From the amazingly brilliant minds of Penthouse Variations:
At first I thought Penthouse Variations on Oral might be a copy of the magazine I’ve adored for more years than I want to admit to (not revealing my age), but without the hot, glossy pictures. But these stories are like the magazine’s best of the best, so vividly detailed in going down, whether it’s sweet and gentle, or hot and lusty, that even a reader with no imagination, can still find their world rocked with just these words alone. And oral sex — well, there is no more mind blowing aphrodisiac! Sit back and savor this book, maybe allow your thighs to part. Bonus points if you can read allowed while the lover of your choice performs a physical demonstration.
Let me show you… Just a taste now… If you want more, you’ll have to go get your own copy. 🙂
by Alison Tyler
Once he’d set the last lid in place, Zach hefted the box to carry it to Jamie’s ad agency. I held the door open for him, and right as his well-muscled body was lined up with my own, I said, “When you get back, I have another type of split I’d like you to lick.”
I thought he was going to drop the coffee. I could actually see the Rorschach-like splatter on the tiled floor in my mind — regular two sugars blending with decaf with soymilk — but he caught himself and said, “Back in two minutes. Hold that thought.”
I held it. I held it as tightly as I possibly could, with my thighs squeezed together and my pussy positively clenched. Standing nearly frozen behind the counter, I willed myself to still my racing heart. As I exhaled, I looked at myself in the mirror over the fancy bronze coffeemaker. I had my blonde hair up in a French twist, every hair in place. The pink in my cheeks hadn’t come from a cosmetic palette, but from my sexual excitement. Every sensual fantasy I’d ever had about Zach seemed to percolate in my head into one steamy concoction.
I took a deep breath and prayed for a slow day. Maybe we wouldn’t have the normal commuters rush. Maybe we would be left to our own devices.
Maybes are worth about as much as a decaf soy latte in my world. When Zach returned, I had a line of impatient customers that ran from the counter to the door, everyone craving their caffeine fix before a long day at work. Zach and I danced through our usual banter without a word about what I’d said until we’d served the last harried commuter. Only then did he sidle up to me, cradle my waist in his big hands and croon, “So, about this split?”
I grinned at him and took one of his hands in mine. Behind the counter, I slid his fingertips beneath the waistband of my short, checkered skirt and into my silky yellow panties. The expression on his face let me know when he felt the wetness meet him, envelop him, suck him in. After a few seconds, he withdrew his hand and slowly, oh so slowly, licked his fingers clean.
“How long have you wanted me to taste you?” His voice was hoarse. He looked as light-headed as I felt.
“Since that first latte.”
“Since the first day we were at work together. You made yourself a foamy latte, and you licked the rim of the cup before taking a sip. All I could think about was you licking my pussy in exactly the same way, with the same look of pleasure in your eyes. I’d never been jealous of a seventy-percent-recycled paper cup before.”
“For two months you’ve wanted me to do this?” He slid his fingers back into my panties and used two of them to fuck me. I held onto the counter with both hands and stared straight forward. If a customer walked in, we’d probably be able to save face, although Zach might’ve had to work the cash register with sticky, pussy-scented fingers. But no customers interrupted us. Zach overlapped his two probing fingers and began to work me faster and harder, easily managing to locate my G-spot. I’d never been so masterfully touched. My whole body felt electrified.
To my dismay, he pulled away before I could come, and this time, he spread my shiny gloss on my own lips. I was breathing hard. I stared into his eyes. He brought me to him, and with sweet finesse, he licked my lips clean. Then he kissed me. Really kissed me. Our tongues met, and I could taste my own honeyed flavor.
“How much do you want me between your legs?” he whispered when we parted.
“Desperately,” I told him.
“Let’s see how desperately,” he said, and he went to his knees on the black spongy mat behind the counter and buried his head under my skirt. Okay, so now we were really walking the edge of decorum. I was still facing the door, ready to greet any customers with might enter the shop. Zach had pulled my panties roughly to the side and was spearing my pussy with the tip of his tongue. He seemed to know instinctively how to touch me. At first, he tapped his tongue right on my clit. Then he started making circles all around. I recalled the way he created designs in the fancy coffees we served: leaves, stars and hearts. I believed he was tracing those same types of patterns with his tongue, as if I were a confection worth devouring.
What would happen if someone entered the store? I could take an order, and Zach would be hidden. But I wouldn’t be able to move very easily to make the coffee. Not with Zach sealed to my pussy like that. The image made me giddy.