through. Cut low. And no bra. I stood there staring for I don’t know how long.
“In case you didn’t hear me,” she said in a kind of haughty voice, “I asked if you’re the man from the carpet company.”
“Yes, I am,” I said, getting my head together. “Here to measure your living room for the carpet you ordered.”
“I didn’t order it,” she said. “My husband did. Anyway, come in and do your thing. What’s your name?”
“Jerry,” I said, entering a luxurious living room with my pad and tape measure.
Mrs. Jones, who I judged to be about 30, didn’t take her eyes off me the entire time it took to measure the room. Then she said, “Now I want you to measure the master bedroom.”
“My work order doesn’t say anything about the master bedroom,” I said. “Just the living room.”
“Fuck your work order,” she said. “Follow me.”
Following Mrs. Jones up the stairs got me to thinking about things other than measuring a room for carpet! Her legs were smooth and shapely, and her ass perfection. By the time we got to the master bedroom, I was starting to get hard.
Then a surprising thing happened. Mrs. Jones turned to me suddenly and said, “Forget about measuring the room for carpet. Measure me instead.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I said, “What?”
“Are you hard of hearing, Jerry?” she said, starting to strip down right there. “I said I want you to take my measurements.”
“I’m not very comfortable with this,” I stammered. “What about Mr. Jones? After all, he’s the one who ordered the carpet. What if he barges in on us? I came here to measure for carpet, not get shot.”
“For your information,” Mrs. Jones said in her superior tone, “Mr. Jones left this morning for Hawaii with his slut secretary.”
She was now naked to the teeth, and a wonder to behold. Eagerly, I took her measurements: 41-24-36. In my book, ideal! By this time, of course, my cock was giving me all kinds of trouble. And there was no way of hiding it from her.
“I have a confession,” she said, her eyes glued to the bulge in my pants, “I didn’t need you to take my measurements. I already knew them. All I wanted was to turn you on. I see that I’ve succeeded.”
With
that, she stepped to me and deftly yanked down my pants and shorts. Then she dropped to her knees. “Mmm, you’re big, Jerry,” she murmured. “Much bigger than Mr. Jones.”
She took my cock in her talented mouth and went to work on it. There were times when she made it disappear completely.
Before long my head started to spin, and when she clutched my balls with her feminine hand, I was a goner. I pumped salvo after salvo of come down her throat—and she swallowed up every last bit of it. After Mrs. Jones sucked me dry, I stood there in a daze, my pants and shorts still down around my ankles.
Suddenly I needed rest. I managed to hobble to the bed and plop down on it. Scarcely had I shut my eyes when I felt Mrs. Jones pull off my pants and shorts completely, then climb on the bed and nestle in close to me. “I’m not finished with you yet, Jerry,” she whispered in my ear.
She was right about that! She started to caress my body with her magic hands and shoved her prize-winning boobs in my face. “I want you to kiss my breasts, Jerry,” she said. “I want to feel your tongue work on them, feel your teeth nip at my popped-out nipples until I can’t stand it any longer.”
I was more than willing, and after a time doing just as she asked, a time that was ecstasy for me, I felt her tense. “I’m coming!” she yelled. “Get down there and do your thing!”
I knew what she meant, of course. I abandoned her hooters and scooted down to her cooze just as the geyser started to blow. I mashed my face in it and stuck my tongue in as drop after drop of girl goo dribbled into my mouth.
“Lick it all up, Jerry,” she yelled, “and make my day!”
I did. I lapped up everything she had. I don’t think a hungry dog could have done a better job.
Five minutes later Mrs. Jones and I were in her spacious shower. It was wildly exciting lathering each other up, and those tantalizing tits drove me half crazy. Though I fought it—because I wanted the ecstasy to last—I started to get hard. Needless to say, I gave up the struggle when Mrs. Jones put her experienced hand on it and started to whack me off.
Letters to Penthouse XXXIII Page 2
