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Authors: Penthouse International

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Letters to Penthouse XXXII (15 page)

BOOK: Letters to Penthouse XXXII
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“I know exactly what I want to do with you,” I told her, having envisioned the scenario in my fantasies several times already.
She was about to head upstairs to our bedroom, but I stopped her. “Right here is fine,” I said, unwrapping the roll of tape.
“Just get undressed.” She was out of her clothes in seconds. Faced with my beautiful naked babe, with her large breasts,
slim waist, and tousled brown hair, I almost just stripped down myself. But then I took the tape and told her to put her hands
above her head. Her immediate obedience made my cock even harder. I began wrapping the tape around her waist, uncoiling it
so it stuck to her torso. Around and around it went, until I’d fashioned a makeshift miniskirt.

I rubbed against her, my cock pressing against the slippery tape snugly trapping her hips and the tops of her legs. There
was enough room that I could reach underneath and stroke her slit, but that was about it. I couldn’t maneuver enough to fuck
her or really get my fingers in deep, so I teased her by lightly stroking her cunt. She moaned, clearly wanting me to keep
going, but I wanted to play with the tape some more. I unwound the black roll and started again, going from midthigh on down.
The more I circled her with the tape trapping her legs together, the hotter she looked. I stopped when I’d reached her ankles,
admiring my handiwork.

I walked a little bit away from her and beckoned her forward. Slowly, I unzipped my pants, knowing that the sight of my cock
always gets Monica worked up into a lather. “I want you to come here and suck my dick,” I said, slowly stroking myself, my
fist wrapped around my hard length. She moaned loudly, but when Monica tried to take a step, she had trouble. I’d done such
a good job with the tape that she had to take very tiny steps. Watching her slowly make her away across
the kitchen turned me on immensely. Her breasts bobbed with each movement, the tape doing its job to impede her. When she
finally made it over to me, I grabbed her, once again my hands roaming along the sleek surface of her “outfit.” I slapped
her ass, the loud smack echoing through the room. My only regret was that I’d have to cut away the tape to get to her cunt.
I pushed two fingers into her mouth, and she immediately started sucking, her lips fastening around my thrusting fingers.

“I want this,” she said, reaching for my dick, her fingers joining mine around my shaft. I stood, leaning against the counter
as she bent over. As her head began bobbing up and down, I could see her upturned ass, covered entirely in red bondage tape,
gleaming at me while her tongue swirled around my dick. The combination of her cocksucking skills and her being so sturdily
confined was enough to make me practically spurt right then and there, but I held off. Normally, I like it when she fondles
my balls and makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger around the base of my dick, but I was really getting into playing
the top, and this time, when her hands reached for my cock, I slipped out of her mouth’s grasp, reaching for the final roll
of bondage tape.

“Look at this, baby. We have a whole other roll here that we haven’t used yet. I think those greedy, grabby little hands of
yours would look really great with this pink tape around them, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical
question, because before I’d even finished she’d eagerly put her hands behind her back, waiting for me to secure them. This
subservient side of my normally out-spoken girlfriend got me turned on all over again. As I wrapped the pink tape around her
wrists, her fingers instinctively curled into fists, as if acknowledging they were now useless. I walked around her, surveying
my bound beauty. If I’d continued the tape a few more times around her ankles and feet, she could almost have a mermaid look
going on.

Looking at her feet gave me a wild new idea, and I hoisted her up and laid her down on the floor on her stomach. She wriggled
around, halfheartedly pretending to try to escape, but even if she’d truly wanted to, the tape was too strong. Monica has
an unusual relationship with having her feet played with; if you ask her, she’ll say they’re too ticklish, but really, the
ticklishness turns her on. I rarely get a chance to treat her to this, because she isn’t always in the mood. But that night,
her feet were all mine, and I made sure to tickle the soles and heels, lightly tracing my nails along the sensitive flesh.
I lay down next to her and gobbled her toes, my cock pounding with excitement at this rare treat. “Oh, Troy,” she cried out
with pleasure, laughing hysterically as her feet pushed back against the pressure of my mouth. I finally stopped, breathless
myself.

Once again, inspired by her artistic bondage, I straddled her back, placing my cock above her bound hands as I jerked off.
It wasn’t quite the same as sinking
into the warm, wet depths of her pussy, but it had its own thrill as she scrabbled to get her fingers around my hard length.
I kept teasing her by rising just above her, out of her reach, then moving back within touching distance. This was hotter
than anything I’d watched on film, and as she bucked up and down, moving her body in the only way she could, I finally came,
spurting my load all over her backside, and onto her wrists, which looked like a present tied with a bow, a special offering
just for me.

Finally, I cut her out of the tape, freeing her arms first, and we both unwrapped her legs. By the time I got to her pussy,
I could smell her nectar. I plunged my fingers into her, bringing her to a powerful orgasm in no time. Monica wrapped her
arms around me, holding on tight as she came. “That was so intense. I liked letting you decide what we’d do next. I’m glad
there’s plenty of tape left, because I want to play with it again tomorrow.” And that’s exactly what we did, and have continued
to do. We’ve become such fans that within a few weeks, I had to head back to the store for more tape—and some cotton rope,
too.

—Mr. Troy B., via email
     

A Sopping-Wet Pussy Earns Her a Session With His Leather Belt

My husband always finds a sexy, playful way to work our love of dominance and submission into our sex life. The latest was
quite simple, but it took me by surprise. It began with a lone statement, but by the time we were ready for our scene, I was
beside myself with arousal.

One Thursday evening, I received a phone call from an old boyfriend with whom I have kept in touch. We made plans to go out
to dinner the following night. My husband, Sam, has met Keith and has never had any trouble with the two of us going out together.

“Have fun,” Sam said mindlessly when I mentioned it to him, seeming to be completely focused on his crossword puzzle. But
things definitely took a more interesting turn the next day as I dressed to go out.

I was standing in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom, brushing my hair, when Sam came up behind me. I could see
him struggling not to smile as he wrapped his arms around me and began kissing my neck.

“I want you to know,” he said in a whisper before pausing to kiss my ear, “that the second you walk in the door tonight, I’ll
be checking your panties. And if your pussy is wet, I will have to punish you.”

I felt my cheeks instantly flush, knowing that I was guaranteed a spanking later that night. Keith and I have
had nothing but a platonic relationship for years, and Sam knows it. But having my husband’s sexy threat lingering in my mind
all evening would have my panties absolutely dripping by the time I got home. In fact, they were feeling pretty damp already!

Admittedly, I was a little distracted that evening, but I somehow managed to hide my flustered state from Keith. My ass felt
all tingly each time I shifted in my seat, knowing that I was edging closer and closer to a spanking. I could practically
feel the heat building in my bottom. By the time we were finishing dessert, my pussy felt hot and swollen, my shaved lips
slick against the wet satin of my panties. Keith and I had a great time, and even though I enjoy his company, I was desperate
to get home, craving the feel of Sam’s strong hand.

Sam must have heard my car pull into the driveway, because I didn’t even have a chance to put my key in the lock. I walked
through the open door and saw my husband standing there, waiting for me.

“Come here,” he ordered. I approached him with eyes downcast. It was almost difficult for me to walk. I was so turned on that
every step seemed to send little sparks shooting through my clit.

Sam had me place my hands in front of me, then he took the scarf from around my neck and tied my wrists together. Without
another word, I assumed the position over the arm of the couch, with my arms stretched out in front of me.

“Well,” Sam said as he lifted up the back of my dress, “let’s see what we have here.” He reached into my panties and stroked
the full length of my dripping slit. I moaned loudly, unable to stop myself. I heard him chuckle softly before saying, “I
think what we have here is one very bad girl.” He then reached forward, running his juice-slicked fingers over my lips. “Can
you feel how wet you are?”

I couldn’t speak and barely nodded in response. I felt Sam ball up the fabric of my dress in his fist at the small of my back.
“Now what did I tell you, Melissa? What did I tell you would happen if you came home with a wet pussy?”

“That-that I would be punished,” I stuttered. I was overwhelmed with the feelings swirling through me: yearning, arousal,
and the near-frantic need to feel his hand connecting with my bare skin.

“That’s right,” he said, and a split second later I felt his hand come down hard on my ass. I gasped out loud but held my
position, trying not to move as Sam began spanking me in earnest, alternating from cheek to cheek. My delicate panties offered
no protection from the sharp slaps raining down on my upturned bottom. I reached my bound hands out in front of me, randomly
clutching at the throw pillows as I gasped and moaned.

I lost count after the first dozen swats. My ass was glowing with warmth and my pussy was pulsing with need. I began moving
my hips in small circles, trying
to press my clit up against the arm of the couch as he continued to spank me. Sam quickly noticed and yanked my panties down
to my knees. I immediately stopped moving.

“Such a bad girl,” he said. I could only imagine him playfully shaking his head as he looked at my well-spanked ass, because
with my head down in the cushions and my long hair in a tumble around my sweaty face, I could see nothing. My entire world
consisted of the luscious ache in my ass and the desperate hunger in my pussy.

I lay there motionless, waiting for Sam’s next move. When I heard the zip of leather being pulled out of his belt loops, I
knew. “Look at you, trying to get yourself off while I spank you,” he chided. “What am I going to do with you?”

With that, Sam let the doubled-up belt fall on my bare cheeks. It was just a soft tap, but it made me jump. Without wasting
any time, Sam then placed six lively strokes of the belt across my naked bottom. I shifted my weight from high-heeled foot
to high-heeled foot, relishing the feel of the leather and the sharp report when it connected with my skin. Each lash made
my pussy quiver. I was sure my dripping cunt was soaking the upholstery, but I was too turned on to care.

The whipping was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Sam tossed the belt aside, and then I heard the rasp of his zipper
right before his hard cock plunged into me in one thrust. He grasped my tender cheeks
and began fucking me hard and fast, as turned on from spanking me as I was from being spanked.

I cried out every time he thrust his dick into my sopping pussy. I had been waiting to feel this all night long: Sam’s cock
pounding into my cunt over and over, while his hips slammed up against my well-spanked ass. It seemed the heat from my cheeks
was rapidly spreading throughout my entire cunt. Sam kept up his rapid thrusting and reached around to strum my clit with
his fingers. I was bucking and writhing so badly I have no idea how he managed to stay on target, but he continued to flick
his fingertips over my swollen button as he fucked me.

In what felt like seconds, I was screaming out loud as my orgasm burst forth, overwhelming me like a tidal wave. I was crying
and shaking and kept thrusting back at Sam, wanting to feel his cock explode inside me. Just as my orgasm was beginning to
fade, Sam groaned loudly and his cock pulsed the moment before I felt the warmth of his spurting come fill my cunt.

Sam wrapped his arms around me and gently collapsed onto my back. We were too breathless to speak, but neither of us needed
to. Moments later, we shared a tender kiss before Sam led me to bed, where we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

—Ms. Melissa K., Chicago, Illinois
     

BOOK: Letters to Penthouse XXXII
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