Beth Anthony's Entry
Dear Penthouse Letters,
Recently, my husband, Adam, and I traveled to Paris to visit my friend, Sylvie.
Sylvie and I had been college roommates. During those four years, we had been lovers, and I remembered the sex as some of the most exciting and erotic of my life. But, when Sylvie had returned to France after graduation, I had remained in the States and, eventually, met and married Adam.
Six months after our wedding, Sylvie, an executive with a Paris-based airline, sent Adam and I a belated gift – two round-trip airline tickets and an invitation to visit her. Adam, who knew about our relationship, was intrigued to meet Sylvie and hinted at his desire to see me make love to another woman. I brushed him off, however, because I viewed that chapter of my life as closed.
We arrived in Paris and settled into Sylvie's spacious apartment on the Left Bank, the traditional home of artists and center of the Bohemian lifestyle. That evening, we loaded into her car for a nighttime tour of Paris.
Spotlights glowed against the imposing bulk of the Arc de Triomphe as we circled it and headed down the neon-lit Champs-Elysées. Turning towards the Seine, we could see the sparkling spire of the Eiffel Tower to our right. In the river, the brightly lit bâteau-mouche glided across night-black surface. We could see people aboard the small boats, dining as they drifted through the heart of Paris.
Leaving the river behind, we traveled north into the 18th arrondissement and the racy Pigalle district. Sylvie treated us to a fabulous dinner and show at the historic Moulin Rouge. Above the turning blades of the cabaret's red neon windmill, I could see the white domes and spires of the Byzantine Basilique du Sacré-Cœur perched high on the hill of Montmartre.
Returning to Sylvie's apartment after our evening in the City of Lights, I could feel sexual tension humming. The barely-there costumes of the cabaret show and the frisky antics of the can-can girls had set our minds to sex.
Sylvie asked if we wanted a nightcap. Adam declined, excusing himself to make a call to the States. Sylvie and I settled onto a small sofa with our drinks. So close, I was unable to ignore the press of her hip and leg against mine.
"I've missed you," she said, meaningfully. "I've been looking forward to your visit." She shifted, and her breast brushed against me. The brief touch was searing, and I felt myself become damp.
How should I answer her unspoken question?
Before I could speak, Sylvie leaned over and gently placed her lips to mine. The soft pressure opened a floodgate of memory. Resistance died. My lips parted and my tongue slipped out to dance against hers in a brandy-flavored tango. We had been kissing for seconds, minutes, or, maybe, hours, when we heard Adam in the hall. Springing apart, we stared at each other. Sylvie's breasts were heaving, and her lips were moist and swollen.
"I'll take the lead," I whispered. She nodded mutely, her eyes glazed.
"Adam, Sylvie and I thought that the three of us might retire to her bedroom together," I said. His jaw dropped. He knew that a threesome with Sylvie had not been on our itinerary.
Adam led the way down the hall and into the dimly lit bedroom. Sylvie turned on some smoky French jazz as we undressed. I could see Adam's excitement showing, his penis thick and hard already. He stepped eagerly toward Sylvie, but I interceded.
"I have something special in mind," I whispered, holding up two blindfolds taken from Sylvie's "personal" drawer.
Adam and Sylvie stood silently as I knotted the blindfolds. Then, I led each separately to Sylvie's four-poster bed. I placed Adam on the left and tied his left wrist and ankle to posts with lengths of silk rope. Sylvie went on the right of the bed with her head at the foot. Like Adam, her left wrist and ankle were lashed to posts. The bed was so large that they lay comfortably head to foot without touching. Then, I used more silk rope to bind them together, each right wrist to right ankle.
Standing back, I watched as they tugged experimentally at their bindings, but neither had much play in their bonds. They quickly lay quiescent, awaiting my next move.
Reaching into Sylvie's drawer, I pulled out a can of honey dust. Dipping the feathered applicator into the sweet powder, I began to gently sprinkle honey dust across Sylvie's shoulders and down her arms. Then, I dusted across her generous breasts and her flat stomach. Bypassing her womanly triangle, I worked down each leg and across the top of each delicate foot. Returning to her shoulders, I began to sweep the feathers over her milky skin, spreading the fine, sweet dust. My touch moved down her arms in small circles. As I reached her right hand, I carefully avoided contact with Adam's sensitive foot. I glanced at his penis and saw it jutting into the air, quivering ever so slightly. Without a touch, I was driving him insane. Every fiber of his being was focused on the subtle play beside him.
Moving on, I attacked Sylvie's breasts with the feathered applicator. Spreading the silky honey dust, I made wide sweeps along the softly curving underside of each breast. Slowly, my circles tightened until the feathers danced on her erect nipples. She moaned and strained upwards.
Leaving her sensitive nubs, I moved lower and caressed her stomach. She giggled briefly as I ran the feathers across a tender patch. Her laughter died, however, as my feather touch moved to the inner aspect of her thigh. She moaned again and, panting slightly, tried to shift her hips and bring my touch to her core. I could see her secret lips glistening with her female wetness. But, cruelly, I skipped away and twirled the feathers down first her left, then her right leg. At her right foot, I quickly ran the feathers across Adam's knuckles. His fist clenched and his abs tightened. His penis bounced and strained, a gleaming pearl oozing at the tip.
Smiling to myself, I put the feathered applicator aside and climbed onto the bed. Kneeling, I grazed my breasts along Sylvie's silky thighs. Leaning forward, I dipped my head and took one sweet nipple into my mouth. Sylvie let out a long moan and arched off the bed. Taking her other nipple between my fingers, I exerted ever-increasing pressure. She cried out, and her hips bucked against my stomach. I could feel her hot wetness against my thigh, as she pressed against me, seeking relief.
Adam jumped at Sylvie's cry, and his blind head turned to us as if straining to see through the blindfold.
I reached between Sylvie's legs and found the nub at the center of her wetness. Rubbing it quickly, I fanned her heat. She moved beneath me and cried out again – a sweet cry of sexual frustration.
Lifting my head, I reached to my side and picked up Sylvie's red Penthouse City Paris vibe. Starting its slow hum, I ran it along the edges of her entrance before slipping it inside her. Sylvie arched, opening herself completely to my touch. Her breath was coming in alternate short gasps and soft French cries, and she was rising and falling beneath the vibe. As she approached her precipice, I thrust into her, twisting the vibe against her g-spot and, bending forward, sucked her clit into my mouth. She screamed at the overload of sensation and fell back, limp, spent, and trembling.
Leaning forward, I tenderly kissed her mouth, letting her taste herself on my lips, and slipped off her blindfold. Without pausing to loosen her restraints, I shifted across the bed to Adam.
My own juices were running down my thighs as I straddled Adam and felt his engorged penis immediately push deep inside me. He was more than ready, and he struggled against his bonds to thrust upwards as I pounded into him. Looking to my left, my eyes met Sylvie's as she watched me ride my husband like a wild cowgirl.
My orgasm was building so quickly and so strongly that all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Below me, I felt Adam straining to keep up with my frantic pace. As my climax broke, I slammed down into him harder than ever. I tightened around his penis and felt him surge upward in his own orgasm. His voice broke in a hoarse cry as I let out a long scream of pleasure and collapsed, my breasts heaving against his broad chest.
Later, after I had caught my breath, I untied Sylvie and Adam, and, during the duration of our visit, they had their revenge on me for their brief captivity, but, that is another letter...
Sincerely,
Beth Anthony