Dear Penthouse Forum,
I never thought your letters were real until something happened to me that I just had to share.
I was at the grocery store last night, nursing a deep craving for velveeta and tabouleh. I was standing impatiently in line at the register, paging through “O”. Suddenly, I felt eyes on my body. I looked up and caught the intense stare of the bag boy, and felt a chill of pleasure down my spine.
“Paper or plastic?” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his eyes. His firm muscles bulged beneath his green Lund’s apron.
“Paper… please!” I gasped, feeling my legs go weak. Did he know the power he had over me?
I managed to scribble out a check quickly, my face flushed with excitement. He took hold of the cart firmly and pushed it out the door, obviously expecting me to follow. To what, I could only imagine in my wildest fantasies… I paused only a second, my heart racing, before following him into the night.
I led him to my car and opened the trunk. He needed no prompting, believe me. He started thrusting the bags inside, pushing them in deep. I shuddered as I heard his breathing quicken and felt his pace increase. He slammed the trunk hard and I moaned in ecstasy.
I gave him a dollar and he thanked me quietly, a knowing gleam in his eye. On the way home, I smiled to myself as I realized I was out of cat food.
Penthouse, I hope you can print this letter.