I’ve been a faithful reader of your magazine since I became single after my second (and hopefully last) divorce. I’ve sat down many nights to read the exciting fantasies of your readers, but I have not run across any like my own.

I’m a 26 year old female, working for a local trucking company. There is an extremely good looking man at the company who heats me up whenever I look into his big brown eyes. My fantasy undoubtedly involves this guy who I’ve nicknamed the “playboy.” He’s intelligent and sexy. I also go absolutely crazy over antique Chevys, especially the muscle car models from 1966 through 1968. Corvettes are my passion, so my fantasy takes place in a candy apple red ’67 Stingray.

My “playboy” and I are cruising down the east coast of southern Georgia on a hot July night with a beaming full moon. We pull right onto the beach line and the headlights stream across the ocean as the motor purrs to a standstill.

I open the brown bag that’s on the floor and pull out two ice cold bottles of wine cooler. The tape player blasts the tunes of Soul Asylum. A few minutes later his hand glides across the gearshift to rest on my thigh. He leans over to gently kiss my lips. The second kiss is a little harder and the third devours my entire mouth. A hard wet tongue down my mouth sends chills across my legs and up my thighs. His hand rises to the cuff of my shorts and eases its way between my legs.

He whispers, “Relax and let go,” and I get a glimpse of the huge bulge in his tight neon yellow swim shorts. With his fingers, he teases my mouth. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and I gently suck his fingers one by one. His kiss is hard and forceful this time as his hand pulls mine down to his throbbing cock.

He keeps my hand working with his motions as he pushes his shorts off his hips, exposing an upright cock that makes me gasp with anticipation. He then leans over to kiss my shoulders and neck, and the warm feel of his breath brings my nipples to attention. With his teeth, he pulls at the straps of my top as they slide off my shoulders, and my top ends up around my waist. All the while I’m stroking his massive cock and his hips are grinding in rhythm.

He runs his tongue once more around my nipples and looks up into my eyes, smiling as he pushes three fingers into my sopping wet cunt. I’m very near coming as his fingers wiggle inside me. The suction of my cunt envelops his fingers and he forces one more inside, and then pulls them out, just when I feel the heat come rushing across my ass. I stare at him with desperate need.

He quickly opens the car door and drops his shorts, walks around the car to my side and throws open my door. His cock is throbbing with excitement. The music is pumping from the speakers. I step out and he shuts the door, pulls off my shorts and top and boosts me onto the hood. Immediately he begins kissing my navel, hips and thighs. I lean back onto the hood of the Vette.

He probes my cunt teasingly. The waves are crashing against the surf now and my lover lowers himself to lap at my cunt. He buries his head between my legs and begins pulling my ass closer, grinding his long hard tongue deep into my moist cunt. He gently pushes me down onto the moonlit hood until I am spread eagled across it. The car’s air scoop nudges me in the back. He stands back and plays with my breasts, squeezing my nipples between his fingers.

I am quivering with lust now as he guides his cock to the lips of my cunt and holds my thighs firmly. The head of his cock is just barely inside, but he pulls out and lets it rest on my cunt, throbbing. Several times he does this, and each time I get another inch, another quiver, another moment closer to that wave that’s pushing me down to him.

I am nearly frantic now as I reach to grab the rim between the hood and the windshield for support, hoping I can stop his teasing and get all of his cock inside my pulsing cunt. Just as I have a grip, he leans heavily against me, shoving every single inch inside.

I’m sucking him all in now, and my cunt is filled to the hilt. The heat waves wash through my body, causing the front of the car to shake. His thrusts are coming faster and harder and he grips my thighs to immobilize me. I open my eyes to see his, big and brown and sparkling in the night. He’s pumping me full force and the car rocks with our rhythm and the heels of my bare feet bounce off the Stingray’s fiberglass fenders.

We both come with such intensity it’s like the first time all over again. And I imagine I hear the rev of the Corvette’s engine, the squeal and smell of spinning tires as the sudden speed pushes me into the leather bucket seat.

I open my eyes to see a bright full moon, and one hell of a man whose eyes are shining with ecstasy. We smile jokingly as we attempt to slide off the hood, sticky and wet from our come.

— Anne B., Georgia

I used to read all sorts of erotic books when I was younger. I would get in bed with a flashlight, snuggle down under the quilt and read some steamy porno. It always got me so hot I ended up having to masturbate. I guess I got in the habit of solitary pleasures, because even now, when I have a terrific lover, I still crave those explosive climaxes that come after I’ve fantasized something unbelievable. Sometimes I feel like a drug addict who’s trying to kick the habit. Ordinary sex won’t do the trick— once I had six orgasms with my lover and still could hardly wait to get home and play with my fantasy! I lock my bedroom door and prepare myself for it. It’s very elaborate and sexy.

First I put on plenty of musky perfume, especially between my legs at the pulse point in the groin. I rouge my nipples until they’re as rosy and luscious as strawberries. Then I get into my “costume.” Usually I just take two film scarves and make a sort of harem outfit. I drape one over my hips so it hangs just below my navel, or sometimes I draw it up and under my crotch like an oversized bikini bottom. The other one I tie into a halter. I wear it loose, so that it barely confines my breasts and I can feel them swaying and bobbing together against the soft fabric.

I have lots of mirrors in my room, and I arrange them so I can see myself from every angle. I also replace all the lights with red or amber bulbs. Then I put on some music— modern dance stuff with just a drum, or maybe some sampled techno with mega bass. Then I start to move very slowly to the beat, and before long I’m dancing hard and fast, losing myself in the music and my fantasy.

I picture myself in a jail or detention camp for men. They are all sex starved, desperate, and they have been brought from their cells to watch me dance. Each man is stark naked, and a guard with a loaded weapon is standing by to protect me. The point is this— the first man who gets an erection is sent back to his cell for a month. The second gets 29 days, the third 28 days, and so on. Only the man who holds out the longest will be freed. My job is to excite them as much as possible.

It makes me hot to see all those naked bodies, to know each one of them would sell his soul to get inside my pussy. Right away several men are disqualified— they can’t even look at me without getting stiff. The guards drag them off and order me to do my best.

I am slowly undulating to the beat of the drum, thrusting my breasts out at them and allowing my hips and ass to revolve like round pearls greased in butter. I throw my head back and dance toward them, almost brushing their bare bodies with my nipples. They are groaning with unbearable desire helplessly, their cocks become engorged and rise to stiff, throbbing poles of lust. Some of them are almost in tears. There is one man whose body turns me on so much I can hardly bear to look at him. He is gritting his teeth, staring straight at me defiantly. So far his cock is limp, by a sheer effort of his will. He clenches his fists.

I want him to last! I want it so badly I slow down my dancing, making it less erotic, but the guard snarls at me to remove my clothes and get to work. Slowly, I undo the halter and let the material tease down over the swell of my breasts. It catches on the taut ledge of my nipples before it drifts down to my feet. Four more men gasp at the sight of my gorgeous breasts and are instantly removed.

I remove my sarong— I am wet with lust now— my dancing has excited me so much that I am aching to come. I moan in excitement and all the men are dragged away, except the man I want so badly.

“Let him have me!” I plead, arching back in an acrobatic bend to meet the now erect cock of my fantasy lover.

I can come 10 or 12 times just from the dancing alone. When I finally allow myself to actually masturbate with my fingers or with a vibrator, the orgasm is more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced.

— Grace S., New York