Letters to Penthouse XIII (38 page)

As it happens, she didn’t have a new stereo. But we definitely hooked up. I’m surprised I didn’t come in my pants when she stripped for me. Her tits—big, round and firm— probably were as artificial as my new face. Like I cared! She let her head roll back and moaned when I squeezed and sucked them. When she stepped out of her panties and I saw her pussy, my hard-on felt like it grew two more inches. Her golden pubic hair was shaved to a narrow “landing strip” line. At the end of the runway, her inner cunt lips bulged from her pussy slit like oversize pink earlobes.

“You like?” she asked, lying back and spreading her legs. She rubbed her mound with her fingertips, not at all self-conscious at being such a shameless show-off. I answered by putting my remodeled mouth on her snatch, using my tongue like a cock. I held on to her fantastic tits while I ate her pussy. Her nipples were stiff as pencil erasers.

Before the night was over, Chrissie had blown me until I shot my load in her mouth and I had come two more times in her tight pussy. Whatever I lacked in technique, I must have made up for with enthusiasm. If I had still looked like the Elephant Man’s kid brother, I knew she would not have been as forgiving. She obviously loved me mainly for my looks, not my winning personality.

That was good enough for me. Over the next week, we screwed on my office desk, she sucked me off in the back of a cab, and she even let me fuck her in a secluded part of a downtown park. But there was one place I wanted to fuck her more than any other. She thought the idea was kinky. Not that she had any problems with “kinky,” of course. Which explains how we ended up at my parents’ house while they were out of town at a wedding the next weekend.

Chrissie stripped and spread out on my mom and dad’s queen-size bed. I was on her like a piston engine, fucking her so hard, the headboard banged against the wall. I was making up for the high-school sex I never had back when I had a face that would stop a sundial. This was my fantasy, to bang a girl who looked like heaven’s own head cheerleader in my parents’ bed. I felt wild, free, nasty. After I came, I pulled out and went down on her. She moaned with pleasure as I ate her sensitive pussy until I was stiff again, then turned her over to fuck her some more. I had my thumb in her asshole, my cock in her cunt, and all was right in my world.

Later, when both of us were too tired to fuck anymore, we lay beside each other and panted. The sheets and quilt were a mess. The bed had rocked so hard that a couple of picture frames and a clock radio had been knocked off the nightstands. Chrissie picked up the only picture that was still standing.

“Jesus, who is this guy?” she said, actually wrinkling her nose.

It was me, at my high-school graduation. She had no idea that this pug-nosed, crooked-mouthed, slope-browed creature was the same guy who’d been filling her holes for the past two hours.

“Oh, that’s my cousin,” I lied, turning the frame facedown on the nightstand. “He sure is one ugly fucker, ain’t he?”—
N.C., Spokane, Washington

OFFICE BEAUTY OFFERS COWORKER A NEW TYPE OF INTEROFFICE MEMO

If I get caught typing this letter, I know I will be out on my ass in no time flat. I don’t give a shit. I hate this fucking job, anyway. The only thing I like about coming to work is getting to gawk at blonde, big-titted Lynette every day. She is an administrative assistant who works in marketing, and she’s the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever seen in my life.

Jesus, that girl is hot. I know I don’t stand a chance in hell of ever banging her, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop looking. She’s a slinky, tanned twenty-something with “supermodel hair,” the kind that looks like it took an hour to mess up in just the right way. She dresses way too sexy for the office, in skirts that are too short and tops that are too tight. That makes all the guys drool, and pisses off all the women.

I’m supposed to be writing up a quarterly sates report right now, but fuck that! I’d rather set down what happened today, while it’s still fresh in my mind.

Lynette caught me staring at her this morning from my cubicle, which is situated at the end of along walkway between other work spaces. She was heading toward me, putting one high heel right in front of the other and really swinging her hips, the way girls walk on a fashion runway. Most days, I would look away after a-couple of seconds—and then spend the rest of the day fantasizing about the things I wanted to do to her incredible body.

Today, though, I felt like drinking in the sight of Lynette for as long as it lasted, before she turned the corner and went on to wherever she was going. She’s the kind of woman who makes a guy ache with desire: firm, high-riding tits; narrow waist; lusciously curved hips. And topping it all off, that flawlessly fuckable face. I almost felt hypnotized just looking at her.

She surprised me by stopping at my desk, standing very close to me. She put a hand on one hip, sneered and said, “Like what you see?”

Maybe subconsciously I
wanted
to get fired, or at least slapped, because I replied, “You’re absolutely fucking beautiful, you know that?”

She didn’t act shocked, or disgusted, or angry. To be honest, she looked amused. “It’s about time one of you pussies around here got up the nerve to come out and say it,” she said.

She leaned back against the fabric-covered wall of my cubicle and crossed her arms. There was something very catlike about the way she was regarding me—as if she might be about to pounce. “Do you have anything else on your little mind that you want to share?”

My dick was throbbing. I could not believe I might actually have a chance with this beauty. I cleared my throat. “I’d love to take you out sometime,” I said. “Anytime. Anyplace that you want.” I felt like I was babbling, so I finally shut up.

She looked behind herself. Nobody else was around. She looked back at me. Keeping her voice low enough that no one could overhear, she said, “Know what I think? I think all you really want to do is fuck me. Isn’t that true?” Before I could answer, she added, “First, you want to stick your hard dick in my pretty face. You want me to suck on your huge cock until you come, then you want me to gulp down everything you shoot in my mouth. You want to eat my sweet pussy, then fuck it while you play with my big, fat tits. Right?”

I felt like I was sweating all over. “Fuck, yeah,” I said.

“Do you want to take a little peek at my pussy, just to whet your appetite?”

She placed her hands at the front of her short skirt, with her fingertips at the hem. All I could do was nod. This was way too good to be true. She slowly eased her skirt up her legs. Her thighs were so well-toned that they did not touch each other, even though her feet were together. Jesus Christ, she actually was wearing stockings, not pantyhose! Her skirt rose above the wide, dark bands at the tops of the stockings. No garters; the stockings were the kind that stayed up by themselves.

I had stopped breathing. I saw the dark material of her black satin panties come into view. They were so tight against her crotch that I could make out the impressions of her pussy lips. I saw red threads of embroidery on the panties. It seemed to spell something.

Lynette lifted her hem higher and said, “Now we understand each other, right?”

I managed to smile. “Right.”

She dropped her hem, smoothed her skirt and walked away, swinging that beautiful ass even more than before. The idea that Lynette would wear panties like those just in case she had to deal with guys like me was load of amazing. I wondered how many other times she had flashed her secret message. With a body like hers, it might have been an everyday thing.

Sure, I was ticked off. But any woman who wears panties that say “FUCK OFF’ is a woman that I just have to respect.—
G.N., Detroit, Michigan

TASTY FRENCH TREATS HAVE A WAY OF LEAVING A GIRL WANTING MORE

I am twenty-five and attractive, with a steady boyfriend and a great job in public relations. Like a lot of girls who write to your magazine, I never thought that I would be putting a letter like this on paper. At the same time, though, I feel as if I have to get all of this down in words while it is still fresh in my mind. With any luck the right person will read it when it gets published.

Have you ever seen something that totally stopped you in your tracks, bringing back a flood of memories? That was what happened last week when I was walking to work with a couple of my female coworkers. I glanced at some magazines on display as we passed a newsstand, and for a second I forgot to breathe. On the cover of one of the glossy magazines was a full-body shot of a young woman, sitting in profile with her knees drawn up. Her hair was tousled and she had a smoldering sexy expression on her face. She wore a blue sleeveless top—but all she had on below the waist was a pair of ruffled panties. They were cut so high on the sides that she might as well have been bottomless. I could see the entire curve of her left butt cheek, and the smooth underside of her thigh.

Seeing her in that erotic pose made me flash back five years into the past. Back then I was an editorial assistant, part of a three-person staff at a trade association magazine. We had a shoestring budget, and even did our own photography.

I was eager to get as many cover photo credits for my rÉsumÉ as possible, so I carried a camera with me a lot. I was on my way home one day when I spotted a slender girl sitting sideways on a park bench, reading a book. Her knees were drawn up and her leather sandals were resting on the bench. She was wearing tiny white shorts that left her legs bare almost to her waist. If she was wearing panties, they had to be the thong type, because one whole cheek of her creamy ass was showing. But it was her silk pullover blouse that really made her stand out. It was a leopard print, and hugged her firm breasts and flat stomach so snugly that it could have been a second skin.

I knew I should ask her permission before taking her picture, but I couldn’t help myself. I raised my camera and clicked the shutter. She looked up at me with sleepy eyes and gave me a smile. “Did you just take my picture?” she asked. She had a slight French accent.

I knew I was blushing and not just because she had caught me in the act. This girl was so pretty and effortlessly sensual that she made my pussy tingle. I had an overwhelming urge to see her naked, and touch her, and kiss her.

My only past experience with other girls had consisted of a little “messing around” in college. Nothing serious, mainly just kissing and a few late-night massages. The furthest I had gone in that area was the time one of my roommates went down on me. She had said she wanted to see what it was like. Feeling another girl’s mouth on my pussy had been weird at first. But she did such a good job of eating me—I came really fast—that I had the feeling it was not really her first time doing it. I might have let her lick me a few more times after that, but it wasn’t like I had gone lezzie or anything.

So when I stood looking at the girl on the park bench and felt myself getting horny, it was kind of a new sensation. I said, “You looked so pretty sitting there that I had to get a shot of you. I hope you don’t mind.”

She swung her legs around in front of her, placing both feet on the ground. “Of course not. Here, come, sit with me.

Seen straight-on, her high-riding breasts looked very touchable in her leopard-print blouse. Her nipples were two little stubs that pointed up and away from each other.

I told her my name. She said hers was Monique. No last name, just Monique. I asked about her book, which had a French title. She said it was about two women who were very much in love with each other. She actually brushed my hair back from my face and told me I had remarkably pretty eyes. That turned me on so much that I had to look away.

“Do you live near here?” she asked.

She wanted to hold hands on the walk to my apartment I reluctantly avoided her hand, in case someone I knew saw me. She responded by pinching me on the butt, making me yelp in surprise. God, she was sexy!

At my place, she pushed me against the back of my apartment door, holding my arms with both hands. “Now you will not be shoving me away anymore, no?” She kissed me, pushing her tongue into my mouth, making my knees weak. I ran my hands over the back of her silk blouse, then up under it, feeling her warm flesh.

She pulled me to my bed, where she stripped off my dress, my bra and my pantyhose, instead of pulling down my black panties, she said, “Why do you wear these horrible things? I will make it so that you will not be wearing them again.” Then she shocked me by gripping the legholes of my underpants and pulling hard with both hands, ripping them up the middle and baring my pussy and my asshole. I was so excited by what she did that I gasped.

“I think I like you this way,” Monique said, running a finger up and down my exposed sex. “Much better.”

She stopped long enough to peel her blouse over her head, revealing her beautiful breasts and their plum-colored nipples. When she pushed down her white shorts I saw that she was not wearing any panties. Her blond pubic hair was full and bushy.

She knelt over me on all fours in a 69 position, held my thighs apart with both hands and put her mouth on my cunnie. Her tongue felt so good in my slit that I arched ray back and moaned. The fact that I was still wearing the ripped-down-the-middle panties made me feel wonderfully slutty.

The crumpled pink lips of Monique’s pussy were only inches from my mouth. I raised my head and gave her sex a tentative lick. She squatted and pressed her fragrant cunt against my mouth, rubbing it insistently over my lips, while she sucked my throbbing clit.

I gave her what she wanted. I pushed my tongue as deep into her slit as I could, then licked up and down the groove of her cunt. Her clitty was like a small pink pea. I swirled my tongue tip around it.

Monique eased two fingers into my pussy, working them in and out. The tip of her little finger probed the rim of my asshole, then went in. I cried out with pleasure. What she was doing felt so good, so wonderful.

I started doing the same thing to her. She liked that. Her sighs were quieter than mine, but no less intense. When she came, she sounded as if she were weeping.