Letters to Penthouse VI (9 page)

I slid my cock into her damp, sticky cunt and began pumping her. Helen's tits jiggled, her nipples rubbing across the bath mat. She began to moan at the top of her lungs, screaming out, “Harder! Deeper!” I pumped her until she finally released her tasty fluids, then I shot my load deep into her pussy.

When we were done, she turned around and lay on her back. “You know,” she said, “this is the first time we've screwed on the bathroom floor.”

“You know, you're right,” I said. “Hey, let's go the laundry room. We can set the washer on the spin cycle and fuck on top of it. I bet the vibrations will be great!”

“Sounds good,” she agreed. “I'll grab the razor and shaving cream.”—
Name and address withheld

MAN WHO MISSES HIS WIFE FINDS A WAY TO GET CLOSER TO HER

I had been married for twenty years when my wife was killed in a car crash. We'd had a very good sex life and had loved each other very much. Living without her was almost more than I could handle. Many nights I just sat around, holding something of hers in my hand and wishing she was still here.

A few months later I still felt a deep loss. I felt something was missing in my life, and I didn't know quite what to do about it. At the time of the crash I weighed one hundred sixty pounds, but I'd dropped down to one hundred twenty pounds. I looked trim, and didn't have an ounce of fat on my body.

After taking a bath one night, I was sitting in my bedroom, reading an issue of
Penthouse Letters
. I came across a few letters about crossdressing.

The letters gave me an idea. After thinking for a little longer, I pulled out some of my wife's lingerie. Then I went into the bathroom and shaved off all my body hair, leaving my skin very smooth and silky. Next I gave myself a manicure and a pedicure, painting my fingernails and toenails bright red. I even put on some makeup and styled my hair.

After all these preliminaries I was ready for the final touch. I tried on a black garter belt and stockings, then added a black bra and a black slip. To top it off I put on a slinky dress and high heels. Then I sat down and relaxed.

As I sat in my room I looked at myself in the mirror. I could hardly believe it was me. In less than two and a half hours I had changed from George to Georgette.

All of a sudden I heard a knock on the front door. Not stopping to think, I answered it. It was my wife's best friend Terri, who was just stopping by to pay me a visit. At first she didn't believe it was me, but she finally recognized my voice. I was afraid she would think that I'd flipped, but she was surprisingly understanding and supportive.

Since then, Terri has helped me out with my crossdressing and with other things. We share a lot together and try to cheer each other up when we're feeling blue.

I'm definitely not gay. I just enjoy dressing like a woman. Somehow it makes me feel closer to my wife. I dress up quite often now. Since I don't have to work for a living, I have plenty of spare time, and I use it to work on my body. This year I have added breasts.

I have gone out with Terri many times while I'm dressed in drag. I love it when men or women hit on me. In fact, one night this week Terri and I were out on the town, dressed to kill. We really looked hot. Up until then, I had never really thought about the sex aspect of crossdressing. But on this particular night, two guys were buying us drinks. The next thing I knew, one of the guys had his hand up my dress. I looked at him in shock, and he said, “I want to suck your meat, honey.”

I looked him right in the eye and said, “You know, I'm a cross-dresser.”

He said, “I know,” and proceeded to pump my cock under the table.

Well, now I have men friends and lady friends. My body is looking great. My doctor, God bless her, gives me hormone shots. These days I crossdress all the time, and I simply love it.—
G.T., Topeka, Kansas

COUPLE FINDS THAT SHARING FANTASIES LIVENS UP THEIR SEX

My boyfriend Roger and I started seeing each other a little over a year ago. From the very beginning our sex life was good, and neither of us had any real complaints. But I had no idea how great our sex would get over time.

We started sharing a few fantasies with each other during sex, and found that it turned us both on. Then we really let loose and began to reveal all kinds of kinky fantasies that we'd had. Eventually we got even braver and decided to act out one of our fantasies.

Roger bought me a beautiful lingerie outfit: a matching bra-and-panty set, along with a garter belt and stockings. He asked me to go into the bathroom and change into it. While I did so, he changed into a sexy pair of underwear and a muscle shirt. His hairy chest and broad shoulders, together with that huge bulge between his legs, turned me on instantly. I felt my nipples harden and my pussy get wet.

He had hung a full-length mirror up on the wall and placed a chair across the room from the mirror. He instructed me to stand in front of the mirror while he sat in the chair to watch me.

I was a little nervous, but very excited. My juices were flowing. He told me to touch my breasts. I slowly caressed my small, round mounds, shivering as I felt my nipples harden.

Next he told me to touch my pussy. I slowly ran my fingers down my stomach until I reached my swollen clit. I could smell my fragrant love juices as I slid my finger down my hot, wet crease. Looking in the mirror, I could see him sitting behind me. I noticed he was caressing that huge bulge in his sexy briefs.

He stood up and came up behind me, pressing his hard cock against my buttocks. He told me to look in the mirror and see how sexy I was as he reached down and stroked my pussy. Moistening his fingers with my juices, he let them dance over my clit until I couldn't hold back. I came like never before.

Then he turned me around and asked me to kneel down as he unleashed his raging tool. He grabbed hold of it and stroked it as I waited in anticipation, watching his cock grow harder and harder. Finally I couldn't wait a minute longer. I slid the head of his cock into my mouth, and as I did he let loose a tremendous load of sweet, warm come.

I'm happy to say that day was just the beginning of a new phase of our relationship. We have acted out many other fantasies since then, and will continue to do so in the future.—
S.M., Melbourne, Florida

COLLEGE GIRL DISCOVERS THAT FIRST LOVE ISN'T ALWAYS BEST LOVE

Poor Brad. He's my childhood sweetheart and best bud. But now that we're in college together—coming from a small town in Utah to a big eastern campus—Brad is learning the dangers of staying attached to your first love. I wish I could sympathize with him, but I'm having so much fun meeting and fucking gorgeous new men that I don't really have time to hold his hand. In his own puppy dog way, though, Brad is getting off on my adventures. It's like I'm having enough sex for both of us. Maybe I should explain.

Brad has adored me since we were both about nine. Our friendship is deep, but our romance peaked on the night I let him take down the top of my dress and fondle my breasts. (Yeah, guys, you'd love them. They're full and soft and honey-sweet.) That was a mistake—Brad came in his pants almost at once, and vowed he'd love me forever.

Look, I care for him too, but as a lover he doesn't do much for me. Besides, I'd long since lost my virginity to my tennis coach, although I didn't tell him that. Brad, you see, grew up tall and skinny and really serious. He's kind of an environmental nerd. I'm more the fun-seeker type—your classic blonde, curvy, vivacious knockout. The thing is, I didn't know how beautiful I was until we got to college and I had some experienced men come on to me. Poor Brad was left in the dust.

I think he saw it coming—he was really good about agreeing that we should not be “committed,” that we should “see other people,” and all. But still, the first time I hooked up with a really hot lover, the news of it hit Brad like a ton of bricks.

Maybe I handled it wrong. It was at a party during freshman year at the jock fraternity house—I was dragged along, in my short new miniskirt, by some of my dorm friends. The place was packed, the music was throbbing and the beer flowed. As the night went on, some of the football guys started stripping down and parading around in full view of the girls, bumping and grinding even in front of the ones with dates. It's a famous ritual at this house. Most of them stopped with their jockstraps, but a few went all the way.

I was shocked, but fascinated, too—I had never seen so many beautiful male bodies. Ogling their cocks was a guilty pleasure I never thought I'd let myself indulge. I couldn't help but wish I could reach out and touch one.

Marvin solved that wish for me. Marvin is one of the best-known football players on the team, a truly sexy specimen, with a thin, sensitive face, golden shoulder-length hair and a reputation for merciless tackling on the field. Women on this campus pray for the opportunity to worship him and suck his legendary cock. Suddenly he was standing in front of me, stark naked, looking down at me like a god.

Without speaking, he put a big hand softly on my cheek, under my hair, and by reflex I turned to kiss it—I was a little drunk and already in love with him. Couples in our vicinity turned to watch the scene, and my dorm friends could hardly contain themselves—”God, Nina, you're it for tonight,” Terry breathed. I couldn't believe what happened next. Marvin turned and walked away—my eyes were riveted on his muscular, flexing ass—and as he did, my girlfriends dropped to their knees and started tugging at my shoes and dark panty hose.

“You have to hurry,” Tara explained as she slid my hose down to my ankles, exposing my luscious bare thighs to all and sundry. “He wants his women ready when they get to his room. He won't wait.”

I felt exposed and whorish and exhilarated. Bare-legged, bare-pussied, flushed, drunk on beer and love, I saw the anguished stares of several ordinary guys as I left, but just tossed my head back and strode off in pursuit of Marvin.

It's not that I think a woman should run slavishly off whenever a man desires her. What was so compelling was that Marvin had cut through the bullshit and buildup that always seems to stand between us and sex. Everyone, I think, would like, at least once in their lives, just to have the impulse and go. Believe me, I learned from that night, and I've reversed the roles more than once since then.

I don't know if I could ever find words to describe the fucking that followed. This handsome athlete took me into his private room, on the bed that I know had seen a hundred of his other conquests—women students and women professors alike. Marvin's beautiful dick was engorged and ready when I walked in. I would gladly have knelt and received it on the spot, but he was considerate enough to remove the rest of my clothing, then gently kiss me and caress my shuddering bare body thoroughly, possessing me with his hands and mouth until I sobbed for his cock.

Marvin guided me onto my hands and knees and entered me from the rear. As I screamed my pleasure I thought his shaft would reach my throat. I wanted everyone at the party to hear me; I wanted to take this beautiful man back downstairs with me and share his sexual magic with everyone. I wanted to share my ecstasy with the world.

As it was, I shared it with Brad. When it was over, and we had both come in gushing waves; when my thighs were gleaming with a thick coat of Marvin's pearly semen; when I had finished weeping and praising his fabulous body and handsome face and heavenly technique—when all this was over and I was still splayed naked on his sheets, I asked Marvin in a shy, groggy voice if I could use his phone. He smiled, as if he understood, wrapped a towel around his loins and walked out—back down to the party and another seduction, I suppose.

Maybe it was the beer buzzing in my head and the aftershocks of Marvin still buzzing in my vagina making my judgment falter. Anyway, I had an overpowering impulse to describe this most memorable experience of my young life to my best bud.

Brad picked up on the fourth ring. He'd been deep in his books. “Try to guess what just happened to me,” I told him in a kittenish purr, stroking my slick thigh. When I did tell him, there was a long silence at the other end of the line. Then the sobs started, and I knew I'd done something terribly cruel to my dearest friend in the world.

I felt horrible for the first few minutes of Brad's weeping, but then I started to figure a few things out. If this had been Marvin on the other end of the line, he'd have cursed me out and hung up. Brad was a wimp. I decided to find out how much of a wimp.

When he'd stopped to catch his breath, I asked him: “Do you still love me?”

There was a pause, then: “Yes. Oh, god yes, Nina.”

Now I felt a rush of something new—a kind of divine wickedness. I took it another step: “Do you understand that this is the kind of girl I am? That I'm not going back to how you knew me, no matter how much it hurts you?”

Another pause, then a small, ashamed voice: “Yes.” I knew then that he was mine. I pressed on. “Are you excited now? Are you hard?”

“Oh, God, Nina, yes. I'm so hard it hurts.”

“Well, don't do anything rash, Brad. Your Nina is coming over to see you. If you're willing to lick your way through Marvin, you can have my pussy tonight. It's still a very hot pussy. Are you willing?”

This time I thought he was not going to answer at all. Finally, a tiny, almost inaudible voice said, “Yes, Nina.”

And that's how I helped poor Brad make the transition from childhood sweetheart to college friend. We're seniors now, and I've had a collegiate sex life like no other, keeping none of it from Brad. He's long since learned to take his own voyeuristic pleasure in my exploits. Sometimes I help him jerk off when I come to his dorm too sated to let him fuck me. I've told him I might consider marrying him after we graduate. I still value his friendship very deeply, and no other man I've met would come close to letting me have the freedom that I can expect from my sweet little nerdy childhood bud.—
Name and address withheld

WIFE MASTERS THE ACHY BREAKY, THE TUSH PUSH AND THE HORIZONTAL BOP

My wife of ten years and I have always had an open, honest relationship. Though I'm not interested in getting involved with other women, I've always been aroused at the thought of my wife being fucked by other men.