Letters to Penthouse XIV (26 page)

FOR HIS FIRST TASTE OF FREEDOM, HE PLUCKS A RIPE GEORGIA PEACH

After more than two years of stress, fighting, wet dreams, jerking off and flirting with damn near any woman who’d allow me to, I’m finally being released from one of California’s many correctional facilities, and being paroled to a foreign land, Georgia.

I admit that when I first got here I was scared as hell to go outside.

Can you imagine yourself in a secure and controlled environment, where people no better than you boss you around all day long and night, where fights occur more commonly than the sun rises and where the only women you encounter are off-limits female officers? Imagine going through this, which isn’t half of what a person experiences as a prisoner, every day for more than two years. Nothing ever changes except the tension in the air, which only increases as the days go by.

So you see what I faced, going from an atmosphere where things always moved at a slow pace and I could predict the happenings, because they never changed, to a place where I was out of step with the times. I didn’t know anyone, even though I had lots of family there, and everything and everyone seemed to be moving at the speed of light, while I was moving at twenty miles an hour. Boy, how time flies!

Two things compelled me, little fish that I’d become, to step out into this storming ocean of a world. First was my will to survive as best I could without risking my freedom. Second was pussy!

Not long after I was home, I started hanging with my cousin Herman, who’s a few years younger than me but mature for his age. I’ve never been the type to ask another person to help me meet women, but this time I made an exception.

“My girlfriend Shirley has an older cousin you might like,” Herman said when I asked him the question.

“What does she look like?” I asked.

“Well, Shirley’s about—”

“No, you dope,” I broke in. “Not
Shirley
, her
cousin
! What’s her name? Just tell me whatever you know about her.”

Herman proceeded to give me the lowdown on her to the best of his ability. Wylene was my age, and lived in a town about fifteen or twenty minutes from where I was living at the time. Before I went home that night, I told my cousin to try to persuade her to call me. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression of me by having a total stranger call her.

That call came sooner than expected. Four days later I was at home, bored out of my mind, when the phone rang. I wasn’t expecting any calls, so I let my grandmother answer it. I was shocked when she said it was for me. After I regained my composure I put the phone to my ear and said hello.

“William?” It was Herman.

“What’s up, bro?” I said.

“I got somebody wants to talk to you.”

“Who?” I asked.

Then, like the first intake of fresh air upon my release, that was so pleasing, I heard a voice so sweet and feminine, I knew I had to have her. Now I’ve heard the stories about chance meetings over the phone, and the woman sounds so lovely in your ear that you know she has a body to match, only to find the opposite. Too bad for them, this is me.

“Wylene,” she answered enticingly.

“How are you, Wylene?” I inquired.

“I’m fine,” she said. She was forcing me to say more.

“Wylene,” I said, “would you mind calling me back when you’re alone, so we can get acquainted privately? You have the number, don’t you? Good. I’ll be waiting for you.” Then I hung up.

Wylene called back, and we spoke until four in the morning. She was an intelligent person. We discussed our families, backgrounds, aspirations (she wanted to be a nurse, while I just wanted to remain free and work from there), life experiences and numerous other topics. We set a date for the Sunday after next to go to church together.

When Sunday arrived, I had my uncle pick her up for service. When they got back to my house, I went out to open the door for her—and to get my first look at her. When I opened the passenger door, I had to step back for lack of breath. What took my breath away, the center of my attention, was one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen.

I held my hand out to her and introduced myself. When she placed her hand in mine, I noticed how smooth and delicate hers was—small, with slim fingers and maintained nails, telling me she was a woman who took care of herself. I helped her out of the car and received another surprise. She was almost a foot shorter than me, five feet two or maybe three inches, with long, straight black shoulder-length hair that she let hang down and frame her attractive face, with its almond-shape eyes, succulent lips and smooth, unblemished skin, free of makeup except for a light coating of red lipstick.

She was neither slim nor chubby, but what some would call thick, with a flat stomach. She had more than enough ass and tits for a woman of her size. I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on those generous-size tits while uncovering the rest of what she had to offer.

After church we returned to my house to relax and get something to eat. Once we finished eating, I changed clothes and asked Wylene if she would like to go for a walk. We ended up at a nearby park, where we sat on a set of bleachers and talked for a while. There was a tension all around us that I’m sure she noticed, and if I’m not mistaken, the source of that tension was purely sexual, for which there was only one possible form of relief—sex!

“Wylene,” I said, placing my arm around her waist. I couldn’t get enough of saying her name. Like calling a rose a rose, to address it any other way would be unacceptable.

“Yes,” she answered, looking up at me seductively. I’m not sure she was aware of how lovely she looked, or the effect she was having on me, and not just physically.

I placed my other hand underneath her chin and gently tilted her head back to where I could kiss her comfortably. At first I was only going to kiss her lightly on her lips, but once I placed my lips on her and felt her lips part, I slid my tongue in her sweet mouth, feeling her tongue gently caress my own. I felt the vibration of a moan and the pressure of her breast as she leaned into me, pressing her chest against mine. I don’t know how long we stayed locked in this passionate kiss, but when we finally parted, we were both winded.

After I caught my breath, I took hold of Wylene’s hands, those hands that I ached to feel roaming over my body, and led her to the entrance to the swimming pool for the little cover it provided. The pool was closed on Sunday, but it wasn’t water I was interested in diving in. I was interested in diving my tongue as deep as I could between the legs of this beautiful woman.

I placed Wylene’s back against the wall and leaned down to give her another kiss. Those voluptuous lips parted readily to admit my tongue into her mouth, and I couldn’t help but wonder if those lips would part just as willingly to admit my dick. I let my hands slide down Wylene’s backside until I had her round ass in my hands. I kneaded the moons of her ass gently but firmly.

She pushed off of the wall and then wrapped her arms around my neck. When she leaned into me this time, she felt the giant bulge in my pants. I heard and felt another moan escape Wylene’s throat, and I wanted so badly to fuck her then and there. But I restrained myself. I broke our embrace and dropped to my knees. I started pushing her dress up around her waist, until I caught the scent of her aroused pussy and the sight of her flower-print panties.

Wylene held her dress up while I pulled her moist panties off, uncovering her hairy crotch with its honey-coated pussy lips. I kissed the inside of those luscious thighs while sliding my hands up her curvaceous legs until I reached her musky mound. As I ran my fingers over her pussy lips, her juices spilled forth. I slid two fingers in her boiling cunt, and she gave a low moan.

“Mmm, William,” she said, placing one of her hands behind my head, inviting me to taste of her love. I raised one of my knees off the ground and felt Wylene place her foot on my mid-thigh, giving me easier access to her and allowing me to thrust my fingers deeper into her conflagrant cunt. I started sucking on Wylene’s clitoris, sending further waves of pleasure through her body while she gasped and moaned steadily above my head.

After a while her breath quickened and her movements became more pronounced, telling me her orgasm was building up. I started licking and swirling my tongue inside her honey-pot, savoring the taste of her juices while stroking her clit with my thumb.

“Yes! Yes!” Wylene yelled as her come flowed into my mouth. I swallowed as much of her narcotic nectar as I dared, further intoxicating myself with her love while longing to get her in my bed. She took her foot off my thigh to lean down and lick her come off my chin, then further blessed me with a passionate French kiss. After I helped her straighten her clothes, we started back toward my house. On the way we discussed getting together again soon, which we agreed to do the next day—my house at eight in the morning.

When Wylene arrived, I greeted her with a deep, tongue-probing kiss. I hadn’t bothered to get dressed that day, and she looked a little surprised when she saw me with only my robe on. But she accepted my kiss readily enough. She was wearing a pair of tight-fitting stone-washed blue jeans that showed off more than they covered, a white blouse that she let show a little cleavage, and a pair of brown heels that left her toes exposed and that matched her belt. She looked stunning, and I felt my dick start to harden.

Not to seem overexcited, I asked Wylene if she would like anything to drink. She declined. So much for formality. I went and sat on the couch, then beckoned for her to come over. When she came over, she sat on my lap and felt my semierect prick. She gave a short gasp but leaned down to kiss me. I started undoing the buttons of her blouse, eager to suck on the nipples of her huge tits while her hands slid inside my robe and caressed my chest.

Once I had her blouse undone, I reached around and unclasped her bra, freeing those ripe melons with their hardened nipples, which were quickly recaptured inside my waiting mouth. I flicked around the nipple and halo of each of her tits before sucking as much as I could in my mouth.

“Oooh,” Wylene moaned as I tugged on her nipples. After a while she slid off my lap and knelt between my legs. She undid the belt of my robe, uncovering my now fully erect dick. Then she started stroking me slowly while she lovingly flicked and licked circles around the head of my cock. When she finally sucked me into the sweet warmth of her mouth, I thought I was going to come then and there. I watched my cock slide in and out of this gorgeous woman’s mouth and listened to the slurps and moans she made while her head continued bobbing up and down, up and down. Her jaws were concave with the pressure she was applying to my throbbing cock. The feeling of her mouth was exquisite, and the pressure so intense, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer.

When Wylene sensed I was about to come, she pulled her mouth away with a loud pop. “No, not yet,” she said, smiling. She started taking her clothes off. “Now I’m ready,” she said, straddling me. Reaching behind her, she guided my cock to her dripping twat. When she started sliding down my pole, I couldn’t believe how tight and hot she was, and couldn’t stop myself from thrusting upward, driving my cock deep inside her.

“Ah!” she cried out, rising slightly. I grabbed her round ass and thrust as hard and buried as much of my cock in her as I could. “Yes, baby, yes!” she groaned, now bouncing on my rod. “Harder, baby! Give me more!” she panted in my ear, pushing her ass down as hard as she could to engulf my dick.

I rolled Wylene onto the couch, laying her on her back. I repositioned myself with her legs on my shoulders, then drove as powerfully into her as I could, feeling my dick stretch her to new dimensions.

“William, I love you! I love you, William!” she repeated as I continued to pile-drive in and out of her gripping snatch. After some time I felt her body start trembling and her fingers clutch my back. “Oh, I’m coming! I’m coming!” she yelled, and I felt her cunt convulsing around my dick. Her release soaked both my hardened member and my balls. When I announced that I was on the verge of orgasm, she said, “Come in me, baby. Come in my pussy.”

With her legs still on my shoulders, I kept thrusting in her, hard and fast, until I exploded, my seed spilling out between her thighs. “Mmmm yes, baby,” she moaned, pulling me down for a passionate kiss as I enjoyed the feeling of our two bodies being made one.—
W.R., Atlanta, Georgia

THIS TWOSOME’S MATING DANCE MUST SET SOME KIND OF RECORD

The philosopher Schopenhauer said that men spend their lives either reflecting on the past or anticipating the future. They therefore miss the moment. They live in a state he called “ad interim,” in-between. That is what I am living now. All I do is reflect and anticipate. The moment means nothing to me. Having said that, here is a sexcapade for your titillation, reflected from the fun-house mirror of my past.

A decade or so ago, a future codefendant of mine and I were at a famous swinging club in the Latin Quarter of New Orleans. We had moved there a year earlier from Los Angeles, and had finally figured out that there were some bars much more “tie-friendly” than others. Although the superhip semi-goth clubs we’d been in were full of ultracute, stitched-tight, languid, insolent, sassy girls in their early twenties, they wouldn’t give us a sniff. I’m sure it didn’t help that the two of us were the only men in the place with suits and ties. We must have looked like government agents—or, worse yet, their fathers, even though we were only in our late thirties.

But our new hangout was known as a “tie bar.” We had finally found a trough we could consistently feed from. My black Armani, black BMW and black-faced Rolex were just what these women in their short, tight black miniskirts had in mind. We lost most of the nubile lasses in their early to mid-twenties, but struck it rich with the red-hot late-twenties-to-early-thirties demographic. Not as tight, but twice as wet.

So one night these two blonde Russian girls are sitting at the bar, one looking extra-fine in a micro-mini and the other a bit of a slob. Both girls are late twenties. I get no action from the micro-mini, but Paul arranges a luncheon date with the other one for the following day. The “luncheon date” amounts to him getting sucked off in his dented 1984 Caddie at high noon on a main thoroughfare as gaping pedestrians pass by like it’s a fucking peep show.