Letters to Penthouse XXIV

Copyright © 2005 by General Media Communications, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Warner Books

Hachette Book Group USA

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New York, NY 10020

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First eBook Edition: June 2008

ISBN: 978-0-446-53936-4

OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

Erotica from Penthouse

More Erotica from Penthouse

Erotica from Penthouse III

Letters to Penthouse I

Letters to Penthouse II

Letters to Penthouse III

Letters to Penthouse IV

Letters to Penthouse V

Letters to Penthouse VI

Letters to Penthouse VII

Letters to Penthouse VIII

Letters to Penthouse IX

Letters to Penthouse X

Letters to Penthouse XI

Letters to Penthouse XII

Letters to Penthouse XIII

Letters to Penthouse XIV

Letters to Penthouse XV

Letters to Penthouse XVI

Letters to Penthouse XVII

Letters to Penthouse XVIII

Letters to Penthouse XIX

Letters to Penthouse XX

Letters to Penthouse XXI

Letters to Penthouse XXII

Letters to Penthouse XXIII

Penthouse Uncensored I

Penthouse Uncensored II

Penthouse Uncensored III

Penthouse Uncensored IV

Penthouse Uncensored V

Penthouse Variations

26 Nights: A Sexual Adventure

Penthouse: Naughty by Nature

Penthouse: Between the Sheets

Penthouse Erotic Video Guide

WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY GUYS READY, WILLING AND ABLE?

When I was first married, I was working as a beautician in a department store. My boss always checked out how I was dressed, encouraging me to wear short skirts and open my blouse so my bra showed. He also suggested I show more cleavage, saying I would make better tips.

Dale always steered men who came in the salon to me. When it was slow, I would go with him up to the ladies' department, where I got to try on sexy outfits, some of them very skimpy. Since I'm the same size as his wife, he could see how they looked before he bought them for his wife.

Hal, one of the maintenance men at the store, often came by to flirt with me. Dale knew Hal had a thing for me, and always made sure I was there when something had to be fixed. Dale also had me wash and cut Hal's hair whenever he came in for a haircut.

One day Hal left a tool behind after fixing the sink. He called Dale just before closing to have "someone" drop it off. Dale sent me, saying I could leave afterward because it was almost closing. I found my way to Hal's office, in the back of a storage room. He was sitting at a desk. He said to come in and have a seat.

There was a chair by the desk. I had thought we might flirt a bit, but that was it. As we talked, Hal leaned over and kissed me. He invited me over to a red velour couch that looked like a decoration from one of the store windows. We started kissing, and he started feeling me up. He asked me to go to another room. We had to pass through a storage room to reach this smaller one, lined with pillows.

Hal propped a chair under the doorknob so no one could walk in on us. I asked if this was where he took all his girls. He said he was married and had never done this before. I laughed and said I just got back from my honeymoon Sunday.

As we kissed, we fell to the pillows. He undid his pants and asked me to suck his dick. As I moved my mouth over it, he took my hair in his hands so he could watch his dick slide in and out of me. He said how good I looked with a dick in my mouth.

After I got him nice and hard, he laid me on my back and pulled my stockings and panties down. Then he went down on me; eating my pussy and getting me wet. He placed me on my knees and elbows, then got behind me and started to rub his cock along my pussy lips before he pushed it in me. It wasn't long before he erupted inside me.

The store closing had already been announced, so we had to hurry and leave. Dale was waiting for me at my car. He laughed and asked what I had done. He knew I had done something because my lipstick was gone and my hair was a mess. He asked if I had kissed Hal, if he had felt my tits, if I had sucked his cock, if he had eaten me. After each question I said yes. Then he said, "You fucked him, didn't you?" I said I did. He didn't think I would go that far, but I was glad I did.

I quit shortly after that. Before I left I got together with Hal one more time and gave him a blowjob.

—K.L., Los Angeles, California

IF MARRIAGE SMOTHERS YOU, YOU HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER OUTLET FOR THOSE IMPULSES

After a few drinks, my friend Brad will offer this precious advice: "When bored, fuck a woman other than your wife. When really bored, fuck another man's wife." I always laugh as though hearing it for the first time. He'll go on to brag about the latest woman he claims he's screwing on the side, and I never question his boasting. There's sort of an unwritten term of brotherhood among men. We treat each other's lies with respect. What are friends for, anyway?

What I've never told Brad is that for the last five of my nine married years I haven't been a faithful husband. While I love my wife and value my marriage, I regard monogamy as unnatural and smothering. I weigh risks. I've picked up women in bars, had a lengthy affair with a coworker and even paid for prostitutes' favors when the itch just had to be scratched. But I remain cautious with single women, who may be on the prowl for something lasting when all I need is a roll in the hay.

When I see that diamond sparkling on a woman's finger, I perk up. Married women often feel bored, neglected or both, yet are unwilling to risk the marriage in which they are so unhappy. They may be on the lookout for just what I am, a bit of discreet extramarital copulating with someone who's not likely to mess things up.

About a year ago I met Eleanor, who while married to one man was having an affair with another. At five-seven, one hundred ten pounds, with long chestnut hair and green eyes, she is close to a femme fatale.

She began an affair with William after two years of marriage. Soon after, she and her husband filed for divorce, and within a month of the decree coming through, she and William were flying to Mexico to tie the knot.

At the reception for the returned newlyweds, I congratulated William with a hearty handshake and gave the bride a soft kiss. As William turned to greet another well wisher, Eleanor cast me a demure glance that sent a tremor through me.

I had never considered hitting on her until then. A few days later, I went to the lounge she frequents at happy hour and caught her alone. We got a table, and I bought her a drink as I led up to making my pitch.

"I didn't just run into you," I said. "I knew you'd be here. I wanted to see you."

"What for?" she asked, batting her eyes at me.

"Adventure," I said. "I'd like to take you someplace where we can be alone."

"You mean you want to have sex with me?" she said. She reached her hand across the table. It lit on my arm. "Let's go to my place. We won't have a lot of time, but William's at work now."

We paid for our drinks, then hurried to her condo. After she closed the door, she sank to her knees, unbuckled my belt, unzipped me and pulled down my trousers and briefs. She put her face to my crotch, took the head of my penis between thumb and forefinger, and lifted the limp organ. The tip of her tongue darted out to my scrotum and gave a feather-light lap that slid up my pole to the head.

Tingles raced from my privates to my brain. She repeated the unhurried motion. My organ came alive. She took it to her moistened lips and encased it in her mouth. Her head swayed back and forth and side to side. My glans made her cheek bulge outward like a chipmunk carrying a nut. With her tongue, she lifted my glans to the roof of her mouth, then formed a seal around it. I stiffened and held her shoulder as I went over the top, pouring semen in her mouth. Her fingernails clutched my buns as she swallowed with a gurgle.

"That was electric," I panted. "Let me return the favor."

"No," she said. "We don't have time. William will be home in half an hour. He's taking me out tonight."

"I must see you again," I said. "When can I?"

"Um, maybe tomorrow," she said.

The next afternoon we met for lunch. As we ate our sandwiches and coffee, we decided on a motel. At a liquor store we bought some rum, a liter of Coke and some ice. Then we checked in the motel, a few miles away.

I locked the door and pulled down the shades. We began to undress. Eleanor tugged at her wedding ring. "Leave it," I said. "It feels sexier that way. More sinful."

"You're depraved," she said with mock disgust. "Just for you, I'll leave it on."

When we were naked, she climbed on the bed on all fours with her rump thrust upward at me. "Take me from behind," she said.

"In your vagina?" I asked.

She shook her head and looked down. I climbed up behind her, planted my knees in the mattress between her calves and gripped her waist. I looked down at her twin moons, then let my gaze traverse her spine to her statuesque shoulder blades. Her head was bowed, strands of hair dangling across her face as she waited for me to enter.

"I'm ready," she said.

I guided my glans to the crimson spot, wormed a finger in to loosen the passage, then extracted it to make way for the bulkier plug I had poised for entry. My glans nudged the spot, then pressed forward until her sphincter yielded. She jerked and cried out as I penetrated her. Her pelvis stiffened as though suddenly paralyzed. "Are you all right?" I asked.

She nodded. Her body trembled. Guttural sounds from her throat pierced my ears. I thrust in and out until I climaxed in her. The tautness of her sphincter prolonged the ejaculation, until I felt emptied and withdrew from her.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"I feel wonderful," she said. "Let's shower."

Steam filled the bathroom as we stood under the hot spray. I glanced down to see her wash a blob of my come from her rectal opening. After scrubbing my groin, she sank to her knees and gave me head, the spray soaking her hair as she bobbed up and down. I stopped her before I got off, wishing to save what was left for glorious intercourse.

We dried off, then went in the bedroom and sat naked on the bed. I poured us rum-and-Cokes over ice in plastic motel-room glasses. Eleanor took a deep drink. I couldn't let this vixen slip away without fucking her.

"Since yesterday I've violated two of your openings," I said. "What do you say we go for the third?"

"You want to come in my pussy?" she said.

"You can't imagine how badly I want to," I said.

"I'm not on the Pill."

"Your call," I said. "Hell, if I have to, I can get off watching you bake cookies."

"What the fuck, let's live dangerously!" she said, throwing back the rest of her drink in two audible gulps. She set her glass down and plopped on the bed, lying on her back. She spread her legs, exposing a wide, thick patch of pubic hair.

"What a fine crop," I said.

"I've been thinking of shaving it off," she said. "What do you think?"

"Not on my account," I said. "Shaving may be trendy, but I'm one guy who goes ape for a hairy beaver."

My head went to her groin to perform cunnilingus. Gently, I pulled back the hood, exposing her clitoris. My tongue darted out, teasing her hot button. My nostrils felt flushed with her scent. I lapped at her labia, pulling back folds of tender tissue until my tongue sliced into the moist warmth of her slit. I mounted her in missionary position and entered her. Her legs scissored around my loins as I penetrated her crack. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Two beautiful tits, nipples erect, rose to massage my chest. The spongy tissue in her mammaries felt sensational, conforming to the contour of my pectorals. The walls of her vagina spread apart as I burrowed in her. Her pelvis stiffened, and a sticky flow lubricated her. I plunged in her and went stiff. I erupted, releasing my come inside her.

"Ooh, that's the one," I gasped. "Oh, baby, that's the one I wanted most of all."

She pulled me to her. We fused into a massive sweat-drenched entity. Heartbeats slowed and breathing returned to normal. After disengaging our genitals, I held her close in postcoital glow, pressing my lips to her forehead, wondering what she was thinking and feeling.

We stepped in the shower again. She dabbed at her groin with a washcloth, scrubbing my seed away from her opening. The bulk of my load remained lodged deeper in. We got dressed and drove to her car, still parked at the restaurant.

"I'd like to start seeing you regularly," I said.

"What about your wife and my husband?" she said.

"They don't need to know," I said. "We'll be careful."

"Let's just let things ride for a while," she said.

She gave me an affectionate kiss and left. We did not see each other for a couple of months until one day when I met her for lunch. She looked radiant. I said I wanted to pick up where we had left off that afternoon.

"Not today," she said.

"Does that mean no?"

"It means not today," she said with an evasive smile.

What could I say? Eleanor would not give me her consent, but neither had she burned the bridge. The decision of this woman, twice-married and free-loving and yet discriminating, to keep her options open was not surprising. It left me with my spirits lifted.

Not to worry, I am a patient man, and I have everything to wait for. I will be around.

—L.T., Providence, Rhode Island

EVERY MAN NEEDS TO BE EQUIPPED WITH THE RIGHT TOOLS FOR ALL OCCASIONS

If there's one thing I'm grateful to my parents for, it's good genes. Without working hard at it, I remain healthy and in good physical shape. My full head of hair is just beginning to gray at the temples, and I look years younger than fifty-one.

My wife and I live in a two-story house that has a detached garage with a side entry that looks across our small yard to our neighbors' house. The garage is more than a place to park my car. Air-conditioned, equipped with a television, a refrigerator for beer and my shop tools, it's my getaway. For privacy, I keep the blinds on the two windows closed.

Although we don't socialize with our neighbors Delia and Lon, we're cordial when we see each other. Delia is in her late thirties, five-seven, with short black hair. Despite having two teenage kids, she has kept her body quite well toned. One Saturday last summer, after my wife left for a weekend visit to our eldest daughter, I put on a pair of running shorts and my "lawn-mowing shoes" to tackle the weekly yard chores.

By the time I completed them, the sun was really beating down. Using the garden hose, I washed the grass and sweat off me. Then I grabbed a cold beer and sat on the small side-entry deck leading into the garage. I was about to doze off when I heard a car pull up. It was Delia. I couldn't help but notice as she got out of her car how "hot" she looked in her yellow-and-blue-print sundress.

Being polite, I said, "Hi, Delia. You look nice today. If it weren't Saturday, I would think you had been at work." As she walked toward where I was sitting, she said that she had indeed been at work. They were wrapping up a special project, and she had gone in to organize the results.

I was sitting on the garage stoop with my feet resting on the ground, my knees slightly spread and my arms propping me in an upright position. As we continued our small talk, I noticed Delia glance nervously toward my crotch, until she said, "You might want to be careful. You're about to get a sunburn where I don't think you really want to."

I didn't have anything on under my shorts, and I realized I was "exposed." Figuring she had already seen the "goods," I made no move to conceal myself, but I did apologize for possibly embarrassing her.

"I'm not embarrassed," she said. "I just didn't want you to get burned." She fumbled around, then finally asked, "Just how big is it?"

I smiled and said, "You know, I honestly don't know. But I have a tape measure inside. We can go and measure it." I started nudging her toward the garage door.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," she said, withdrawing her hand.

"Its okay if you don't want to know," I said. "But I've been asked that before, and it seems like now would be a good time to answer the question. I think I'll go ahead and check it out."

I entered the garage. She followed, closing the door behind her. I didn't know how far this might go, but I was anxious to find out. Pointing to a wing-backed chair I was planning to reupholster, I said, "While I find the tape measure, why don't you relax?"

I fumbled around my workbench until I found the tape measure. I turned to face Delia and handed it to her. I lowered my shorts and stepped out of them, then stood next to her with only my "mowing shoes" on.

Seated as she was, her head was just higher than my semihard cock. I placed my hand at the base, pointed it toward her and said, "The only way to get a true reading is to measure from the base when it's erect." I reached down and placed her left hand on my cock. "Would you help me get it ready to measure?"

She closed her fingers around the base and began to run them up and down the shaft. The tape measure fell from her hand into the chair cushions. I placed her right hand on my scrotum. She stroked my dick with her left hand and massaged my balls with the right. She began to really get into it.

Not surprisingly, her efforts were producing the desired effect. She was breathing in rapid puffs of excitement. Looking up at me, she said, "You know we shouldn't be doing this."

"You know," I replied, "it might help the cause if you kissed it a bit." She responded by kissing the peehole, then sliding her lips around the tip. Soon she was trying to engulf me. However, there was about half of my shaft she couldn't get in her mouth. She began an up-and-down motion along it, intermixed with licking the head and circling her tongue around it, along with light squeezing and stroking of the shaft and balls. She ran her tongue down the shaft and sucked my balls in turn.

Delia really knew what she was doing. It took only a few minutes before I felt a giant orgasm coming. I said I was about to come. She moved her mouth back up my shaft to suck in the head while working her hands vigorously over the shaft. I let go of what felt like one of the largest loads of my life. She gulped down every drop.

Delia looked up into my eyes and licked her lips. I took her hands in mine and lifted her to a standing position. I tilted my head and touched my lips to hers. Her mouth accepted my tongue. I tasted my own come. She put her arms around my neck and drew me so close, you couldn't have inserted a piece of paper between us.

We proceeded to tongue-dance. The feeling of my nude torso against her clad body, in my garage, with all that had happened and was about to happen and, even though slight, the possibility of getting caught, added to the wicked excitement.

After what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes, I released Delia and took a step back. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"A little nervous, probably from the excitement," she replied. "But I've never felt so sexually alive."

Taking her by the hand, I moved her to the side of the chair, bent her over and lifted her skirt above her waist. I pulled a beer cooler over, sat down behind her and took in the sight of her—encased in light-blue panties with a wet crotch, a few stray pubic hairs jutting out the leg of her panties. Moving my face in, I inhaled the aroma of a woman obviously excited. I had to taste her. I closed my mouth on the crotch of her panties and took in whatever nectar I could. At the same time I reached up, grabbing the waistband of her panties, and lowered them. When they were below her knees, she stepped out of them.

I placed a hand on each of her enticing ass cheeks. Spreading them slightly, I ran my tongue from the top of her ass crack to the start of her pussy, pausing to lick her puckered rear passage. She was moaning and involuntarily rotating her hips. My tongue traced its way down, and I began to tongue-fuck her sweet twat in earnest.

I moved one hand to caress her soft pubic mound and massage her clit. With the other hand I played with her nether hole. After several minutes, my mouth and the hand working her clit traded places. I alternated fucking her clit with my tongue and sucking it in my mouth. I inserted first one, then two fingers in her hole.

I moved my hand so my fingers would have access to her G-spot. Her body convulsed, and juices ran freely over my hand. I lapped up the nectar as rapidly as I could. Slowly, I inserted the middle finger of my other hand up her anus. She gasped, and as my finger sank in up to the second knuckle, she underwent another convulsion. Panting, she said, "I've got to have you inside me."

We stood up. With a hard-on as stiff as an iron bar, I moved around and sat on the chair. She positioned herself facing me, straddling me with her knees wedged between my hips and the arms of the chair. She lowered herself on my cock.

I had not yet seen her breasts. I lowered the straps of her sundress and pulled the dress down, exposing her glorious mounds. They were almost perfect. Firm and just over a handful, capped by dark-rose-colored, quarter-size areola with nipples that stood out a quarter of an inch.

Delia was making movements of indescribable pleasure on my cock. I kneaded and suckled her breasts, switching back and forth. It turns out she has very sensitive breasts. As I continued to manipulate and taste them, her breathing rate increased, her pelvic gyrations intensified, and she flexed her vaginal muscles, as if trying to milk my cock.

I knew what was coming, and as I began to pump my seed in Delia, we cried out together. She collapsed in my arms. I felt my come draining out of her onto my crotch. It was a feeling of total sexual satisfaction.

We never did measure my cock that day. And, each of us valuing our marriages, we agreed that this should be a one-time experience. That's a promise that we have not quite been able to keep, but that's another story.

—N.R., Larchmont, New York

SHE HAS TO TAKE CARE OF HER MOUNTING EXCITEMENT WHILE SHE WAITS FOR HIM

It is late November. The warmth of the sun woke me, and I found that everything had been covered in a few inches of fresh snow.

I made my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and headed for the bay window in the bedroom. There were no signs of movement outside except a small bird leaving tracks under the feeder. My hands were wrapped tightly around the cup, and the heat from it made a small ring of steam on the window. I could not refrain from drawing a small heart on the window, just like an innocent child. The fire had burned all through the night, and reviving it took just a few stokes and some more wood. I sat on the hearth, sipping my coffee. The heat of the fire warmed his shirt against my body. I smiled, thinking of what the next days would bring. I stepped away just long enough to start the shower, then scooted back to the warmth of my place by the fire. I finished my coffee, then went to grab a pair of jeans and a shirt.

Clothes in hand, I opened the bathroom door. Steam poured out. I shut the door quickly behind me to keep the steam in. I unbuttoned my shirt slowly in a striptease kind of way. I lowered it slowly, and the mirror captured my shoulders and my back, until the shirt stopped at the small of my ass, before falling to the floor.

I turned to face the reflection of my body, and smiled. I ran my fingers in the hollow of my neck and followed it down between my breasts, palming my stomach and then running my fingers through the short hair below. My attention focused on my breasts. My open hand found its way around both, caressing them in small circles. I enjoyed the softness of my hands and all that they're capable of. I leaned back against the wall, with one leg bent. My hand moved to the inside of my thigh, and with long, deliberate strokes I caressed the mound I saw in the mirror. The room was steamy, and so incredibly hot. I could barely see all the places my fingers were running. But I felt them working their magic. I arched my head back against the wall as I quickened the pace. I was so close to coming, but I had the ability to tease myself, and slowed down to enjoy it all a little longer.

Beads of sweat trickled down between my tits, and with heavy breaths I turned slowly to face the vanity. Now I had mirrors in front of and behind me. I spread my legs slightly as I reached in the drawer, found my little toy and turned it on. Its little hum broke the silence. I ran it over my breasts, then down to my lower lips. The feeling was so intense, and it was so hot in there! Holding the toy like a dagger, I ran it lightly back and forth, playing a sensual game with myself. As I inched it back farther, it came in contact with my juices and took on a life of its own. Looking up at the image in front of me, I smiled as the tip parted my lips and reached closer to my hole. I barely slipped the head in, then quickly withdrew it. This is the kind of power to play with.

Looking up at the mirror, I saw the reflection of the back of my body, and could watch as I slowly penetrated myself. My arm shook as it steadied my body and I fucked myself to the rhythm in my head. My muscles clenched automatically around the toy buried deep inside. I slowed down, only to find I couldn't stop the spasms. I had set in motion an early-morning orgasm.

Lingering alone, I slid down on the cool floor and continued to pump back and forth until my muscles quieted down. As I pulled out, my juice collected in a small circle beneath me. I laid my toy on the counter and escaped to the shower. My hands washed over all the parts they had just finished touching. I dropped the sponge and slid a finger in my incredibly wet hole. I easily came once again.

I stepped out, dried off and dressed. It was only hours now till he arrived. A simple dinner was cooking. I assumed after the long drive he would want to eat a little, smoke some and then relax for the night. All I could do was dream of him, as my husband slept a few feet away.

In the morning we had some breakfast and small talk, until he left for work, leaving the two of us alone for the entire day. He took a walk, and I cleaned up breakfast. My husband called at lunch to see how things were going.