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“Where’s the wine?” she asked me.

“Finished,” I said, not telling the truth; I had dumped the remaining contents of the bottle into a planter at the edge of
the pool. “But I bet you have some more up in your apartment.”

“I bet I do,” she said, grinning. “I could go up and get it and bring it down.”

“I’m tired of swimming,” I told her. “Besides, I could really use a shower. You have a shower, right?”

She just looked at me then, with those eyes that said No and Yes at the same time. In that moment my life seemed to tremble
on the brink of catastrophe. But the gods were with me. A minute later we were taking the elevator up to her apartment.

Her place was small, basically just one large room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. Her bed was relegated to a corner of the
living area. There were mirrors on the ceiling, mirrors on most of the walls, mirrors nestled in the free spaces between the
wall and the bed. Here was a woman who loved looking at herself—and with good reason.

She saw me looking at her as she again pulled off her poncho. “You really think you’re getting something today, huh?” she
said challengingly, but before I could reply she led the way into the bathroom.

The sexually charged atmosphere didn’t exactly seem conducive to good housekeeping, yet Trisha set about cleaning the tub
in preparation for my entrance. Watching her on her knees was more than I could handle. I reached over her head, turned the
water on, and dropped my shorts to my ankles. My cock sprang free of its confines, standing at its full eight inches, nearly
discolored from the strain.

Trisha regarded me strangely. Then she reached out and grazed my throbbing knob with her fingertips. This seemed to make up
her mind for her. “Wow,” she said. “Not bad for a white boy. Get in the tub, white boy.”

I stepped in and stood beneath the steaming water. Trisha kept her eyes on me as she stood up and removed her top. Then she
pushed the bottoms down and stepped out of them, granting me my first unimpeded look at her body.

The bathroom seemed somehow smaller as she moved to join me in the tub, taking her rightful place under the showerhead. Her
hand immediately sought my cock, pumping it deftly while I explored her with my mouth. I luxuriated in the opportunity for
leisurely discovery, sucking her nipples while I stroked her breasts, grazing my teeth along the nape of her neck, and moving
in for a first kiss that was half lip, half tongue, and all heat. My cock was a buffer zone between our bodies, resting on
her lower abdomen as she continued to manipulate it with expertise.

“I think I need to taste it,” she said, and with one fluid motion she crouched down so that her eyes were level with my navel
and took nearly half of my dick into her mouth. I rested one hand on her head and the other on the wall as she went to work,
her nimble tongue flickering across my shaft, my glans, and the spot where they met. She knew just what to do, prefacing each
deep stroke with a generous helping of lip and tongue. Before long I could feel my balls tightening ominously. I pulled her
up, and we proceeded to bathe and masturbate each other simultaneously, while the water poured down over our fevered bodies.

Then, freshly washed and insanely horny, we made our way into the other room and to her bed. As I lay down she set herself
between my legs and resumed her oral assault on my quivering member, and soon I was being sucked to within an inch of my life.
Helpless in the face of her mind-shattering skill, there was no way I could continue to hold back, and I came hard, without
warning, directly into her mouth, crying out as I filled that mouth with rope after rope of hot spunk. Trisha, to her everlasting
credit, took it all in stride, swallowing each spurt without complaint and without spillage.

She glanced at me happily as she let my drained but still hard dick slide gently off her lips. I knew then that this was going
to be a lengthy night.

Trisha got up languidly to fetch another bottle of wine, which we passed back and forth for a few minutes. Then I slipped
on a condom, turned her onto her hands and knees and entered her from behind. Her pussy, tight as a clenched fist, was sopping
wet and pulsing rhythmically, massaging my cock with every stroke. As I continued to pump into her, her supple ass rose higher
in the air while her upper body shifted downward, until her groans of delight were muffled by the bed pillows. I loved watching
my dick slide in and out of the moist crevice of her amazing pussy.

We fucked in various positions over the next few hours, moving from the bed to the futon, then back to the bed. The snugness
of her cunt literally snatched the rubber off my dick more than once. After my initial orgasm, I dedicated myself to pleasing
Trisha any way that I could, bringing her to climax again and again, until she was begging me to come inside her.

After several hours of nonstop animal rutting, our collective energy had begun to ebb. We again relocated to the futon, where
she lay languidly blowing me while I straddled her face. Then she drew her mouth away.

“One more time,” she murmured, and turned over onto her knees again. Doggie-style was her favorite position.

So we did it one more time, and then we collapsed. “Go home,” she said as I started to snuggle against her.

“I thought I’d stay the night,” I told her.

“I know you did,” Trisha said, and she wriggled her ass against me. “Go home now.”

The woman was maddening, but I couldn’t get enough of her. “What about tomorrow?” I said.

I heard her laugh softly. “Meet me at the pool,” she said, “and we’ll see.


—F.W., Trenton, New Jersey
     

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BOOK: Letters to Penthouse XXXIV
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