Penthouse

by Penthouse International

  But when it’s three in the morning and there’s an empty space next to you in bed where the one you love should be, you do the best you can. So I got out the baby oil.

  I warmed it in my hands before I moved them to caress it all over my nipples. I got them so hard, they stood straight up. I wished you were lying next to me, just watching. The thought of that turned me on even more.

  I put more baby oil on my hands and moved them down between my legs. I could smell the combination of my own juices and the oil ever so slightly. My fingers felt cold because my body was so hot. I just started thrusting my fingers in and out of my vagina— but that’s not what makes me come. I need to have my sweet spot gently rolled around, just a little harder with each touch. It felt so good to have my hot body being touched, with the oil helping me feel the pleasure. I came with my own hands deep inside me, feeling the waves of every thrust coming from within. I had to lie there for a few more minutes. I still had waves of pleasure washing over me. There really is no feeling like it.

  When I washed my hands, I got out of bed and started to phone you . . . but calling at three o’clock in the morning would have been very rude of me. Do dreams ever really come true?

  —B. L., California

  Fantasize

  Recently I met my biggest challenge—a very sexy male friend who I had dreamed about fucking ever since I laid eyes on him. We had been good friends for several months and enjoyed partying together, but, surprisingly, we never fucked. I had tried coming on to him by grabbing his perfectly curved ass, and I would undress him with my eyes whenever he looked at me. Every night I would fantasize about fucking him. My sex-filled dreams became so explicit and erotic, I woke up one morning in a puddle of pussy juice with my fingers soaked from masturbating during my dream the night before. As I licked the juices off my fingers, I decided that my sex life would remain incomplete unless I fulfilled this fantasy.

  One night, while at a party, I left a sexually explicit poetic message on his answering machine. When he arrived at the party, I sweet-talked him into taking me back to his place. He played the message, which said:

  Fantasize getting high,

  Stripped black lace in your face. . . .

  Fantasize naked thighs spread out wide, Tongue inside . . .

  Fantasize . . . lick your cock,

  Hard as rock,

  Balls knock . . .

  Fantasize . . .

  Pussy wet,

  Bodies sweat,

  Don’t come yet . . .

  Fantasize seducing eyes. . . .

  Fuck all night,

  Feels so right. . . .

  Fantasize me and you

  Fantasy coming true.

  As he listened to my voice begging for sex on the answering machine, I stripped out of my clothes to expose my body—barely covered in black-lace lingerie. When the message ended, he wrapped my spread legs around his waist and carried me into his bedroom. He lay me down on my back and fed his hard, horny cock to my anxious tongue and lips. I rolled his balls around in my mouth as he stripped the lingerie from my body. When he freed my hands, I sucked his hard cock harder and harder. For the next three hours, he maneuvered my body into the most erotic positions, and we licked every inch of each other’s flesh.

  My fantasy came true that night, and now I not only enjoy sharing my body with him, but we both feel an erotic high when I seduce him with my sexually explicit poetry.

  —A. L., Nebraska

  The Natural

  Arriving at the bus station in New York City, I’m surprised by the number of people rushing about. I make my way out to the heart of the city. I’m knocked somewhat off-balance—my suitcase and my purse are snatched out of my hands. I’m left in a daze. I can’t believe this could happen to me within the first hour of my adventure.

  Gradually, reality settles in. I accept the fact that I have been robbed, and I’m thankful that I still have my carry-on bag in my possession—makeup, hair products, toothbrush, black-lace bra and panties, but nothing else.

  At this point I spot a coffee shop across the street from the office building in which I had sought shelter. Immediately, knowing I have a few dollars left in my pocket, I make a mad dash toward the street. Suddenly, I collide with someone, sending him down on top of me.

  Looking upward, I am engulfed in the most mesmerizing set of blue eyes I have ever seen. They’re so full of sparkle and life! I hear a voice—it breaks through my unconscious state, and I am drawn to focus on a face . . . Robert Redford’s face! I am also aware of a throbbing sensation in my right ankle, my head hurts, and, shit, I broke a nail, too!

  “Robbie” sees that I’m injured. . . . He wants to take me to the hospital. I refuse, saying it throbs but there’s nothing broken but my nail. He laughs warmly.

  Getting up, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to his car, insisting that I be a guest at his apartment until I feel that my injuries are healed. I tell him about my grand adventure to the Big Apple.

  I am entrusted to the care of his housekeeper and a doctor friend, who appraises the situation—a very badly sprained ankle, possibly torn ligaments, a mild concussion, and, of course, a broken nail.

  After a few days, I’m feeling better. I take a shower, dress in my bra and panties, and look for something to wear over my undergarments. Finding a shirt—his shirt—I put it on and set out to investigate my surroundings. (Although it had been wonderful to lie in bed and get flowers every night when he came home.) I am overwhelmed by the size and warmth of his apartment—everything is so beautiful and soothing.

  “Nice shirt,” I suddenly hear behind me. I am startled to hear Robbie’s voice. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’ve borrowed something to wear. He just looks at me with an amused grin. . . . Provocative undertones can be seen in his eyes. My pulse quickens.

  After a nice, relaxing dinner together, Robbie sets off into another room, then there is this beautiful, romantic music playing. Reappearing, he asks me to dance. Looking at my ankle, I tell him that I can’t dance very well. He offers to teach me.

  In his arms I am nervous, excited, and out of breath! He holds me just close enough so that I am comfortable—close enough to feel the heat of his body without feeling its strength, close enough to smell his warm breath laced with a hint of alcohol from the wine we shared.

  I can feel an electrifying numbness overtake my body. I’m entranced. I feel light-headed. My legs are weak and shaking somewhat. My sex is warm and wet. He gathers me up into his arms and carries me to his bed.

  Laying me down, he begins to massage my neck, then he slowly moves down toward the buttons of the shirt and opens them. Then he begins to caress my lace-covered breasts. He removes my apparel with such skill.

  Still caressing my breasts, he moves in a downward direction, over my stomach and around my navel. Expertly finding my clitoris, he magically strokes me to an earth-shattering climax. Licking his fingers, he moves his head between my thighs and begins to suck my hot juices long and hard, thus sending me into orbit with my second orgasmic moment.

  Sliding his way back over my body, he guides his manhood into my waiting canal of love. At first it is painstakingly slow and lingering, then the rhythm begins to increase in intensity. He fondles the right cheek of my ass while gently sucking my left nipple. It feels so good! My body begins to feel feverish. It progresses into a blazing fire desperately seeking release. At last, with a final thrust, Robbie and I reach the same orgasmic plane together.

  My loins are numb with ecstasy, my vulva drips with the sweet juices of our lovemaking. This moment never ends . . . we are married shortly after.

  —G. J., Massachusetts

  Ghostly Lover (Halloween Special)

  I had never put much stock in the stories I read in Penthouse until recently, after my husband and I moved into our house. We were doing some renovation work in one of the bedroom closets, when I found an old watch and set it. It still worked, and with a little leather conditioner, it looked brand-n
ew. I put it on, and after putting on my nightgown, I went to bed.

  Later that night I awoke for no apparent reason. My husband was sleeping beside me, undisturbed. I got up and walked down the hall to the bedroom we had been working in. I thought we had left the closet light on, and I went to shut it off. I opened the door and found a man standing in the corner, looking out the window. I was terrified, but then something else took over. I stepped into the room and closed the door.

  It was as if something or someone else was guiding my hand as I turned the key in the lock. With that the person turned and I saw that he was a black man, about twenty-five years old or so, but he seemed older somehow, like his clothes were sort of outdated or something. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. He walked across the room and stood in front of me. I couldn’t believe it when I felt my pussy start to tingle. I tried to stop, but instead I began to slip off my nightgown. He smiled and put his arms around me to help with my nightie.

  At that point I was so horny, I quit trying to resist and gave myself over to this dream, or whatever it was.

  I reached down and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his thick, stiff cock. He put his hands on my shoulders and I slid to my knees in front of him, taking his dark member between my lips. I began sucking—slowly at first, gradually increasing the pressure—until I was slurping away with abandon. I couldn’t believe how good his cock tasted. I ran my hands around his waist and pulled down his pants. I had never been with a black man before, and the very thought of him fucking me drove me wild. He ran his hands through my hair and behind my head so he could pump his cock in and out of my mouth. Before he came he pulled me to my feet and guided me back onto the bed. He took one of my ankles in each hand and raised my legs straight up over the edge of the bed. His grip was like steel. I watched as he positioned the head of his thick cock against my slit. My pussy was very wet, and I couldn’t wait for him to satisfy me.

  He eased the head of his penis between my lips, causing me to moan with pleasure. For a moment I hoped my husband hadn’t heard, but then another wave of lust swept over me.

  Slowly, he increased the tempo as I gasped and moaned, until I came with a huge gushing orgasm, which seemed to trigger his, as I felt a warm flood fill me.

  That is all I remember about that night. The next morning I awoke in bed with my husband. There have been other such incidents that always take place when I’m wearing that old watch. I am convinced that I have a ghostly lover who is somehow connected to the watch. Now, every time I put it on, I feel a twinge of excitement, wondering if he will come.

  —S. W., Texas

  Imagine

  As a woman who enjoys Penthouse as much as any man, I thought I would share some of my most vivid masturbation fantasies with your other readers. My husband enjoys hearing about my solo sex life, and after I tell him my dreams, we always have the craziest sex ever.

  I like to start with my ankles together and my legs up in the air. I can feel the air on the back of my legs, and I start to get warm. I trace my fingers over the outside of my thighs, toward the inside, up and down. I can feel the goose bumps starting to form on my legs, and soon after my cunt starts to throb, but I don’t touch myself—not yet.

  Sometimes I imagine that I am on a glass platform and there are men standing under me. There is oil on the table, and I look down at the men and start moving my whole body slowly. I put my pussy straight down on the glass and move my ass from side to side.

  The room is dark, spacious, and quiet. Next I imagine that the men start to take off their clothes, and I know they want me. Somehow the men lower the platform so they can have their way with me. I lie there with my knees apart just imagining the sucking of a tongue—an expert tongue—licking my pussy with a sweet tickle. The sucking isn’t hard, but gently firm. The tongue pushes softly around and slowly into my clit, matching the rhythm of my throbbing cunt. Then a finger is pushing inside of my slit, and the mouth continues its magic on my lips and clit. The fingering stops and the hand moves to my bottom, exploring and stroking until my sighs become moans.

  A new hand is working on my pussy now, also moving back to my butt to send shivers through my whole body. I groan with the feeling of my pussy gushing as a little wetness drips out onto my leg.

  This man has a beautiful, straight hard-on with a delicious purple head—I want it. I put my legs up and wiggle around, but he just touches me. He pushes his finger slowly in and out of my pussy. I lift my legs up higher, so I am completely exposed. I need it so badly! But he puts my legs down and straightens me out. He starts to lick my nipples, nibbling just a little bit and then sucking firmly. He lies down on top of me. I can feel his swollen cock pressed into my stomach. He kisses me with his perfect tongue, wet and succulent.

  Another strong, naked man joins in. I know they want me at the same time. He lies down next to us, and they turn me on my side. I wiggle my pelvis around because I’m so hot. Behind me the new man’s skin is touching the entire length of my body. After putting their hands in the oil, they both stroke every inch of me. I bring my legs forward a little because I want to be touched from behind. He puts his hands on my ass and squeezes it—I like that. I push it out toward him to let him know that I want more. He starts to rub the head of his cock against my crack, and another deep moan escapes my lips.

  Then they roll me onto my back and one of the men pushes my legs up in the air, gets his cock just right, and starts pushing it into me very slowly, making me plead for more. It feels so good. Another man walks over and eases his dick into my mouth. I put my hands around his cock and suck hard while the man inside of me is now up to full, forceful strokes in my twat. I move back and forth with loud and erotic moans as I taste sweet precome and smell my own juices. I can’t stop screaming—the sensations are too intense. One by one we stiffen and flex in passionate climax. The lights go very dim, I imagine.

  —O. L., Virginia

  Your Force

  I can see you sitting there—almost close enough to touch, but just out of reach. You look at me with that wanting look in your eyes—a look I’ve seen many times. You know how hard it is for me to resist you. Your eyes plead for me to come closer. The incredible power you have over me makes me move toward you.

  Like steel to a magnet, I’m attracted to you—your force pulls me in.

  As I draw closer, I imagine your arms around me, holding me close. I can feel your warm breath on my neck, sending shivers down my spine and making my hair stand on end. Your hands explore my body.

  I run my fingers up the back of your neck and through your hair. I bury my face in your strong chest as you place tender kisses on the side of my neck. When I lift my head to look into your eyes, our lips finally meet. Your kiss is slow, tender, and filled with passion. As we stand there kissing, my mind fills with the thought of making love to you.

  When I come back to reality, you are slowly unbuttoning my blouse and anointing my neck and shoulders with warm, wet kisses. I want you more now than I ever have in the past. My body is consumed by lust, and I urge you to continue your seduction.

  As we slowly undress, you turn to light a candle, and my gaze wanders up and down your perfect body. The candle starts to flicker, and I see you sitting there, the glimmering light casting shadows against your skin—you look so beautiful. I look into your eyes and see the love, passion, and desire you have within you.

  We sink to the floor and begin to touch each other, exploring each other’s bodies as if it is the first time we are making love. Your solid shoulders and firm body feels so good pressed up against mine. My thighs start to tingle with anticipation as we begin our lovemaking adventure.

  I press my body even closer to yours, trying to make myself one with you. You nibble your way down my body until you reach my pleasure pit. You use your tongue to take me to heaven before bringing me back down to earth.

  I flip you over and return the favor, working my way slowly up and down your body. When I reach your mouth, you kiss me, place me on
my back, and enter me. You move slowly at first, almost timidly, as if it is my first time. I urge you to pick up the pace, wanting to feel every powerful thrust of your hips. You whisper in my ear how much you want me, driving even deeper into my soul.

  I rotate my hips to meet yours with every pulsating thrust, wanting to please you. You speed up, your pelvis grinding against mine. I am moaning with delight.

  You give one final push and I feel your love flow into me. Our juices mix, overflow, and run down my legs. You kiss me, telling me how wonderful our love-making was, and I return your kiss with the same declaration.

  As we lie together, bathed in the dim light of the morning, the candle having gone out hours before, you stroke my hair. I fall asleep in your arms just as the sun begins to rise.

  —D. D., California

  My Awakening

  The Greek god Eros was the god of desire. It was said that when he cast his eyes and placed his touch upon any mortal woman, she would be overwhelmed and consumed with an insatiable desire for him and only him.

  All my life I had waited for someone to arouse the desire that I could feel smoldering inside me. I graduated with honors, I was captain of my cheerleading team, and I was voted “best-looking” and “most likely to succeed” by my peers. I’ve met and dated many handsome, powerful, and wealthy men, including a famous movie star. No one stirred me. When I married I was a virgin, and even after my divorce, my passions still seemed asleep . . . until I met him.

  The very first time I was with him, I felt an immediate trust, and we talked as if we had known one another for years. We went out for a business dinner, and I felt an immediate alliance which I did not question—an alliance that would become intimate and pleasurable. The first night we were together, I cried, fearing my lack of sexual experience would matter. But learning to please him mattered above all else. Words could never describe all that he does to me.