It had been my birthday and my younger brother Ron had given me a subscription to Penthouse Letters. I really had no interest in the magazine or it's ...ontent, but when the issues began to arrive I read them. I didn't believe for one minute that the letters in the magazine were real or if they were they were written by idiots. Real people didn't say things like "magnificent fuck stick" or "marvelous meat pole." And none of the people were ugly or ordinary looking; everyone had larger than. "Did you like it?" "You have to ask?" "Uhn huh." "Well, if you must know, 'like' falls a bit short," I explained. "A lot short." "Wanna see it again?" she asked playfully. It turned my head without taking my eyes of the road. My voice came out low and gravelly. "Very much. And longer. And," I paused for a breath. "Closer." She fidgeted in her seat and I grabbed her hands, stopping her. "Not while we're driving." She settled and I released her hand. It had been warm, and soft, and I could still. More

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