After we moved into our dream home, my husband and I hosted a dinner party.

It had taken us a long time to make it big, and we wanted to celebrate. We went all-out, catering the food from a top-notch place and hiring a ridiculously priced party planner. There was even a pianist playing a rented piano in the background.

The servers were by the door as we answered, greeting the guests with long-stemmed glasses filled with pink champagne. The delectable hors d’oeuvres definitely impressed the guests. In fact, a stuck-up woman from my tennis club snorted, “If the appetizers are so sensational, I can’t imagine what we’re in for when the main course arrives.” Just as she said that, my husband walked into the dining room. “Speaking of mouthwatering, he looks delicious,” the woman added, licking her lips as if he were on the menu.

“That’s my husband,” I responded.

Dave did look scrumptious. His muscular body filled out his shirt and pants flawlessly, plus his tanned skin from our recent vacation made his green eyes pop. When he brushed his fingers through his jet-black hair, I think every woman in the room grew warm in her nether regions.

“Hey, beautiful,” Dave said, pulling me aside and planting a kiss on my red lips. I smudged off some of the lipstick he got on him with a cocktail napkin.

“Vanessa, you know what that dress does to me,” he said, almost sounding like he was giving me a warning. Indeed, I was well aware what the dress did to him — to us. It’s a red-hot number that displays my toned physique, from my long legs to my generous cleavage. His naughty reaction to me was titillating.

Everyone mingled as the servers passed trays, and every time Dave and I were next to each other, one of us was intimately touching the other.

After the dessert was finally served, Dave and I practically threw our guests out of the house. We had no interest in extending our hosting obligations, and were far more interested in jumping into our bed. As soon as the last guest left and the caterers were done cleaning up, he carried me up the stairs, passionately kissing me.

Dave kicked open the double doors to our master bedroom. He tore off my dress, exposing my braless tits and freshly waxed pussy, then caressed my body with his hands, lips, and tongue. As he leaned over me, I unbuttoned his shirt, seductively brushing my lips on each exposed piece of hot skin. Then I unzipped his pants and took hold of his hard-on, stroking his shaft until it was at its maximum length. In one quick thrust, Dave hammered his cock into my drenched hole. While his meat massaged my insides, my pussy lips gripped his pole to intensify the sensations. I was at my breaking point.

“Come for me, Vanessa,” Dave encouraged as he impaled my love cave with his luscious gift.

My pussy oozed in delight and my body shook in thunderous sensational vibrations as he took me there. But while I was satisfied, I was also hungry for more. I flipped my body on top of his, straddled his cock, and rubbed my tits and stiff nips on his face. Dave dove back in, thrusting deep inside me. I rode my man like a rodeo champion, my tits bouncing as we gyrated. Finally, I felt Dave buck under the volcanic heat and he growled, “Fuck, yeah!”

I held on to him as he spewed his load inside me, then we fell asleep wrapped up together.

Before the sun came up, Dave’s dick had already risen. I playfully tugged on his morning wood, ready for more action. In an instant, my husband’s gorgeous sausage was back inside my pussy.

— V.W., Colorado

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From the November 2015 issue of Penthouse magazine.

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