Letters to Penthouse XXXIV (16 page)

There is one particular Mexican restaurant not far from the campus, which I often went to by myself for lunch. The food was
not bad, but another attraction for me was a very good-looking black waiter named Jean Paul, who was quite fluid in Spanish.
I enjoyed conversing with Jean Paul, and he seemed to be more than happy to indulge my appetite for speaking the language.

Occasionally I would find myself flirting with Jean Paul in my second language, just to add a little spice to our conversation.
If I was wearing a low-cut blouse or top, I would bend over teasingly sometimes, to give him a good view. I had never been
with a black man, and I told myself I had no real desire to cheat on my husband, but there was something about this man that
really got me going. Maybe it was the smoothness with which he spoke my favorite language—or maybe it was his rock-hard 26-year-old
body. But whatever it was, he was a definite turn-on.

One evening about a week ago, my husband and I decided to go out to dinner to celebrate my upcoming birthday. I wasn’t sure
where we were going, and I was surprised when Howard pulled into the parking lot at the Mexican restaurant where Jean Paul
worked. Smiling at me, he told me that since it was my birthday we were celebrating, he wanted me to have the kind of dinner
I would most enjoy.

We walked in and were seated in a corner booth. A few moments later Jean Paul appeared from the back and came straight to
our table. Smiling at him, I introduced him to Howard, and he attempted to speak to him in Spanish. Howard just shrugged and
apologized, explaining that I was the only Spanish speaker at the table, and Jean Paul smilingly switched to English.

There was something strangely unsettling about watching Jean Paul speaking to my husband. After all, this was the young black
stud that I had been flirting with and fantasizing about for months now. In fact, I had even gone so far as to seek out one
of those seedy novelty stores at the edge of town, where I had purchased one of those huge black rubber dongs that look and
feel like the real thing. I enjoyed waking from my weekend nap and riding that large black dildo, while dreaming about what
Jean Paul might be like in bed.

I started to get really horny as I thought about this, and I was caught off guard when Jean Paul turned to me and said in
Spanish, “Is my zipper down?”

“What?” I said, surprised. Jean Paul had caught me staring at his crotch in a daze. “No,” I hastened to reply to him, in Spanish.
“No, your fly is not down. I was just thinking about something.”

Jean Paul, knowing that my husband couldn’t understand what we were saying, now became bold. “I can see from your eyes what
you desire,” he said, smiling at me. “And I cannot serve this to you here in front of your husband.”

“You are a cutie,” I replied, my lust making me bold as well. “But you are probably more than I could handle.” I then turned
to Howard and said in English, “How about we order?” Howard told me to go ahead. Looking up at Jean Paul I asked, again in
Spanish, “How big is the enchilada?”

Jean Paul smiled again. “Ten inches long and nearly seven inches around,” he answered in the same language. “I assure you
that it will definitely fill you up!”

“My, my,” I said. “That’s a lot of food!”

“Oh, excuse me,” Jean Paul said, his eyes dancing. “I thought you were asking about something else.”

“Stop that,” I said, trying to look stern. “I am out with my husband, you know.” Jean Paul apologized smoothly, saying that
he had just gotten carried away. He had never been so bold before in our conversations, and I was a bit taken aback by it,
but I supposed there was no harm done—except that my panties were now soaked through.

Howard and I enjoyed our meal—I somewhat more than he, I’m afraid—and afterward I waited at the table while Howard went up
to the cash register to pay the bill. He talked with Jean Paul for a few minutes before returning to the table and escorting
me out. On the drive home, Howard asked about Jean Paul, saying that he seemed like a nice fellow. I agreed that he was, secretly
wondering if his description of his “enchilada” could possibly have been true.

“He seemed to really like your big boobs,” Howard said.

“What?” I said, surprised.

“Well, when you were talking to him at the table, your nipples were damn near ripping through your shirt,” Howard said. “I’m
just saying that he appeared to enjoy the view.”

“Well, I hope he did,” I said pertly. “Now can we just get home so I can shower and get ready for the fun part of this date?”
I was really longing for a good fuck by now, and I felt that if he didn’t shut up about Jean Paul, I might just blurt out
to him what Jean Paul had said to me in the restaurant.

Then I remembered that Howard had once told me that he sometimes fantasized about me fucking a black guy while he watched.
Of course I didn’t take that seriously—I was a teacher, after all, and couldn’t act on such nasty thoughts. Although that
didn’t keep me from pretending sometimes with that big dong that I keep hidden away in the closet. Upon our arrival home,
I told Howard that I was going to take a hot bath and then join him in the bedroom for a romp. Howard smiled and said he would
be waiting. After a nice long bath, I put on my sexiest nightie and headed for the bedroom. Upon entering, I saw Howard smiling,
holding up a blindfold.

“What’s that for?” I asked curiously.

“Well, it is your birthday,” Howard replied, “and I’ve brought you a gift. I’m going to put this on you so that I can present
it properly, without you seeing it before it’s ready.”

Thinking how sweet my husband was, always trying to make me happy, I readily agreed to be blindfolded. Howard fastened the
dark cloth over my eyes and then left the room, saying he would be back in a minute.

It wasn’t much more than that before he returned, and I felt him get on the bed beside me and kiss my neck. I began to get
wet when he kissed his way down to my chest. He then slid the straps of my nightie off and let my large breasts swing free.
Gently he kissed and nibbled at my nipples.

I was now at the point where I really needed a cock—any cock. I told Howard to take off my blindfold so that I could see my
present, hoping at this point that it would be him, standing in front of me with his hard cock in his hand, waiting for me
to swallow it. Howard moved behind me then and untied the blindfold. As he slowly removed it I blinked my eyes, and as my
vision cleared I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. For standing right there at the foot of my bed, staring at my bare chest,
was Jean Paul! “What’s going on?” I demanded, when my astonishment had abated enough to allow me to speak.

Howard smiled at me. “Well,” he said, “I have been going with you to these Mexican restaurants for a while now, and finally
I thought it would be a nice thing if I tried to learn some Spanish, so I could talk to you in your favorite language. I’ve
been studying in my free time, and though I still can’t speak it all that well, I can understand quite a bit. So when I put
together your conversation at the dinner table tonight, I asked Jean Paul here if he would like to come over and feed you
the enchilada that you expressed such an interest in!”

I could only stare at him as I remembered him speaking to Jean Paul at the cash register. My head was swirling. I had not
been with another man since I met my husband, but here I was, sitting topless on my bed, with Jean Paul standing right in
front of me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hit Howard or kiss him. But I was sure of one thing: I wanted Jean Paul’s cock.

“All right,” I said finally, and a little breathlessly. “But it will be just this one time, Howard, and we will never do anything
like this again! All right?”

“Anything you say, darling,” Howard said.

So now it was time to see if the reality measured up to Jean Paul’s boasts. I reached for his slacks with slightly trembling
hands, and slowly pulled down his zipper. Reaching in, I felt something I couldn’t believe. I undid the clasp and let his
slacks fall to the floor, revealing a cock almost a foot long, and so big and thick that I couldn’t fit my hand around it.

“Oh, my God!” I said. “It’s just amazing!”

Jean Paul smiled and said, “I told you it would fill you up!”

I took that cock in both hands then, marveling at its size. I got off the bed and slid down to my knees on the floor, no longer
feeling in control of my own body. I lifted his heavy cock and touched it to my lips. I was in heaven! Slowly I took the huge
head into my panting mouth and proceeded to suck and lick it with great passion, trying to take his dick deeper. I began jacking
him off with both hands, wanting him to come now, desperately needing him to unload down my throat, but he wouldn’t. I felt
his large hands tangling in my hair as I sucked his massive meat harder and harder.

“Please!” I demanded, pulling my mouth from him. “Fill my mouth with your sweet come!”

But he didn’t. Instead he bent down and whispered into my ear, “I have wanted to slide my dick between those huge tits since
I first laid eyes on you.”

“Then fuck them, Jean Paul!” I whimpered. “Fuck them good, and then come in my mouth!” Saying this, I felt like a slut, and
at that moment that was what I wanted to be. Jean Paul pulled me up and laid me back on the bed, and I pushed my big globes
together. He straddled my waist and slipped his monster meat between them, sliding it back and forth, as I lowered my head
to receive the tip of it in my mouth with every forward stroke. This went on for five minutes before Jean Paul finally erupted.
Huge long streams of come flew out of his enormous prick, covering my boobs, my face, and the wall behind me.

I was in shock. I had never seen so much come in my life! Furthermore, I could see that Jean Paul’s cock was still hard. I
was used to Howard’s average-size dick quickly fading away after one of my blowjobs, to be useless for the rest of the evening.
But Jean Paul’s tool wanted more.

Jean Paul now rolled over and lay down on his back, his gigantic prick pointing at the ceiling. I quickly straddled him and
began to feed his monster into my now-dripping pussy. Slowly I sank down on it, taking it in inch by inch. At about the halfway
point I came, and came hard. And after a few more inches I came again. I started pumping up and down then, taking him in deeper
and deeper, and coming harder and harder.

When I finally became aware that he was about to let go of another load, I leaned forward to kiss him. Then, letting my large
boobs swing against his face, I told him in Spanish that I wanted him to fill my cunt with his come, which he promptly did.
I rolled off him then, and we all went to sleep, exhausted.

Howard had left for work when I awoke the next morning, but Jean Paul was lying there next to me. I stuck my head under the
covers and began to suck his soft cock. In no time at all it was standing tall in all its glory. I sucked on that glorious
dick for what seemed like an hour before he erupted in my mouth, giving me more come than I could swallow. I then let him
pound my pussy for another hour before he exploded again. What a way to wake up!

I had meant it when I said that this encounter was to be just a one-time thing. As a teacher and a married woman, I could
not go on indulging in such behavior. However, I still have the pleasure of having a big black cock stuffed into my hungry
pussy at least once a week or so. Then, when I’m finished, I wash it off carefully and hide it back in the closet so it won’t
be discovered.

—
R.C., Phoenix, Arizona
     

My story just might make some of you married men out there think twice about cheating on your wife.

I’m a 37-year-old woman who has been married to an average man for 17 years. We have two sons, who are my pride and joy. Recently
I found out that my husband has been having an affair with some young bitch at work. I seriously considered divorcing him
when I found out, but shopping around, I found it isn’t cheap to get a divorce, which would also devastate my boys emotionally
and financially.

So I opted for Plan B: to go and get me another cock to play with! It works out better for all of us. Daddy and the boys don’t
have to know what Momma is doing behind closed doors.

I wasn’t sure when or who it was going to be with, but I knew it was going to happen, so the first thing I did was get back
on the pill. Then I went on a cock hunt. I meant to be patient and make it worth my while, but I was hunting nonetheless.

My boss has long come on to me and would be an easy fuck, but I wasn’t crazy about the sexual stamina of a 41-year-old husband,
so a 48-year-old boss didn’t seem a much better proposition. I figured if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.
Someone younger, who still had a high level of testosterone. Anyone good-looking between 20 and 32 who could keep a secret
sounded about right.

My chance came a couple of months later—a Saturday when my husband was golfing, my older son was working, and the younger
one was spending the weekend with his cousins.