Penthouse (27 page)

His last request was that I write to
Penthouse
and tell you how much we enjoy the letters.

—G. Y., New York

Porch Swinging

After my husband and I had enjoyed a leisurely dinner of barbecued steaks and a bottle of wine, things began to heat up. Sitting on the porch swing, we began to fondle each other and were soon tugging at our clothes and petting each other frantically. Ed pulled my shorts off, got on his knees, and plowed into my wet crotch with his tongue. As I massaged my hard nipples, he licked and tickled my erect clitoris. I moaned and squirmed as my breathing became out of control. I begged Ed to fill my aching hole with his enormous hard-on.

He stood up just long enough to pull his shorts down, then he lay down on his back on the porch and I eagerly slipped my soaking pussy over the head of his cock, slamming it down on his shaft. We bounced and moaned, gyrated, and eventually screamed as we came together. We stayed on the floor for about ten minutes holding each other, then went into the house to fuck again.

We were just about to get in the shower when the doorbell rang. Ed’s hard-on was at full height again, so I put on my robe and went to the door. Our neighbor Doug was there with his girlfriend Stacy. Doug smiled widely, said he knew he was interrupting something, and began waving the videocassette he was holding.

By the time we all got to the living room, Doug had the VCR and TV ready to go. The tape started out with shots of his other neighbor’s garage roof, the shingles going in and out of focus. Sensing our growing anger, Doug quickly told us to keep watching because the good stuff was just about to start.

I noticed then that Stacy was gently massaging Doug’s crotch. Just as I thought
Oh no. He wouldn’t,
I saw our porch come into focus. And sure enough, there I was with my shirt pushed up over my breasts and Ed’s head bobbing between my thighs. We just sat there with our mouths hanging open as the camera zoomed in on Ed’s tongue darting about in my crotch.

When I turned around, Doug and Stacy were groping each other passionately and pulling off their clothes. I watched in amazement as they quickly disrobed and began licking and sucking each other everywhere. I noticed that Ed’s reaction to all this was to masturbate under his robe. Without another thought, I flopped down to the floor and began to suck that great big hard-on. As I licked up and down, I could feel my crotch getting wet. I felt someone’s hands pull my robe up off my bottom, then a tongue licking my soaked crotch. When I looked around, I was surprised—and very excited—to discover that it was Stacy who was so expertly licking my twat.

I could hear Doug moaning and I knew he had mounted Stacy and was having the ride of his life. I bobbed my head over Ed’s thrusting hardness while Stacy ate away at my hot snatch and Doug pounded her from behind. The room was filled with shouts of ecstasy and the smell of sex as Doug’s moans told us that he was about to come. At this signal Ed began eagerly humping my mouth, and Stacy’s excitement was beginning to improve her agility in licking my sopping pussy. We all came in one shattering orgasmic wave from Doug to Ed.

Of course, the evening didn’t stop there, and we have the videos to prove it!

—H. W., Wisconsin

A Different Approach

Most men are so sweet and gullible. I have yet to meet a member of the opposite sex who would refuse to have sex with me. Occasionally, about twice a year, I take risks. I drive to a neighboring town and go to a supermarket. I look for the perfect stranger, walk up to him, introduce myself, and ask him to give me an hour of his time. I immediately follow up with the simple statement: “I’d like to have sex with you.”

The reactions vary only in form. All men so far have followed me to a motel. I make it clear from the beginning that I am not a hooker and I only want them to pay for the room. After wild, uninhibited sex (always using condoms) I dismiss them before I take a long, hot bath. Over the years I have targeted older gentlemen. The leisurely, relaxed pace for foreplay and fucking of men in their fifties and sixties is far superior to the frantic impatience of younger males. Surprising, also, is the wonderful strong libido of these men who are supposed to be past their prime.

I spent a most beautiful afternoon with Frank, sixty-six, who was also the only one I saw more than once and whom I finally introduced to my husband and into our bedroom for threesomes. Dave and I have an open marriage and never deny each other the extracurricular carnal experience.

I saw Frank at the produce counter, squeezing tomatoes. He answered my smile with a big grin. After my introduction and statement of intent, he followed me to the motel. I was dressed for the occasion in black-lace garters and panties under my skirt and blouse. I proceeded with a salacious striptease, dropping my skirt, unbuttoning my blouse.

A warm rush of anticipation permeated my body as I freed my breasts and massaged them. Frank helped me unhook my stockings. I bent down to wiggle my ass just inches from his face. He kissed my buttocks, and slowly stripped the hose down my legs. I moistened from the excitement, and between my legs I noticed the wetness through my panties. I took Frank’s hand and placed it squarely on my sex. He gently rubbed my pussy through the fabric, and I told him how good it felt. Then he stripped down my panties. His hands now went on a trip to all the most intimate parts of my body. They tenderly traveled up my thighs, to the inside, back over my ass cheeks, up my spine, under my arms, over my shoulders, along my neck behind my ears—I shuddered in delight. His fingertips felt the outline of my face. I turned toward him. His hands wandered to my tits, and caressed them ever so gently. My nipples were hard and begged to be touched. He caressed them and leaned down to kiss them. Meanwhile, my arousal reached a high pitch. I wanted him so much now that I opened his shirt, revealing the mat of gray hair on his chest. I burrowed my head into it and licked his nipples. His trousers came down. So did his shorts. His cannon was loose, but rock-hard.

I marveled at this old young man’s equipment and its readiness. I enjoyed the sight of it, its scent, its touch. I pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him in the classic sixty-nine. On my knees, my pelvis over his face, he had all my charms to see, and he murmured his appreciation of them.

I slowly deep-throated him while he touched my pussy. My tits dangled to make contact. Oh, how delicious were his tongue and lips. The vibration of his deep moans exquisitely titillated my cunt, and I squealed in the transport of an intense orgasm. Frank knew, and he let up in his ministrations so I could recover my senses. He waited until the supersensitivity between my legs subsided.

It did not take long until I felt raunchy again. I turned, pressed my sex upon his pole, guiding it with my hands into my pussy. He looked at me and smiled. I leaned over and kissed him deeply, smelling my juices on his face. I slowly rose and fell, creating the perfect friction between us. He urgently met my movements. Then he held on to me tightly, rolled on top, and commenced some vigorous fucking. Oh, how I loved it. His pubic bone hit my clit powerfully. My climax began to rise, and I told him so. With a loud groan, his body jerked violently. I came and came as he trembled all over and spilled his come into me.

Frank has become a good friend, and we are delighted to have him come to our bedroom. He is sensuously considerate. He is sixty-seven years old now, and his sexual energy and drive are amazing.

—T. W., California

Brief Encounter

I am a twenty-five-year-old, well-built woman who enjoys reading “Forum,” especially with my man looking over my shoulder. I think a pair of bikini panties on a man is a fantastic turn-on, especially when he has a body like my man does. Just seeing that line across his rear through a pair of tight jeans makes me want to grab his cheeks. The front is better yet, because there’s always a beautiful bulge just aching to be caressed. My lover first introduced me to his panty fetish about a year and a half ago, and we have shared some wonderful experiences ever since. I’ve never felt anything as exciting as a man’s balls and hard prick through a pair of soft, sheer panties, and the more I caress him, the larger he grows, until his prick begins to grow out of the lacy edge and we are ready to make love.

One evening, he came over and asked me to undress him, so I slipped my hand into his jeans and felt his cute little cheeks through the soft nylon. I couldn’t wait to get his pants off. To my delighted surprise, he didn’t have one pair of daring little panties on, but five—each more daring than the one before. First I slowly removed a print pair, caressing his balls as I slipped them off, only to reveal a pair of black, wet-look string bikinis that by now held only his balls, for his prick had grown quite large. As I took those off, his hand slipped into my lace panties and began exploring my already very wet pussy, making me want him even more. The next pair left almost nothing to the imagination—they were beautifully sheer and pink and gave me a fantastic view of his throbbing organ. I stripped him of those dainty things, only to see that he had adorned his body with two pairs of crotchless panties. We left the last pair on, for they were slit from front to back and trimmed with a little black lace—just to tease. I was so hot, I knew that as soon as he entered me, I would come, and I did—not once, but several times, until we both exploded together in a fantastic climax. My lover has more than a hundred pairs of panties, many of which I have given him—he loves the way they feel on his body, and so do I.

—Name and address withheld

Bathing-Cap Trap

I am thirty years old and men have told me I’m attractive, yet I don’t consider myself overly sexy. A few months ago, when my husband and I decided to take separate vacations, I opted for the sunny beaches of Acapulco, where I was lucky enough to meet a handsome young man who appeared to enjoy some affluence.

While we were swimming one day, my new boyfriend embraced me from behind, tightly cupping my breasts. I could feel him becoming hard, and I reached behind me, pulled his rock-hard penis out of his bathing suit, and placed it between my legs. He climaxed rather quickly as I flexed my thigh muscles. As he came he put both of his hands on my head and began to kiss and lick my rubber swim cap. Having read
Penthouse,
I am tolerant of fetishes and thought nothing of it.

Of course, we became lovers that afternoon. I brought him to my suite, where he asked me to wear my swim cap during our lovemaking. He seemed particularly to like holding my rubber cap as I sucked his cock.

I must say that he reciprocated and gave me the best oral love I have ever had. After his first orgasm, he went down on me forty-five minutes at least, making me very happy indeed.

The next day he took me to a leather shop and bought me a red-leather minidress, a black-leather coat, and high boots. We then returned to the hotel, and he asked me to wear combinations of the new gear as we made love. I really turned him on. I had one of those clear vinyl raincoats in my closet, and when he saw that, he asked me to wear it with nothing on underneath except my boots. He began to get hard and masturbate. I didn’t want him to do that, so I climbed on top of him and fucked him like a wild woman! It turned me on like nothing had before, and I had a fantastic orgasm!

We had a wonderful two weeks together and had the most fantastic sex, although sometimes it seemed that he was more interested in what I wore than in me. But I didn’t care, because I was getting a lot of his hard cock. I think we screwed more often in those two weeks than my husband and I have in five years of marriage. When I came home, I modeled the leather garments for my husband, but he didn’t seem at all interested. However, when I wore the gear on a shopping trip downtown, I noticed many men staring at me in a very horny way, which excited me.

In crowds, many men would brush up against me with their hands, feeling the smooth leather. In an elevator, one man put his hand on my bottom. As we got out, I turned to him, and said, “Like my outfit?” He stammered and nodded. I suggested that we go somewhere where he could really enjoy it. He said he couldn’t afford it, and I explained that I wasn’t a professional. We went to the enclosed parking lot and to my car, where we had a sensational fucking and sucking session. This man, too, loved to caress my leather as we screwed.

Now, whenever I’m horny, I put on my “fucking clothes,” and I have my pick of most men on the streets. I can be very selective. I just wait until I get an admiring glance from someone who looks good to me. I especially love rainy days. I bought some vinyl and thigh-high boots like some of your
Penthouse
girls wear. I wear my red-leather minidress and my clear vinyl raincoat. It’s my most successful outfit!

—Name and address withheld

If the Shoe Fits. . .

I am taking the liberty of writing to you in regard to a high-heel fetish. I am just twenty years old, fourfoot-ten, and weigh ninety-six pounds. But my figure is considered very good, and I’ve been told I have beautiful legs. I’ve been married for eleven months. When I was sixteen, I purchased my first pair of high heels. The heels were four inches, and I enjoyed them very much, as they made me appear tall. Since I am short my feet are also very small, so I still wear the same size. I never did know what a high-heel fetish was until I met my husband, two years ago.

He asked me if I could wear higher heels, and I told him that a four-inch heel was the highest I could purchase, and that since my feet are very small, I did not think I could wear higher heels. About two weeks later, while out on a date, he parked his car and from the trunk brought out three new pairs of shoes in my size. They all had five-inch heels. He said he ordered them from Frederick’s of Hollywood. It was a little difficult at first being raised another inch in height, but in no time at all I was used to wearing them constantly. But a month later, he again said that he would love to see me in higher heels. I argued that it wouldn’t be possible. Then the following week we visited a custom shoe builder in Pittsburgh, who, after looking at my high instep and the arch of my feet, insisted with my boyfriend that I could easily wear a six-inch heel. At this point I really was scared. I felt that it would be impossible to wear shoes with heels that height, but again I had no say in the matter, and I love my boyfriend.