Letters to Penthouse XII (21 page)

When I asked Flora if she still thought we shouldn’t be doing this, she said no. We have been sucking and fucking for two years and are still going strong.

As for my other two girlfriends, I’ll tell you about them in my next letter.—
K.G., Lexington, Kentucky

A GOLDEN MEMORY—THE BLIND DATE THAT TURNED INTO A NIGHT OF BUND PASSION

When you approach the age of eighty, with any luck you can look back and recall a number of memorable liaisons. While I can recall several dozen, one night is forever etched in my memory as best of all. I recall every detail as if it were yesterday.

I was a forty-year-old married man on a business trip to a military base where my company had dealings. Late one afternoon, the secretary of one of the men I was working with asked if I’d like, a date that night—not with her, but with a friend of hers. A military base in 1960 being hardly the place to meet women, I quickly said yes.

Just before sunset I was waiting in my rental car in front of my hotel, where we had agreed to meet. The secretary who had arranged the date showed up right on time and stopped her car parallel to mine. The passenger door opened and a shapely pair of unstockinged legs swung around to meet the ground. As she stepped out of the car and turned to close the door, I could admire the smooth buttocks molding the silklike material of a dress that stopped just above her knees.

She paused a moment and studied me through the open window of my car for a full three seconds, while I stared back and smiled. The trace of an answering smile crossed her face, and she turned and walked quickly around the rear of my car, then slid in beside me. We both waved as our friend drove off.

Here we were, two unintroduced strangers, sitting in the front seat of a 1960 Ford in front of the town’s most prominent hotel. If I could have foreseen what would ensue in the next eleven hours, I would have invited the lady to dinner and planned to return to the hotel after dark. But it was bright sunlight in the heart of an unfamiliar town, and this was like no date I ever had before—no introductions, no flirtation. It was not a dinner date, not a movie date, not a date to go dancing. It was just a date, with no prearranged stipulations.

Without a plan, I started the car and drove toward the outskirts of town. As we exchanged pleasantries I discovered that her name was Katherine but everyone called her Katie, and she was the married mother of two children who were home with a baby-sitter while her husband was out of town.

As we drove, I glanced at her and she at me. Our glances grew more frequent, and more fraught with meaning, until finally I just pulled the car over to the side of a lonely road, shut down the engine and put the gear in park. We moved as one, meeting in the middle of the front seat and embracing as if we were long-lost buddies.

With most of the women I have known, kissing begins in a tender manner, increasing in intensity when and if the mood dictates. Not this time. From the moment we embraced, our mouths became one, hungering for and devouring each other. Tongues moved, tongues played, tongues probed. The chemistry was intense and all-consuming. As I look back, I still cannot believe we acted as we did. This was hardly a lovers’ lane. It was a back road on the outskirts of a small city. Cars could drive by at any time, and a few did.

It was a lovely evening in mid-spring, I was in shirtsleeves, and Katie wore a print dress that may have been polyester but felt like silk and buttoned down the front. As our tongues mingled, our hands began their search. My left hand found her right breast, protected only by the thin dress and a flimsy bra. I used my right hand to unbutton the top of the dress. After feeling her breasts, I kissed the large nipples, which quickly hardened under the movement of my tongue. Katie responded in kind, reaching down to lower my zipper and free my penis, cradling my balls in the palm of one hand.

The sun had gone down, but there was no stopping us. We were too far gone. I don’t know what it would have taken to stop us. Certainly not a passing car. I doubt that even someone knocking on the car window would have done it. Slowed us down, perhaps, but stop us? I don’t think so.

I freed myself from the inhibition of my trousers and Jockey shorts, then tried without success to find a position that would allow my penis to penetrate her vagina. In desperation I had her sit up with her back to the window while I knelt, lifted up her dress and plunged my head between her spread legs. With hand and tongue I easily moved the crotch of her panties aside and began to toy with a well-developed clitoris surrounded by a proud hood.

She was already moist and ready, but the front seat was too narrow for me to do more than explore her sweet eager pussy with my hungry tongue. Though I longed for a more complete union, I enjoyed giving her head, and she seemed to enjoy it even more. Either that or she was a great actress, for she expressed herself vocally with moans and groans that appeared to come from the depths of her soul.

It was almost dark by now, but the moon was shedding its own light, and I had to find a better place to park— one where we could open a car door without fear of being interrupted. Satisfied that Katie had had at least one orgasm, I started the car and drove toward some nearby bills, running my hand up her dress as I did so. She carefully maneuvered herself so that she could lower her head into my lap. I steered with my left hand and fingered her clitoris with my right.

There was no question that she liked having my hand in her pants. There was also no question that she was an experienced cocksucker. As I drove along, she first used her active tongue to tease the head of my penis, then suddenly engulfed the whole thing in her mouth. She had large thick lips that were as adept and sensuous when they massaged a penis as they were when engaged in French-kissing.

Finally I found a one-way road leading up the side of a hill. Following it, I found a place where we could turn off and park, with a view of the lights of the city. Fortunately, I had rented a four-door car. We moved to the backseat, leaving the doors open as it was a lovely warm spring night.

Katie quickly removed the rest of her clothes and lay down naked in front of me. What a gorgeous sight! There was just enough moonlight to illuminate her brown bush and large dark-brown nipples. Kneeling on the floor, I rechristened her nipples with my tongue as I palmed her bush and parted the lips of her pussy.

Rising then, I moved atop her. I paused for a moment to rub my rigid penis against her pubic mound, but quickly moved it down to find her vagina, which was as eager to receive me as my penis was to enter.

Some love affairs take time to develop, to bloom. Some love affairs start promisingly but require trial and error and experience to produce a completely satisfying culmination. This love affair seemed destined from the very beginning to be not just explosive and spontaneous but also tender and soft and relaxing, and in fact every word you can think of to express pure pleasure.

How long we continued to make love in this position I can’t remember, but I’m sure it was over an hour. I was fortunate in that in my youth I had been taught by an older woman how to postpone ejaculation and prolong a woman’s pleasure. This served me in good stead on this moonlit night.

Some women have difficulty achieving orgasm. For some, it comes and passes too quickly. Some have the ability to experience multiple orgasms. And then there are those rare few who have no limit, who can go on and on. Katie was like no other woman I have known. She was insatiable. No—insatiable implies greed or hunger, and this lady was
giving.
She strove to please, and in pleasing she was rewarded with pleasure of her own.

Somewhere along the line we paused to catch our breath, smoke a cigarette and enjoy the view. But it wasn’t long before our hands touched, then our lips, and we were once again exchanging passion. I call it an exchange because the passion was equal on both sides. It couldn’t be called lovemaking, for we hadn’t had time to know each other. It was just plain raw passion.

I felt each touch of her warm soft hands as she explored my body, and I responded with increased desire. Our tongues worked feverishly as our bodies moved in unison, each of us anticipating the other’s next move. It was heaven. Her moans were loud and clear as she experienced orgasm after orgasm. The more she moaned, the more I wanted to prolong her pleasure. Our equal admiration continued until after one in the morning. When we weren’t screwing, we were kissing, stroking and caressing.

About two, we drove into town and had breakfast, then returned to our parking spot on the hill, where we renewed our lust. Finally, about five, we drove back into town. She wouldn’t let me take her home. I took her to a cabstand, we kissed one last time, and it was farewell. How she explained her failure to return home at a reasonable hour that night I do not know. Perhaps she
didn’t
come up with an adequate excuse, because she failed to keep a rendezvous with me the following night.

We planned to drive out to the ocean and share our passion on a moonlit beach. But that afternoon her friend forwarded a message that Katie couldn’t keep the rendezvous, I never saw or spoke to her again. Perhaps it was best that way.

What more can I say? It was certainly a night to remember. I sometimes find myself wondering whether she remembers it too. Oh, I’m sure she does, but did the night mean as much to her as it did to me? I guess I’ll never really know.—
R.G., Chicago Illinois

HE BUYS HIS WIFE A MALE STRIPPER, WHO GIVES HER A SHOW SHE’LL NEVER FORGET

Judging by what I read in
Penthouse Letters,
I am not the only husband in the world who has always wanted to watch his wife make it with another man.

Donna and I have been married for twenty glorious years. We have always enjoyed our sex life, though her physical needs have always been stronger than mine. When we make love we use various toys. One of my favorites is a large latex dildo about nine inches long and two inches thick.

I soak it in hot water so it will be nice and warm. Then, after working Donna up with some foreplay, I rub it slowly over the protruding lips of her pussy. By now she is very wet, so I gradually insert it in her tunnel. She lifts her hips to make room for her latex lover. I work it in and out of her sopping cunt.

Then I take another toy, a small egg-shaped vibrator, turn it on and place it along her swollen clit. She gyrates her pelvis in rhythm with the thrusting motion of the cock. Moans of pleasure escape from her throat, and she whimpers, “Give me more of that big hot cock!” Then, humping wildly, she comes.

Wave after crashing wave surges through her, almost throwing her off our king-size waterbed. She has had some of her most intense orgasms with this artificial cock. I have often thought that if she could have this type of climax with a fake dick, it might be fantastic to see what fun she could have with the real thing!

Donna is five-ten. She has long legs, and her body is firm from hours of exercise and walking. She has brown hair, wide brown eyes and full, pouting lips. The sight of her looking up into my eyes as she wraps those red lips around my cock is enough to make me come down her throat.

Her breasts are perfect, with large brown nipples that stick out a half-inch when excited. She keeps her bush well trimmed, and her pussy lips are full and red, opening like a small rose. Everywhere we go men look at her, turning around to catch a glimpse of her ass as she walks by.

Since we have no secrets, I have often told her of my desire to see her with a really well-endowed man. For years she said she was happy with my cock; she just needed it more often. One night she admitted she was warming to the idea of sleeping with another man but was afraid I would be jealous, and also would feel uncomfortable if I watched.

A plan formed in my mind. One Friday after work I told Donna to pack a small bag. I said I thought we needed to get away and had booked a suite in a fine hotel in a nearby town. She was all for it and quickly got ready. The part I didn’t tell her was that I had made arrangements for a male stripper to visit us.

After we arrived we changed and went out for a delicious dinner, washed down with a fine wine. In the elevator up to our room I pressed Donna against the wall and gave her a deep kiss. Our tongues intertwined as I fondled her breasts. I raised her skirt, reached for her crotch and, as she spread her legs, rubbed her shaved pussy. When the elevator got to our floor we hastily rearranged our clothing and headed for the room.

Once the door closed behind us we were all over each other. We kissed and stripped. I set Donna across the bed and fell on top of her. I kissed her lips, then worked my way to her neck, nibbling on her ears and throat. I kissed down her torso to those magnificent breasts. I took first one nipple, then the other in my mouth, sucking and rolling them on my tongue until they were hard. I licked my way down her body to her long legs, nibbled the inside of her knees, then worked my way back up her thighs.

Donna spread her legs to give me access to her beautiful twat. Her pussy lips were flushed and full, with a trickle of love juice trickling from them. I parted the lips with my fingers and brought my face to her crotch. Starting at her ass, I licked upward to her clit, which stood out like a small penis. I sucked it into my mouth.

Donna moaned with pleasure as I ate her marvelous snatch. Just as she began to rock her pelvis, there was a knock at the door. Donna sat up in bed, wrapping the sheet around her, and said, “Who could that be?”

“It must be the entertainment for the evening,” I said, getting up and swiftly slipping into my clothes. Then I went and opened the door to admit a handsome young man about six feet tall, with dark hair, dark eyes and a hard body. He introduced himself as Dirk. I returned to the bed, where Donna sat dumbfounded. I kissed her and told her I loved her and she should enjoy herself. Then I walked out the door.

At the bar I found a seat with a view of the lobby. As I sipped my drink, I thought of what was happening in our room. I felt a pang of jealousy at first, but only a pang. The hard-on in my pants gave away my true feelings.