Letters to Penthouse IV (14 page)

I place the second towel on my stomach to catch my come when it spurts from my penis. Holding my erect penis in my left hand, I take the bottle of oil and place several drops on the tip of the head near my peehole. Gently and slowly, I massage the head until it feels silky and glistens in the dim light. Moving my hand down to the shaft, I add more oil and ever so slowly begin an up-and-down stroking.

The vibrator inserted in my rectum causes the muscles behind my balls to tighten so that my penis is as rigid as possible. The tightness prevents the foreskin from moving, so only my oiled hand near the tip of the head provides the friction necessary to make me come.

After a short while of easy stroking, the clear salty fluid begins to ooze out of my peehole, mixing with the oil to make my penis even smoother and more slippery. This sight excites me even more and I tighten my stomach muscles, causing my anus to contract around the vibrator. With the constriction of all these muscles, my peehole opens wide and more of the sticky, clear juice seeps out.

As my excitement increases, the veins running along the seven-inch length of my shaft swell and stand out in blue contrast to the shiny pinkness of my balls and penis, and the head of my cock becomes a crimson red.

I’m aware I’m about to come when the muscles between my balls and anus begin to tighten and release. I place my right hand there to massage the little ridge in rhythm with my left-hand strokes. A little pressure behind my balls helps bring me to climax.

When I start to come, the entire area behind my balls seems to become rigid and then to contract spasmodically. My thick white come squirts out hard at first, often shooting as far as my shoulders. After several squirts, my semen comes forth in globs, spilling over my hand and running down to my balls and onto the towel. As I feel my climax fading to an end, I withdraw the vibrator from my rectum. The relaxing of the muscles around my anus causes a few more intense spasms, and still more come slips out of my peehole.

After several moments of rest, I exert a last firm stroke or two on my penis, which cleans out the leftover juice. The come and oil are mixed all over my hands, balls, penis and anus, as well as the towels, and I love it. What a turn-on! I think I’ll do it again right now.—
Name and address withheld

GUYS ENJOY JERK-OFF NOONERS WITH EACH OTHER IN THE JOHN

My name is Charlie, and I’m the manager of a department store. The story I want to share with you and your readers is rather comical as well as erotic.

I used to work at a company that was only a ten-minute walk from my house. At lunch I would come home and have a noontime quickie. The minute I walked through the door, I’d tell my gorgeous blond wife (38-25-37) to strip. We’d go right to it for about five minutes. (At night we take
much
more time to set the mood, to enjoy some delicious foreplay, and to leisurely and lovingly screw each other.)

Recently, we moved to a new town and our new house is too far away from the big shopping center where I work for me to have those daytime quickies, so I have to relieve myself by masturbating in the public bathrooms.

I usually wait until no one is around, go into one of the toilets (which are protected from anyone’s sight by swinging doors), unfasten my belt, unzip my zipper, pull my pants down and sit on the toilet. I go to it, fantasizing about the many ways I’d be fucking my lady’s pussy, getting sucked off, etc.

One day I was hornier than usual, and when my lunch hour came around, I rushed to the bathroom to beat my seven-inch dong. No one seemed to be there, so I went up to one of the stalls, but when I swung open the door, my eyes nearly popped out. One of my associates at the store was jacking off his own peter (it was about nine inches long)! He was handsome, to say the least, with curly blond hair and a hairy body. I couldn’t help but laugh as his face turned beet red. I reassured him, saying, “You too, huh!” We both laughed as he pulled his jockey shorts on over his still-hard prick. I apologized, and he said it was OK.

I found out later, while we shared lunch, that he was in the same position as I, with a house and a wife too far away. I sympathized and confessed my own goings-on in the bathroom, and we shared a few other laughs as well. Ever since we’ve been buddies.

Sometimes we’ll go to the bathroom at the same time and watch each other whack off (you can see into the next stall through a small, lengthwise opening at the back). My friend is more of a performer: He puts his sport jacket on the hanger, unbuttons his shirt, and pulls his pants all the way down to his ankles. Then he plays with his balls and feels his hairy chest, his other hand pumping first in a slow rhythm, then faster and faster until his hammer spurts out his come. I just pull my pants down and go right at it.

I hope you don’t think that our “doors open both ways”— it’s just that once in a while we get off watching each other jerk off.—
Name and address withheld

JELLO-JERKING STUDENT AROUSES COED PEEPING TOM

I am a female student at a small, liberal arts college located in the middle of a cornfield. There is not much nightlife here, so we have to create our own amusements after classes. Dave is mine.

He is blond, with big hazel eyes, broad shoulders, and muscular arms. He is exactly my height, which really turns me on (I hate having to look up at my men). He seems to be a serious student, but I discovered that there is a delicious decadent streak in him.

One day, after dinner, I had to go back to the dining room to retrieve a book I had left behind. The room is spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows forming three of its walls. On this spring evening it was lit only by the golden-white sunset, and empty, except for Dave, who was eating a big bowl of lime Jell-O topped with whipped cream. I stood in the shadows, watching him.

Dave put down his spoon and started picking up the slippery gelatin with his broad, strong fingers. He wet his lips with his tongue while slowly and thoughtfully spreading the dessert over his fingers. Without looking to make sure he was alone, he kicked off his shoes and tossed off his jeans and shorts. Clothed only in a T-shirt and denim jacket, he perched on the edge of the table.

To my surprise, Dave dipped his hands into the Jell-O. smearing them quite thoroughly, and started to play with his cock. He arched his back, showing off a flat, furry belly and a patch of fine, dark pubic hair. Dave wrapped one hand tightly around his thick shaft and stroked it firmly and slowly, the cool, green Jell-O oozing out between his fingers. He shut his eyes, flung back his head, and grinned from ear to ear.

When he started stroking his throbbing cock with both hands, his grin got even wider. I was really turned on by the time he got close to climaxing and started moving his hands up and down his huge prick incredibly fast. Pieces of Jell-O flew to the floor as he shuddered and twitched, topping them off with his own sweet cream.

Dave sighed contentedly as he retrieved his pants, but the fun wasn’t over yet. He slowly licked his hands clean, lapping up every trace of the luscious leftovers. I couldn’t help moaning as I watched that juicy tongue at work. He looked at me, still lapping at his palms, and I knew he had been aware of my presence the whole time.

Without a word Dave picked up his shoes and left, pausing at the door to wink at me. But don’t think I was upset at being left by myself in that empty dining room. There was one more bowl of green Jell-O, and, believe me, it didn’t go to waste.—
Name and address withheld

SHE LOVES A MAN WHO MAKES A LASTING IMPRESSION—OF HIS ERECT COCK

My current lover is a dental student, and we have enjoyed an extremely satisfying and uninhibited sex life together. Last summer, however, I was exasperated to learn that he had to leave the city for three weeks. I knew I would miss him. He has the most beautiful penis I have ever seen—it measures ten inches when fully erect. I just could not bear the thought of not being able to suck his penis or feel that wonderful monster deep inside my hot pussy. Then my lover got a brilliant idea and brought home some powder from school one day. He called it alginate. After I had thoroughly aroused him with my tongue, lips and nimble fingers, he quickly mixed the alginate powder with water and put the puttylike mixture into a very tall glass. Then he pushed my mouth away, from his throbbing penis and inserted his hot organ all the way into the alginate paste. After letting the paste set for a few minutes, he pulled his penis out of the glass, leaving a very detailed impression of his erect organ in the alginate. He then mixed up some dental stone and poured this into the impression in the paste. After letting it harden, he removed the magnificent plaster model from the glass. It was an exact model of his beautiful monster—which he gave to me so I would remember him while he was away.

During his absence, I used the model to bring myself to orgasm every night. I used it in every way imaginable, and it brought me great pleasure. It was the perfect way to remember my lover while he was gone. And when it was not being used, the “statue” occupied a prominent place on my living-room coffee table.

Since his return, I haven’t needed the model because I can fill my love tunnel with the real thing, which is much better. But my lover has found another use for it. While we are making love and he is eating my pussy, he inserts the statue into my anus and gives me double pleasure.—
N.S., Buffalo, N.Y.

SELF-SERVICE IS HIS ANSWER TO GIVING AND GETTING ORAL PLEASURE

I enjoy reading
Penthouse Letters
so much that I have to reread it several times. Now and then I’ve noticed a few articles in which men have said that they fellate themselves. I’ve been sucking my own cock for the past thirty-two years and have some how-to advice for other men who’d like to do it themselves. Now if you’re fat, forget it, I have a thirty-two-inch waist and am about five feet six inches tall My cock is five and a half inches long, and I’m not double-jointed.

Years ago, when I was walking down the street with one of my friends, he mentioned that he wished that he could suck his own cock. Until that time I had never given the matter a thought and, in fact, had been taught that this activity was unthinkable. (Today when I suck my cock, I feel that it is the cleanest part of my body. I even wash my hands before I touch it.)

At the time of my friend’s confession, we used to attend live shows in two local theaters. One consisted of a group that would walk around the stage on their hands, with their heads held between their legs. I used to wonder if they sucked their own cocks. In this position they could very easily reach their cocks with their mouths. One evening I heard one of these persons being interviewed on the radio. The performer was asked if he and the other members of the group were double-jointed. He answered that they weren’t and said that many people could do the same trick after the right exercises.

When World War II ended, I was in Europe and had lots of free time on my hands. I decided to begin my experimentation. I would lie on my back with my head on a roll of toilet paper and raise my feet up above me until they rested on the wall behind me. Then I would put my arms around my legs and gradually pull my cock down toward my mouth. Finally I would switch the position by sitting on the floor, wrapping my arms around my upper thighs, arching my back and pressing my neck and head forward as I slowly reached my mouth down toward my cock. It seemed almost impossible to do, but each time I tried, my mouth would get closer and closer to my cock. After weeks of trying, I was able to lick up and down the shaft, tasting the sweet juice that starts to run when you get hot. Then I opened my mouth and moved it down slowly over the head of my cock until it was about a third of the way down the shaft. I started rolling my tongue around the head and soon brought myself to a climax that sent gushes of come down my throat.

One of these days I may get up the nerve to suck another guy’s cock. I remember how, in my younger years, when I was going to high school, I was with one of my classmates during lunch. At one point he pulled out his cock and took a leak behind some bushes. I remember that his cock was large and beautiful. He asked me to suck it. I wanted to very much, but refused. To this very day I still think about that near encounter.

I would love to stand up and shout to the world that I love to suck cock, but there are far too many narrow-minded people out there.—
A.B., Washington, D.C.

DAUGHTER TEACHES WIDOWED MOM TO DIDDLE HERSELF TO HAPPINESS

I am a thirty-eight-year-old widow and mother of two. Since the death of my husband, Jim, three years ago, my sex life has been nonexistent. I simply haven’t had the inclination to date anyone.

Jim always kept me very happy and satisfied sexually. After I lost him I was too busy working to notice my increasing sexual tension. During my second year of widowhood, however, I became aware of a yearning between my legs as I lay in bed at night. My upbringing had taught me that touching myself “down there” was wrong, and though the need for relief became more urgent as time wore on, I just couldn’t bring myself to explore the flesh between my thighs.

Then, about eight months ago, I was cleaning the house while the kids were at school. As I was rounding up the laundry in my daughter Terri’s room, I found a small stack of
Penthouse
and
Penthouse Letters
magazines under her bed. At first, I was aghast and quite angry at my daughter for having all of those “dirty” magazines. But my curiosity got the best of me and I started leafing through a few copies. I read one letter from a woman who masturbated regularly and who taught her friends how to do the same. I also read an editorial on masturbation in
Penthouse Letters
that, to my amazement and frustration, made my vagina grow damp with excitement.

My arousal and my inability to deal with it only made me more angry at my daughter. I put the two magazines back and decided to give Terri hell when she got home that evening. My nerve failed me at the last moment, however, and I said nothing to her.