Letters to Penthouse XXVI Read online

  “So let’s do it now,” suggested Abigail, my business partner of five years and my wife of two, as our plane taxied to a stop at Heathrow Airport. “You’re here on vacation, not business, remember? No time like the present, hon.”

  We had decided to spend a week, perhaps ten days, in Europe, enjoying time in France, Italy, England, and Scandinavia. Abby had convinced me that we could lock up the store (we have an upscale gift shop specializing in fine china, linen, glassware, and the like) for a short while with minimal damage to the bottom line while we enjoyed a brief and overdue vacation.

  I had to agree with my wife that there was no time like the present to explore the English countryside, so the next morning, after breakfast at a restaurant near our hotel, we visited the British Travel Centre near Piccadilly Circus and got a handful of maps. With a sense of adventure, we started out of the city in our rental car, heading west toward Windsor Castle.

  And what a magnificent structure it is! Over nine hundred years old, with much rebuilding over time, it reflects the history of English architecture. Inside are priceless tapestries and furnishings, as well as works of art by Leonardo and Rembrandt. Continuing northwest, we took in Blenheim Palace, and then, farther up on A34, we found Stratford-upon-Avon. No Shakespeare buff, of which I’m one, should fail to visit this fascinating place.

  As it was getting late and we were hungry, we decided to call it quits for the day and return home. The day’s outing, equally fun and educational, had invigorated me and Abby as well. We were hotter for each other than we had been in some time.

  “Maybe it’s all the fresh air we got today,” my wife offered with a twinkle in her eye. “Or the exercise.”

  I really had no idea, nor was I about to think more about it as that night, back in our hotel room, I hammered my hard-on into Abby’s hot, wet pussy. She held on tight as I used my cock like a fleshy cudgel in her sex, spitting out her lust in some very un-Abby-like language.

  “I’d love to fuck in one of those castles,” she blurted out at one point. “That would be wild.” Sitting back on my haunches, I draped my wife’s legs over my shoulders and then resumed fucking her, my cock going deep into the heavenly cove of her cunt. The thought of doing her in a castle, or medieval country manor, or soaring cathedral was wickedly appealing, and while I doubted we could actually pull it off, the fantasy fueled my passion and Abby’s.

  We finished up doggy-style, my wife’s favorite, she and I coming within seconds of each other and then collapsing on the bed to cuddle before dropping off to sleep. Tomorrow we’d be up early for another day trip, this time venturing southwest of London to view the mysterious monuments at Stonehenge. We both anticipated another day of fun and adventure.

  The day dawned cool and cloudy, but our spirits could not be dampened. We set off in our rental car and before too long found ourselves at Winchester in Hampshire, where stands the beautiful Norman cathedral. William the Conqueror was crowned in Winchester, and more English kings and princes are buried there than anywhere else but Westminster Abbey. Jane Austen is buried in Winchester Cathedral.

  From Winchester, we drove through the West Sussex countryside and found Arundel Castle, yet another eye-popping structure of a time long, long ago. And then it was on to Stonehenge, which lies on the edge of the Salisbury Plain in the county of Wiltshire. As we wandered the grounds, Abby and I, like thousands before us, gazed in awe at the huge stone monuments of Stonehenge. The mystery of who erected them and why has fascinated the world for centuries.

  I was deep in thought when Abby nudged me. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could have sex behind one of those stones? We’d be making a little history of our own.” I chuckled, but in truth I found the idea wickedly appealing. And it stayed with me on the drive back to London and our hotel, thanks in large part to Abby painting vivid images of how we would suck and fuck among the centuries-old monuments. Like an artist she created her fantasy, giving it shape and form, adding a detail here, an observation there, with the result that by the time we entered the hotel room we were both so into it we had no choice but to strip and jump into bed.

  “Just imagine we’re at Stonehenge,” my wife said as she dropped to her knees in front of me, “and you’re leaning against one of those—what do they call them—oh, yeah, trilithons.” I was still digesting the word for the structures comprised of two uprights under a horizontal lintel when I felt Abby’s wonderful mouth engulf my already fully erect cock. Closing my eyes, it was easy enough to imagine that we were back at Stonehenge, perhaps on a summer solstice morning, with the sun rising in exact and perfect alignment with the Heel Stone. Truly a lovely fantasy.

  Abby continued licking and sucking on my pulsating member, pausing once in a while to add little touches to our shared fantasy of doing it at Stonehenge, reminding me of what we had seen and learned, helping me to keep the image sharp in my mind. Now she took me deep, little gurgling sounds emanating from her throat as she swallowed the shaft, her nostrils tickled by my pubic hairs. All the while she was fondling my balls, cupping the sac, squeezing gently. Occasionally she’d let a finger wander back to my asshole for a teasing tickle.

  Finally, my wife stopped sucking me and said, “Now we’re going to fuck. Over by the Altar Stone.” With my mind’s eye I saw again the single slab of gray-green sandstone about sixteen feet long that lies on the surface of the ground at Stonehenge. Abby swiveled around so that she was on her hands and knees. “Doggy-style, babe. That’s how they did it back then, I’ll bet.”

  I gave silent thanks for my vivid imagination as I got into position behind my sexy wife and in one easy, fluid movement buried myself to the hilt in the cozy confines of her butter-soft pussy. “Oh, babe, that’s what I like,” my wife crooned happily. “I’m getting screwed at Stonehenge! Can you see it, babe? Is it in your head?”

  I mumbled something unintelligible. I was really caught up in this now. I was at Stonehenge, that magical place of “hanging stones,” giving it hard and fast to my grunting, moaning wife, who was as lost in this delightful dream world as I was.

  “More, babe. Give me more,” Abby pleaded.

  And I responded, pictures of Stonehenge flashing across the screen of my mind, as I was sure was the case with Abby. The trilithons, Slaughter Stone, the bluestone horseshoe, and all the rest were so clear in my head, imagination transported me and my wife back to Stonehenge.

  Abby and I came within seconds of each other, crying out with joy as our orgasms rocked us to and fro. Breathing hard, we collapsed right there on the plushly carpeted floor of our hotel room.

  “That was cool,” my wife said when she could speak. She thought for a moment. “We’re going to Bath tomorrow, right? We’ll be able to see the excavated remains of the Roman baths.” I could see my wife’s devilish mind working overtime. And when she gave me that mischievous smile of hers, accompanied by a wink, I knew where we’d be fucking tomorrow night.

  —M.G.L., Buffalo, New York

  KINKY CRUISING COUPLE WARMS TO SEX AT SEA

  When my wife, Zoe, suggested we go on a cruise together, I let her make all the arrangements, because she’s the travel expert in our house. She told me what dates to take off work, which I did, and then she handled all the rest—reservations, transportation, and packing. So it wasn’t until we arrived at the dock that I really wondered just what it was we’d be up to for the next week. Somehow, our fellow passengers didn’t look all that much like “normal folk.” They were wearing chains and latex and seemed to be getting quite intimate with each other on the ship’s deck. When I questioned Zoe about it, all she said was, “It’s a surprise, sweetie, just trust me,” and she beamed that same smile I’ve been agreeing to for ten years.

  We settled into our cabin and she let me lie down while she made quick work of unpacking our clothes. I watched her cute, slim figure as she scurried around, then closed my eyes and started to drift off to sleep. Before I knew it, Zoe was shaking me awake and standing in front of me, looking decid
edly kinky. She’d put on a tight black PVC top I’d never seen before. It hugged her ample curves. Completing the outfit was a bright red skirt that barely covered her ass. I felt like a slob lying around in a T-shirt and shorts.

  Then Zoe revealed what she’d been holding behind her back, and out of my view, a riding crop. My cock jumped in my shorts; we’d talked about her dominating me, but that conversation was as far as we’d ever gotten. Now here she was, looking the part of the perfect domme. She tapped me on the arm with the crop. “Get up. You can’t be a lazy bum, or at least you shouldn’t look like one. I know we’re on vacation, but you should try to show a little style.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me up. My cock had become completely hard.

  I put on a pair of lightweight black pants and a tight black T-shirt that I found among my luggage. All the while, I felt her hovering over me, the crop poised, awaiting any transgression. When I turned back to face her, my pants couldn’t hide my bulging erection. Judging from the smile on her face, I didn’t think this was a problem. “Now, I will give you a choice—we can go upstairs and join the others or stay here. I have plans for you either way. Which will it be?” She stepped toward me, the crop held off to the side until she was standing in front of me, so close that my cock was almost touching her. She moved her hips just enough to brush against my hardness, sending a shudder through my body.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I said, suddenly turned on by the idea of other people watching us.

  “Good answer. That way everyone can see that I’m in charge,” she said. I reached for the door, but she pulled me back. “Wait, there’s just one more thing,” and with that, she fastened a studded collar around my neck and then attached a metal chain that jingled as she adjusted it. Feeling the cold material brush against my skin and hearing it jangle made my face flush and my cock even harder.

  We headed upstairs to join the many other couples who were in similar configurations. I relaxed a little; clearly this cruise was slightly out of the ordinary, and I needn’t have worried what anyone else might think. But I didn’t have much time to ponder things because my wife quickly led me into a room that looked like a dungeon. It was empty, save for all the black leather furniture adorning it. I saw a big X-shaped cross up against the wall, a padded bench, and various hooks hanging around the room. A huge mirror hung on one wall and she brought me over to it so that we both faced it. Seeing myself on her leash caused my cock to jump once again, this time visibly.

  “Does it turn you on to know that I can do whatever I want with you? I’m here to give you what you’ve always wanted, the ultimate in domination,” Zoe said. As she spoke, my face got redder and redder, because every word she said was true and completely arousing. My little Zoe had transformed into a sophisticated domme, and I loved it. She tugged on the chain, and I felt the snugness of the collar around my neck. I was almost shaking with arousal, wondering what she’d do to me next. She is smaller than I am, but my desire to submit to her was so strong that I let her turn me around and shove me up against the wall. I put my hands above my head instinctively, and she praised me. I beamed like I’d just won the Nobel Prize.

  Next she stripped me of all of my clothes. I glanced at the door; she’d closed it, but anyone could see what we were up to through the window. Even though we weren’t the only ones engaging in such kinky behavior, the idea that strangers might see me at my wife’s mercy felt both embarrassing and arousing. She raked her nails down my back, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make my backside tingle. Then her hand traveled down to my ass, and she let loose with two smacks to each asscheek in quick succession. She’d never spanked me before, but I’d dreamed about it plenty of times, and the sensation was amazing. Once she’d reached around and felt just how hard all of this play was making my cock, she kept going, raining smack after smack down on my eager ass as I glowed under her attention.

  At one point, I let a hand slip down to stroke my cock. She immediately stopped what she was doing, took the offending hand, and deliberately placed it back to its proper spot above my head. She turned my head so that my cheek was pressed against the wall and stared directly into my eyes. “If we’re going to do this, you’ll follow my directions. Do you understand?” She pinched my cheek and I swallowed hard.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I returned back to my original position, my cock now even harder. She took out the crop and proceeded to initiate my ass and upper thighs. She started off with light taps that weren’t painful, and I was mesmerized by her rhythmic strokes. Zoe increased the intensity of her whipping, and I tensed my asscheeks as she landed another sharp blow on my butt. As much as I was bracing myself for her hits, I found that I was thrilled by the intensity. Each time the crop hit my ass, I felt the momentum travel to my cock, and when she was finally done whipping me, I was as aroused as I can ever remember being.

  She finally put down the crop, then stood behind me and rubbed herself against me. I heard her playing with her pussy, and the slurping noise from her wetness drove me insane. Then she wrapped her wet fingers around my cock and said, “Now, if you’re ready, you may have the honor of fucking me.”

  I turned around, and she tilted upward to kiss me deeply. Then she took up my previous position, leaning against the wall with her hands over her head. I sank low enough so that my cock was aligned with her opening and slid my hardness right inside. I lifted her hips as she thrust her ass backward, and we moved in a perfect rhythm. The cool air and motion soothed my reddened ass, and I pressed against her aroused clit while still holding her tight. Clearly, doling out my punishment had made her just as horny as I was.

  Somehow, she managed to retain her air of coolness, even while my cock slammed into her again and again. I knew that at any moment, she might turn around and order me back into my subservient position. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw someone walk by and turned my head around, half worried and half excited that someone might have seen us. But then my full attention was drawn back to my wife’s ass as her tight pussy sucked my cock into her. I slowed down, savoring this moment of being so tightly encased by her clenching walls, looking down to watch my dick enter her.

  “Yes, fuck me just like that!” she yelled, finally losing her composure as she approached her climax. I smiled as she reverted back to her old self, and then I slammed into her cunt, pinning her to the wall. I pumped my cock into her in short, quick strokes. In seconds, I squirted a hot load into her. She cried out when my liquid filled her cunt, and I held on to her as she went limp in my arms.

  Later that evening, she made sure I learned my lesson for the unspoken sin of coming before her, even though we both knew there was no way I could have stopped. But who was I to complain as she led me around by my beloved leash for the rest of the cruise?

  Zoe continues to plan our vacations, and I trust her to come up with a good time that will always keep me on my toes.

  —D.G., Boulder, Colorado

  MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR IN NEW YORK CITY FOR WILDLY ADVENTUROUS LOS ANGELES COUPLE

  My wife, Marla, and I normally go on two vacations a year, taking turns choosing the destination and making all the plans. It’s all the more exciting because we try to keep the destination a secret from each other. Naturally, the one in charge gives some assistance concerning passports, visas, and appropriate clothing—but that’s about it.

  Now it was Marla’s turn to choose the destination, and on the way to the airport, I was all delicious anticipation as I wondered where we were going. I managed not to gain clues at the terminal, but then we boarded the plane. Unfortunately, it was hard to drown out the sound of the pilot’s voice when he said, “Temperatures in New York are hovering in the forty-degree range . . .” so the jig was up. New York. Very interesting.

  Both Marla and I are Midwestern at heart, but have adapted to the West Coast lifestyle like fish to water. The East? Well, we’d spent some time at JFK and La Guardia airports during stopovers, but that was about it. I hoped the
Big Apple would be ready for me and my adventurous wife, who began to slide her hand down the waistband of my pants as the stewardess passed by with her drink cart. I could tell already this was going to be a great trip.

  Six hours later we collected our luggage and found a taxi to take us into Manhattan. We checked into a rather nice hotel in midtown, but instead of handing us one room key, the desk clerk gave us two. On different floors! I had no idea what was going on until my wife told me in the elevator that we would be staying in separate rooms, spending our days apart, but the nights . . . well, if I did the right thing maybe she’d succumb to a chaste good-night kiss.

  A good-night kiss! I was speechless as she got off the elevator on her floor and let the door close between us. Once I settled into my room, I pondered what my next move should be. I called the front desk and asked for my wife’s extension, but was told there was no one with that name staying at the hotel. So she had used a fake name! Fine, I figured, two could play at this game. But the truth was that I was too intrigued to be annoyed. She obviously had something interesting up her sleeve.

  As I dressed for dinner, I noticed a brochure on the desk describing a local restaurant that specialized in Thai cuisine, a favorite of mine and my wife’s. I looked forward to a nice meal, figuring that I should just do my own thing and let Marla give me clues.

  An hour later I sat at a table for one, enjoying some Mee Krob noodles. The waiter discreetly brought me a folded note that said, “Noticed you from across the room. Thought you might want some company. If so, meet me at the café around the corner. Simone.”

  I finished up my meal as leisurely as possible, actually quite anxious to get on with the night. Once outside, I started down the street. As I turned the corner, I noticed a tiny café with blue lights in the window. Stepping inside, I realized that this was some kind of a hot spot for young, pierced, artistic types with enough collective tattoos to cover a billboard.