Around the bar, Donnie was known for his thick, golden-tipped ... mustache.

Every time I saw him, I’d tease him about the cost of mustache rides. He kidded me back, of course. It was a thing we did — a little friendly ribbing. Or, at least, we did it until last night. See, Donnie is the bartender at my favorite watering hole. There’s always been a lot of sexy banter between us, and I thought that was all he wanted. But when I arrived last night, he changed everything.

“Tonight’s your last chance,” he said, watching me sit at the glossy wood bar.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m shaving off my mustache in the morning, so if you really want that mustache ride ... ” He let the sentence hang in the air.

“Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe how sad I felt. I loved Donnie’s mustache. The way it curled insolently over his lips, the shimmer of gold in the dark reddish-brown whiskers. I reached out before I could stop myself and stroked his mustache with the tips of my fingers. “Don’t shave!”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” he challenged me.

I noticed that he didn’t seem upset I’d stroked him right there at the bar. “When do you get off?” I asked. “Off work, that is.”

He looked at his watch and said, “Two hours. Can you wait that long, Camille?”

Could I? After all this time, I wasn’t sure, but I did my best. I squirmed on the bar stool, imagining how those whiskers would finally feel against my pussy lips. I was lost in fantasy land for those 120 minutes, until Donnie came around the bar and took my hand. I had on a short skirt, and I hoped I hadn’t left a wet spot behind. I didn’t turn around to look.

After a brief discussion, we decided I’d follow Donnie to his apartment. He lived closer to the bar than I did. I wondered along the way if we’d end up having that awkward conversation that happens sometimes before fucking: Will we or won’t we? Should we or shouldn’t we? This wasn’t a one-night stand between strangers, but we’d never come close to even kissing before.

Thankfully, our lust outweighed any uncomfortable etiquette. There was no hesitation at all. As soon as he unlocked his front door for me, we were at each other. Kissing was amazing. The brush of his whiskers wasn’t rough at all. His mustache was silky against my skin, and I started grinding my hips forward, wanting to feel those whiskers someplace else. He kissed me for as long as he could take, and then he went on his knees and shoved my skirt to my waist and licked me through my panties.

Let me tell you, that felt sublime. I realized that I’d never before been with a man with a mustache. What are the odds of that? Donnie’s whiskers tickled me even through the barrier of my undies. I could feel the outline of his mustache pressed against my pussy. But after a few moments, I needed to feel it on my bare skin.

“Hold on,” I begged, moving slightly out of his embrace. “Let’s go somewhere we can lie down.”

He led the way to his bedroom, and as soon as we got there, I stripped. I wanted him to kiss me everywhere, tickle me all over with his gorgeous mustache, show me what a real mustache ride felt like. Donnie seemed to understand exactly what I wanted. He kissed my lips once more, then moved down my body. I wriggled all over as he brushed his upper lip against the flat of my belly. Then I sucked in my breath. This was the moment I was waiting for — the moment I’d been waiting for, if I was honest with myself, for nearly six months.

As I should have expected, Donnie teased me. He didn’t dive forward when he reached my pussy. I had to arch my hips upward and beg him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You know, I’ve heard women can get addicted to mustache rides.”

“Just do it,” I said, losing all self-control. “Lick me!”

My clean-shaven pussy was a dramatic opposite to the roughness of his furry upper lip. As soon as I felt the whiskers against my skin, I started to come. Maybe it was the build-up — all that banter over the past few months — or perhaps it was the delicious anticipation that had built while I waited for him at the bar. Whatever the reason, I climaxed quickly, my thighs tightening around Donnie and my pussy spasming.

Luckily for me, Donnie didn’t consider this the end of the night. He waited until my body was still, and then he started up again. Slowly, carefully, he licked my pussy. He parted my lips and dragged his tongue in a straight line down and then up again. He pressed his whole face against the split between my legs and shook his head back and forth so that I could really feel those whiskers against me. I realized I was getting my juices all over him, and I wondered if my scent would linger in his mustache when we were done. That thought turned me on even more. Maybe he’d kiss me, and I’d taste myself!

Before I could even spell out this fantasy, Donnie made my wish come true. He shimmied back up the bed to plant a wet kiss on my lips, and I did taste my own honeyed juices on his whiskers.

Then back he went to finish up the job. He nipped my pussy lips, sucked my clit into his mouth and rubbed it with his tongue, and used his mustache to tickle me everywhere. I was keening under my breath, beating my hips against his mattress, and gripping fistfuls of his hair until I finally reached a second, even more powerful climax.

Relief made me speechless for several moments. And the moments turned to hours as I drifted to sleep in Donnie’s strong embrace. In the morning, I woke up to find him gazing at me with a smile on his face. I was thrilled to see that he hadn’t shaved yet. I stared into his deep green eyes, and then traced my fingers over his whiskers.

“Are you really going to shave?” I asked, feeling truly despondent. He grinned mischievously at me and shook his head.

“No, I like it too much.” The way he said the words made me realize his whole plan of the previous evening. I punched his arm.

“You made that up just to get me into bed!”

“Hey,” he said, kissing his way down my body once more. “That means you can keep having as many free mustache rides as you’d like.”

When he put it that way, I couldn’t help but smile. But soon my smile turned to sighs of bliss as he let me feel those pleasurable whiskers one more time

— C.S., Massachusetts

Forum letters should carry name and address, though these and other identifying characteristics will be changed for publication purposes. All letters become the property of Penthouse.

Send letters to ForumSubmission@penthouse.com.

From the January 2016 issue of Penthouse magazine.

Want to see more steamy letters from Penthouse readers? Subscribe to the print publication at PenthouseMagazine.com or the digital publication at PenthouseMagazine.com/digital, or upgrade your Penthouse.com membership to include the online magazine.