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PENTHOUSE VARIATIONS — SLUTTY SLAVES ARE BOUND, TEASED & PLEASED! GETTING LUCKY DIRTY DATES & ONE-NIGHT STANDS AUGUST 2016 PENTHOUSE.COM AUGUST 2016 $11.99 U.S. $13.99 CAN WIFE GONE WILD GIRL MEETS GIRL FINDING MR. FIX-IT SWITCHING TEAMS REPAIRMAN TOUCHES UP THE LADY OF THE HOUSE CONTACT PLAY TAKES ON A WHOLE NEW MEANING ALL-NEW PENTHOUSE VARIATIONS PAGE 113 CONTENTS 12 2 || SALUTATIONS 4 || SUCK A WHAT? Just put your lips together—and blow 12 || PICTORIAL: LEXI AND DANNY 22 || OPEN SEASON Freedom—another word for a happy marriage 30 || PICTORIAL: AUDREY AND SHAWNA 38 || MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE LAY The best way to get over a breakup is to fuck the pain away 44 || SPOTLIGHT ON: GIRL MEETS GIRL 50 80 Sometimes the great ones stand alone 50 || PICTORIAL: JESSIE, ALAN, AND DANE 58 || EROTICA Storm of Passion By Mercedes Weatherfield 64 || CLUSTERFUCKS Group dynamics and carnal extremes in one sweaty heap 72 || WIVES GONE WILD When your spouse starts to roam, there's no keeping her home 80 || PICTORIAL: KENNA JAMES 88 || SERENDIPITY Sexy surprises and timely trysts 98 || TOP 10 SEXY TRAVEL TIPS 104 88 104 || PICTORIAL: BONNIE AND DERRICK 1 SALUTATIONS EDITORIAL Executive Editor Contributing Editors Barbara Pizio Gram Ponante Kathy Cavanaugh Ken Furie Harvey Hornwood Publisher Kelly Holland ART Creative Director Art Director Designer Angela Derasmo Paul Cook Juliyadi A.P. NEWSSTAND CONSULTANTS WILLETT ASSOCIATES Philip & John Willett ADVERTISING AND MARKETING Advertising Inquiries email@example.com ENTERTAINMENT/LICENSING/ INTERNATIONAL EDITIONS Licensing Inquiries email@example.com International Subscriptions http://intl.penthouse.com PRODUCTION Production Coordinator Photo Researcher Victor Gonzalez Zack Korn EDITORIAL AND ADVERTISING OFFICE 8944 Mason Avenue, Chatsworth, CA 91311 Tel: 310-280-1900 ENTERTAINMENT/ LICENSING OFFICE Los Angeles, CA P enthouse Letters' readers are not shy about sharing their fantastic sexual adventures, and this month we have a ribald collection of stories for you to enjoy. From open marriages to group gropes, these men and women spill their sordid secrets for your enjoyment. Add in the fortuitous fornication in Serendipity and the tasty tales in Suck A What?, and you have a recipe for a smorgasbord of pleasure. Now that we've whetted your appetite, check out this issue's erotica selection, "Storm of Passion," the story of an ex-pat who finds herself invigorated by her brand-new lover. In My Most Unforgettable Lay you'll discover how a Sapphic one-night stand is the perfect cure for a bad breakup. And this month's Spotlight continues the girl-on-girl lovefest with a pair of softball teammates who take contact play to the next level. Batter up!—The Editors 310-280-1900 SUBSCRIPTIONS 800-333-2802 FOR MORE INFORMATION ON SUBSCRIPTIONS SEE PAGE 131 CUSTOMER SERVICE Palm Coast Data PO Box 420503 Palm Coast, FL 32142 800-333-2802 penthouseletters@emailcustomerservice. com PENTHOUSE LETTERS have been edited to conform to the magazine's style requirements and to enhance readability. Names and other identifying characteristics have been changed to ensure privacy. Handwritten material will be considered only if legible. Send each letter only once. We do not pay for letters. E-mail may be sent to email@example.com. PRINTED IN CANADA Copyright information located on page 131 Certificado de licitud de título No. 8554 de fecha 10 de Noviembre de 1994 y certificado de licitud de contenido No. 5821 de fecha 10 Noviembre de 1994, expedidos por la comisión calificadora de publicaciones y revistas ilustradas, dependiente de la secretaria de gobernación, México. Reserva de titulo No. 3351/94 de fecha 13 de Diciembre de 1994, expedidos por la dirección general del derecho de autor, dependiente de la secretaria de educación publica. 2 Penthouse Letters PENTHOUSE LETTERS is a trademark of General Media Communications, Inc. Nothing may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher. Any similarity between persons or places mentioned in the fiction or semifiction and real places or persons living or dead is coincidental. Publisher disclaims any responsibility to return unsolicited editorial, graphic or photographic material. All letters to PENTHOUSE LETTERS become its sole property, and may be published subject to editing at the editors' sole discretion, and exploited in all media, all rights for all purposes therein having been granted by the writer. SUCK A WHAT? QHOT DISH came home from work on Friday night to find a new woman in my kitchen. She was wearing Melanie's favorite sundress. It's pale yellow with tiny little blue flowers all over, and the straps are slim bands of lace. Melanie's a blonde. She has hair so birch-pale, it's striking, and she wears her hair pixie-short. This woman in Melanie's sundress was a brunette. She was faced away from me as I walked into the kitchen, and that black hair of hers cascaded down to the middle of her back in a ripple of midnight mink. The first thought in my head was, "What the fuck is going on here?" Melanie's little red convertible was in the driveway. None of her friends' vehicles had been parked out front, so this wasn't one of her girlfriends. Besides, would she let a friend wear that dress of hers? As I opened my mouth to speak, the woman turned around—and hell, my heart skipped two beats. The woman was Melanie—my beautiful bride, my winsome wife. But she'd transformed herself. I took a step closer. Mel was wearing more makeup than usual. Generally, she favors a natural look. A little pink gloss on her pretty lips, a tiny bit of neutral shadow on her eyelids. This "other" Melanie had on deep red lipstick and a shimmering blue shadow. She was even wearing bright blush. Or maybe she was blushing! "Hey, Hank," she said, and she looked at me, and then looked down at the floor. She seemed to want my approval, or my opinion, before she continued. I looked down, too. She was wearing yellow fishnets and high heels. This was something else. I could feel my hard-on starting right then, and I did what any normal man would do. I came up close, wrapped my baby in my arms, and I kissed her. "You look delicious," is what I said, rather than lovely—which she also did, which she always is. What I wanted to do right then was lift her up on our sturdy kitchen table, push that dress of hers to her hips, and lick her sweet honey pot until she creamed and screamed my name. "Delicious," she echoed, and she cocked a hip at me and smiled. "What's got into you?" I asked, indicating I 4 Penthouse Letters the wig, the makeup, the total transformation from toe to tip. "Josie and I went shopping today on our lunch break, and we thought it would be a gas to hit this wig store. I didn't plan on buying one, but Josie said I looked pretty in it. So…" "'Pretty' doesn't even start to describe what you look like," I told her. It had never occurred to me that Melanie might be interested in dressing up before. I don't know why. We've always had an exciting sex life, but this flipped my switch in a whole new way. "I am going to eat your pussy until you can't stop coming…" I promised her, and with that, I did just what I'd envisioned. I picked her up and put her ass on the table. Melanie squealed with delight. She knew what was coming. She knows how much I love eating her delectable snatch. "PLEASE FUCK ME! THEN I'LL LICK ALL MY JUICES OFF YOUR DICK!" On the table, she was the one to hike up her dress, revealing her next surprise. She had on those fishnets, but she wasn't wearing panties underneath. Not only that, her pussy was shaved entirely bare. She'd really thought this thing through! I got myself into position, and I started to tongue her through the netting. Melanie moaned when my mouth met her pussy. She was all wet already. Clearly, she'd been doing some fantasizing of her own while waiting for me to get home from work. I looked up at her, saw that dark hair, saw my wife's face. It was such a dangerous sensation. I knew I was making love to Melanie's pussy. But there was this feeling that she was a different woman. All because of the hair and makeup. I kept running my tongue over her split, knowing that she could feel the pressure against her slippery flower even with the fishnets in the way. But before too long, I needed more. "Your cock!" she demanded. My wife knows her mind. She always makes sure I understand her desires. "This cock?" I teased as I shucked my boots and jeans. I wasn't wearing boxers. "Right now, Hank. I'm not kidding!" I got onto our old antique table with her, knowing from many pleasurable past experiences that the table can more than hold our weight. After ripping her fishnets off, I positioned myself in a 69 with my hungry bride. She wrapped her lips right around my cockhead without any warning. I returned the favor by parting her petal lips with my fingers and easily locating her throbbing clitoris. In tandem, we brought each other higher and higher. I teased her by sucking hard on that button and then running my tongue in a circuitous route all around it. She wasn't in the teasing mood. Melanie sucked on my cock as if she'd been dreaming of this moment all day long. Who knows? Maybe she had. Maybe when she'd been at work, organizing the papers in her office, dealing with clients, she'd been daydreaming of my thick cock thrusting down her sweet throat. She definitely treated me with that sort of finesse. I wanted to be inside her. As if we'd had the same thought simultaneously, Melanie pulled back far enough to say, "Hank, fuck me. Please fuck me! Then I'll lick all my juices off your dick!" I couldn't resist that request. I don't think there's a man out there who could! I shifted us a little bit, moving so that I was standing by the table and Melanie was right up against the edge, her knees bent, her cunt exposed. I held her hips and ran my cock up and down her split. I'm always one for drawing things out. Melanie is the opposite. She likes immediate gratification. This is why teasing her is so much fucking fun. She writhes and begs, and her moans grow louder and louder the longer I put off her climax. I gazed into her eyes as I slammed my dick inside her welcoming body. She wrapped her long legs around me and held me to her. Then I was simply pounding into her as she cried out my name. 5 SUCK A WHAT? "Oh, Hank! Oh, fuck! Oh, Hank!" Each time I thrust forward, I made sure to go as deep as I possibly could. I used one hand to toggle her clit for her, my thumb giving her the precise pressure and contact she required. I could tell when the fireworks went off inside her. She shut her eyes and rocked her head back and forth. She pushed my hand away when she could take no more, and then she moved so that we were disconnected and spun around to face me. Bending low on the table, she did as she'd promised, sucking her sweet juices off the length of my cock. She bobbed her lovely head as she worked, and I made the mistake of running my fingers through the synthetic strands of her wig. "Oh, fuck, Melanie," I moaned. "You got me. I'm going to…" I'd given her fair warning, but she didn't pull away, which let me know that what she wanted was to milk every last drop from my balls, so I let her. She siphoned off my pleasure with grace, swallowing all I had to give before sitting back on her heels and grinning at me. "So what did you think, Hank?" she asked as she climbed off the table and adjusted herself. "What did I think?" I repeated, still stunned. "About my new look." She lifted the wig and shook it off, then set it down on the table. "Beautiful," I told her, "You're always beautiful." She grinned. "I'm glad you think so." Then she raised her eyebrows at me. "Because tomorrow night, you might come home to find a redhead." I told her that I couldn't wait. And I meant it. —H.W., Milwaukee, Wisconsin QTHIRST-QUENCHER here's something about giving head that turns me on. Nothing makes my panties wetter than when I have a nice big dick in my mouth. Luckily, I don't seem to have any problem finding willing men to let me blow them. There are certain tricks a lady can do when she has cock on the brain and wants to get on her knees. Generally, I'm in relationships, and I always make sure that my boyfriend of the moment is interested in oral 24/7. But my latest flame had to move away for business, and recently, I've been feeling a little let down in the mouth. I could have taken up knitting, I suppose. Or signed up for a night class. But I knew that no other activity was going to soothe me the way cocksucking does. Last night, I went to my favorite bar and began flirting with my favorite bartender. Roman is about my age—mid-twenties. He has short red hair and a goatee, gray-green eyes that are mesmerizing, and a wicked way of looking a girl up and down and making her feel naked. In a good way. He and I had never hooked up, but I thought that was only because we'd never been single at the same time before. I sat at the corner of the bar, and I toyed with the little red straw that went with my drink. I bent the edges. I licked the tip. I could feel Roman watching me throughout the T 6 Penthouse Letters evening. He kept looking from my eyes to my mouth. My hungry, hungry mouth. I redid my lipstick while he watched. Yeah, I know. A lady's not supposed to do her makeup in public. But there are exceptions to almost every rule. If the lady in question craves a hard rod to suck on, then slicking cherry-red lipstick on her lips while a potential lover watches can be a very hedonistic thing. Roman looked hypnotized as I pouted my lips and reapplied the gloss. When he came over to ask if I wanted a refill, I assured him that I definitely required something for my mouth, but I was done with liquor for the evening. "You…" he started. "I'm thirsty," I said, and I paused and leaned over the bar so I could get closer to him. "And I'd like you to satisfy my oral desires." His eyes grew wider as he grasped what I was saying. "When do you plan to get off?" I asked him. "Plan to…" "Well, I know you have a time you cock out, right?" I paused. "I mean, clock out." He nodded. "Five minutes after that, you'll be getting off in my mouth, right?" He nodded again, more robustly this time. Then he said, "I'm out of here at two. Is that too late?" I shook my head, wrote my address on one of the paper napkins, and paid my tab. Then I went home to prepare. Cocksucking is something I take very seriously. I wanted to make the night perfect for my guest. "BEFORE I COULD PART MY LIPS, HE WAS BURROWING BETWEEN MY LEGS." First, I stripped out of the dress I'd been wearing and put on a silky silver negligee and matching robe. I slid into a pair of highheeled black slippers with feathers on the toes. When I opened the door to let Roman in, I wanted him to be knocked sideways by my erotic visage. At ten minutes after two, there was a knock. It was a little tentative, and I could imagine Roman standing outside, perhaps worried that he'd arrived too late or that I hadn't meant what I'd said at the bar. He shouldn't have doubted me. My mouth had been watering since I'd first come up with the plan. I whipped open the door and pulled my handsome bartender inside. I'd been waiting for the past hour and a half. Now, I couldn't wait another second. I went on my knees in the foyer and pawed at the front of his slacks. He undid the belt. I undid the button and zip. Then I was on him, my mouth open, my heart pounding. I learned the length of his dick by the way it felt in my throat. I learned the shape of his cockhead by fitting my lips around the knob. At first, I simply had to suck and suck. I didn't want to go slow, to take my time, to linger in the moment. I was on a mission, and I remained fully focused. But after a few minutes, I felt the peace steal over me. Cocksucking does that to me. Not only does the activity turn me on like no other X-rated event. But I reach an almost meditative state from the rhythm. I moved forward and back, slurping and sucking. Roman ran his fingers along my shoulders, touched my cheeks when I sucked so hard I felt them indenting with the force. We were silent in the front of my apartment. Silent except for the noises I was making and the occasional moans and sighs of my bartender. To switch things up a little, I let his cock slide free from my wet mouth and dipped down to tongue his balls. He pressed his hands on my shoulders and bucked, and I wondered if he'd dissolve down the wall, if his knees would give out and he'd end up a puddle of bliss on the hardwood floor. I didn't wait to find out. I said, "Let's bring this to the bedroom." "Bedroom," he said, nodding. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan." But first he had to take off his boots and his jeans. I watched him strip there in the entry to my apartment, and I relished every second of witnessing the beauty of his body emerge for my pleasure. His cock was a steel beam, ready to meet my foundation. I tripped ahead of him down the hall to my bedroom. I was still in my negligee and robe, and those silly, frilly heels. Roman watched 7 SUCK A WHAT? me get comfortable on the bed. I expected him to move up my body, to straddle me and present his dick for my pleasurable sucking once more. He surprised me. Before I could even part my lips, he was pushing my nightie to my waist and burrowing between my legs. I didn't have any panties to get in the way. That made things easier. He seemed ravenous as he went down on me, nuzzling against the landing strip of fur that adorns my pussy lips, then using his big hands to open me wide so he could get in deep. All those nights I'd had drinks at the bar, I realized I could have been having this. I'd never choose a cocktail over cock again! Roman crossed one finger over the other and began to finger-fuck me corkscrew style. How appropriate for a bartender, I thought as I grew closer and closer to climax. When he nudged my clit with the very tip of his tongue, I came. My whole body shook—the bed even shook! And then I lay there in vanquished bliss. At least, I lay there for a second. Roman, of 8 Penthouse Letters course, was not finished. Not by a long shot. He waited until my eyelids fluttered open, and then he motioned to his throbbing dick. "Fuck me!" I begged him. That was all the impetus he needed. He took me missionary style on the mattress, his dick plunging into my balmy depths as I gripped his biceps and held on for the ride of my life. He took me to a second orgasm that was even more intense than the first, and I cried out as I shivered all over. The pleasure worked through me, sparkles of pure delight ringing my entire body. This is what I'd been lacking. This is what I'd needed. When I gazed up at Roman once more, I saw he was on the brink of his own mammoth explosion. "Don't come!" I insisted. His eyes widened. What could I possibly mean? How could he possibly stop himself? Those were the queries in his desperate eyes. "I want to drink every slippery drop," I explained, and he pulled out of me and let me turn to get into position. I watched as he jacked his hand up and down his come-shiny dick. "Now!" he said, when he'd reached the place. I opened my mouth and he shot his load on my tongue, and lips, and chin. I swallowed, then licked the escaping drips up, leaving none behind. It was late by then, almost late enough to call it early. But Roman gave me that wicked grin of his and moved us into a new position on the bed. To my ultimate delight, my horny bartender wasn't quite ready for the last call of the night. —S.R., Santa Monica, California QALL-DAY SUCKER rown women don't walk around with lollipops," Margie said to me in her best critical tone as I unwrapped the cherry lollipop. "Grown women don't suck on lollipops at work," she continued, as we walked from the break room back to our desks. "Where do you read things like that?" I asked. "Is there some manual I missed? How to Behave if You Are a Grown-Up?" She shook her head. Her perfect copper curls bounced, but only a little, as if they knew better than to misbehave on her head. "It's just not done," she insisted. What Margie didn't know was that I like to do things that "aren't done." Things that are edgy. But how edgy was a lollipop? I'd bought several on a whim at the sandwich shop around the corner, craving a little candy dessert to follow lunch. "Save it for after work," she hissed before sitting in her cubicle. "No," I said trying to keep the bitchy tone out of my voice, but failing. I was going to eat this fucking lollipop. I was going to enjoy every sordid second of licking, and sucking, and maybe, just maybe… I got carried away. With the slurping sounds. Because in only a few seconds, Tom, who sits two desks down, came to visit. He didn't say anything for a minute. He simply looked at me, his head tilted slightly, as he watched me. I had the lollipop in my mouth, and I felt my cheeks go pink. Had " G "I LICKED THE TIP, THEN SWIRLED MY TONGUE ALL OVER THE HEAD." I gone over the top? He winked at me. I blushed deeper. Tom had been my office crush for months. Had it taken sucking a candy to win his attention? Apparently so. "I had a question for you," he said, straightening up and acting all professional. "It was about this file… would you mind going to the stockroom with me for a moment to see if you can help me locate it?" The stockroom. With Tom. I had no problem with that whatsoever. I crunched the remaining bits of my candy with vigor, shot Margie a "keep your mouth fucking shut" look, and trailed after Tom. Gorgeous, blond Tom with the surfer's build and the sleek jawline. Tom of my dreams. Tom of my fantasies. There was no file. I was sure of that. There was only going to be the two of us, in the back room, searching each other for a missing "O." Once we got into the space, we looked at each other. We'd been flirting heavy-duty for months, but being face-to-face in a quiet, nearly unused stockroom was something new. There were file cabinets along three of the walls, but Tom made no motion to open a drawer. I leaned back against the door and waited to see what he would say. "That Margie is kind of bossy, isn't she?" he asked. I nodded. "Yeah. She knows how things are done." "How about you?" "Am I bossy?" I asked him. "Do you know how things are done?" "What sort of things?" He stepped closer and kissed my cherry- flavored lips. "All sorts of things," he said, and his hand went to my waist as he pulled me tight against him. "I know how some things are done," I said, so close that my breath must have warmed his skin. "Like…" I bit my lip and gazed up at him. He leaned down once more and licked my lips this time, obviously savoring the flavor of my lollipop. "You definitely knew how to suck that candy," he said. "I heard Margie telling you not to, so I had to watch and see what you'd do. And let me tell you, there haven't been many things I've seen in my life that are sexier than the way you licked that lolly. You really went to town on that candy on a stick." I grinned. I couldn't help myself. Somehow, I'd known that candy would bring me good luck. Right now, it was bringing me my office crush, who was harder than fuck. I could tell he had serious wood in his slacks. With his eyes bright on me, I bent to my knees and started to undo his buckle. "Let's see what else I can work my mouth around," I said. He looked as if he couldn't believe what was actually happening. But he could believe it. We were both on the same page, here. That missing file? The first two letters were O-R… and the last four were GASM. There was going to be an explosive one, I could tell, within a matter of minutes. I was about to win myself the sweet satisfaction of Tom's come. Talk about dessert! Tom moved us so that he was leaning against the wall and I was reaching into his blue-and-black striped boxers to free his dick. I took a moment to observe the beauty of his tool. He had a reason to be proud. Eight inches, at least, and fat. Just the way I like them. I started by treating the head of his dick like the lollipop I'd savored. I licked the tip, then swirled my tongue all over the head. Tom moaned. A little too loud. I thought of Margie down the hall. Backing up for only a second, I said, "Shhh… You don't want anyone else to come looking for a missing file, do you?" He shook his head and said, "No. Not now. Just the two of us." I resumed my motions, pulling more of his shaft down my throat with each bob of 9 SUCK A WHAT? my head. He started to talk as I worked him. To my surprise, he had a dirty streak, a filthy streak. Now, he said, "Yeah, baby. Suck it. Go on. You're going to make me come so hard, aren't you?" His voice was low, almost hoarse, and sexy. His words turned me on even more. My answer was garbled around his cock, the words slurred and barely intelligible as I said, "Oh, yes." "Work it, Rebecca. Work that bone." I wanted to smile, because I'd always thought of Tom as a little bit uptight. But this Tom wasn't. This Tom, with his dick in my mouth, was filthy. I was thrilled by the revelation, and I could feel how wet I was growing as I continued to suck him, attempting to take him all the way down my throat. I failed at this. He was too big for me. So I wrapped my fist around the base of his dick and worked him faster and faster, right up until he said. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fucckkkkk…" stretching out the word as he shot down my throat. I'd been striving for this moment, but the speed caught me unprepared, and I dribbled a little of his come down my chin. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, feeling sticky and hot all over. He pulled me to my feet and kissed me, which delighted me even more. 10 Penthouse Letters "HE FLICKED HIS TONGUE AGAINST MY CLIT. MY BODY SEEMED TO HUM." Then he said, "My turn." "Your turn?" I raised my eyebrows. Didn't he remember where we were? He looked around the space. There were the filing cabinets, and then off against one wall was a desk that nobody used. He brought me there and spread me out on my back. "That's one hard-to-find file," he said as he pushed my skirt to my waist. "Excuse me?" "When Margie asks what took you so long," he continued, pulling my panties down and off. "You'll just say that we had to look really hard. Really deep…" "Deep and hard," I murmured. He bent to taste me. The first flick of his tongue against my folds had me moaning and wanting more. He flicked his tongue repeatedly against my clit. My whole body seemed to hum. When he paused for breath, he said, "You taste like candy." "Come on my tongue now," he said. "You can come on my cock later." "Later?" I panted. "After work." That sounded fine to me. He touched me again with the broad part of his tongue, bestowing a series of ravenous hard licks that held me enthralled until I crested, pleasure coursing through my whole body in serious waves of lust. I settled back against that old desk, trying to catch my breath. Then I realized Tom was up and rummaging. What was he doing? I stood and came to his side. He had one of the file drawers open, and he was fingering through the different stiff folders. "What are you doing?" I asked. He hadn't actually needed something from the stockroom, had he? "What do you think Margie will say if we come back red-cheeked and emptyhanded?" "I don't give a fuck about Margie," I said before I could stop myself. Tom shot me a wry smile, but he already had a file in his hand. "This one will be fine," he said. I was curious, so I peeked. "The Johnson file," I said. "Because of the way your lips felt around my Johnson," he said, and we kissed again. Then we floated out of the stockroom together—or it felt like floating—and I went back to my cubicle to unwrap another lollipop. I'd have to keep my mouth busy until later. —G.K., Portland, Oregon Ever experienced an incredible Thanksgivingturkey mouth—the kind that cries out for stuffing? Tell us all about it. Send your story to: Penthouse Letters, Department SAW, 8944 Mason Avenue, Chatsworth, CA, 91311, or e-mail it to firstname.lastname@example.com. LEXI & DANNY WINDOW-SHOPPING DANNY CAN'T KEEP HIS EYES OFF LEXI, WHO INVITES HIM IN FOR A CLOSER LOOK 12 Penthouse Letters 13 LEXI & DANNY "BEING WATCHED BY A STRANGER TURNS ME ON LIKE NOTHING ELSE" - LEXI 14 Penthouse Letters 15 LEXI & DANNY 16 Penthouse Letters 17 LEXI & DANNY 19 OPEN SEASON QFOUR-PLAY watched from the corner of the party as my husband sweet-talked a woman in a wine-red dress. He was really putting the moves on her, and I could tell his charm was working. How? Because she tossed her hair, batted her eyelashes, fondled her wine stem, threw back her head when she laughed. Her husband wasn't paying any attention to the flirting that was happening almost right in front of him. He had other things on his mind. Other things like me. See, Rod and I have an open marriage, and we'd gone to this party knowing that a couple we'd played with before was going to be in attendance. So this mating ritual was merely foreplay, the start of the evening's erotic dance. I ought to have been paying more attention to Charlie, who was trying his best to keep up a conversation with me. But I find watching Rod so arousing when he goes after another woman, I didn't need much more impetus than that. I 22 Penthouse Letters When Stefanie stroked her fingertips along Rod's muscular arm, I was done. I said to Charlie, "Let's wrangle those two and get out of here. I need us to find more private quarters." Charlie shot me a look and went to gather our mates. The start is always heady for me. Anticipation is one of my favorite aphrodisiacs. I could guess how this night would end: Most likely with me astride Charlie's hefty manhood and Stef on all fours in the living room, while Rod worked her pussy nice and deep. Some acrobatic version of that would play out. Right now, however, I could simply imagine how we might move together. How Stef could undress in the living room while the rest of us watched. Or maybe she and I would take off each other's clothes. I was sure the men would appreciate a subtle, sensual striptease. My pussy throbbed. I was so wet, you could have wrung out the juices on the sidewalk as we made our way to our cars. "How do you want to do this?" Charlie asked when we were out on the street. Rod looked at me. I didn't care. As long as we were in motion to our fucking destination, I was good. "Why don't you take Lora?" Rod suggested. "And Stef and I will go together." Oh, I'll bet you will, I thought. You'll go all the way in the backseat of the car before we even get to the house. Normally, that might not have bothered me. There are occasions when we split up, when Rod goes and does his thing with the wife, and I do mine with the husband. On a different occasion, with a different couple, I might have been more than willing to do separate but equal orgasms. But I wanted to watch tonight. I wanted to be there the whole time. So I got crafty. I went to Stef and wrapped my hand in her long red hair and pulled her to me for a kiss. The type of kiss you can feel deep inside yourself. Or, in this case, the type of kiss that makes your husband and your lover for the night sport wood in a matter of seconds. When we parted, I said, "Don't take any detours. Don't park in any back alleys. Meet us at our house in twenty minutes." Then Rod and Stef got into our car and I left with Charlie in his. The ride was deliciously eventful. Charlie told me that he treasured the previous time the four of us had gotten together. "It was one of our favorite times ever," he confessed. "We think about that evening often, talk about it when we're making love." "That was a fabulous night," I agreed, remembering. The four of us had been friends for some time, but we hadn't ever swung together. The truth was that Rod and I didn't know Charlie and Stef had an open marriage. We'd considered them part of our vanilla circle. They were the ones to bring up the concept, Charlie pulling me aside in the kitchen and saying that he and Stef had a proposal for us, and that he didn't want us to be shocked. More than that, they were worried that the revelation of their lifestyle might somehow damage our friendship. It didn't. Rod and I were thrilled to discover another couple that liked to play the way we did. The sad part was that we only had that one night together before Charlie and Stef moved because of his job. We'd heard that they were back in town—that they were going to the same party we were—and now… now… Charlie put his hand on my thigh. I felt warmth traveling through me. Big blond Charlie was going to fuck me. I was going to suck his dick. Rod was going to fill his wife's shaved snatch to the hilt. Oh, my beating heart, and oh my sopping panties. I couldn't help myself. I told Charlie that he was turning me on more than I could handle. "What do you mean?" "I'll show you." I arched up in the seat and slid my hands beneath the hem of my denim skirt. Then I dragged my underpants down my thighs and off. At a red light, I handed the sodden knickers to Charlie. He brought them to his face and breathed in deep. "Like that night," he said, and his voice was husky. Oh that night. We had pulled out all the stops. Once they'd told us their desires, dinner was all but forgotten. I'd been so turned on when Charlie had taken off my underpants, holding them to his face for a second and telling me how good I smelled. We'd stripped and then gone at it in the dining room after moving aside the plates, Charlie bending me over the table, Rod taking the same position with Stef. We girls had been facing each other, holding hands as the men reamed us. The connection was deeply powerful to me. After the men had gotten off, we'd moved into the living room, and Stef and I had 69ed while our husbands watched. The pleasure I'd gotten from her tongue had been otherworldly. It was dirty, I knew it, but I loved the taste of her come mingled with my husband's salty seed. Then we'd had sex with our own partners, but in the same room, which added an element of closeness to the event. Rod took me in the perfect way, with me bouncing on his lap facing away from him. In that position, I could watch Charlie and Stef as they fucked missionary-style on our floor. The evening had culminated in the four of us relaxed together in the living room, all of us naked, eating dinner around the coffee table, sharing secret glances and electrical smiles as we discussed what we'd done. Now, we were on our way to relive that wondrous night. Or, if not relive it, surpass it. Charlie said, "I love the way you smell." I grinned and put my hand in his lap, fondling his cock through his gray slacks as he drove. He was bone-hard already. I couldn't wait to "ROD TOOK ME IN THE PERFECT WAY, WITH ME BOUNCING ON HIS LAP." taste him. But I forced myself to behave. We were only a few minutes from our house. That's when my cell rang. It was Stef, and she wanted to talk dirty. "Rod's driving," she said. "And I'm sitting here with my feet up on your dash, legs splayed, panties off, playing with myself." I put her on speaker, so her husband could hear. "How wet are you?" I asked. "Let's check," she said. "I'm putting two fingers inside my pussy. I'm going to let Rod lick them clean and let you know. We're at a red light." I realized then that we were pulling up directly behind my car. There was Stef. We could see through the rear window as she brought her hand to the driver. She added the verbal play-by-play. "Rod's sucking my juices off my fingers." "Mmm." That was Rod. "She's so wet." The light went green, and we all moved toward our house. It was only a few more minutes before Rod pulled into the driveway and Charlie and I parked on the street. My heart was pounding so fast, and my pussy was dripping juices down my thighs. I didn't care about anything at this point except sex. I wanted Charlie inside me, wanted to watch Rod fuck Stef, wanted everything and all at once! We made it to the bedroom somehow. I would have thought we might just fuck outside on the front porch. But Rod was more aware of what we needed—our big California King bed. The four of us stripped naked as if there was a race. Stef pulled her sundress off, revealing her tanned, nude body in a flash. Rod and Charlie took a little 23 OPEN SEASON "AS HE FUCKED ME, I WATCHED MY HUSBAND SCREW CHARLIE'S WIFE." longer, kicking off their shoes, working their belts. I was in a short skirt and a halter—and then I wasn't. For a sliver of time—just a whisper of a moment—we all stared at each other. The last time we'd been together had been a momentous evening. Could we beat our record? Could we top our orgasmic activities? I fucking hoped so. Charlie moved first. He took me in his arms and kissed me, and then everything started to move quickly. He positioned us so that we were in front of the mirror on our closet doors. He had me face my own reflection, my palms flat on the glass. I could look in my own eyes, or gaze at Charlie, or peer at the couple on the bed behind us because Rod and Stef were already in mid-fuck. They were doing it doggy-style on our mattress, Stef swinging her long red hair, Rod holding her tight around her hips. I sighed at that sensual vision, that X-rated movie in motion, and then I cried out as Charlie thrust his cock into me for the first time of the evening. "Keep your eyes open," he said. "Keep watching." I did what he told me. As he fucked me, I watched my husband screw Charlie's wife. We were not physically connected, but I felt the bond between the four of us just the 24 Penthouse Letters same. I know what it's like to have Rod's thick hard cock inside me. And I know what it feels like to have Stef's pussy contract on my fingers. Every few seconds, I met Charlie's eyes in the mirror, and a beautiful understanding passed between us. We were helping each other reach our limits. His cock hit all the right spots inside me. His handsome face, furrowed with concentration, turned me on even more. He was breathing hard, and so was I. Then suddenly the room was filled with the musical sounds of Stefanie coming. I'd forgotten! How had I forgotten the melody of her climaxes? She was the loudest woman we'd ever played with. She started with a low moan that rose in intensity to a more frantic pitch. "That's my girl," Charlie said proudly, and I could tell he was staring at her in the mirror, watching his wife climax boldly on my husband's dick. Rod seemed to be trying his best to hold off until Stef was finished. But ultimately, he succumbed to the power of his pleasure, unable to wait another second. We watched in the mirror as Rod pulled out and showered his spray on Stef's lower back and nubile ass cheeks. Then I realized both Rod and Stef were staring back at us. It was our turn to put on a show. Charlie had been fucking me steadily throughout this whole time. With the added pressure of the audience, he decided he was ready to really ratchet up the raunch. With a nod of his head, he motioned for Stef to come join us. She hurried off the bed and came to stand at his side. I could see Rod reclining, watching from the mattress, still obviously enjoying his happy halo of recent erotic bliss. Charlie smiled at his wife, and then she joined me, side by side, facing the mirror. He moved suddenly, and I felt him withdrawing from my pussy. Then Stef groaned, and I realized he was fucking her. I was empty and open then. I met my husband's eyes in the mirror, and I noted that his hard-on was rapidly renewing. Catching the gleam in my eye, he came to stand behind me. Then he was fucking me while Charlie did Stef. For a few moments, we were connected in our normal Mr.-and-Mrs. styles. Then Charlie and Rod shared a look—and the men swapped positions. Now I had Charlie again, his dick went from Stef's sweet honey pot to mine. How dirty was that? And Rod was doing his manliest to take Stef to a higher level. The four of us kept pounding and grinding, switching and swapping, until we went off one after the other: first Charlie with a bellow, filling me up inside, then Rod right after, doing the same for Stef. I reached over and rubbed my fingertips along her cleft. She came third, in her standard vocal style. That left me, the last hurrah—and I made the most of my orgasm. I shut my eyes, bit my lip, and shivered all over with the heightened sense of total euphoria. —L.R., Las Vegas, Nevada QAMUSE-BOUCHE here are open bars, open doors, open windows, open books… but when Joe said he wanted to try an open marriage, I was shocked. Not shocked in a bad way, but shocked open-mouthed, just the same. We'd been together for five years, and the sex between us had always been spectacular. The two of us had fucked on a train, a plane, and in an elevator. We'd had sex at a wedding, at a funeral, and at a ballgame. He'd even fingered me to orgasm while riding on a cable car. There wasn't much the two of us weren't willing to try. And yet, I had a few questions. "Wouldn't you be jealous?" I asked him. "What do you mean?" "Well, imagine," I said, "imagine you invite Danny over for dinner, right?" I was astride him in the bed as I painted this scenario. I could feel his cock getting hard between us although he wasn't in me yet. That let me know my words were having a powerful effect. Danny's broad and strong, like Joe. But where my man is dark haired and dark eyed, with a chest full of curly hair, Danny is his opposite, blue-eyed and fair, leaner and longer. "Okay," he said, "I can see that." "Now picture Danny taking off my dress, spreading me out on our bed, and fucking me until I cry his name." "You'd cry his name?" "Danny…" I practiced as I wrapped my fist around Joe's thick dick and brought the tip to my pussy. "Oh, Danny…" Joe smiled at me, then took a deep breath as I worked his cock into my tight pussy. "Well, wait a sec," he said, and I stopped the motion, but he shook his head. "No, keep doing that, while you think about this…" I got his whole cock buried to the hilt inside my tight snatch, and I began to work myself up and down his pole. I used my taut thigh muscles to piston my body on his dick. He was quiet for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, or possibly relishing the sensations of my pussy as it closed around his cock. Then he said, "If Danny comes over, that means Rae's coming, too, right?" "Well, of course. Rae goes where he goes." "You didn't put her in your description." T "I hadn't gotten to her yet." "Let me get to her," Joe said. "So you're in our bed, and Danny's in your cunt, and you're crying out his name." Joe mimicked me a little wickedly, "Oh, Danny." Going all falsetto on me as he cried out his best friend's name. "Now think about this," my husband said in his normal tone of voice. "While Danny's in your snatch, I'm going to be taking care of Rae." "Taking care how?" I had to know. "Well, I've always thought of Rae as a little acrobatic thing. You know how lithe she is, all lean limbs and hard muscles." "Yeah," I said, picturing Danny's wife. She is an athletic woman, built like a gymnast. You could toss her up in the air, spin her around three times, and catch her on the way down. Rae has short-cropped black hair, dark as pitch. Her eyes tend to crinkle around the edges, as if she's thinking of a joke she's just heard, or one she can't wait to share with you. "I've always thought that she'd be fun to do just like this. Cowgirl style. The way you're fucking me right this second." "Do you see us all in the bed together?" I asked. Talking was, quite honestly, getting a little difficult for me. I was into the idea of having sex with Danny. That was the truth. The more I thought of Joe fucking Rae, the more turned on I was. Jealousy didn't seem to have a hold on me. I wondered if it was because I was imagining us all at the same time. No secrets. The four of us with our libidos front and center, right in the open. "That's the way I've always pictured it," Joe said, sparking my interest even more. "Always?" I asked. "This is my number-one fantasy," he said, and those words were what sealed my decision. I needed to make his treasured desires come true. If I could get my own itch scratched at the same time, that was even better. "Okay," I said, and I was a breath away from coming, my voice barely a whisper. "Okay?" He wanted to make sure he'd heard me correctly. "Call them up," I told him. "But first, let me come…" "Yeah, baby," he urged. "Come for me." So I did. I came hard on his cock thinking of what Danny's dick might look like. I came powerfully on his pole while I imagined him screwing one of my best friends. I wondered 25 OPEN SEASON "HE CRADLED MY BREASTS IN HIS HANDS AND BENT TO SUCK ONE NIPPLE AND THEN THE OTHER." what Rae would look like when she came. Would she be silent as the pleasure ran through her? Or would she be unexpectedly loud? I found that I didn't really care. I wondered if I might want to fuck Rae when I was done with Danny? Either way, this was going to be good. This was going to be better than good. This was going to be exquisite. And it was. Right after we finished, Joe called Danny to work out the details. I couldn't be near Joe while he was on the phone. I was too 26 Penthouse Letters nervous. What if Danny said he didn't want to? What if Joe shocked him? What if posing the possibility cancelled out our friendship? Maybe I should have stopped Joe. Maybe I should have told him that we'd keep this as simply a fantasy between the two of us. Finally, Joe wandered into the kitchen, where I was pretending to drink coffee, but really just sitting there stirring more and more sugar into the cup. Joe had a huge smile on his face. "Tell me!" I demanded. "What do you think he said?" Joe asked. He looked amped up and excited. "That he had to ask Rae?" Joe shook his head. "Really? He was able to give the go-ahead without talking to his wife first?" "Nope," Joe said. "What Danny said to me was that they'd been dying to ask us the same thing!" "You're kidding." "I'm not!" he insisted. "Danny said he'd seen the way you looked at him sometimes. At barbecues, at the pool. And Rae knows full well what her compact little body does to me. They thought it was simply that harmless way couples flirt, and they were going to leave it at that. But they've got an open marriage, and they're game for anything." "They've played with other people?" I was dying to know everything now. "A few other like-minded couples," Danny said. "They went on a vacation with a couple from Rae's work, and that's what started the whole thing. They wanted to tell us about it, but they were worried we'd be shocked." I had to process all this information. Danny and Rae had an open relationship! And they wanted to swing with us! "When?" was the next thing I asked. "When do we all get together?" "Ooooh," Joe crooned. "Look who's all horny. You just can't wait to get on Danny's dick, can you?" I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, as if I wasn't in a rush, as if I could be patient. But I couldn't. Joe laughed at me. Then he said, "Well, don't you worry, baby. They're coming over tonight. We're going to have sex and then have steaks. How does that sound to you?" That sounded like magic. I only had to make it through eight hours before I could experience something brand-new, something totally different. Eight long hours. Eight hours that I would spend thinking about Danny, Rae, Joe, and myself. About the way the four of us might split off and do dirty and wonderful things together. Work was a new definition of hell. I got almost nothing done, practically walked into walls, was asked by many of my coworkers if I needed more coffee. I didn't need coffee. I needed cock. Danny's cock. I couldn't wait. I texted Joe several times throughout the day to tell him how excited I was. He texted me back each time to let me know he felt the same way. By the time I arrived home from work, I was practically on the verge of a spontaneous orgasm. Thank goodness Rae and Danny were already there. They'd beat the traffic better than I had and arrived before me. Joe had already served them each a beer, and the three of them were out on our back deck waiting for me. I walked forward. Rae stood and practically hopped to me. She looked visibly aroused— exactly the way I felt inside. A cheerleader in her college days, she nearly did a cheer when she reached me. "We're so happy!" she said. "You wouldn't believe how thrilled we were when Joe made that call." I didn't know how to respond, so I did what came naturally. I kissed her. The boys hooted. They were enjoying the show. Rae turned around and stuck her tongue out. Joe said, "I like that. I'd like to feel that tongue somewhere, sweetheart." That's all it took to split us up. Joe and Rae headed toward our master bedroom. That left Danny and me, staring at each other on the deck. He raised his eyebrows in a comehither move. I grinned back at him. I believe we had the same thought at the same time, which was this: We don't need a bed. We can screw right here. The wooden slats of our deck were well worn to a smooth surface. The sun had been baking on them all day. I grabbed a blanket from the edge of the sofa in the living room and spread it out for us. Danny stripped out of his clothes, and I followed his lead. I'd seen the man in his bathing suit before, but I'd never seen him in his birthday suit. Rae was a lucky woman. His physique was stellar, but what captivated my attention at the moment was his cock. I was going to have fun riding that beast. That made me think of Rae and Joe. Were they making his fantasies come true right now? Was he taking her cowgirl style? Or perhaps reverse cowgirl so he could palm her perfect ass cheeks? Danny broke me from my reverie with a kiss. Then he cradled my breasts in his hands and bent to suck first on one nipple and then the other. Thoughts of what my husband might or might not be doing with Danny's wife evaporated from my mind. What mattered was what we were doing. The two of us. Out here in the warmth of the summer twilight. Last year, Joe had strung hundreds of little lights from the trees in our yard. They created a fairytale setting for what Danny and I did, which was playfully wrestle for a moment on the blanket, kissing passionately, madly, as we learned how our bodies fit together best. This was one of the most exciting things I'd ever done. I adore making love to my husband, of course. That will never get old to me. But fucking a different man—fucking a new lover while Joe screwed Rae—that was raw and primal. When Danny touched my clit for the first time, I saw stars. "You're so damn wet," he whispered to me, his fingers gently pinching my clit, then tapping on it. "And you're so damn hard," I countered, taking his cock in my fist and reverently giving him a squeeze. "Let's put these two facts together, and see what we can create," he suggested. That sounded like Danny. Always the one with the scientific brain. I moved so that I was on my back and he was positioned directly over me. He probed my pussy with the tip of his dick, and I sighed. "The lady likes that," he said, which gave me an idea. It was kind of dirty, kind of kinky, but hell. I was on my deck about to be fucked by my husband's best friend. We'd crossed a line already about what was dirty and what wasn't. "Fuck me like you fuck Rae," I said. Then I held my breath to see what he'd say. To my relief and delight, he smiled broadly. "Devil," he called me. "You little devil." Then he drove forward, hard, and rotated his hips so that I could feel his cock reach me deep inside. "Rae likes it like this, face to face, so we can meet each other's eyes. She says that it adds to the connection, that it makes her feel close to me." She was right. There was something almost dreamy about being taken like this. I could see Danny's blond eyelashes, could watch as his eyes took on a bit of a glaze as the pleasure increased inside of him. "How about you?" he asked as he fucked me. "What is it you like?" What did I like? I liked this. I liked the way I could smell his aftershave when I breathed in deep. I liked the fact that we were outdoors, even if we were completely shielded by our tall back fence. Nobody could see us. Nobody knew what we were doing out here except Joe and Rae, and I was pretty sure they were busy making their own sexy music in the bedroom. "What do you like?" he repeated, and I saw the earnest yearning in his face. He wanted to know. He wanted me to tell him. 27 OPEN SEASON I showed him instead. "I like it like this," I said, and I wrapped my thighs around his waist and moved us so that I was on top of him. I wondered if I was emulating what Rae and Joe were doing right now. Was she riding him the way I like to ride my man? Right now, I was astride her bucking bronco of a beau. And I was riding him for all I was worth. Danny looked a little surprised that the tables had been turned so quickly, so effortlessly. But I've had a lot of experience riding Joe like this. I dug in my heels and began to move my way up and down his dick. Danny reached out his hands to stroke my breasts. He seemed captivated by my rack. I guess I have my fair share of tits in comparison to his smaller-chested bride. He could play with my knockers for all he was worth. I was happily consumed by his thick, hefty dick and the bliss it was bringing me. That's when we heard the sounds. Rae was crying out like something fabulous was happening to her. I'd left the sliding glass door open when I'd gotten the blanket. The sounds were pouring out down the hall to us. "That's my girl," Danny said proudly. Joe bellowed next. "And my man," I said, equally proudly. "Should we let them have all the fun?" There was an impish look in Danny's eyes. I shook my head fiercely. "No fucking way." So we turned up our own volume. As I pushed myself up and rode back down on Danny's cock, I opened my mouth and began to really let the world know how good I felt. Danny seemed surprised I could moan like that. He smiled at me, and for one split second, he looked shy, as if he wasn't sure he could match my vocal presence. Then I reached behind myself and cupped his balls. That added pressure let him loose. He started to come, and while he came, he cried out my name. "Oh, Molly! Oh, sweet fucking Molly!" "She is fucking sweet, isn't she?" I turned my head, shocked. There stood Joe and Rae. They'd finished their deed and had obviously decided to check in on us. They stood side by side in the doorway between our living room and the deck. I made eye contact with one, then the other, then looked back at Danny who was breathing hard and fast from his exertion. 28 Penthouse Letters "HE DROVE FORWARD — I COULD FEEL HIS COCK REACH DEEP INSIDE ME." To my surprise, Joe came forward then. He seemed to understand I hadn't climaxed yet. He pulled me upright and spun me around so that I was facing Rae. She was naked and shiny with sweat, and she stared in lustful approval as Joe took me from behind. "That's the girl," Rae said. "That's right." Rae ran her fingers through my hair before gripping it tightly in her fist and guiding my face towards her freshly fucked pussy. She looked down at me, as if daring me. It felt like time stood still for a second. "Do you want to lick my pussy?" Rae teased. I didn't need to be asked twice. I buried my face between my beautiful friend's thighs and lapped at her soaked pussy as Joe continued to fuck me. I noticed that Danny was jerking his cock while watching me go down on his girlfriend. I upped the ante with Rae, sliding a finger inside of her and locating her G-spot. She squirmed and screamed as I finger- and tongue-fucked her. Joe picked up the pace, slamming his rock hard cock into me faster and faster. I had never been this horny in my entire life! Joe strummed my clit as he fucked me. He touched me to perfection, so that I came in a matter of seconds on his sweet rod and beneath the finesse of his caress. Joe nuzzled the back of my neck before nipping me softly. "Thank you for making my fantasy come true," he whispered. "And mine," I whispered back. "And ours," said Rae and Danny simultaneously. I pulled away from Joe and Rae and headed to the kitchen. Sex and steaks were the menu, and what a delicious meal it was. —M.G., Atlanta. Georgia Is your relationship open? Since you like to share, why not share your story? Mail your tale to: Penthouse Letters, Department OS, 8944 Mason Avenue, Chatsworth, CA, 91311, or e-mail it to firstname.lastname@example.com. AUDREY & SHAWNA SATIN & LACE AUDREY AND SHAWNA'S GIRLS-ONLY GETAWAY MAKES FOR A DIRTY GOOD TIME 30 Penthouse Letters 31 AUDREY & SHAWNA "A WEEKEND WITH SHAWNA'S TONGUE IS ALL I NEED" - AUDREY 32 Penthouse Letters 33 AUDREY & SHAWNA 34 Penthouse Letters 35 AUDREY & SHAWNA 36 Penthouse Letters MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE LAY ONE NAUGHTY NIGHT Sometimes the best way to get over a breakup is to fuck the pain away as Mira discovers when she gives in to the thrill of a Sapphic one-night stand. imon was out of my life. Ten months of a decent relationship had, as always seemed to happen, sort of petered out. I didn't have apocalyptic breakups. No hysterics or ugly scenes. Things simply wound down, like a motor running out of fuel. When these endings came, Octavia was always there for moral support. I called her about Simon, and we met for a jog through the hills. I felt like expending some energy. It was a bright warm day, and we ran the winding trails side by side. Like me, Octavia was lithe and healthy, with a wiry physique. I'd known her since my first day of college, and we'd stayed close friends since. She was, in fact, the only woman with whom I'd ever had a sexual relationship. It had been another of those nine-or-ten-month-long romances, which seemed to be my permanent MO. While I had stuck with men after that (though I had no regrets about sleeping with her), Octavia had remained a free-spirited lesbian. She flitted from woman to woman; no long-term relationships for her. "That's what—your eighth guy?" she asked as we kept up a steady pace along the dirt trail. "Ninth," I said. "Same pattern every time." "Well, I guess that's what you like. Ten months, seeing someone exclusively. Simon seemed nice." "He was. We met, saw each other socially for a while. I didn't hop right into bed with him—" "What if you had?" Octavia cut me off, giving me a sidelong grin. She had a very pretty face. Her short dreads were tied back. "What if, the first time you met him, you fucked his brains out and then walked away. You think you would've enjoyed that?" Her comment actually made me blush. I had never done what she'd suggested, and she knew it. Even when we'd become lovers, it was only after a suitable courtship. But my mind grabbed a hold of the fantasy. I recalled the night I had met Simon at a poetry reading a coworker of mine was participating in. What if, instead of S 38 Penthouse Letters exchanging careful flirtatious talk and phone numbers, I'd seized Simon and dragged him home then and there? My standards told me that should make me feel cheap, but the thought kindled a spark of excitement in me. We reached the crest of a hill. Octavia, wiping sweat from her forehead, halted and sat on a big stone on the trailside. "Hang on a minute, Mira. Let me tell you a story." Curious, I sat. "Before I ever met you," she said, still catching her breath, "I had myself a one-night stand with a man." I jumped back up. "What?" HE FINGERED ME HARDER, HIS KNUCKLES GRINDING AGAINST MY CLIT. "Oh, sit down. Look, I prefer women. I preferred them back then, even. But I had this girlfriend I'd really fallen for, believe it or not, and when she dumped me, it was a gut-punch. I was young and dramatic, so I decided to swear off females for good. For about twenty-four hours I seriously meant it." I sat back down, trying to absorb all this. It was hard enough imagining Octavia in a serious relationship, but trying to picture her with a man... "I was too young to go into a bar," Octavia went on, eyes alight with nostalgia, "but I knew where the local bad boys hung out. I put on a leather mini and tit-hugging tube top, and I strutted right up to this corner full of rebels. I was scared, excited, pissed off, hurt—all at once. But I was determined to have a good time. Something new and different." I conjured up an image of Octavia in such an erotic outfit, and my somewhat dormant dykey impulses stirred in me. I remembered feasting on this woman's pussy in college, savoring her flavor and wetness. Octavia gave a little shiver as she relived the pleasant memory. "I saw this one guy. Black hair, tattoos, face like a matinee idol's. I stopped right in front of him, heart beating like a jackrabbit's. I said, 'Let's get out of here.' Just like that." She laughed, but I heard excitement in it. This story was turning her on, same as it was me. "A minute later, I'm on the back of his motorcycle. We go to this seedy motel. He tosses his leather jacket on the floor. I step up to him and pull him down for a kiss. I grind up against him, feeling how hard he is. Remember, I've never seen a guy's cock in real time before, much less held one in my hand. But now I'm yanking down his zipper and reaching in and... and..." "Was he big?" I blurted. Octavia shrugged. "How the fuck would I know if he was big? What does a lady-lover like me know about cock sizes? But I tell you, Mira, I felt a real thrill as I handled him. His response was so immediate. He groaned, and his cock twitched in my fist, and he started tugging at my clothes." I pictured everything she said. Her words were magic to me. I leaned in even closer as she continued. "He stripped down, too. He had one of those bodies you see in male underwear ads. Taut and sculpted and—I admit—beautiful. He gazed rapturously at me, looking me up and down. Then we climbed onto the bed." In my mind's eye, Octavia was totally nude on a motel bed with a hot, young stud. "I felt the humming strength of his body. He drew me on top of him, one hand cupping my ass, the other fondling my breast. We kissed again, deep and long. I couldn't believe how excited I was! Maybe it was the novelty. 39 MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE LAY Maybe I was enjoying my 'revenge' against my ex. But I lay there on him, with his cock pulsing against my belly, and my pussy was positively gushing. Right at that moment, I wanted to fuck him more than anything. "He started fingering me from behind, two fingers slipping in while his thumb gently flicked my asshole. I clung to him and grunted against his neck. I dug my fingernails into his strong shoulders. He fingered me harder, his knuckles grinding against my clit. I let go with a loud orgasmic cry. "Like a magic trick, he conjured a condom from the pocket of his discarded jeans. I lifted up, and he rolled it onto his cock. I repositioned myself. He held me about 40 Penthouse Letters my waist, guiding me. He remained gentle throughout, like he could sense this was something unusual and special for me. "Finally, for the first time in my life, I lowered my pussy onto a man's cock. I ground down onto him, feeling him penetrate deeper and deeper. It was a strange sensation, I gotta say—but I liked it. I'd had my share of dildos and vibrators, but this was living flesh. I looked down, watching his handsome face twist with pleasure, knowing I was directly responsible for that. At last, I'd taken him all the way. Then..." "Then," I said breathlessly. "You rode him like a cowgirl!" "You bet I did. It was so good. I planted my palms on his solid chest and bucked like crazy. He was thrusting upward into me, timing it perfectly. I slammed down and came. It was intense. Then, when I was still hunkered over him and swaying dizzily, he flipped me onto my back. He set himself on top of me. I was afraid he would crush me, but again he was gentle and considerate. Not that he didn't give me a mad fucking— 'cause he did. He started stroking into me. I wrapped his waist instinctively with my thighs, thrusting my hips up against him. He pounded me harder. I put my claws into his shoulders again, hanging on for dear life. I came again and again. It was like he was hammering my orgasms out of me. His thrusts reached a peak. He penetrated me to my deepest point. Then I felt his come pulse into the tip of the condom. It was another strange sensation. My pussy clutched him through every spurt until his body went limp on top of me." The sweat of exertion had dried on my body, but my pussy had grown damp. I felt a gnawing sexual hunger—not for Simon, but for what Octavia had experienced with her stranger. Grinning wickedly, she delivered the killing blow. "You know what my bad boy's name was?" she asked. I shook my head. "Neither do I!" She laughed triumphantly. "HE WAS THRUSTING UPWARD. I SLAMMED DOWN AND CAME. IT WAS INTENSE." "I fell asleep in the motel room, and he disappeared on his bike." She hopped up, ready to run again. I got up slower, dying of envy. I silently promised myself a single night of anonymous lunatic passion like Octavia's, no strings attached. Unlike the then nineteen-year-old Octavia, who'd flung her fling with the biker boy, I was old enough to go to a bar to seek what I was after. I was also nervous as hell. Did I possess the ability to casually pick someone up—or even be picked up by somebody? I was going to find out. I entered an unfamiliar dance club. Music pounded, and colored spotlights whirled. It seemed like a good place for nameless encounters. I could barely hear myself as I ordered a screwdriver at the bar. Every relationship I'd had was guided by formal preconceptions. All those prim courting rituals, making sure we really got to know each other first. Never sleep with a guy before the fifth date. Suddenly, it all seemed silly. Despite my nervousness, I felt a trembling sense of adventure. This was my night! Except, it wasn't working out that way. The dance music was loud and relentless. Nobody seemed to be standing still. They'd grab a drink, then rush off to one of the dance floors. The festive lighting started to feel disorienting. A few men looked interesting, but I couldn't even be sure we were making eye contact. The bartender, at least, seemed sympathetic. She had platinum blonde hair cut in a bob and toned pale arms on butch display in the tight black top she wore. Somehow she appeared to sense my dilemma. When I ordered a second drink, she gave my wrist a tender pat. I looked up into blue eyes, holding her gaze a moment. As she went off to serve other customers, I gave this thing a last real try. I scouted around and saw a worthwhile male. But when I approached, giving him what I hoped was a coy look, he walked off before I could say anything. Apparently, I knew how to cautiously flirt, how to let a man know I might be willing to trade phone numbers. But evidently I didn't have the knack for confronting one and saying "Let's get out of here" like Octavia had done. I was disappointed in myself. The blonde bartender had been replaced by a big man with a shaved head. I was about to bail dejectedly when someone took the barstool immediately next to me. The woman picked up a shot of bourbon that had magically appeared on the bar, knocked it back, and turned to measure me with intense blue eyes that made me shiver. 41 MY MOST UNFORGETTABLE LAY I felt the predatory heat of her gaze through those platinum bangs. Off-duty now, the female bartender reached over and gave my thigh a lustful caress. Her fingertips set my flesh to tingling. My breath quickened. I tried to think of something—anything—flirty to say, but she abruptly stood and tilted her head toward the club's exit. Wordlessly, I followed her out. A few stragglers stood in the dim parking area. I stayed on the bartender's black high heels as she strode across the pavement. I had no sure idea where we were going or what was going to happen, but I knew I was aroused. Taut pale legs flashed beneath a pearl-colored skirt. She tapped a remote, and a car flicked its lights as the doors unlocked. So... we were driving somewhere? Blondie opened the sedan's rear door and stood aside, obviously waiting for me to climb inside. My heart raced wildly. My pussy throbbed with anticipation. I'd come here tonight seeking a man, but hell—why not have my fling with this hot woman? I dove into the back of her car. She hurried in after me and then closed the door. We went immediately into each other's arms. Our mouths fairly smacked together. Her tongue swarmed all over mine, and I thrust back at hers. I tasted the delicious faint flavor of her lipstick. Her soft body crushed against mine. We squirmed together on the wide backseat. Her hands closed over my breasts. I groped her tits through the black top, feeling the sharp bullets of her erect nipples. I wanted to lick them. I tore open buttons as she yanked at my blouse. Both of us topless now, I pressed my face between her heaving breasts, then lapped frantically at one hard nip before turning to gnaw playfully at the other. She groaned loudly, fingers winding in my long dark hair. By now my pussy was pouring. I fancied I could smell her excitement, too, in the close air of the car. Already the windows had steamed. She feasted on my nipples, catching them with her teeth, coaxing sharp moans from me as I tugged at her platinum locks. Finally, I had to have my taste of her. It had been years since I'd last had my tongue inside Octavia, but I remembered her lovely feminine flavor. I wriggled out of the bartender's embrace, seized her skirt and pulled it off her legs. She got the message "I CAME AGAIN AND AGAIN. IT WAS LIKE HE WAS HAMMERING MY ORGASMS OUT OF ME." and lay back, spreading her thighs. She wore only the black high heels now. Her pussy glistened in the light. I hunkered between her shapely legs. If she were naturally blonde I would never know, because her crotch was clean-shaven. She gave a fluttering cry of desire as my breath tickled her exposed cleft. I inhaled her perfume, sending a prickling of intense lust through my whole being. At last, I licked her dripping furrow. Her hips bucked, smearing her wetness across my mouth and chin. Her taste filled my senses. I traced her silken folds with my tongue tip, then speared right up inside her. She cried out, probably loud enough for anybody passing by the car to hear. I didn't care if they did. 42 Penthouse Letters Her strong legs clamped tightly my shoulders. The sharp heels dug into my back, and that only made me eat her harder and faster. My tongue was a blur, licking and lapping. I gorged myself on her pussy, as if making up for the long lack of lesbian sex in my life. But this was more than just reacquainting myself with womanly delights. It was the absolute anonymity of this act that was equally—no, more—exciting for me. I knew nothing about this woman, and here I was in the back of her car muff-diving her like crazy. The delicious thought pulsed in my brain, adding to my pleasure. She squealed, grabbing my hair again, and this time she ground herself fiercely against my open mouth. I drank her gushing honey, sating my hunger for that luscious pussy flavor. I let her push me onto my back. She removed my skirt and slid between my open legs. Her pale body was smooth and limber. Her shoulders pressed my thighs even further apart. I waited with quivering anticipation, my pussy alive with desire. She didn't keep me waiting long. With the first touch of her decadent lips, I was heading toward a tremendous climax. She had a talented mouth. Her tongue did a nimble dance on my folds, spreading, seeking within. She slipped in deep. She caressed my clit, and I felt my hips lifting off the leather seat. I started humping her face. My body swam with carnal joy. My orgasm was building and building... But it was when she cupped my ass and lifted me several inches off the seat— spreading my butt cheeks and spearing her tongue right into my asshole—that my climax broke ferociously over me. That slippery tongue on my sensitive hole sent me spinning away into a delirious euphoria. But she didn't stop there. Taking two fingers, she grinned at me as she pushed them into my aching pussy, before going back to licking my asshole. She built up a rhythm until she was fucking me deep and hard. The feeling of her fingers in me and her tongue in my ass was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before. The car's interior twirled around me for a moment. I saw beads of condensation trickling down the fogged windows. I smelled the piquant fragrance of hot pussy juice. I still tasted her in my mouth and throat. My pussy and asshole throbbed. But thankfully, we weren't yet done with each other. As though we'd choreographed this fantastic sexual encounter in advance, we took our places on opposite sides of the backseat. Neatly we slotted our legs, bringing our wet pussies together in the scissor position. We both sighed as our slick lips pressed together. In a cooperative mutual rhythm, we ground our hips rhythmically. My clit throbbed with a rekindled ecstasy. I held on to her knee. She grabbed my ankle and started sucking on my toes. We pressed and smeared our pussies together, writhing on that backseat. Bucking harder and harder against each other, I started to succumb to another massive orgasm. My every muscle seemed to quiver independently. Pleasure tripped from one bundle of nerves to the next, bringing my entire being toward that second climactic jolt. Intense would be an understatement. She abandoned my toes to utter a fierce cry. We were banging cunts violently enough to shake the car on its springs. I joined her ecstatic howl of victory with one of my own as the ultimate pleasure spilled up over me, engulfing me, drowning me, blissfully bearing me away to the perfect fulfillment of my fantasy. Eventually, we disengaged and got back into our clothes. She grinned at me, and I grinned back. We even shared a tender parting kiss before I stepped out of her car, and she started up the engine and drove off. And what was her name? I have no fucking idea. —M.C., Via Email We've all got one... tell us about your most unforgettable lay. Send your story to: Penthouse Letters, Department SAW, 8944 Mason Avenue, Chatsworth, CA, 91311, or e-mail it to email@example.com. 43 SPOTLIGHT ON GIRL MEETS GIRL SWITCHING TEAMS Contact play takes on a whole new meaning when two members of opposing teams decide to play together. arlier this summer, after resisting the pleas of my coworkers for a while, I finally agreed to join the company's coed softball team. I'd played in college, but it wasn't that experience, or the cajoling of my friends, that got me out on the field. I did it to meet guys. I'd hit a dry spell on the dating front, and I hadn't had sex in—well, longer than I care to admit. I decided that I could continue to wear out my vibrator in my apartment, or I could get out there and make a new friend—one with benefits. My plan worked, too. Just not the way I expected. Sure, I met some attractive and available guys... but I ultimately hooked up with a girl! I've always been bi-curious, but I had never explored that part of my sexuality. Then I met Tracy on the softball field, and everything changed. Getting ready for my first game, I tried on the form-fitting black softball pants I'd last worn as a senior on the school team. They still fit, I'm happy to say. Next, I pulled on a snug little crop top, put my long brown hair in a ponytail, and stepped into my old pair of cleats. Finally, I put on a little makeup. The overall effect, when I checked myself out in the mirror, was sporty yet sexy. "Great," I said to my reflection. "If you embarrass yourself out there, at least you'll look good doing it." Although I enjoyed the sport, I hadn't been a star player. Whatever meager skills I'd mastered were sure to be rusty. When I arrived at the field, my teammates reminded me that there was nothing to be nervous about. "No pressure," one said. "We're just here to have fun and get some exercise." Not me. I had more basic instincts in mind. There were some good-looking guys on the other team, and I was determined to get noticed. When I stepped up to the plate in the first inning, I put a good swing on the first pitch and drove the ball toward right field. The guy out there had been playing shallow, and there was no way he was going to catch it. At the last minute, his teammate in centerfield—a girl E 44 Penthouse Letters whose red shorts showed off her long, athletic legs—raced over to make the catch. I was impressed. As she threw the ball back in, she caught my eye and gave a nod. I returned it as I jogged back to the dugout, intrigued by the tingling in my stomach. She was cute, and she seemed to have taken an interest in me. An inning later, I was playing second base when the same chick came to bat. Her short blonde hair peeked out from the edges of her batting helmet. Our eyes met for a moment, and the earth seemed to shift. She drilled a liner to my left. I dove, missed, "WITH A LOOK OF LUST ON HER FACE, SHE CAME UP AND KISSED ME." and she pulled up safely at second on those gorgeous legs of hers. "Nice try. You almost got to it," she said, extending a hand to help me up. "Thanks." I dusted myself off. "You hit that ball hard." She gazed at me with a gleam in her eye. "Don't see too many people diving in this league. Hey, you missed a spot," she added, brushing her hand over the seat of my pants. Whether I really had any dirt back there, I'll never know. "Instinct took over, I guess," I managed to say. She removed her helmet and ran a hand through her hair while giving me the onceover. There was something exciting in her bold appraisal, something so promiscuous that my pussy began to ache. "You looked good, laying out for the ball like that," she ventured. I think I may have blushed. Just to say something, I blurted, "I'm Lorena." She smiled, and there was no mistaking the carnal interest in her green eyes now. Putting her helmet back on, she said, "I'm Tracy." She shot me one last look that melted me from the inside out. Damn, she's hot, I thought to myself. You're falling for this girl. Thinking back, Tracy must have seen the same unadulterated lust in my gaze that I detected in hers. She had me bewitched from that point on. The remainder of the game passed in a blur, as I was preoccupied with the connection I'd made with Tracy. About a week later, we faced off in a Friday night game. Sparks flew between us like never before. In the final inning, Tracy was playing catcher for her team when I slid into home plate, trying to score the winning run. The ball and I arrived at about the same time. Tracy and I wound up in a tangle of arms and legs, shrouded briefly in a cloud of dust. The umpire, none too pleased by my aggressive style of play, called me out. I didn't care; all I could think about was the sexy girl sprawled half on top of me. Tracy chuckled as we helped each other up. "You okay?" "Yeah. You?" "Fine." She took off her catcher's mitt, straightened her tank top, and brushed at her shorts. "You know they frown on contact plays in this league, right?" I grinned sheepishly. "Sorry." "No, you're not," Tracy said, offering a grin of her own. "And neither am I." The game was over; my team had lost. Nevertheless, I was a happy girl when I discovered, a little while later, that Tracy and I were the only two people still hanging around. Everyone else had gone home. The lights were still on, but the ball field was otherwise abandoned. "So I'm guessing you played in school, right?" Tracy was standing by the third-base dugout, where she'd just finished securing the bases and other equipment in the Parks and Rec chest. "Yeah, a couple years," I said. "Me, too. I love this game." We sat on the dugout bench and spent a few minutes getting to know each other. Tracy and I were about the same age, and we shared many similarities. We didn't talk about our backgrounds for very long, though. The tension between us was thick and demanded resolution. "You wanna go somewhere?" I asked. She shrugged. "We could. Or we could just stay here a while." A coy grin spread across her face. My breath caught in my throat. "Why don't you kiss me already?" she queried, leaning in close. I put my arm around her. The look in her eyes was electric. Her hand went to the back of my neck as our lips met. The dugout had an actual wall and a roof, rather than a mere chain-link fence, so we had a measure of privacy as we clung to one another on the bench. Tracy was mightily turned on, as was I, and our mutual urgency would not allow for a change in venue. I was tentative at first, but our first kiss felt so good, so right, that I pressed my lips to Tracy's a second time. This kiss lasted much longer. I felt her hands slide down my back and settle at my waist as our kiss grew more passionate. "I'm sort of new at this," I confessed, suddenly afraid I might disappoint her. Tracy laughed. "I knew that the moment I first saw you," she said. "Follow your instincts, like you do on the field." We resumed Frenchkissing as a new wave of desire surged through me. My cunt was dripping wet, and we hadn't even taken our clothes off. Suddenly, the lights went out. The softball field was plunged into darkness, as was the dugout. Tracy giggled. "They're on a timer," she said, her voice breathless. The lights might have been automatic, but our lust was not. She started tugging on my sport top, and in a moment my breasts were free. Tracy's eager hands caressed my tits and made my breath quicken. I helped her out of her shirt, too, and discovered that Tracy didn't wear a bra. Her breasts, small but shapely, filled my hands like a pair of firm, ripe apples. I traced their outline with my fingertips, thrilled to be feeling up another woman for the first time in my life. Her nipples stiffened into points at my touch. I could even feel the exuberant beating of her heart. She was breathing hard as she nibbled on my neck and ran her fingers through my hair. Then Tracy dipped lower so she could kiss and suck my boobs, which made me moan. When she came up for air I hugged her to me, chest to chest. Our breasts rubbed together with delightful smoothness. I had to take those cute little mounds between my lips. Tracy saw what I was up to and arched her back, pushing her breasts into my mouth. She cupped the back of my head and breathed out a deep, heartfelt "oh, yeah" when I tried lightly biting her nipples. I've 45 SPOTLIGHT ON GIRL MEETS GIRL always liked that myself, and now I knew I wasn't alone. I had Tracy trembling and moaning in no time, as if I'd been kissing and nipping at girls' boobs for years. Tracy had me lie back on the bench. The wood was smooth and warm beneath my back. I bunched up my shirt beneath my head and gazed up at the dugout ceiling, acutely conscious of the evening's summer breeze caressing my naked skin. When Tracy popped the snaps at the waistband of my softball pants, a tremor of nervous anticipation raced through me. I thought, Are you ready for this? My very next thought was, Hell yes! My companion pulled my pants down past my knees, then hooked her thumbs under the sides of my thong underwear. I thought she'd yank them down pronto, but she paused to press her face into the fabric and breathe in my scent. My pussy quivered at this audacious move, and my panties dampened with more evidence of my arousal. Tracy made an appreciative sound and nuzzled me for a few seconds longer before finally tugging the thong down my thighs. "Ooh, what a pretty pussy," she said, brushing her fingertips across my neatly trimmed bush. "I figured you for a Brazilian wax. This is even better." She kissed me there, and a moment later her tongue was inside me, probing boldly between the folds of my sex. With an involuntary jerk, my back 46 Penthouse Letters "I FOUND MYSELF STARING AT TRACY'S BUSH FROM POINTBLANK RANGE." arched off the bench. I sat up halfway on my elbows and looked down the length of my body to see, dimly in the gloom, Tracy's small, straight nose nestled in my pubic hair. I could just about see her lips on my vulva, too, and I even caught a glimpse of her tongue in action when she touched the tip to my clit. Jesus, that looks as good as it feels, I thought to myself, and then, as a rush of elation swept over me, I repeated it out loud. I saw the crinkle of laugh lines at Tracy's eyes as she responded to my remark, but her lips never came off my pussy. She kept at her task, enthusiastically eating me until I could barely stand another second. And yet I wanted more. I wanted as much as she could give, as intensely as she could give it. I bucked my hips at her, bouncing my ass off the bench to grind my pussy against her hungry mouth. Her muffled moans mingled with my own cries as a beautiful orgasm crashed over me. Tracy circled her arms around my thighs and held my cunt tight to her face while I rode her face to climax. Eventually, I finally collapsed back against the bench. I sort of swooned there for a minute, but then I collected my wits and demanded to reciprocate. Tracy licked her glistening lips. With a look of pure lust on her face, she came up and kissed me deeply. Then she stood beside the bench, and I eased her elastic-waist shorts down to her ankles. Her panties went down at the same time, so I found myself staring at Tracy's silky blonde bush from point-blank range. She took my head in her hands and urged me to her crotch. "Put your tongue inside me," she said, her voice strained with desperation. "I need it so bad!" I reached around to grab her ass while I cuddled up to her pussy. The richness of her scent was intoxicating. I stuck out my tongue and dipped it into her cleft, getting my first taste of girl juice. Tracy shuddered with pleasure. "That's good," she murmured as she pushed her labia more firmly against my mouth. My zeal rose, and I probed more deeply into my companion's velvety recesses. Soon I zeroed in on her clit. Tracy cried out and grabbed fistfuls of my hair as I started flicking my tongue rapidly against her sensitive button. She raised one foot and planted it on the bench, half-straddling my shoulders; now her box was right over my face and I could explore it more adroitly. While still sucking her clit, I slipped a finger into her hole and began pumping in and out. Tracy responded with a yowl of pleasure. I slid a finger inside her asshole while I continued lapping at her wet pussy. Tracy gripped my hair tighter as I pumped her asshole with my finger. Jerking her hips against my face, she lasted only a few minutes more before tensing up all over and coming hard. I rubbed my lips in her feminine nectar and continued to tweak her clit while her climax ran its course. "Wow, girl," she said breathlessly when it was over. "You sure you've never done that before?" I felt exalted as I drove home that night. I had Tracy's number in my phone, and she had mine. We hadn't made any plans before saying good-night, but I knew I'd be hearing from her soon. The following day was Saturday, and Tracy's text came around noon. She asked if I wanted to go with her to see a movie at the drive-in theater. I hadn't been there in years; we had a modern theater in town. But if she wanted to hit the old drive-in, I was game. "Sounds like fun," I wrote back. She said she'd pick me up at seven. I texted her the directions to my place. Summer storm clouds were building over the distant plains when Tracy pulled up in her old truck. I figured it had to be older than both of us combined, and Tracy confirmed this as I climbed in beside her. "My dad bought it new in 1965," she said. "He gave it to me when I got my driver's license. I like working on it, keeping it up." We chugged up the interstate for a few miles, barely making the speed limit. Vast cornfields on both sides of the highway turned golden with sunset light, then lost their color as dusk fell. "Drive-ins are becoming extinct," explained Tracy as we pulled into the lot. "There are only a few hundred left. I love coming here. For me, though, it's not really about the movie. At least, not tonight." She glanced my way with a rakish grin. "Drive-ins are awesome for making out." I laughed and took her hand. "More than that, even." She liked that remark. Leaning across the bench seat, she kissed me fiercely. I could feel her passion rising with mine. We bought a couple of tickets, and Tracy parked the truck in the very back row of spaces to maximize our privacy. The lot was barely half full anyway, but now we could do whatever we wanted. The movie started when the evening grew dark, but Tracy and I lost interest in the flick after about ten minutes. We were too intent in getting it on with each other. I came out of the gate rather aggressively this time, backing Tracy into a corner of the cab while feverishly making out with her. She giggled and threw her arms around me, clearly delighted by my newfound confidence. The next few minutes were pretty much a heavy groping session as we stroked and pawed each other's body, all without breaking our lip-lock. I lifted Tracy's shirt so I could get at her bare breasts, then promptly lowered my lips to each of her nipples in turn. Remembering how she'd responded to the light pressure of my teeth during our last encounter, I employed the technique again. She moaned softly while her nipples hardened into stiff peaks. She was not, however, too distracted to get my shorts open and slip her hand inside the front. I could feel her fingers inching down my mons pubis, desperately trying to get to my cleft. My shorts weren't loose enough for that, so Tracy withdrew her hand and tried to tear the offending garment off my body. I took a moment to help her out, and in no time I was nude from the waist down. My own acute desire compelled me to get Tracy's shorts off, too. She'd opted to go commando tonight, which made my next goal that much easier. Tracy turned sideways on the bench seat and slumped down until she was almost lying flat, with her head resting against the door. She let her knees fall open and gazed at me with intense desire in her eyes. I looked at her tight, athletic body clad only in a T-shirt and sneakers, and felt my own ardor escalate. Light from the big movie screen flickered across her willowy thighs. The lips of her sex, slightly open and glistening, peeked out from her furry blonde bush. Seized with equal parts inspiration and desire, I turned around and knelt over Tracy in the other direction, with one knee on the seat and the other down near the floorboards. It took some doing, but that old truck of hers had just enough room in the cab for two fit, flexible girls to fashion a 69 together. Of course, we were cramped, but if you think we cared or even noticed, guess again! My ass was up high, and my pussy was right in front of Tracy's face. Meanwhile, her juicy bits were directly below my mouth. I curled my hands under her ass and pressed my lips to her slit. She shuddered and jerked her hips up at me, smearing her wetness against my chin. I felt her hands on my bottom, and then a playful slap on both cheeks. One second later came the exquisite touch of her tongue on my private parts. I squirmed atop her, eager for more. She held me open with two fingers and lapped away at my groove while I did the same to her, and soon our moans filled the truck. Then things grew even more magical. When Tracy pushed her thumb against my anus, I gasped with unexpected pleasure. "Ooh, that feels good," I said, rocking against her. Encouraged, she slipped a 47 SPOTLIGHT ON GIRL MEETS GIRL finger inside my tiny hole, and she wrapped her lips around my clitoris at the same time. I shuddered at the flurry of sensations, aware that a massive climax was building like a storm cell inside me. Rededicating myself to Tracy's cunt, I dashed my tongue back and forth against her clit until she was writhing beneath me. Her arousal crested like an ocean wave and crashed upon her with sudden fierceness. Her mouth came off my vulva for a moment while she fought for breath, but then I felt her again back there, enthusiastically licking and sucking my clit while her digit plugged my backside. Within half a minute, I was coming, too. I sealed my lips against Tracy's slit to muffle my joyous scream, which might have shattered the windshield if left unchecked. Sweaty and supremely happy, I turned around so I could lay atop Tracy face-to-face. We shared a sloppy kiss. She toyed with my hair while stretching out one leg along the seat. She put her other foot up on the dash. As we continued necking and petting one another in a post-coital glow, I found some delicious stimulation coming from down below. Our legs were scissored together, and Tracy's smooth thigh was rubbing against my pussy to marvelous effect. Giggling, I squirmed a little to increase the friction. Tracy moaned and flexed beneath me, having taken note of my inner thigh massaging her cunt. We couldn't have arranged things better if we'd tried. Gradually, our movements became more pronounced, and we fell into a delicious rhythm. Her thigh felt so good against my pussy, and I ground my clit against her skin with a technique that was improving fast. As we grinded against each other, we kissed passionately. The way Tracy's mouth felt on mine was orgasmic in itself, so soft, hot and wet. Then Tracy, whose breath had quickened again, maneuvered her body a bit, and we found that we could rub our cunts together, clit to clit. It was the most amazing feeling, and it drove me wild. We clung desperately to each other and humped away like that for several delirious minutes, making the truck bounce noisily on its shocks. We even managed to fog up the windows a little. "Oh, Lorena, keep doing that, keep going, I'm going to come!" Tracy mashed her pussy against mine and succumbed to another lengthy climax as our juices mingled. We rutted and squirmed together for a minute or two more until I, too, lost myself in a powerful "MY ASS WAS UP HIGH, AND MY PUSSY WAS IN FRONT OF TRACY'S FACE." orgasm. I sobbed into Tracy's neck and she held me tight until I came back to Earth. We could have stayed and watched the remainder of the movie, but instead we raced back to Tracy's apartment and made love all night. Thanks to Tracy, I've embraced a new appreciation for drive-ins—and a renewed interest in softball, but these days we play on the same team. —L.B., Via Email Ever experimented with girls? Like a bit of the ole' tongue in groove? Tell us all about it. Send your story to: Penthouse Letters, Department SAW, 8944 Mason Avenue, Chatsworth, CA, 91311, or e-mail it to firstname.lastname@example.com. 48 Penthouse Letters JESSIE, ALAN & DANE INSATIABLE SEXY JESSIE SAYS SHE CAN'T GET ENOUGH, BUT ALAN AND DANE ARE UP TO THE CHALLENGE 50 Penthouse Letters 51 JESSIE, ALAN & DANE "MORE HARD COCKS MEAN MORE DIRTY FUN FOR ME!" - JESSIE 52 Penthouse Letters 53 JESSIE, ALAN & DANE 55 JESSIE, ALAN & DANE 56 Penthouse Letters YOUNG MEN WANTED Penthouse readers take an erotic journey to the suburbs where mature MILFs, wanton wives next door, and wicked widows are boy-toy cr azy. Come along! On sale now at a bookstore near you or order online at EROTICA STORM OF PASSION An adventurous ex-pat finds the answer to her loneliness in the arms of a dashing stranger. By Mercedes Weatherfield airo overwhelmed me. It wasn't just the ancient ruins and monuments, spectacular as they are. No, what really overwhelmed me was the sheer size and vitality of the city. At least 15 million people are crammed into an endless maze of streets—millions more people than live in any city in America or Europe. Robed Bedouins talking on cell phones to stockbrokers in Hong Kong. Berbers in aviator sunglasses driving donkey carts. Men in turbans, fezzes, baseball caps. Women veiled head to foot, walking side by side with chic Westernized women in high heels and designer clothes. There are bazaars and marketplaces, grand hotels and even grander mosques, casinos, nightclubs, cafés by the hundred—and the traffic, the noise! It's an impossible city, but it's also irresistible. Within a day or two, I was in love with the place. I came to Egypt late in the spring, to teach English at one of the prep schools that catered to the children of diplomats and wealthy businessmen. That was the official reason I was in Cairo, anyway. The more personal reason is because I'd recently ended a long-term love affair back in New Orleans, and I wanted to make a clean break with things and get a fresh perspective on my life. When I heard about the opportunity to teach in Cairo for the summer, I jumped at the chance and applied for the job. I was supposed to start teaching in June, a couple of weeks after I arrived in Egypt. The school had reserved a small apartment for me on campus, but it wouldn't be available until a few days before the term began. That was just as well, because I loved the hotel I was staying in. Built at the turn of the century, at the height of British imperialism, it was an imposing white building with a dusty lobby fitted out with rattan furniture and potted palms. I had a suite on the top floor, and to get there I had to take an antique elevator, a sort of mesh cage that ascended as slowly as drifting smoke. As I passed each C 58 Penthouse Letters floor, anyone who cared to could look right up my skirt. My room was large and charmingly shabby, with a high ceiling and shuttered windows that opened onto a small balcony. The view alone was worth the price of the room. Spread out beneath me in every direction were the gold and pink and sand-colored domes and rooftops of Cairo. Close at hand, the twin minarets of the El Hussein mosque towered nearly 300 feet into the air. And further off, on the gleaming Nile, I could see dhows and white-sailed feluccas sailing up and down the river. "I WAS BREATHLESS WITH THE BLISS THAT WAS RISING INSIDE ME." My first night at the hotel, I was so jetlagged and over-excited that I had a hard time getting to sleep. After tossing and turning until three in the morning, I finally decided to masturbate in the hope that after I came, I'd be able to rest. Lying there naked on the bed, with a slowly turning ceiling fan creaking overhead, I sat up and began arousing myself. Lifting one of my large breasts to my mouth, I bent and started sucking on the gumdrop-like nipple. After a minute or two, I switched to my other breast and continued sucking until I was wet between my legs, the growing ache in my pussy calling me to more serious action. After I lay back against the pillows again, I licked my fingertips and got to work on my clitoris. I kept rotating my fingers on my swollen button, first in one direction and then the other. I felt prickly heat spreading through my cunt and radiating throughout my body, and my clit was tingling, but every time an orgasm approached, it just as quickly receded and faded. It was like waiting for an oncoming wave to sweep me away—a wave that almost but never quite broke. My body was bathed in sweat from the maddening exertion. Out of sheer stubbornness, I persisted in diddling myself until a short, hard burst of pleasure flared within me. I arched my back and cried out loudly, letting the sensations rock me. At long last, I turned onto my side and drifted off. I spent most of the next day exploring the narrow streets of Cairo. I hadn't the faintest idea where I was going, but by chance I wandered into the Khan al-Khalili, the largest souk in Egypt. It's been a thriving marketplace for more than 600 years, with hundreds of little stalls and booths selling everything from priceless Persian carpets to powdered aphrodisiacs. Set in a shadowy maze of alleys and passageways, the souk was thronged with people and the air was saturated with the smell of cardamomscented coffee and cheap, flowery perfume. Late in the afternoon, I finally wandered out of the market and made my way toward a nearby cafe. But when I entered the place and tried to take a seat, an officious little man rushed over and barred my way. Gesturing with his hands, he rattled off something in Arabic, but I couldn't understand a word he said. And then one of the customers sitting nearby stood up and came to my rescue. Too flustered to do more than glance at him, I had a brief impression of a darkly handsome man in a crisp white shirt. "Madame," he said gravely. "Can I assist you?" 59 EROTICA "Yes, please do. I'd like a table, that's all." He gave me a sympathetic smile and said, "But this cafe doesn't serve women, I'm afraid." Flushing with embarrassment, I said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize..." "Of course not. Please—let me show you to another place." Why was I so compliant? Why did I let a complete stranger take me by the arm and walk me down the street? Certainly I wouldn't have behaved that way at home, but then this wasn't the United States and I couldn't help feeling a rush of gratitude toward him for coming to my aid. And besides, at second and third glance, he was even more good-looking than I'd first realized. About my age, I guessed, in his late thirties, he had neatly combed black hair and walnut-brown skin, and his dark piercing eyes were exquisite. His features were strongly masculine, and he radiated an air of confidence and composure. We wound up sitting together in another café just a block away. At his suggestion, I 60 Penthouse Letters ordered a cup of karkedeh, or hibiscus leaf tea, and we spent a half-hour chatting and smoking acrid Turkish cigarettes. His name, he told me, was Khalid, and he worked as a newspaper journalist. He'd been educated in London, he said, and his English was impeccable although at times a bit formal and stilte