Dear Penthouse....

[Tech_Director]

I never thought I'd be writing this letter....

THIS thread is for all you naughty Litsters to confess or brag about that ONE experience where you might begin with the phrase:

Dear Penthouse,

I never thought I'd be writing this letter.

Oh and PLEASE no real names, we need to protect the identities of the....GUILTY.

 

[just4friends]

lol

What's "Penthouse"

Does anyone get magazines anymore??

 

[Christopher2012]

Computers and free porn exist now in 2015. Not sure if you were aware.

 

[sks43]

Maybe OP wants to go back to a simpler time? Before all the visual stimulation and to tap into the mental side.

 

[LinusRules]

What's "Penthouse"

Does anyone get magazines anymore??

If I remember correct, that's where the Jeffersons lived.

 

[Jamicurechickie]

They had the best "articles"....
My education was greatly enhanced by that illustrious magazine....

 

[sks43]

If I remember correct, that's where the Jeffersons lived.

Thanks now the theme song is running through my head.

 

[prdigy666]

Thanks now the theme song is running through my head.

Fish don't fry in the kitchen...

Beans don't burn on the grill...

 

[sks43]

Fish don't fry in the kitchen...

Beans don't burn on the grill...

You aren't helping one bit! Lol

 

[LinusRules]

Thanks now the theme song is running through my head.

Your welcome! You can't help but smile to that song.

 

[Tech_Director]

Maybe OP wants to go back to a simpler time? Before all the visual stimulation and to tap into the mental side.

Exactly chere....back then, the stories that were written were mostly "confessions".....many of them were fiction, but some of them were real

This is just a thread to let some of us have a space to recount some little adventure that you might not have normally done.

 

[Wife of Bath]

This thread has been moved to the Playground as it is not a personal ad.

 

[tonyroleplays]

What's "Penthouse"

Does anyone get magazines anymore??

Penthouse, now there's a name I haven't heard in a while.

When I was a young teen, my uncle had a massive collection of Playboy magazines that my male cousins and I would slip off to read. I discovered the wonders of ejaculation with one of those magazines sitting across my thighs ... and ruined a perfectly good Playboy Centerfold.

I noticed that one of the magazines was a Penthouse and asked my cousins what was the difference between the two. One of them opened to the centerfold and pointed at the opened labia of the Penthouse model's pussy. "That! They don't show that in Playboy."

I don't know if that was entirely true at the time -- the early 1970s -- but it's what I remember about Penthouse. I saw a Hustler one day years later and was shocked! People were actually fucking in it and women were playing with themselves, too. Wow. Now, of course, you can see that on cable television, let alone the porn sites on the internet.

Anyway, my Penthouse Forum letter:

February 1992

Dear Penthouse,

I can't believe I'm writing this letter, but I have to tell some one.

I am engaged and due to be married on Valentines Day. One weekend last November I went bar hopping with buddies, drinking and dancing and flirting with the sexy chicks. One by one, they began to vanish, escaping to the nearby motel or even closer back seats for sex. If I wanted sex, of course, I would have to wait until my fiancée, "Kay", returned from her parents' home in the next over state.

Just after midnight, though, I met a woman away from whom I just couldn't pull myself. She was sweet and sexy both, with a bright smile and a killer body well displayed within tight, ass grabbing jeans and a sleeveless, cropped tee shirt with no bra.

She hadn't been drinking, so at last call she offered to give me a ride home. I accepted, of course, but less than two blocks later, she pulled up to the motel at which she was staying and boldly suggested, "Let's fuck."

And we did. It was the greatest night of sex in my life, with positions I'd never considered and forms of pleasure I'd never experienced. We passed out at some point, only to awake together in the dark and start once again. Again we went to sleep, again we woke up in the light of day to begin once more, and again we passed out in one another's arms, sated and panting together in ecstasy.

Somehow, she managed to pull eight incredible orgasms out of me in that 12 hour period, something no woman had ever come close to doing before that fantastic night.

I awoke from our midday nap to find her gone. She'd told me her name was Candy, which I'd assumed was a pseudonym for one night stands. I'd told her my name was John, but everyone who knew me called me Mitchell, or Mitch, which was my middle and preferred name. We were never going to see each other again, so why be concerned with such things as names, right?

When my fiancée threw a New Years Eve party for our friends, family, and neighbors, though, who should arrive at our door but the woman who weeks earlier had rocked my world in previously unknown and sometimes unimagined ways?

My first reaction was to quickly pull her out onto the porch and, essentially, accuse her of stalking me. But when she explained that she was Kay's best friend from back home and her maid of honor, I had to sit down on the porch and collect myself.

She swore up and down that she'd had no idea who I was that night. She'd seen pictures of me, of course, but I'd recently begun buzz cutting my previously shoulder length hair; and my formerly fresh face was now decorated with what was then a stylish goatee. She dropped the blame fully on me then, by pointing out that I hadn't used my real name and hadn't made the connection between "Candy" and "Candice", with whom I had had half a dozen friendly phone conversations since Kay and I became engaged.

We knew she couldn't not remain, so we both went back inside for what I knew was going to be the most awkward night of my life. While the two of us tried our best to remain distant, my fiancée continually brought the two of us together to talk about old times or about the wedding ahead of us.

Shortly after my obligatory midnight kiss with my fiancée, while Kay began the process of exchanging farewells with the party goers, I went searching for Candice. I couldn't resist her another moment, and when I located her in the back hallway, I could see in her reaction -- and the fact that she opened the door to the unoccupied back bedroom -- that she, too, wanted nothing more than to be with me once again.

We locked ourselves behind that door and drove one another to a pair of orgasms each before resting in one another's arms for a long while, then dressing once again to make our way back to the diminishing crowd. Not a word was spoken -- before, during, or afterward -- but we both knew that no matter how wrong it was, this wouldn't be the last time we came together in this way.

It's now late January, less than three weeks from the day of my wedding, and Candy and I have continued to meet, whether for a few hours or a full night. Kay had been giddy with how often he best friend visits from afar, not realizing that the primary reason for Candy's visits is to part her thighs and lips for me.

Kay has shown no sign of suspecting my infidelity, and while I know that I -- we -- can't keep this up forever, I am operating under the belief that once the wedding and honeymoon have passed, Candy will have fewer reasons to come to town and, hopefully, this relationship will end quietly. I don't want it to end, of course. Candy is the most exciting lover I've ever had. But I'll be married soon, and I can't continue to cheat on my new wife with her best friend.

Tony R. Plays
Avid Forum Reader​

BTW, although the letter above obviously didn't get written, the story it tells did happen. I never got married. "Kay", it turns out, did suspect an affair and when she saw that our approaching wedding was unlikely to make it end she confronted me just 10 days before we were supposed to exchange our vows. I am incapable of lying about being unfaithful when confronted. I didn't tell "Kay" who I was sleeping with, and to the best of my knowledge, neither did Candice (whose name actually was Candice and who really did use 'Candy' when she was out on the town and searching for love.)

I sometimes look at their Facebook pages, upon which I am -- ironically -- a Friend, and to this day they are still the best of friends. I somehow doubt that would be true if "Kay" had had any idea what I was doing with her friend behind her back. (Behind "Kay's" back, I mean, although ... well ... that too )

 

[Tech_Director]

Thank you, TONY

THAT is exactly what I'm talking about. Back in the day, Penthouse was the only place that allowed people to "confess" what they wanted to either brag about or get off their conscience.