I got nervous as my shift neared its close and I had found no candidates. I decided to hit the weight room on the way out and extend invitations to the best men I could find. But the gym was almost empty. I began to regret some of the guys I had passed over.
Then I heard noise from the basketball court. Four guys, maybe eighteen or nineteen, were finishing a pickup game. They were in high spirits and sweating so heavily I could just about smell them from across the court.
They were all about six feet and packed with beautifully sculpted muscles and not an ounce of fat. In their rugged way, especially with those athletic juices flowing, they were gorgeous. I could not have gotten my eyes off of them if I had wanted to.
Their speech, with lots of “dese”s and “dem”s, said they were all working-class guys. I figured that that, in combination with their youth and hot looks, would drive the husbands crazy.
They were slapping and teasing each other, the winners of the game obviously taunting the losers. As they caught their breath they finally noticed me. As I mustered my courage, I realized they were looking at me with deference. I was an “older woman” to them, and they had all flirted with me unsuccessfully in the past.
I spoke with confidence. “Nice game, guys.”
They mumbled in confusion and embarrassment, thinking back, wondering what exactly I had seen.
Their wet shirts and shorts clung to their powerful bodies. I turned the sexual heat way up. “Have you used up all your energy?” I asked.
They looked confused.
“Because I need some real men tonight,” I continued. “Men who can take care of some real women. You guys know any men you think might be up to the assignment?” From the attention they paid to their groins, it looked like they might indeed be “up” to it.
A brave one found his tongue. “We’ve never had any complaints,” he said, clutching his crotch.
Perfect, I thought! He had a dimple that was making
my
crotch wet. I chided myself for not noticing him before, or his cute friends.
“Well, it looks like I might have to settle for you guys,” I said. I had written out copies of the address earlier. I handed them to the guy who had spoken and gave him the most suggestive smile I could manage.
“There’s the address,” I said. “Be there at nine. Don’t disappoint me. I hate to be disappointed
by men
.”
I stared all of them up and down. There was lots to look at. “Okay?” I said finally.
The talker had passed the address slips around, and they took pains to keep them from being soaked in the sweat that still poured from their overheated bodies.
“We’ll be there,” said the talker. “We’re curious to see if you know any real women.”
“See you at nine then,” I said. My heart pounded and my head swam as I turned and slunk away. I barely made it to my car.
That night I wore a one-piece backless dress, with six-inch strapped heels. I painted my face and did my hair like a princess. Arriving at the hotel room, I noticed the other girls’ seeming relief that I had no men in tow. I informed them that their dates were on their way, and our husbands wouldn’t like it—or them.
After a few drinks our husbands began to talk openly about how they were into the wife-swapping. Warren had his sights set on Honey, who jumped to answer when there was loud knocking at the door.
“Debbie,” Honey called from the foyer. “There are four men here to see you.”
I crossed halfway to the door and said, “It’s okay, Honey, I invited them, please let them in.”
My hoops buddies, all dressed in T-shirts and shorts, sauntered in. I greeted them with hugs.
“What the fuck is this?” Rex shouted.
“We thought you wanted to swing,” I said innocently. “Now we can!”
The husbands talked among themselves nervously, occasionally warning us not to go near these hoodlums. Warren approached me and tried to speak, but I ignored him. I fixed my new friends drinks and turned on the stereo.
I called the other girls over, and when they arrived whispered, “Let’s dance with these guys, and see what happens. Don’t even look at your husbands. Just have fun while they watch.”
I danced with Vinnie, who had been the group spokesman. We danced innocently at first, but it became sexy. I couldn’t take my eyes—or hands—off his beautifully muscled body. I was really turning on. I could hardly stand, so I asked him to sit with me for a bit. He sat on a bench with his back to the husbands. I sat on his lap.
“For God’s sake, not on his lap!” Warren whined.
“Baby, it’s a swing party, remember?” I said. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to be kissing for now.”
Vinnie got brave and pulled the pin from my hair, allowing it to cascade down his chest. We stared in each other’s eyes. He took my head in his hands, pushed it back gently and kissed my neck and chest so wetly, so sensuously, I began to coo. I licked his lips, then felt a fat cock pressing up between us. I gyrated against him, my heels on the floor, my weight leaning into him.
I rode high in his lap till his rising cock was under my dress. I slid high up on his chest, pushing off with my heeled toes. Taking the cue, Vinnie unzipped his shorts and, reaching under my dress, pushed my underwear aside. With both hands I worked his hot cock into my cunt. As it broke the threshold of my vagina, I lurched and grunted. I was already coming as I began the most glorious down stroke I’ve ever felt.
There was no misunderstanding about what was happening, but the hubbies were quiet—speechless, I imagine. All pretense gone now, I rode Vinnie in almost continuous orgasm.
“Oh yeah!” he groaned. This hot young athlete, in his sexual prime, was in me so deep, it gave me a new kind of orgasm. Had he hit the famous G-spot?
I lifted my feet off the floor and locked my heels tightly to Vinnie’s waist. My full ass pressed down on his cock. My orgasms became even more powerful. He held my hips and pumped me full and hard. My long hair flew wildly, and I encouraged him, repeating, “Oh fuck me, fuck me!”
When Vinnie exploded, I could actually feel his powerful gushing inside me. After a minute or so of ejaculating, he dropped to the floor. I took his beautiful cock in my mouth and cherished it.
When my senses cleared, I saw all my friends coupled around the hotel room with my hoops studs. Honey was spread-eagled on a couch with one of them devouring her pussy and gliding his fingers in and out of her asshole. In time Cheryl and Mia were on the other couch engaging the other two young athletes.
Our husbands remained spectators for the rest of the evening. Perhaps they had no desire to be compared with the young studs who were having their way with us. Eventually the party broke up, and we fondled and kissed our virile guests good-bye. When Warren and I got home, I tried to make it up to him. He’s my husband, after all, and I intended to hold on to him for a while!
He and the other husbands did seem to get the message, that swinging is a two-way street, and in time we found some rather imaginative ways to explore those possibilities. But that would be another letter!—
Name and address withheld
“PART OF ME WAS HURT, PART OF ME JEALOUS, PART OF ME CURIOUS”
My wife and I have been together almost fourteen years. We married our senior year in college. I knew she was a free-spirited woman. I felt, as most men do, that I could always keep Connie happy. How wrong I was.
Two years ago, I returned a couple of days early from a week-long business trip. It was very late, and when I drove into my driveway I noticed the reflection from the windshield of another car parked next to my wife’s in our two-car garage. Connie had not said anything about company staying over.
In the depths of my mind I sensed what might be happening, and I can’t explain the rush that went through my body. Part of me was furious, part of me hurt, part of me jealous. Yet another part was feeling a strange pang of curiosity.
I had had a few flings in the past few years myself, which I did not think it necessary to share with Connie. We were not practicing an open marriage relationship.
At this point I had to confirm things, but I knew I needed my composure before facing Connie. We weren’t having the greatest sex as of late, but after twelve years of marriage, not many couples experience the same passions they had when they first met.
I checked into a nearby motel for the night. Early the next morning I parked several houses up from mine and called Connie to say I had just arrived at the airport and would be home in a half hour. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later a man in his late twenties (my wife was then thirty-one) drove a blue BMW out of my driveway.
When I walked into the house, Connie acted as if nothing had happened. Instead of confronting her with my discovery, I found myself with a raging erection and a desire to fuck my wife silly.
She was as receptive as always to my sexual advances, and in no time we were stretched out on the sofa. As we kissed, my left hand found its way between her legs and touched a soaking wet pair of panties.
I was dying to confront her, but my investigative nature required me to go further. I rubbed her clit through her panties, then snaked a finger under the elastic and into her wet hole. She was squirming almost uncontrollably and whispered for me to fuck her now.
That was unusual, since Connie always loved for me to spend time sucking and licking her pussy before fucking her. She pulled at my belt and zipper to free my cock and urged me to mount her. I lifted her legs, pulled her panties off and opened her legs wide as if to prepare my entry. I continued to rub her clit, noticing the unusual redness of her pussy lips.
The air was filled with the smell of sex. With my fingers I opened the lips to her cunt. I noticed a milky secretion. Holding her cunt lips open with my thumbs, I dropped my head to her lap and ran my tongue into her hole.
Connie kept saying, “No, fuck me, Wayne,” trying to push my head away. But I knew what it was, and kept licking and sucking her. My cock wanted to explode. I actually felt my heartbeat through my cockhead.
I stepped out of my trousers and plunged my cock in her slick cunt. I lasted about fifteen strokes, then added my semen. Interestingly, my cock stayed as hard as a brick. Connie repositioned herself on top of me and began to move slowly up and down on my cock again. Within only a few minutes we shook in what became one of many orgasms. We fucked like teenagers the whole day.
The following morning I took off from work, and Connie and I talked. I told her what I had discovered, saying that I had been more stimulated than anything. I found out that the “visitor,” as she put it, was one of her boyfriends from college whom she used to ball before me.
She confronted me with a few of my flings and said she was not happy with our fucking only once a week, and if I could fuck around, so could she. She said she’d started having affairs over five years ago and was having sex almost every day, sometimes twice a day, with several men.
While she was explaining, the telephone rang. It was one of her lovers. She made small talk, then told him she would call back later.
Since that day, Connie and I have opened our marriage up. We have experienced orgies, swap parties and two-on-ones with a few of her lovers. Last year she was the center of attention at two bachelor parties.
At the last one, the month before Christmas, she fucked and sucked off fifteen guys, including the groom and his younger brother. I fell asleep around one in the morning. When I awoke, around seven, I found the groom’s brother on top of my wife, groggily humping away.
He said he had fucked her three times already, and he had never fucked a more beautiful woman. Then he made a couple of more plunges, pushed as far into her as he could and emptied his fourth load.
As I cleaned Connie up for the ride home, she said she’d lost count of how many times she’d been fucked. She fucked or sucked everyone, including myself, once. Then several guys came back for seconds. The groom fucked her twice, then asked her to suck him off once more before he left the party, at three.
This year promises to be much of the same. One of the attendees at the last bachelor party has already booked Connie for his wedding in May.—
W.C., Springfield, Massachusetts
IT TAKES A BIG MAN TO SATISFY HER FANTASY OF SUPERSIZE SERVICE
Before my wife and I started reading
Penthouse Letters
, we thought that there had to be something wrong with a man who had the desire to see another man fuck his wife. We were fascinated by the acts described by your readers’ letters, which we devoured eagerly.
They led us to start watching amateur fuck videos. Georgette commented that she has a shapelier body and is certainly more attractive than the women in those videos. But what fascinated her most was the size of some of the really big cocks she saw in the amateur videos. The biggest of them was several inches longer and a great deal thicker than mine.
I asked her if she would like to have one of those men with a super-size cock fuck her pussy. She hesitated, then replied, “Oh, I could never do that! He might not find me attractive, and besides, if I did, you might stop loving me.”
I told her that she didn’t have to worry about me, that what I wanted was for her to be satisfied sexually. I reassured her that I would always love her, no matter who she might fuck.
Once the subject was opened, we continued to discuss the possibilities of her having an opportunity to fuck a superstud. But after several such discussions, I decided that if it was ever going to happen, I was going to have to help it get started. I sought the help of a friend who in turn introduced me to a promoter who had connections in the underground sex world.
I explained to this fellow that my wife would like to fuck a man with a huge cock but felt embarrassed, and we didn’t know how to proceed from there. I had a picture of Georgette with me. The promoter took a look and said he didn’t think there would be any problem. He would just make a couple of calls to people who owed him favors.
He assured me he would not only find a superstud to fuck my wife but would provide her with a night she would remember the rest of her life. He gave me the card of a club that catered to people who wanted to “get together” with other people. He said for us to be there the following Friday no later than ten.