Letters to Penthouse XIII (36 page)

“I think my boyfriend wants to fuck you now,” Dawn said. “Are you going to let him put his hard cock up your cute little butthole?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alicia said, getting up on all fours in the bed. “Absolutely.”

Dawn got the bottle of baby oil. She squirted some into Alicia’s crack. She squirted more into her hands.

“Let me do your cock,” she said to me. I got up on my knees in bed and let my unbelievable girlfriend lube up my hard-on. I kissed her sweet mouth while she made my cock slippery with her hands. Then I got in position behind Alicia.

Dawn took my cock and placed its head against Alicia’s glistening anus. “Fuck her good, baby,” she whispered to me. Slowly, I pushed my way into the blonde girl’s soft, slick rear passage.

I could tell right away that Alicia was no novice when it came to taking a dick up her ass. She went slack in no time at all, letting me go all the way in with almost no resistance.

While I fucked Alicia’s pretty butt, Dawn ran her oily hands all over my chest and back. She cupped my nuts. She put her tongue in my mouth. She was like an animal in heat, as if seeing me fucking her friend only made her passion more intense. I think she genuinely liked the idea that her stud boyfriend was fucking another girl’s ass right in front of her.

Alicia made whimpering sounds as I pounded in and out of her shapely rump. Dawn put her lips against my ear. “Save some of that cock for me, lover,” she said. “I need it really bad.”

“Get on your hands and knees,” I told her. She quickly did what I asked of her, right beside Alicia. I slipped out of Alicia’s asshole, spread my perfect girlfriend’s butt cheeks, and rammed my greasy cock up her fantastic asshole. Alicia collapsed on the bed beside Dawn, as though exhausted from the fucking I had given her. I reached down to finger her sweet stretched hole while I buggered Dawn with my cock. Then I exploded. I don’t think I had ever came as hard as I did then, or that I ever will again.

Dawn and I have messed around with Alicia a couple of times since then. So if you still think these things don’t happen, and this is a made-up letter, that’s your right. All I know is that I have a girlfriend I wouldn’t trade for any other girl in the whole wide world and we’ve never been happier. I seriously recommend at least trying it.—
J.H., Springfield, Illinois

THIS BORED WIFE GIVES HEAD AND SPREADS ON HER NEW BED

Lots of women would say I have nothing to complain about I have the kind of fast metabolism that lets me stay really slim without ever having to diet. I stay tight and toned by working out three times a week. And my husband makes enough money managing other people’s investment portfolios that I don’t have to work.

I know Tommy is a good guy. I should be grateful to him for being such a great provider and giving me the freedom to do whatever I want with my time. But the one area where he has never been able to satisfy me is our sex life. I know it’s wrong, but lately I’ve been doing a lot of fantasizing about going to bed with other men.

When we got married two years ago, I knew Tommy was not what anybody would call a passionate lover. He once told me he’d only been with two other women before we met. At the time, I thought that was kind of sweet. I liked the idea of getting a guy who was “almost like new.”

He clearly expected me to come clean about my past, the same way he had done. So I told him I had the same number of previous lovers, two, and he didn’t seem to like that! I think he was actually hoping I was a virgin, even though I was twenty-four!

Considering how threatened Tommy was by the news that I’d had
two
other lovers, I can’t imagine how he’d have reacted if I’d told him the real number, which was closer to fifty.

At college, I had a reputation as kind of a slut. It was like my hormones went into overdrive the day I moved away from my parents’ house. My mom and dad had always been the domineering, controlling type. They never approved of my boyfriends, refused to let me wear the clothes I wanted and grounded me whenever I violated my eleven o’clock curfew. Such restrictions would be enough to make any girl rebel, and the moment I set foot on campus, all I wanted to do at college was make up for the fun I thought I’d missed.

For one thing, that meant having all the sex I could. I think a lot about all the delicious college-boy dicks I had. Sometimes I get my old diaries out of hiding and read through them while Tommy’s at work. They’re filled with so many explicit details, it’s easy to recall just about every guy I was with.

Jason, the English major with the cock that turned up in a curve loved to get sucked but couldn’t come that way. He said his dick knew the difference between a mouth and a cunt. I took it as a challenge to make him come in my mouth. One night I licked and sucked him for over an hour with no result—till I slipped a finger up his ass. He was so backed up by then that he went off like a fire hose in my mouth.

Billy, who always dressed in black and acted like such a surly, goth-boy rebel around campus, liked squatting over my chest in bed and fucking me between my tits. I would hold them around his big thick cock while he pumped. I’d have to practically beg him to stick it in my pussy. He was such a sexy, nasty bastard.

Pierce could stay hard all night long. Danny liked doggie-style. Jack had the biggest dick of them all, a ten-inch monster that was a real wonder of nature.

And there was the three-way with Eric and Karl, from my western civ class. They were roommates who were into weight training and had the bodies to show for it. Both had wide shoulders, chiseled abs and tight butts that looked unbelievable in jeans. I remember how fantastic it felt to have two men’s hands massaging my naked body, squeezing my tits and fingering my pussy. No woman can experience the ultimate in pampering until she’s been with two guys. Knowing I made both their dicks hard was a thrill I’ll never forget.

The three of us went wild, licking and sucking and tasting each other. I recall Karl spreading my legs, cupping my ass in both hands and lifting my crotch to his hungry mouth. While he licked my pussy, Eric stuck his amazingly thick hard-on in my mouth. I let them fuck my pussy, one after the other. Then they convinced me to let them do me together, Eric in my cunt and Karl up my ass. I wasn’t sure about that, but they assured me they would stop if I told them to.

I have to touch myself between the legs when I remember that hot afternoon in their dorm room. Eric lay on his back in bed. He held his stiff cock up for me to sit on, facing him. My pussy was still really juicy from getting fucked by both guys, so his dick slipped right in. Behind me, Karl said to lean way over and stick my butt up. While Eric fucked up in my cunt from below, Karl licked my asshole really wet. I gave myself over to the incredible sensations his tongue was giving me. Feeling it in my ass while Eric was fucking my pussy was almost enough to make me come.

Karl’s cock already was coated with my pussy cream. His swollen dickhead felt enormous when he pressed it to my tight asshole. I made myself relax, to let him get it inside me. He said later that he only managed to stuff about half his dick up my butt, which amazed me—it had felt like a whole baseball bat in me. I can make myself come in two minutes flat when I remember being rocked between those sweaty, muscular bodies. Karl made short strokes in my asshole. Eric pumped me harder and deeper from below. I was so overwhelmed that I actually started crying, choking back big sobs and saying, “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop fucking me!”

When I try telling my fellow pampered-suburban-housewife girlfriends about experiences like that, they act horrified. One actually called me “disgusting.” I
can’t
be the only young wife who wants more than missionary-style sex for the rest of their life. But the women I talk to these days seem to regard sex as a commodity they only dole out when they absolutely have to. More than one of them has said she only fucks when her husband insists.

I wish that Tommy had done a little more insisting at our house—actually a
lot
more. For a long time I resisted the urge to cheat. I thought my wild days were all behind me, and it would be easy for me to adjust to settling down with just one man. That was what women were supposed to do, right? I satisfied myself for nearly two years living in the fantasy world of my memories. But every girl has her breaking point.

Mine came the day we had new bedroom furniture delivered. The two men who carried it in were big and muscular. They checked me out a lot while they brought in the dresser, end tables, headboard and bed frame. Guys think a girl won’t notice if they sneak quick looks at her body. But we notice!

Looking back, it’s plain that I wanted something to happen that day. I knew the furniture would be delivered while I was the only one home. I had dressed in really short cutoffs and a sleeveless button-up blouse tied in a knot under my tits. No bra. My nipples really stick out a lot, so I knew the men could see them poking against the material After they assembled the bed frame and lifted the box spring and mattress onto it, they even put on the sheets, comforter and pillow cases I had laid out. That’s the kind of service you get when you shop at the right stores. When the bed was made, the guy whose shirt identified him as Richard said, “This is a really good-quality piece of furniture. You’ll get a lot of use out of it.”

“You obviously don’t know my husband,” I said.

He and his younger helper, whose shirt had the name Jeff stitched on it, exchanged smiles that said they weren’t sure how to take what I’d said. Then Richard looked back at me. His face was tan. He looked to be early thirties.

“I wouldn’t touch that remark,” he said, halfway smirking.

I said, “Oh? What
would
you touch?”

He looked me in the eyes, sizing me up, making sure I wasn’t just being a tease. I licked my lips. I wanted to get fucked so bad, I could taste it. “Better be careful,” he said, his voice low. “You might give us guys the wrong idea.”

I was so goddamned tired of being good that I just blurted out what I said next. “I’ve had enough of being careful. My husband won’t be home for a few hours. How about if the three of us see if we can break in this new bed before he shows up?” I sat on the bed, leaning back on my palms, with the soles of my running shoes resting on a side rail. My knees were apart. “Unless you two have to be somewhere else in a hurry.”

Jeff, who was barely out of his teens, looked like he wanted to jump my body right away. But Richard hesitated. He obviously was the one in charge, and he was skeptical. Maybe he had been burned before by lonely housewives looking for a thrill who’d changed their mind at the last minute, or who regretted things after the deed was done.

“Let’s do it, man,” Jeff said to him, almost pleading.

Richard wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. “You sure?” he asked.

I casually untied the bottom of my blouse, then unbuttoned it. I didn’t pull it away from my tits when it was undone. That part would be up to them. So would taking off my pants.

Richard reached for his belt. It didn’t take long for him and Jeff to strip down. Their bodies were different from Karl’s and Eric’s. They had working-man muscles, not the kind that are for show. They looked leaner, yet tougher. Richard’s cock was thick and uncircumcised. Jeff’s was clipped and a little longer. Both were perfect in my book.

They stripped my clothes and shoes off me. We pulled down the comforter and got on the sheet. They ran their hands over me, squeezing my tits and probing my pussy and fingering my asshole. I said I wanted to suck both of their cocks. They got on their knees on either side of my face, and I grabbed their dicks and took them in my mouth, one after the other. It was so fucking nice to taste new cocks! I didn’t know how the hell I’d managed to stay faithful so long to my boring husband.
This was the real me.
I was a slut, and I always would be. It was my nature.

Jeff surprised me by coming almost right away. I swallowed as much of his come as I could. That’s how nasty I was. I wanted every drop inside me.

“I want to fuck you,” Richard said.

“Then do it,” I said.

He got between my legs and pushed his dick in my pussy. At last! I thought as I felt him fill me up. Oh God, at last! Jeff stroked his own cock while Richard pumped between my legs. Jeff never really went soft after coming in my mouth. That made me feel proud. That’s how sexy I was.

I locked my ankles behind Richard’s back. “Fuck me,” I said. “Fuck me hard, you son of a bitch. Like you mean it”.

He gritted his teeth and arched his back as he came, not bothering to pull out. He didn’t know or care anything about me, which was how I wanted it. This was about fucking, nothing else.

“Let your friend fuck me now,” I said. He slipped his dick out of my pussy and got off the bed. Jeff eagerly took his place between my legs. He didn’t give a damn that Richard’s thick come was leaking out of my cunt. He pushed his cock between my pussy’s lips and rode me hard. Shit, it felt good. As far as I was concerned, this was Day One of my new life. Things would be different now!

Jeff sucked my tits while he fucked me. I bucked and kicked under him, loving the attention. When I stuck two fingers up his ass, he came instantly. I messed around with both men after that until they were hard again. I asked them to double-fuck me, the way Eric and Karl had done back at college. I wanted Richard in my pussy, since his cock was bigger. That suited Jeff fine. He was having a grand time with my butt, really going at it, which was the kind of treatment I needed. I wanted to be able to
feel
it afterwards, the way you do after a really great workout.

About five that afternoon, I told them they’d better leave. “But don’t forget where I live,” I said as they headed for the door. The two of them have made a lot more deliveries to my house since that day. And they aren’t the only ones!—
J.T., Tucson, Arizona

FETISHIST SHOE-STORE OWNER FEELS THE ECSTASY OF DE-FEET

I was staring out the window of my deserted store, looking between the painted letters that said “Going out of Business” and feeling like shit. It was almost closing time—for good. Pulling down the metal security gate at nine o’clock would mark the official end of Golding Shoes. I had scrimped and saved for years to open this one-man store that bore my name. Then a new mall opened, bringing hard times to downtown businesses like mine. Sidewalk foot traffic stopped. No more foot traffic meant no more feet. And feet were what I lived for.