GGL-125  Margie's Kennel Love
(Ann Loomis)


Foreword

In Roman times the markets and bazaars of the Holy Empire resounded to the cry of
Caveat Emptor Let the buyer beware! In other words, it was up to the purchaser to
verify the quality and standard of the product before he put down his money; there was
no cash-back-if-unsatisfied guarantee in the supermarkets of the Caesars. The shopper
who unwrapped his purchase when he got home be it an Etruscan slave girl or a terra
cotta oil jar and discovered that it was sub-standard or not what the salesman had
represented it to be, was stuck with it. He should have checked before he paid.
In two thousand years of civilization, times have changed. Our western world of
washing-machines and ad-men, moon flights and television commercials is flooded with
consumer-protection associations and laws to guard the unwary against unscrupulous
vendors.
One market alone has stood fast by the ancient slogan against the onrush of the
computer society and that is the marriage market!
Today as in Roman times you can't send back the bride or trade in the groom if you
discover you made a mistake. Even in our swinging land of easy divorce, it is held to be
up to the couple at least to try and make a go of it...
Marry in haste, repent at leisure, our forefathers used to say. And, as so often, they
were right for today in some respects there is too much leisure. And unfortunately
those couples who find out too late that they have made a mistake have time enough to
seek alternative consolation instead of working together to try and affect a compromise.
Author Gretchen Wilcox poignantly highlights this modern dilemma in The Kennel
Club. For not only is the heroine, Margie Crossley, a girl who has made a mistake in
her marriage in order to escape an intolerable life at home: she is also a social climber.
And in the story of her frustrated attempts to compensate for a life made barren by the
neglect of her husband, we see with spine-chilling clarity how much misguided efforts
to climb a rung up the social ladder can lead to friction in the home, to behavior
outside the generally accepted canons of society, and ultimately to disaster.
Margie's husband Luke is a difficult man, inconsiderate and intemperate. But he is in
his way an honest man. Yet through her refusal to see his point of view and her own
selfish determination to broaden her social horizon, she loses him... and when she loses
Luke she loses everything.
The Kennel Club, then, is a cautionary tale, and we are grateful to Miss Wilcox for so
grippingly outlining the snares and pitfalls awaiting the inexperienced who find
themselves in this unenviable position. Those young people about to embark on the sea
of matrimony who are not certain, absolutely certain, of the lightness of their choice
would do well to ponder on the truth of another old saw current in the Roman markets:
Ver non semper viret the spring is not always green!
-The Publishers


Chapter 1

Margie Crossley was unhappy. It was the third time this week that her husband, Luke,
had been late home. He had told her not a minute later than eight o'clock, and here it
was a quarter after nine... with the beautiful crisp spare ribs drying to a cinder in the
oven and the chili sauce congealing above the cooker! For the tenth time, she rose from
the chintz-covered davenport and walked across the big lounge to look out the picture
window at the empty driveway and the chestnut-fringed stretch of the avenue beyond.
The sun had set more than an hour ago and the thickening dusk was punctuated by
lights from the big houses scattered along the scrub-covered slopes of Beverly Hills
where they showed above her neighbors' rooftops.
Across the street, she could see the rear fenders of the Firmans' Cadillac projecting
beyond the cypress hedge sheltering Sue
Firman's prized begonias. Beyond their ranch-style house, Sid Phillips's imported Italian
convertible gleamed and winked under the porch lantern of his huge concrete fortress.
And further away still she could see the Hotchkiss's vast Galaxy parked outside that
pretentious colonial facade of which Clare Hotchkiss was so proud. There were other
cars in the driveway too. They must be entertaining again... for the fourth time this
week!
Margie sighed. Why did she have to be the only wife on the avenue whose husband
preferred shooting pool downtown with some drunken gang of salesmen rather than
coming home at a sensible hour like other people?
The Firmans, the Phillips, the Hotchkisses these were the kind of people Luke should
be mixing with; these were the kind of people Margie herself wanted to cultivate. They
could do it too: her husband earned quite a lot of money. Enough to put a down
payment on this house in the Hollywood suburb where she had always wanted to live,
and pay off the installments comfortably; enough to fix it up with color television and
washing machine and deep-freeze and a kitchen that looked like a full-page ad in House
Beautiful. Enough to entertain on a scale almost as lavish as their socially conscious
neighbors.
But Luke didn't want to know about any of that. The only kind of cultivation he was
interested in was the kind effected by his goddamn machines! Luke was the Southern
California representative for a Chicago firm manufacturing tractors, bulldozers, earth
moving equipment, mechanical plows and planters, and all kinds of horticultural
machinery. He spent a great deal of his time out in country areas talking farmers and
fruit growers and the owners of orange groves and vineyards into buying labor-saving
equipment from the sale of which he drew a fat commission... and when he wasn't
doing that, Margie thought resentfully, he was drinking with his raffish friends instead
of coming home to her! He didn't seem interested in his wife and he certainly didn't
share her desire to get in with the real nice social set around them. He refused to play
tennis; he always found some excuse to beg off when she suggested entertaining; and he
wouldn't even consider joining that country club where they all went. But for God's
sakes, Margie had complained over and over, how was she supposed to get by? What
was she supposed to do if he was away all the time?
"You got the house," Luke would answer in his surly fashion. "You been pestering me
for two years ever since we got married to come and live here, damn it. Well, you got
your way. We're here. For Chrissake quit bothering me for a couple of hours!"
"Sure we got the house," his wife would say. "And it's beautiful. Real cozy, just like I
wanted. The furniture company fixed it up fine. But it might as well be in the middle of
the Nevada desert, for all the folks we see. Don't you understand, honey, I need people!
I like to talk a little, maybe exchange gossip with other women, even kid around
sometimes. It's okay for you, you talk to people all day. But I'm here on my lonesome
the whole time, and the house by itself just isn't enough."
"You're a big girl now," Luke had replied gruffly the last time they had this argument.
"Go on out and make friends then. Jesus there's enough broads around here with time
on their hands, from what I see!"
"But you don't understand!" Margie had wailed. "These folks around this neighborhood
are kinda formal. like you can't just start talking over the backyard fence. It's up to us
to invite them maybe have an occasional dinner party or something. Ask them around
for cocktails. That kind of thing."
"Cocktails!" Luke exclaimed explosively. "I don't dig that snobbish shit, and you know
it."
"If you'd even take out a membership to the club "
"For fuck's sakes," Luke had interrupted, "will ya lay off of me, Marge? Now go on out
and fix me a highball before I get real mad!"
Sighing again, Margie walked back to the window and stared out. It was quite dark now
and the street lighting had come on. Against the somber bulk of the Firman's oleanders,
she could see her own reflection in the glass. She stared at it critically, a tear welling
into her eye.
Disillusioned by her husband's indifference and neglect, she felt about a hundred years
old, and it seemed almost absurd suddenly to see the reality in front of her. She had to
admit that the voluptuous, youthful image staring sorrowfully back at her from the
reflected living room out in the night didn't look a day over her twenty-four years, no
matter ancient she might feel
Neither a line nor a wrinkle marred the smooth ivory sheen of her complexion and the
features of her beautiful face were so delicately chiseled that had it not been for the
highlights burnishing the softly curling auburn hair that tumbled about her shoulders,
it might have been a countenance sculpted in marble by a master craftsman. Sadly
though, she thought as her glance roved down over the rest of her reflection, she was a
flesh and blood woman. It might have been easier if she really had been made of stone.
For a moment she made a dispassionate study of her own body in the glass. It had been
a hot day and she was still wearing the lightweight tan halter and faded cut-off jeans she
had put on to water the roses before she came in to fix Luke's dinner. The skimpy top
barely hid the tautly-swelling bulges of her high-set generously-rounded breasts and the
bud-like tips of her large rosy nipples thrust provocatively out against the clinging
fabric. The revealing garment stopped short just below the voluptuous twin mounds to
expose the firmly gleaming skin of her midriff tapering down into a girlish waist and
flat, smooth stomach. The tight jeans clung lasciviously to the sloping swell of her hips,
pulling taut against the jutting curves of her buttocks and hugging the satin columns of
her thighs. Below the fringe of the faded pants, the contours of her splendid legs
plunged breathtakingly down into the tapered slenderness of her ankles.
It has been her legs which had first caught Luke's eye three years ago, she remembered
with a pang of wistfulness. She had been playing tennis with some friends of her
parents' out near Monterey. Flushed and excited because she was playing well and
because the other young folks on the court were a bit higher up the social grade than
the kids she had been in school with, she had hardly noticed the big man who sat all
afternoon staring hungrily at her flashing limbs in the sun. It was only when they sat
down in the shade afterwards to drink chilled orange juice that her host had introduced
them. There had been a small vineyard in back of the property and Luke had called to
give the man details of the latest line in cultivators. He had dated her at once and
Margie eager to escape the restrictions of a home with not enough money and too
many children had accepted without a thought when he proposed a year later. But
although it was great to have money and to escape the eternal responsibilities of
younger brothers and sisters, marriage hadn't turned out to be the movie-influenced
idyll she had dreamed of.
She started as the reflected image of herself faded and vanished. Twin beams of light
probed the darkness and silvered the oleander hedge. A moment later there was a rustle
of tires on gravel and the illumination swept across the rose beds and the lawn as Luke
turned the Mustang into their driveway.
She knew from the way he gunned the motor before he switched off that he was in an
impatient mood. And she could tell by the uncertain way his feet dragged on the path
that he was drunk again. His key scraped several times at the lock before he succeeded
in thrusting it home.
The luscious redhead was waiting for him by the arch leading from the living room to
the rustic Mexican-style hallway. Her hands were planted on her shapely hips and her
eyes were smoldering. "Eight o'clock?" she cried furiously. "Eight o'clock, did you say?
Do you know what time it is, Luke Crossley? I'll tell you. It's a quarter of ten! You're
nearly two hours late. D'you think I've nothing better to do than sit around on my ass
all evening watching the food I've cooked for you go stale?"
"Aw, Margie, lay off will you?" her husband snapped irritably, pushing past her into the
living room. "How's about something to eat, huh? Right now I could swallow a bear!"
"D'you think I've nothing better to do than-"
"Shut up!" Luke interrupted harshly. He was swaying slightly on his feet and she could
smell the reek of whiskey on his breath from where she stood. "Only two days ago you
was tellin' me you didn't have nothing better to do so what are you squawking about
for Chrissake?"
"Luke, I tell you "
"You're gonna tell me nothing, baby. You're gonna fix me my dinner like a good gal,
and me, I'm going right on out to the icebox and get a nice, cool beer."
For a moment she stared at him angrily, her thick-lashed green eyes flashing. And then
she wheeled around and stalked furiously through into the kitchen, her cork-heeled
pumps thudding on the tile floor and her full breasts bouncing and quivering under the
skimpy halter top. Luke shrugged and followed her, lurching slightly against the
doorpost as he passed.
Margie flung open the oven door and banged down the dish of spare ribs and the chili
sauce on the table. She slid the salad bowl viciously across the cloth and threw knife,
fork and spoon after it. Then, drawing up a chair, she sat down and lit a cigarette with
trembling fingers.
Her husband was busy at the icebox. He pried off the cap of a bottle of beer and raised
the neck to his lips. Swallowing greedily, he gulped down half the contents in a single
draught and then pulled out a chair for himself. "Hey baby!" he complained. "Where's
the potato salad? Ain't there no potato salad? You know I like potato salad with spare
ribs. This green shit's only fit for rabbits."
"If you knew anything about food at all," Margie said coldly, "you'd know that civilized
folks always eat green salads with meat."
"Hell, I only asked if there was any potato-"
"It's in the icebox," the redhead snapped. "You can go get it yourself."
Luke grunted, got the potato salad, and slumped down into his chair. She watched him
as he ate, tearing the meat off the bones with his strong white teeth, washing the half
chewed food down with mouthfuls of beer, and then forking the potato salad into his
mouth as regularly and efficiently as one of his own machines. He was a big man and
most of him was muscle. He turned the scales at a hundred and eighty pounds and he
was six feet tall, long armed and barrel chested. He was ten years older than his young
red-haired wife, and the crisply curling dark hairs showing above the neck of his T-shirt
between the open edges of his lumber jacket were beginning to be flecked with gray.
There was a red flush mottling the network of tiny veins mantling his high cheekbones
but otherwise, apart from a dew of sweat following his receding hairline, he showed no
signs of drink. The whites of his hazel eyes were clear and the muscles of his jaw,
working rhythmically as he chewed the meat, were hard and firm. Margie studied the
full wet lips beneath the straight high-bridged nose as they opened and closed on each
mouthful of food. He was a redneck all right, she thought but he was a lot of man just
the same!
"These spare-ribs are kinda dry," Luke said suddenly, mumbling indistinctly through
the potato salad. "There ain't no juice left in 'em. They ain't as crisp as usual neither."
"What the hell do you expect?" his wife demanded furiously. "They were ready for eight
o'clock, like you said. Of course they're dried up if you're two hours late, for God's
sakes! Where have you been, anyway?"
Luke lifted his head from his plate. "I had to see a couple guys downtown. You know."
"Sure I know! A couple of guys standing around a poolroom. And then a couple more
in a saloon."
"Look, Marge you know I gotta drink with prospective clients. It's part of the job, you
know that. I told you a hundred times."
"Yeah the same hundred times you've been late for dinner without letting me know. I
remember. You don't even bother to call me! Sid Phillips, the attorney across the street,
and Harry Firman too they both have clients to see. But they don't come home all
hours every night. I can see their cars parked right outside their houses at seven thirty
every evening, while I'm waiting for you. That makes me feel just great!"
"Shit!" Luke said disgustedly. "Don't quote me that fat-assed little shyster and his punk
neighbor with the goddamn Ivy League shirts! Guys like that make me puke!" The
redness over his cheekbones deepened as an angry flush spread across his face.
Margie stubbed out her cigarette. "There's no need to use language like that," she said
sharply. "If you could tear yourself away from those poolroom barflies for a half hour
some day, maybe you'd get to see that some of our neighbors are real nice people."
"Real nice people!" Luke mimicked sneeringly. "Lot of snobbish cunts if you ask me!
How do you know, anyway? You been playing bridge maybe at one of them Goddamn
hen parties they're so fond of? You been taking sherry with Mrs. God Almighty Clare
Hotchkins? You been out on a shopping spree with your bosom friend Sue Firman?
Some fuckin' bosom!"
"You don't know how much I wish I had!" his wife flashed. And then, changing her
tone suddenly to a plaintive wheedle: "Luke honey, I really would like to meet some of
the folks around here. Why don't we ask a few of them around for drinks? You could
choose whichever ones you like. Or if you don't want to do that, at least go see the
country club. If you liked it, maybe we could join and then I could-"
"Jesus Christ!" Luke roared, lurching to his feet. "Will you never lay off yattering about
that goddamn country club? I told you fifty times, you won't get me within a mile of
the place. It stinks of those tennis-playing college boy punks. It's as full of shit as the
people who go there. It's..." He paused, staring Wearily at the table. "You ain't eatin'
nothing," he muttered.
"I'm not hungry," Margie said icily.
For a moment her husband blinked at her. And then an idea penetrated the fumes of
alcohol fogging his brain. His eyes narrowed as he tried to concentrate. His mouth
twisted into a crafty smile and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. "You're gonna eat
just the same," he said.
"I told you: I'm not hungry."
"You're gonna eat just the same," Luke repeated with a chortle. And then, as the idea
seized hold of him and spread like wildfire through his veins, he added thickly: "You're
gonna eat cock."
"W-w-what did you say?"
"You heard me. I said you're gonna eat cock. My cock! Now I come to think of it, I feel
mighty like a piece of tail right now. I feel like throwing it to somebody. And if I can't
throw it to my goddamn wife, who the hell can I throw it to, tell me that?"
"Luke, you're drunk."
"So what if I am? It would do you a bit of good it you got drunk too sometimes. Maybe
you could enjoy life a little then! But for the moment you can get down on your
goddamn knees, you smart-assed social-climbing little bitch, and take out my prick for
me."
"Don't be disgusting," Margie said distantly. "I'll do no such thing."
"You'll do what I fuckin' well tell you. You're my wife aren't you?"
"That doesn't give you the right to force me to do perverted "
"Shut up!" Luke shouted. "You wriggled out of it often enough. This time it's gonna be
for real, baby!"
He lurched across the floor and grasped her shoulders as she sat in the chair, hauling
her half upright and then forcing her down to her knees on the kitchen tiles. "Are you
going to do what you're told?" he demanded in a slurred voice.
Margie gasped half in fear and half in surprise. Her husband was a strong man and a
difficult one when he was in a drunken rage as he was now. She was tired and she was
angry and she was a little faint from lack of food. Her mind was swimming. Dimly, she
recalled those other occasions when he had tried to make her fall in with some
outrageous suggestion of his. He had attempted several times to thrust her head down
towards his loins in the middle of lovemaking on the bed. Once, after a party over at
her brother's place in Monterey, he had actually wanted to kiss her... down there! And
another time he had tried he really had! to push his penis up into her anus while they
were lying naked under the stars outside a cabin they had rented up in the mountains
for a summer holiday! But she had always managed to talk him out of such horrifying
practices or distract his attention by using her body in some other, more normal way. It
was unnatural, it was wrong, it was... giving in to animal instincts... even to think of
things like that... Her whole being revolted from the thought.
Yet here she was on her knees on her own kitchen floor with this drunken brute of a
husband threatening to force her against her will too... she shuddered inwardly,
rebelling against the very idea. "Luke," she whimpered pleadingly. "Darling, please..."
With a growl of frustrated anger, he leaned down and hooked his fingers under the
hem of the halter, ripping the frail garment away from her naked body with a single
savage gesture, so that her head snapped back as the ties tore against her neck and her
breasts sprang free to quiver tautly in their swelling .fullness, the sudden unexpected
rush of cool air causing the nipples to erect immediately and the rose-dark areolas to
pucker into goose bumps around their fleshy edges.
The luscious half-stripped redhead gasped in indignation as her husband glowered
down at her. "What do you think you're doing?" she cried. "You've torn it, you
drunken ass! You've ruined it! You let me up this minute, or I'll"
She broke off with a groan as Luke tangled his fingers in the richly glowing mass of her
auburn hair and dragged her head back until the tears spurted from her eyes and her
lips writhed back from her teeth in a grimace of agony. "Stop it!" she panted. "You're
hurting me. You... Aaaaaaaagh!"
Relentlessly, he increased the pressure until she felt that her hair was being dragged out
by the roots and her back would break. "Take it out," he growled menacingly. "Undo
my pants and take out my prick, you cock-sucking bitch, before I break your goddamn
neck."
Margie writhed and squirmed on the floor, trying to escape the punishing stranglehold
in her hair that was torturing her head farther and farther back, trying desperately to
struggle to her feet as her hands flew up to scrabble vainly at the steely wrists on either
side of her contorted face. "Do as I tell you," the harsh voice commanded again. "Go on
take it out!"
She arched her back in a final frantic attempt to break free, and then her muscles
relaxed and she whimpered piteously. He was too strong for her. There was no point in
resisting him any further. It would only increase the pain she would suffer. With
trembling hands, she reached for the zipper of his fly.
An electric tingle ran along her spine as the backs of her fingers brushed softly against
the rough cloth of his pants where it was tightly stretched over the hardened bulge at
his crotch, and felt through the material the long throbbing rigidity of his penis. As she
jerked down the zipper and hooked her fingertips over the tight elastic waistband of his
jockey shorts she knew, feeling the hot muscled hardness of his belly against her skin,
that she wanted it and she wanted him... now! But not this way, not here, not like this!
He was waiting, standing poised over her with his legs splayed and his head down,
breathing harshly and heavily as he maintained the agonizing pressure on her hair.
She yanked down the waistband of the shorts and lodged it beneath his swollen
testicles, so that the elastic acted as a kind of sling supporter, and the sperm-bloated
glands in their soft hair-covered pouch were thrust lewdly forward as Luke's massive
cock sprang free. He was still dragging her head painfully back but she could just see,
rolling her eyes downwards, the thick-veined shaft swaying inches in front of her face.
It stood out from the dark, curling pubic hair framed in the gaping "vee" of his fly like
a heavy blunt spear, the blunt bulbous cock-head already protruding from the loose
folds of foreskin with a single pearl of seminal fluid glistening wetly at its tip.
The sight of the lust-expanded instrument sent tremors of erotic excitement flickering
through Margie's loins and down the inside of her thighs. That was where she wanted
to feel it plowing into her belly as she lay thrashing on the bed, not obscenely presented
to her mouth to satisfy some degraded animal craving suffered by her husband when he
was drunk!
"Luke!" she gasped, striving to master the tears still flowing down her cheeks. "Darling,
please... let's go... into the bedroom..."
"Suck it!"
"No! No, please don't make me... do that. You know I don't... Luke, honey..."
"I said you was gonna eat, baby, and eat you will! You know a better place to eat than a
kitchen?" her husband demanded, adding with a coarse laugh: "Maybe, if you're a good
girl, you'll get yourself a piece to drink as well!"
Margie blanched and her blood ran cold. It was bad enough that he was trying to force
her to do such a depraved and humiliating thing as to touch his penis with her mouth.
Now he was hinting surely he couldn't be? that he was actually going to... going to cum
while it was in there! Worse, he was suggesting that she should actually swallow his
semen! Surely, drunk as he was, he couldn't go that far. Even Luke couldn't be that
barbarous! God, the idea of such an unnatural, degrading act filled her with horror and
revulsion!
But there was nothing she could do about it. Stripped naked to the waist, forced down
onto the floor in front of his lewdly exposed and lust-swollen cock, her head clamped in
his vise-like grip, she was powerless to resist his salacious demands.
He shifted his grip on her hair, pulling her head forward and freeing one hand to seize
her chin between finger and thumb and force her jaw savagely downwards. At the same
time she felt a wet spongy sensation against her lips. Luke was pressing the tip of his
cock into her mouth!
Margie clenched her teeth and mumbled in terror and revulsion as the bloated, blood
filled head, now wetly seeping with lust-incited seminal fluid, nudged gently at her
compressed lips, smearing a sticky trail over the lower half of her face. She moaned and
tried to shake her head away, but Luke had his fingers twined so tightly in her hair that
she could not move. As he thrust his loins towards her and increased the pressure, at
the same time wrenching her jaw downwards in an attempt to force open her mouth,
she felt as though her tender, trembling lips were being pushed straight back through
the sharpness of her teeth.
Luke gave a drunken groan, struggling with all his strength against their softly resisting
refusal to part. He hooked his thumb over the warm fleshy ridge of her lower lips,
dragging that down too so that the helpless redhead thought in her desperation that her
jaw would dislocate. And then suddenly, as her resistance weakened and he gave an
extra brutal tug with his hand, he sensed her mouth opening, bit by bit, until the
pulsating head of his iron-hard cock forced its way in past her teeth. Then the thick,
darkly inflamed shaft followed, crushing through her soft moist lips and into the hot
wet cavern of her mouth. She could feel the hugeness of it slithering up the length of
her tongue and filling her mouth completely with its thick fleshy hardness.
"Now suck on it, ya prissy bitch! Luke gloated above her. "And if ya try to bite, I'll beat
the shit out of ya!"
His hands tightened in her hair again and his lips bared back over his teeth as he pulled
his wife's face slowly forward, sliding the warm wet flesh of her saliva-filled mouth over
his throbbing cock.
Margie knelt slave-like in an agony of humiliation. Her eyes, so recently flashing anger
and defiance, were closed. Numbly, she tried to blot out the realization of her own
bitter subjugation and the obscene rape of her mouth. But it was useless. As Luke
altered his hold once more to clamp her head in a vise-like grip with the palms of his
hands pressed hard against her ears, he began sawing his hips backwards and forwards,
screwing his thickly rigid cock in and out of her mouth. Her throat filled with saliva
and she almost choked, coughing and sputtering until she became accustomed to this
unnatural invasion. Her cheeks were filled with the hot pungent taste of the seminal
fluid oozing from the slit at the pulsating tip of the fleshy rod plunging into her. She
tried not to think about what was happening to her but it was impossible. Luke's
testicles bounced hairily against her chin and there was a stale odor of sweat around his
loins that filled her flared nostrils with a continual reminder of the cruel, depraved
attack that he, her own husband, was subjecting her to.
"I said suck it, baby," he growled again, his fingers digging warningly into the sensitive
area at the nape of her neck.
Margie gasped with pain as a bolt of agony flamed through the nerves of her scalp.
There was nothing for it now but to do as he said. Her only defense was to try and
please him as best as she could and get the thing over with. Her lips began to nibble
slightly at the thick fleshy shaft spearing into her mouth from fear of the pain that
would follow if they did not.
At once a dramatic change came over the face of the obscenely crouching Luke. The
scowl that had been creasing his forehead was replaced by an ecstatic expression of
sheer animal lust as he felt the first moist suction of her tenderly clasping and
unclasping lips around the blood-engorged head of his still-expanding cock. His mouth
stretched into a lewd grin as he watched the now subjugated redhead's cheeks
hollowing around the rigidly pulsating shaft protruding from his fly.
Gleefully, he ripped at her hair again. "Suck it harder, baby," he crowed sadistically.
"Let's see you put some skin around it there!"
Frantically, the humiliated girl began to work with tongue, lips and teeth, pressing them
closely and moistly around him as he jerked deeper and deeper into the warm soft
cavern of her mouth. His thick fingers were curled brutally tight in her hair, slipping
her mouth up and down over the swollen end of his thrusting fleshy shaft as his hips
writhed and strained towards her bobbing head. She could feel it pulsing and expanding
inside her until it seemed to fill her whole skull and she moaned piteously in utter
humiliation and shame as he plunged it hard toward her tonsils as though her mouth
were a hungry cunt into which he was venting the full fury of his animal-like desire.
She had no thought in her dazed mind now but to end it as soon as possible. Her mind
was reeling under the realization of the savage and brutal treatment being meted out to
her. God, would this horrifying debauch of her mouth and lips never end?
"Oooooh, baby! That's it! Suck it, baby-suck it!" Luke groaned as his young wife's
tongue tangled around the sensitive skin beneath the head of his cock. His hands were
snaking around the sides of her slaving head now, stroking the soft burnished silkiness
of her hair, pulling and teasing at the lobes of her ears. His hips undulated wildly back
and forth as he watched the swelling mounds of her naked breasts bounce and sway in
time to the pull and thrust of his hands on her head.
Margie was sucking on his lust-bloated rod like a hungry calf feeding from a mother
cow. The smooth hard fleshy shaft skewered farther and farther, faster and faster, into
her mouth so that she could feel the hard rubbery tip smashing against the back of her
throat. Her mouth was filled with warm moist saliva that made a smoothly scalding
sheath around the monstrous instrument as it plunged more and more savagely into her
face. Luke's huge hairy balls beat a steady rhythm of obscene passion against her chin
and she could feel the cool wetness of the wrinkled skin where a mixture of her saliva
and his own secretions had drooled out of her totally filled mouth to moisten the lower
half of her face.
Luke was looking down at her now with a lust-contorted face that glistened with fierce
desire as he crushed his sweating loins to her mouth and ground his fingers cruelly into
the side of her head. He wanted this proud little bitch of a wife to be debased and
humiliated once and for all. He wanted to watch her face when he forced her to
swallow the white-hot load he was going to squirt into her mouth. It was time she knew
who was master, and now he had her where he wanted her he was going to make
goddamn sure she knew it good! Maybe after this she wouldn't be so goddamn smartassed 
with her where-have-you-beens and her nice-folks-don't-do-thats. He'd fucking
well show the little bitch what nice folks did!
Crooning a stream of wild obscenities down on top of her furiously bobbing nead, he
watched with gleaming eyes the darkly veined flesh of his cock disappearing into the
tightly ovaled hole formed by her wide-stretched lips clasping wetly around it like the
lips of a cunt.
His plunging cock felt as though it were being tormented by a thousand tiny needles.
There was a roaring in his brain and the familiar torrent of passion began building deep
in his loins, an uncontrollable surge of lust that swept him along on its crest to explode
with shattering force through the pistoning shaft of his cock.
He knew he could hold back no longer. It had to be now!
Arching his pelvis convulsively towards her, he rammed his glistening penis deep into
her mouth and pressed against her cheeks with his fingers so that her mouth was
tighter around his bursting hardness and he could feel the full force of it expanding in
the softness between her tongue and the roof of her mouth as the shaft began a wild
staccato jerking and a stream of scalding sticky sperm shot in hot thick spurts far back
into her throat.
His chest heaved and he uttered a series of groaning animal grunts as he emptied
himself completely into her forcibly sucking mouth, holding her head hard down over
the sperm-jetting head of his cock.
As the pungent-tasting male cum squirted hotly into her mouth, Margie gasped for
breath, sucking and swallowing, sucking and swallowing, her cheeks bloating and
hollowing and her softly mounded breasts dancing wildly with her efforts as the jerking
rod gradually softened beneath her swirling tongue. Finally its rubbery limp length
oozed with a wet sucking noise from between her semen-covered lips, a thin string-like
thread of white still linking them together. The hollows of her throat went on working
afterwards, gulping down the heated white fluid he had creamed into her throat.
Minutes later, she raised her head, sobbing, and dragged herself to her feet. She had
never felt so debauched, so utterly used and despoiled, in her life. She would never be
the same again. To think that Luke, her own husband, had brutally forced her to submit
to such a depraved and degrading attack... it was too much!
Luke was standing by the icebox, a shamefaced grin on his drunken face, opening
another bottle of beer. His wetly gleaming penis hung obscenely down from his open
fly with a long thread of sperm swaying from its tip.
With a shudder of revulsion, Margie crossed her arms over her nakedly heaving breasts
and staggered off to the bathroom.
If this was his answer to her pleas for a social life of her own, she thought tearfully as
she rinsed her mouth at the basin, well she knew what she was going to do!
She would take the bull by the horns and she would go and call on Clare Hotchkiss
herself. She would do it tomorrow morning! And she would invite her over to the
house... but not for dinner and not for drinks: she would ask her to come to lunch one
day, when she could be sure that everything wouldn't be ruined by that uncivilized,
unsocial monster of a drunken husband still obscenely exposing himself over his beer in
the kitchen!


Chapter 2

The next day was a Friday, the day Clare Hotchkiss' live-in maid had her afternoon off.
This suited Margie Crossley fine. like so many people with social pretensions, she had a
dread of the supercilious contempt of upper-class servants and she felt she could far
better approach her quarry and make her point if the two of them could be alone. She
waited until she saw the prim little maid with her turned down mouth and her nose
that looked as though it was always sniffing at a disagreeable odor, pass on her way into
town and then she slipped out the front door and hurried towards the Hotchkiss house.
Edgar Hotchkiss was in real estate. He owned huge residential developments in Beverly
Hills, in Apple Valley and in the San Fernando area as well as half a dozen office blocks
in downtown Los Angeles, and he had obviously thought that the vast Colonial-style
mansion he had built on the avenue was the only suitable facade behind which so
eminent and so rich a local citizen could live. Pussyfooting up the semi-circular
driveway, Margie felt she could not face going in under the great pillared portico with
its triangular pediment and braving the bell by the giant iron-studded double doors. She
often saw Clare Hotchkiss sitting on a chaise lounge by the pool at the side of the
house as she passed in the afternoon on her way to do the marketing. She would slip
round through the shrubbery and hope to find her there today: it would be kind of
easier to strike up a friendly acquaintance that way better than going through the
formality of having those doors opened on her and facing Clare's inquiring glance and
raised eyebrows; almost as though she had stumbled upon her by mistake while she was
taking a walk. Anyway, despite the fact that she set herself up as leader of the social set
in the neighborhood, Clare seemed an approachable enough girl: although they had
never met, she often grinned in a friendly fashion at Margie in the local supermarket,
and she always nodded if they passed in the street.
After all, Margie thought as she stepped off the graveled drive and walked across a
stretch of velvet lawn, it wasn't Clare's fault if she looked like the young Hedy Lamarr
and her husband was the richest man in Beverly Hills. She had a position to keep up,
for God's sakes! And whatever Luke might say she shuddered inwardly at the memory
of her husband's brutal behavior last night you did have to live in a certain way, go to
certain places, act in a certain recognized social manner, if you had money.
She skirted a sprinkler that was spiraling a fine mist of cool water in a rainbow cloud
over the soft green turf and pushed her way through a clump of azaleas and
rhododendrons. Beyond the sea of crimson and scarlet and ivory and pink blooms, she
saw with a pang of disappointment that the paved patio by the pool was empty. The
heart-shaped stretch of vivid blue water lay shimmering and silent in the hot sun. The
air over the stainless steel frames of the untenanted day-beds and hammocks trembled
in the heat. Beyond the summer-house, a white table and half a dozen deck chairs stood
vacantly in the deep shade of a Spanish chestnut tree.
Margie hesitated, glancing uncertainly around the deserted garden. Perhaps Clare had
gone out too. It would be just her luck to choose a day when she wasn't in. Or maybe
she was still indoors. She would have to face the grandiose main entrance after all! She
tugged nervously at the skirt of her dress. It was a flowered silk print, cut high at the
neck and draping softly over her ripe breasts. It was the most suitable thing she could
find after all, she could hardly call for the first time on the local hostess-with-the
mostest wearing summer pants or jeans! but maybe it was just the tiniest bit short...
Turning around to retrace her steps towards the front of the house she suddenly
stopped short with a gasp.
Through the screen of leaves, she had caught sight of a movement behind the wide
glass French windows leading out into the garden from a ground floor room at the side
of the mansion. In a shaft of sunlight striking in through the large panes, Clare
Hotchkiss was revealed lying on a black leather couch.
She was completely naked and one of her hands was spread lasciviously over the dark
triangle of softly curling pubic hair at her loins! r
Margie sucked in her breath with astonishment. Often far too often she was forced to
use her finger to relieve herself when Luke's neglect left her unsatisfied sexual urges no
other outlet. She knew of course that plenty of frustrated women were driven to this
expedient. But somehow she had never imagined that a woman like Clare Hotchkiss, a
woman with a successful good-looking and popular husband, a rich woman with
everything she wanted, would have needed to go to that length! Especially in front of a
curtain-less window in a living room on a hot summer afternoon!
Well... there it was. You never knew. She would have to get out of it as quickly as she
could and call again another day. Feeling ashamed of herself for inadvertently acting as
a peeping-tom on such a private and intimate occasion, Margie ducked her head and
prepared to steal away.
But there was something about the tension of the naked body so lewdly displayed on
the couch beyond the window, some air of suppressed excitement that somehow
communicated itself and compelled her attention a moment longer. Crouching down
behind the branch of a rhododendron bush, she cautiously parted the shiny leaves and
peered into the room.
Clare Hotchkiss was lying on her back, with her feet towards the window. Against the
dark shining leather of the couch, the golden tints of her softly tanned skin glowed
richly in the elegantly furnished room. Above the slender tapered columns of her lewdly
spread legs, the rounded contours of her hips swelled around and into a tiny waist,
below which the soft flat plane of her belly swept down towards the hair-covered
mound between her thighs where the fingers of her hand were restlessly probing. Her
chest was rising and falling rapidly, carrying with it the swelling softness of her full,
ripe breasts and above the alluring curves of her shoulders, the highlights of a
luxuriously tumbling mass of dark hair vied with the reflections glinting on the tightly
stretched black leather of the divan. Margie couldn't see the woman's face for her chin
was pointing at the ceiling, moving slowly from side to side as her fingers plucked and
caressed the softly trembling flesh of her wide-splayed pussy.
As the astonished redhead watched, Clare's free hand rose almost of its own volition
and began massaging one of her quivering breasts in tiny teasing circles, tweaking the
soft brown bud of the nipple into sudden throbbing hardness. Her legs scissored farther
open and then slowly closed, exposing for a few seconds the thin pink slit of her vagina
nestling moistly among the soft dark hair between her thighs. Her buttocks twisted
against the shiny leather in a passion so abandoned that it seemed as though she was
trying to bury them there.
Margie's eyes were wide with amazement. She remembered all those lonely evenings
when she had waited for Luke to come home and how, after he had finally stumbled in
drunk and fallen into an alcoholic stupor, she had almost gone insane until she had
done exactly what the ravishing brunette in the room was doing. She blushed slightly at
the guilty sensations flickering through her, and squirmed her own buttocks nervously,
feeling the soft flesh of her thighs compressing the lips of her cunt together as she
squatted between the leaves. Her breath quickened and she was aware of a sudden
moist warmth between her legs.
The girl on the couch was writhing more lasciviously now, as though she was being
attacked by some invisible lover. Both her hands were roving frenziedly over the ivory
smooth contours of her body as though they were driven by minds of their own, the
slender fingertips dancing down over the satiny flatness of her belly to come to rest
together at the "vee" of her softly trembling loins. She arched her back half off the
leather divan at the sudden contract of her hands with the curl-fringed slit between her
thighs and pulled her knees back to her breasts only to straighten the long tapered legs
again and let them fall wide apart on either side of the divan, exposing to the excited
gaze of the onlooker in the shrubbery the moistly glistening furrow between them. Her
fingers crawled lasciviously down to the thin pink hair-covered lips and spread them
slowly apart until the Wetly folded depths were fully visible and the mouth-like orifice
gaped open between the moist hairs. The suntanned half-moons of her fleshy buttocks
gleamed dully in the sunlight streaming through the window, divided by the hot and
avid crevice quivering between them. The tiny puckered hole of her anus nestled,
mysterious and inviting, just below.
The erotically aroused redhead watching from the garden gasped in disbelief as Clare
Hotchkiss slowly inserted her middle finger into the pinkly glistening cuntal folds
drawing it slowly up and around the swollen shaft of the tiny bud-like clitoris. She
knew she ought to go home; she had no right to spy on her neighbor like this especially
as she didn't even know her! And how awful if she was caught, crouching like a dirty
old man in the shrubbery, allowing herself to become excited by somebody else's
private life! She would certainly never be admitted to Clare Hotchkiss' smart social set
if anybody knew that! Yet despite herself she knew she had to stay. The sight was
exciting her God, how it was exciting her! but there was something else as well... in
some dim and indistinct way Margie knew that she was at a turning point in her life.
She had to stay and see what happened. She must! It was almost as if some outside
force were compelling her to remain there, hidden in the shrubbery while the luscious
brunette in the house stroked her own lewdly exposed pussy in an abandon of sheer
desire.
Margie was hypnotized by the sensuous writhing of the dark-haired girl on the leather
couch, breathing faster and faster as Clare's salaciously probing fingers worked
themselves inside the moist pink edges of her sucking cunt, swelling the hotly
throbbing clitoris into erection, slowly widening the lips. She slipped her middle finger
in and out smoothly between the wetly glistening, hair-covered flanges as her legs
jackknifed back once more, squashing her full-fleshed breasts against her heaving chest
while her grinding ass cheeks rose and fell in lewd response to the inquiring finger.
Margie tensed in momentary shock as the girl's second and third fingers joined the first
and, thrusting her pelvis upwards from the couch, she stuffed all three into the hungry
pink folds. The excited redhead knew she ought to run home now, before it was too
late, before her own erotically aroused desires became uncontrollable.
But she remained rooted to the spot. Clare was threshing about like a woman possessed
her soft tanned body writhing on the black leather in a frenzy of lustful passion. The
fingers sank in and out of the hotly clasping vaginal opening in an ever-increasing
rhythm. Her head rolled from side to side on the tightly stuffed couch, her long dark
hair flailing whip-like about her shuddering shoulders as she strove to reach her climax.
And then suddenly Margie gasped aloud. Out of the corner of her eye she sensed
another movement in the room. She moved slightly to one side, lowering the branch of
a rhododendron bush so that she could see more... and then she realized that the naked
brunette on the divan was not alone!
There were two armchairs drawn up to one side of the French window, and in each of
them somebody was sitting!
Margie peered intently through the leaves, squinting her eyes against the glare of the
sun. There could be no doubt about it: Clare's two cronies, the voluptuous blonde Sue
Firman and Sylvia Phillips, with her dark urchin-cut hair, were actually watching the
lewd and obscene display put on by their friend. And each of them was completely
naked too!
Their lustfully gleaming eyes, wide with erotic excitement, were glued to the furiously
masturbating brunette on the leather couch. Sue Firman was leaning forward on the
edge of her chair, her moist lips parted, hanging open, her full breasts bouncing and
quivering as she plunged one hand rhythmically in and out, down beneath the slack
bulge of her belly and into the hotly palpitating crevice between her thighs. Sylvia
Phillips was leaning back, her spare body relaxed against the cushions and her slender
legs spread straight out in front of her. She was cupping the perfectly-formed, pear
shaped mounds of her breasts in the palms of her two hands, rubbing the thumbs
teasingly over the rubbery tips of her large, erect nipples as she oscillated her hips in a
slow revolving motion against the rough cloth covering the seat of the chair.
Margie was gaping at the obscene spectacle of the three naked women in sheer
amazement. What kind of perverted orgy had she unwittingly stumbled upon, for God's
sakes? Was this what went on behind the respectable shuttered facades of the suburb's
social set? What kind of women were these neighbors of hers, that they could indulge
or needed to indulge in such lewd practices while their husbands were away on a hot
summer afternoon?
As she gazed in stupefied astonishment at the depraved sexual tableau on the far side of
the wide glass windows, the voluptuous redhead thought she had never in her life
witnessed such an erotic scene; if she had not seen it with her own eyes, she would
never have believed it!
But her credibility was soon to be strained even further. For the first time since she had
arrived at her secret vantage point, she saw Qare Hotchkiss raise her head. Her
sensually wide-lipped mouth contorted in a grimace of unbridled passion, the nostrils of
her finely chiseled nose were flared, and her eyes under the thickly fringed dark lashes
were staring wildly. She looked like a woman in the last throes of some galvanic fit. As
Margie watched, the mouth opened and closed and the lips writhed to form words,
although she could hear nothing through the thickness of the glass.
As if in answer to her call, a large dog bounded into the room. It was a huge German
shepherd, a beautiful animal with a keen, eager head, large pricked-up ears and a
golden amber coat saddled with black. Margie had often seen the Hotchkisses walking
it down the avenue in the evenings.
Before her fascinated gaze, the girl on the black leather couch froze in the leg-splayed
position of masturbation and the dog jumped up between her thighs. For a moment he
stood there with his head lowered over her lewdly exposed genitals, his pink tongue
curling limply from his panting mouth. Then he lowered his nose and sniffed the
passion-drenched hairs of her cunt, his tail wagging with a trembling motion as though
he had found a bitch in heat.
Margie caught her breath in disbelief. Surely the great beast was not going to...? Surely
Clare wasn't encouraging him actually encouraging him to have some kind of sexual
relation with her? It was unthinkable. She switched her glance to the other two girls.
Both of them were leaning forward eagerly now, their fingers scrabbling wildly among
the moistly curling hairs mantling their squirming loins. She knew she ought to get up
and leave right now. But somehow the sight of the defenselessly naked girl lying
helpless beneath the monstrous dog fascinated her. She couldn't look away. The
thought that the German shepherd might actually rape the sexually aroused brunette
sent shivers of revulsive curiosity tingling through her and she sensed goose pimples
erupting all over her skin. She was uneasily aware that the crotch band of her panties,
lodged in the crevice between her thighs as she crouched guiltily among the shrubs, was
soaked with moisture. She felt strangely cold in the hot sun and she squeezed her
thighs together in an attempt to hold down the persistent flickers of forbidden sensation
mounting there. She was on dangerous ground and she knew it but the compulsive
thought of the lascivious ravishment about to take place under the fascinated gaze of
the two excited neighbors held her rooted to the spot. Tiny throbs of excitement began
to pulse in the swollen bud of her clitoris and she bit her lower Up to drive out the
unwanted tremors of desire that were building in her loins.
Clare Hotchkiss' whole body was tensing now as the dog's cold nose suddenly made
contact with the tiny puckered hole of her anus. She began lasciviously to writhe her
hips as his tongue snaked out and licked wetly up and down the crevice between her
widespread ass-cheeks. Planting his feet between her obscenely splayed thighs, the
German shepherd greedily lapped at the narrow pink slit gashing her curling pubic
hair. He ran his tongue salaciously up and down the full hot length of it, from the
tightly clenched pucker of her anus, up and over the fluted pink edges of her cunt, and
on to the lust-inflated sensation-bud nestling at the apex of her swollen vaginal lips.
She shuddered in an uncontrollable burst of erotic frenzy as the tip of the saliva
dripping tongue swirled around her clitoris and then spread through the entire wet
furrow between her thighs like a knife through soft butter. Squirming in wild abandon
under the dog lapping at her shamelessly exposed pussy-flesh, the dark-haired socialite
jerked as the flicking tongue curled its way relentlessly into her throbbing loins.
Margie quaked among the rhododendrons, her flesh chilled from the sexual stimulation
aroused by participation in something forbidden. The girl on the couch had raised her
hands above her squirming body. Now she dropped them suddenly to grasp the huge
dog's ears, kicking her legs back over her head and hauling his nose forward into her
maddeningly quivering cunt. His giant tongue thrust up the hot wet vaginal passageway
like an attacking lizard, ravishing her upraised loins without mercy. Incoherent cries,
now clearly audible to the watcher in the garden, streamed wildly through the closed
French windows as Clare pleaded with and encouraged the dumb animal slavering
between her writhing, up-thrust thighs. The dog worked on remorselessly, a savage
beast driven by the rutting lust of the wild.
Then suddenly he lifted his head from the trembling crevice of her pussy to nose her
over on her stomach in servile surrender, her body a slave to the maddening tongue
which had so mercilessly lapped her cunt. She was completely dominated by the huge
beast panting over her, her quivering form spread-eagled face downwards on the black
leather couch. The huge head lowered again, the great tongue slithering into the
exposed cleft between the moaning girl's ass-cheeks. She twisted them lasciviously back
towards him, reaching behind her to spread the ivory mounds and give him full access
to the tiny brown circle of her anus. His tongue lashed avidly at her for another long
moment as Margie felt the aching hunger inside her own crouching body spread
tinglingly from her belly up to her passion-swollen breasts. Gasping for breath, she
pressed her thighs still tighter together, squeezing together the wetly throbbing lips of
her cunt to try to quench the fire burning there.
The German shepherd was now nuzzling under the passion-crazed Clare's buttocks
pushing his massive head between her writhing pelvis and the tight leather of the divan.
Margie's eyes widened afresh in amazed disbelief as the dog's head lifted, raising the
voluptuous brunette's loins. His meaning was perfectly clear... and the girl obediently
knelt up, elevating her wide-spread ass-cheeks, bending before the slavering animal in
abject surrender. As soon as she was on all fours, the huge dog leaped up on the couch
and mounted her, his paws dangling on either side of her waist, the glistening scarlet
point of his penis sliding out from its huge hairy sheath.
Margie watched in horrified fascination as the dripping, tapered cone of flesh slipped
and danced along the hot wet crevice of her cunt while the animal trembled and jerked,
trying to bury his quivering animal-cock deep in her subjugated body.
Clare looked lustfully back over her shoulder, shifting her clenching buttocks from side
to side in an attempt to capture the lengthening red shaft: like a bitch in heat, she
strove to sheath the long wet organ in her voraciously grasping cunt. The sharp tip
missed, slid up to find her momentarily relaxed anus, and strove to enter there. Clare
tensed, arching her back to avoid the spearing prod, but the dog returned at once to the
attack. Convulsively jerking his loins, he thrust blindly forward, the thin point of his
penis sliding unsuccessfully beneath, along the softly hair fringed crevice of her wet
cunt, to ram itself against her swollen clitoris. The gleaming scarlet of his jabbing
animal-cock contrasted startlingly with the fevered pinkness of Clare's passion-inflamed
pussy, splaying the lips wider as his still unhoused shaft rubbed between them. Margie
held her breath as the huge dog bucked furiously behind the kneeling girl, trying to
skewer her on the still-lengthening taper of its dripping penis. Finally the kneeling
brunette, desperate with frustration, reached back to grasp the slippery rod herself,
guiding its point into the pinkly glistening slit of her cunt, spreading it wider and wider
apart with every thrust of the animal's loins.
Clare's head snapped back and she gave an inarticulate cry as the huge German
shepherd buried the cone-shaped length of his immense penis deep in her wetly
clasping pink hole. It slithered forward with a sucking rush until it was sunk to the hilt,
his furry balls swinging below the soft curls of her lust-drenched pubic hair.
The girl on the couch swung her head from side to side in relief as she moved
rhythmically backwards to meet the thrusts of the panting dog. With its forelegs
trapping her waist, she began to undulate her body and move her buttocks in lewd
circles, abandoning herself to the delicious animal fucking she was receiving from
behind. Her milk-white breasts were dancing beneath her writhing torso, bouncing in
time to the skewering cock of the dog as it slid far up into her from behind a hot
relentless poker of glistening flesh burying itself deep in her belly.
Her face, contorted in rapture from the erotic screwing the dog was giving her, was
turned toward her two friends, both of them wildly finger-fucking themselves in time to
the convulsive jerks of the German shepherd's loins as their taut-peaked breasts
quivered on their heaving chests. Outside in the shrubbery, Margie's breath was coming
in tight little gasps and the burning sensation bubbling deep in her belly grew in
maddening intensity each moment she watched the feral ravishment of the abandoned
girl in the house. She bit harder on her lower Up to keep back a groan of frustration.
Clare had gone completely out of her mind now. She was shouting lewd
encouragement to the dumb beast through clenched teeth. She was begging him to fuck
her harder and faster until he spewed his cum far up into her cunt. In her lust-crazed
state of exaltation, she wanted to be filled up with animal sperm and that was all that
mattered: she was no longer human herself but simply a quivering mass of passion
deranged flesh that ached to be subjugated. She was reveling in the humiliation of being
screwed by this panting beast in front of an audience and she ground her buttocks
fiercely back against his hairily jerking body like any other animal. Margie stared in
abject fascination as the tiny rivulets of moisture coursing down the girl's ass cheeks
glistened in the sunlight streaming through the windows as it ran slowly down the
backs of her thighs.
Suddenly a piercing cry sobbed through the French windows into the garden. Clare was
twisting her head wildly from side to side, her long dark hair sweeping the black leather
couch. She was in the initial throes of an orgasm and she was screwing her buttocks
back against the dog's pistoning cock like a she-demon gone insane. The giant animal's
tongue hung slavering from his panting mouth as he fucked into the waving loins from
behind. His saliva dripped steadily onto her back, mingling .with the perspiration
soaking her heaving thighs.
She screamed again and rammed back savagely against the dog just as he jerked
forward and his animal-cock began spitting its sperm in hard deep spurts up into her
clasping vagina. Margie watched, riveted, as the trembling flesh of the girl's buttocks
began contracting uncontrollably, signaling the orgiastic upheaval deep in her quivering
belly. Thick white fluid oozed from her ravaged cunt, squeezing past the penis of the
rutting German shepherd to run in sticky white trails down the ivory skin of her thighs.
Her whole pubic mound glistened, shining around the inflamed pink flesh of her cunt
and the darkly soaked pubic hair as she pitched forward onto the couch.
As the rapidly deflating cock slithered from her ravaged cunt and he stood above her
wagging his tail in evident appreciation, he dropped his head in a final act of obscene
depravity and licked at the whitely oozing cum seeping from her still widespread and
quivering cunt.
Sylvia Phillips and Sue Firman had slipped out of their chairs at the first signs of Clare's
orgasm and now they were rolling on the floor, thrashing their limbs in a lewd frenzy
of writhing flesh as they furiously scrabbled at each other's wetly glistening pussies. The
two heads, the blonde and the dark, clung lustfully together as their two pairs of lips
nibbled and sucked at lewdly probing tongues. The four fleshily bulging breasts
smashed together in a sweating welter of lasciviously sliding skin.
And then suddenly a second dog bounded into the room another German shepherd,
less heavily built and more finely drawn than Clare's, with a pale biscuit colored coat
dappled in black and tan. Margie recognized him at once: his name was Major and he
belonged to Sylvia Phillips.
He ran straight to the nakedly entwined couple on the floor and, nosing aside the
exploring hands of Sue Firman, began frantically lapping at his mistress' cunt. At the
same time Clare's dog Margie thought she had once heard him called Rudi jumped
down from the leather couch and ambled across to Sue, licking experimentally at the
blonde's wildly undulating loins.
Gasping afresh at this further example of sexual depravity, Margie wondered where
could the third dog be for Sue herself also possessed a German shepherd, a great black
beast, larger than either of the others, of whom so far there had been no sign.
Her question was answered sooner than she expected.
As she stared thunderstruck at the obscene debauch going on in the room beyond the
shrubbery, a cold wet pressure manifested itself suddenly against the sensitive skin at
the back of her tightly clenched, crouching thighs. At the same time she heard hoarse
panting breath and a rough tongue began licking fiercely at the soaking crotch band of
her panties in the wet crevice between her legs.
The voluptuous redhead pitched forward and crashed heavily among the rhododendron
branches, twisting round with a gasp of alarm to see the missing dog standing over her
wagging his tail, his slavering tongue draped wetly over the glistening teeth spiking his
gaping jaws!
He had come upon her unaware from behind and thrust his cold nose up her too-brief
skirt!
It was too much for Margie. After the wild erotic excesses she had witnessed through
the French windows of the Hotchkiss house, the sight of the savage beast standing
panting over her own loins filled her brain with a mindless horror. With an inarticulate
cry, half revulsion and half terror, she scrambled panic stricken to her feet, burst
through the shrubbery, and ran frantically across the lawn towards the gates, the
avenue and her own home!


Chapter 3

A hand stole lasciviously down the softly muscled curve of Margie Crossley's belly as
she lay in bed the following morning, pausing briefly over the shallow flesh mantling
the hard ridge of her pubic mound and then wandering gently on to cup the warm
springy hair shielding her cunt. At the same time another hand moved up from the
slender taper of her waist to caress the soft mound of one ripely swelling breast, the
forefinger and thumb rolling and tweaking the bud-like nipple into throbbing hardness.
The fingers of the hand roving her loins parted the trembling hair-covered vaginal lips
and one inserted itself teasingly into the interfolded, softly creased depths of flesh
between them. Probing and exploring, the inquiring digit stroked up and down the
whole length of the hairy furrow between her legs until suddenly, welling up between
the fleshy lips, beads of her vaginal secretions moistened the way and the finger sank
deeply into Margie's hotly throbbing cunt. It rotated there for a moment, widening the
clasping passage of her vagina, and then traced a lustful path back up to the splayed
apex of her cuntal orifice where it toyed in maddening circles around the erectile,
swollen shaft of her clitoris.
Half asleep and half awake, the voluptuous redhead under the single sheet screwed her
buttocks lewdly down into the mattress under the relentlessly probing finger, at the
same time arching her back to thrust her breast more firmly up against the hand
caressing her nipple.
"Ooooooh!" she murmured drowsily. "That's so gooood!"
The fingers of the hand plucking at her passion-swollen nipple tensed savagely over her
up-thrust breast. Between the widespread lips of her now wetly quivering cunt the
inflamed bud of her clitoris pulsated wildly under the expert ministrations of the
invading digit.
Her breathing quickened, jetting through her half-opened mouth in short harsh gasps,
as the gyrating fingertip slaved furiously at the blood-engorged clitoral shaft that was
flooding the whole lower half of her threshing body with fierce tremors of desire. The
head with its tumbling auburn halo turned frenziedly this way and that on the pillow.
The entire drenched oval of her vulva, with its hair-flanged fleshy lips splayed wide and
trembling under the obscenely raping hand, ran slippery and glutinous between her
quaking thighs. Her knees jerked up under the sheet.
And then suddenly the muscles of her belly tensed and a long shudder convulsed her
frame. Her loins jerked up and down on the bed in a galvanic orgiastic spasm as she
opened her mouth wide and cried:
"Aaaaaagh! Oh God! Oh God, I'm cumming! I'm cumming... I Oooooogh!"
Her cuntal juices spurted wetly out around the fingers that had ravished her genitals
and then gradually the quivering contracted muscles relaxed, her spread legs
straightened, the sheet subsided, and she crooned dreamily: "Oooooh! That was nice...."
A moment later, shifting restlessly on the sweat-soaked mattress, she exclaimed aloud:
"Too bad the hands had to be my own!"
She lay and stared at the ceiling. The early morning sun streaming in through the
slatted
Venetian blind cast patterned bars of light and shade reflected from the dressing table
mirror across the whitewashed surface. Luke had got up and gone to work an hour ago;
they had scarcely exchanged two words since he had so brutally forced her to suck him
in the kitchen the night before last.
Listening idly to the sounds of passing traffic in the Avenue the whine of the milk
roundsman's electric truck, a newsboy's bicycle bell, the hollow roar of Edgar
Hotchkiss' Galaxy starting up she became aware of an odd thing. Usually when she
masturbated, it was to indulge in some fantasy love scene with a movie star or someone
she had seen on television... but today, she realized guiltily, it was no human being who
had glided in with masculine arrogance into her erotic dream. The scene that had kept
replaying itself in front of her closed eyes with hypnotic insistence was the
extraordinary debauch she had witnessed yesterday from the shrubbery in the
Hotchkiss garden! How could those civilized, elegant women allow their dogs to touch
them sexually? What insane lusts drove them to couple with savage dumb beasts like
that? How could they possibly think of so depraved and degrading an action and in
front of each other too!
But the forbidden reflection that returned again and again try how she would to push it
firmly into the back of her consciousness was simply: what was it like? Was it exciting?
Did it drive you crazy like the touch of a stranger's hands for the first time? How did a
dog's cock feel stuffed into your pussy? Wasn't it revolting to sense those hairy paws
locked about your waist? Margie sighed and threw back the sheet. It wasn't a thing she
was ever-likely to experience for herself, she thought as she swung her slender legs to
the ground... nor was it one she would ever want to. So presumably she would never
know.
Nevertheless, even if she didn't want to know not really about the dogs, she did want to
know about Clare Hotchkiss. She had promised herself that she would call again today.
She would have to hurry if she wanted to get the marketing done, and the food for
dinner prepared, before she left immediately after lunch. Hastily, she shrugged on a
housecoat and headed for the shower.
Her determination to make the acquaintance of Clare, despite the debased and
horrifying scene she had witnessed at her house, still prevailed in the early afternoon.
She put on a slightly longer dress a lightweight green linen one that matched her eyes,
with a demure white collar and walked out into the sunshine.
This time luck was with her. The supercilious maid passed her with a wicker basket and
a long shopping list just before she got to the gateway of the Hotchkiss house, and
Clare herself was alone, lying on a mattress by the pool.
"But my dear," she exclaimed, rising to her feet as Margie nervously introduced herself,
"how very nice of you to call!"
"It's just that... being, well, kind of neighbors, I thought well, I guess I thought maybe
we ought to know each other," Margie explained haltingly.
"I absolutely agree," Clare Hotchkiss said warmly. "You live just across the street from
the Firmans, don't you? I was saying to Edgar only the other day, I felt real guilty not
having called on you myself. But you know how it is one has so many things to do, so
many people to see, these days. You must bring your husband to our next cocktail party
and get to know some of the folks in the neighborhood."
"The dark-haired girl looked at her with a faint smile of amusement curling the wide
lips of her sensuous mouth. She was wearing high-heeled pumps in white kid and her
voluptuously curved body was sheathed in a tight-fitting navy blue one piece swimsuit
with a halter neck and a low cut back. In the bright sunlight Margie could see the
faintest down of black hairs shadowing the smooth furrow over her tanned spine. It was
incredible to think that the buttocks and breasts and belly and loins so respectably
encased in the stretch fabric of the swimsuit were the very same ones she had seen
wildly thrashing in the throes of sexual abandon through that window over there only
yesterday afternoon! She could hardly believe that the brunette's perfectly made-up,
beautiful face was the same countenance she had watched lewdly encouraging a savage
German shepherd to ravish her obscenely exposed genitals twenty-four hours before!
For a moment she wondered if the whole thing had been a dream engendered by her
own loneliness and frustration. Then, lying asleep in the shade of the Spanish chestnut
beyond the pool, she saw the dog. His hairy flanks were heaving in the heat and she
knew with an inward shudder that it had been no dream. The memory of those flanks
quivering and jerking as the animal spewed his hot cum into her hostess's lust-inflamed
cunt was too vivid for her to have imagined it!
"It's so hot today, isn't it?" Clare was saying. "Do let me go fix you a nice cool drink.
I'm afraid my maid's out for a couple of hours. I sent her down to the supermarket and
then he tells me she has to visit some sick relative downtown and it was her afternoon
off only yesterday! Servants are such a problem aren't they? Do you have servant
trouble?"
"Er not really," Margie said.
"What can I get you dear? Gin and something? An old fashioned?"
"No really a glass of fruit juice would be fine, thanks."
"I think there's some orange juice in the freezer," Clare said. "I tell you what you don't
have a pool, do you?"
"Not yet. Luke my husband can't decide which model to have installed," Margie lied
valiantly.
"Well, why don't we have a little swim, then we can talk and have our drinks while we
dry out in the sun afterwards. There's a spare swimsuit of mine hanging in the pool
house over there. You go slip into that while I fix the drinks, huh?"
Clare's high heels clacked away across the paving as Margie made her way to the
shingled pool house on the far side of the patio. The dog opened one eye and regarded
her sleepily as she passed, and then closed it again. The swimsuit was a bikini. It was so
brief that the two pouched triangles of the top barely covered the tips of Margie's tautly
swelling breasts and softly curling tufts of pubic hair sprouted from the sides of the
skimpy "vee" sheathing her loins. In the close, woody gloom of the pool house, she
regarded herself critically in the long mirror fixed to the wall at one side of the clothes
hooks. The two halves of the revealing garment, rather than concealing it served only to
accentuate the voluptuous curves of her ripely contoured body... the deep cleft between
her full, high-set breasts, the richly rounded half moons of her buttocks, the
breathtaking sweep of her belly as it plunged softly down and in towards the crevice
between her thighs. She looked in a way more naked than if she had been wearing
nothing at all!
Mentally, Margie gave a nonchalant shrug. What the hell! She was swimming and
drinking at Clare Hotchkiss' pool with the hostess herself! She wasn't ashamed of her
body. And anyway, it wasn't as though there had been any men present.
Tying back her shining auburn tresses with a ribbon, the young wife walked out into
the sun.
Clare was already sitting on the edge of the pool with her elegantly tapered legs dipping
into the shimmering blue water. There were drinks in tall glasses on a wheeled buffet
table under a striped parasol nearby. "My!" she said, looking up appreciatively. "You
look good in that bikini!"
"Oh... thank you. I... Well, I was afraid that perhaps I was a little too big for it." Margie
was confused. She felt self-conscious in the revealing swimsuit, and Clare's thickly
lashed dark eyes were sweeping up and down her curvaceous figure in a frankly
appraising way that made her feel slightly ill at ease. It was almost as though she was
being ogled by a man!
"With a body like yours, you should worry!"
Clare said. "Honestly Margie you don't mind if I call you Margie, do you? you have one
of the sexiest figures I've seen in years!"
Luke's auburn-haired wife didn't know what to say. Maybe in the Hotchkiss's set it was
the thing for women to pay each other extravagant physical compliments. She would
have to go along with it until she knew the score. But the ravishing brunette's eyes were
roving over her hips and thighs and nakedly revealed breasts with such unbridled
approval that she found it disconcerting. Now she was staring unashamedly at the tight
triangle of fabric sheathing Margie's loins. Uneasily aware of the softly curling tufts of
pubic hair showing on either side of the material where it clove into her vaginal slit, the
redhead involuntarily recalled the sight of Clare's two friends, Sue and Sylvia,
uninhibitedly caressing each other on the floor while their hostess was being ravished
by a dog! The confidence she had felt in the pool house evaporated and she wished
suddenly that she was wearing something that covered her up completely. "It's so hot!"
she said nervously. "I guess I could go for that swim right now!"
It was while they were fooling about with a large inflatable beach ball at the deep end of
the pool that her doubts were renewed. Clare had thrown the shining rubber globe high
into the air and they were leaping out of the water like dolphins to see who could reach
it first. Both of them missed and they sank, laughing, back into the depths. As she
bobbed to the surface, Margie sensed Clare's seal-like body in its form-fitting one piece
swimsuit arrowing through the water close to her. And then, as they were treading
water, flipping the wet hair back from their eyes, one of the brunette's bronzed knees
floated up, apparently inadvertently, and nudged her gently in the crotch. As Margie's
eyes widened, Clare smiled mischievously, looking at her through half closed wet
lashes, and turned on her side to strike out for the edge of the pool. Forging away
through the water, she drew the whole length of her shin-bone teasingly between her
guest's legs, grazing the satiny skin against Margie's bikini-covered vulva and sending
an electric tingle through her loins with a flick of the toes at her vaginal lips. At the
same time the backs of Clare's fingers, trailing across the surface of the pool, brushed
suggestively against the full swell of one of the astonished redhead's breasts.
A moment later, as though nothing had happened, Clare was hauling herself up the
ladder out of the water and asking Margie, in her best hostess manner, wouldn't she
like to come out now and have a drink?
Lying relaxed on an air mattress sipping the refreshing chilled orange juice, Margie
looked at her new found friend and wondered if perhaps she hadn't been mistaken.
That apparently intimate contact in the water could easily have been involuntary. Her
imagination had been so fired by the scene she had spied on yesterday that she was
blowing up a casual collision in a swimming pool which was after all the most natural
thing in the world into a psychological intrigue loaded with sexual significance! The
whole idea was crazy! Sprawled out in the sun with the droplets of water glistening on
her tanned skin, Clare was gossiping about her neighbors like any other young
California matron on that hot afternoon.
Twenty minutes later, Margie accepted another drink. That fruit juice certainly made
her feel good! After her swim she felt drowsy and relaxed. The sunlight glinted on the
blue water of the pool, still occasionally swilling against the tiled sides after their recent
swim, with the abandoned beach ball bobbing solitarily in the center. Beyond the bright
blossoms of roses and zinnias, the sprinkler tinkled musically as it whirled its fine spray
around the lawn. A few white clouds drifted across the empty azure sky from the
direction of the ocean.
After they had made light conversation for a little longer, Margie drained her glass and
said: "Well, it's been real nice meeting you. I enjoyed the drink and the... swim very
much. But I guess I ought to think of getting on home now: it's Saturday and my
husband should be home early."
To her astonishment, she found that her words were slurred; she had difficulty getting
some of them out at all! And when she got to her feet, the flat stones of the patio tilted
crazily to one side for a moment and the sun-scorched garden spun dizzily from side to
side before they settled down into their normal calm. Had she been lying in the sun too
long? She turned to Clare and mumbled incoherently: 'That was just plain orange juice
I was drinking, wasn't it?"
Her hostess' sensuous lips curved into that mischievous smile again. "Well, maybe I
added just a little vodka," she admitted.
"Vodka!" Margie gasped. She had never tasted the fiery Russian spirit before. No
wonder she was feeling high!
The wealthy brunette laughed aloud. "It won't hurt you," she said, "It gives the fruit
juice a bit of life, don't you think?"
"It's the first time I've ever had it."
"There has to be a first time for... everything," Clare said, staring right into the tipsy
redhead's eyes. "And there's one good thing about vodka: you can't smell it on the
breath, so your husband will never know!" She paused, still holding Margie's gaze
almost as though some extra unspoken communication was passing between them, and
then added: "Now you run along to the pool house, honey, and get some clothes on
while I take these glasses back into the house."
Margie had just stripped off the now dry bikini and was reaching for her panties and
brassiere when the light streaming in through the half open door darkened and Clare
walked into the room.
With a smothered gasp of embarrassment, the voluptuous young wife snatched at her
dress and prepared to hold it in front of her naked body.
"I thought I'd take the opportunity to slip into something a little warmer myself," Clare
said. "The heat's gone out of the sun now no, don't do that! You have such a lovely
figure, it seems a shame to hide it away!"
For the second time that afternoon Margie found herself at a loss for words. "I bet that
husband of yours doesn't appreciate it as much as he should either," the brunette went
on, slipping out of the shoulder straps of her own swimsuit. "I see him coming home
late every night, you know."
There was so much truth in her words that Margie could only stare. "How often does
he fuck you?" Clare continued. "I mean really fuck you good so that you cum too? Not
often enough, I'll bet! Not as often as you'd like him to." With a single deft movement,
she stripped off the one piece costume, leaning down to step out of it so that the two
curvaceously naked girls stood facing one another in the hot, close atmosphere of the
pool house. Their breasts and bellies gleamed dully in the dim light.
Margie's mind was reeling. The vodka was really beginning to get to her now.She could
feel her own heart furiously beating in the damply stifling hot gloom of the room. "I-I
I," she stammered. "I don't really... I mean I..."
"I've always believed," Clare went on, "that the deprived of this world should stick
together, haven't you? Whether it's the spiritually deprived, or those deprived of food,
of liberty... or of love!" She stepped boldly up to her naked guest and placed the fingers
of both hands firmly on either side of Margie's soft narrow waist, letting the thumbs fall
gently on the smooth sweep of her belly. "I think we're both deprived of love, you and
I," she murmured, her compelling eyes gleaming in the dusk of the pool house. "Why
shouldn't we give each other what others deny us?"
"Y-y-y-you?" Margie stuttered. "But I thought..."
"Oh I know what you think. I know what everybody thinks. I'm the leader of the
neighborhood social set with the richest husband on the block and all that. Mind you,
Edgar's all right. He's fine. But he has so many business worries, he doesn't find too
much time for sex or for me. I bet your husband's the same. Isn't he?" she insisted.
The befuddled redhead nodded dumbly. She didn't know what to say.
Clare was rotating her thumbs imperceptibly in the supple flesh of Margie's abdomen,
drawing the skin of her belly up tight and then releasing it so that the luxuriant triangle
of softly curling auburn pubic hair between her thighs rose slightly and fell, stretching
up the fleshy outer lips of her cunt and then relaxing them in a teasingly hypnotic
motion. "Edgar's got rather a small cock," Clare said. "It doesn't fill my pussy the way I
like it filled. And anyway I prefer to have my cunt sucked. Don't you think a hot
tongue crammed up you, licking and sucking, is so much better than any man's prick?"
Through the fumes of alcohol fogging her brain, Margie didn't know whether it was the
outspoken brunette's unashamed use of the lewd four letter words, the implications of
her brazen invitation to indulge in obscene unnatural acts that she herself wouldn't
consider even with Luke, or the lascivious lesbian gyrations of the girl's thumbs over
her belly but whatever it was, she sensed a maddening tingle of passionate sexual
arousal flaming through her loins. The tiny bud-like nipples on the tips of her breasts
hardened into erection and she felt a warm wetness begin to seep between the hairs of
her cunt as the moistly pink flanges of her vaginal slit grazed erotically up and down
with the movement of her softly trembling belly.
"Sue and Sylvia two friends of mine that I expect you've seen feel exactly the same
way," Clare was saying. "We have little get-togethers every now and then. We're
meeting again here next Friday. Why don't you come along and join us? I'm sure you'd
enjoy it."
A remnant of Margie's moral principles floated up through the drink-clouded depths of
her mind. "Oh no!" she gasped, remembering with an inward shudder the obscenely
degraded spectacle she had witnessed the day before. "No, I couldn't I-I-I couldn't
possibly."
"You seemed interested enough yesterday!" Clare suddenly flashed. "Do you think I
didn't see you lurking out there in the shrubbery? If you're so prim and proper, why in
hell didn't you get out of it as soon as you saw what was going on instead of staying to
the end, eh?"
Margie flushed red to the roots of her auburn hair. Her jaw dropped open in
astonishment and she was so ashamed and humiliated that her eavesdropping had been
discovered that she could only mouth wordlessly in explanation.
"Oh forget it. What does it matter anyway?" Clare cut her short. "What does matter is
that I think you're absolutely beautiful. You have the loveliest, lushest body I've 
seen in years, honey. And I'm sure Sue and Sylvia would agree." Her hands had somehow
moved up Margie's sides so that the thumbs were now pressing into the tautly swelling
bulges on the underside of the young redhead's full breasts. Clare flicked them rapidly
up and around the stiffly rubbery nipples and then squeezed gently at the voluptuously
fleshed mounds as her eyes stared luminously and intently at the embarrassed girl's
face.
Margie sucked in her breath as the forbidden sensation flickering through her excited
loins arrowed suddenly across the sensitive skin of her torso and transformed the whole
of her body into a quivering bundle of nerve-ends raging with desire. She knew she
ought to turn and run. She ought to throw on her clothes and leave right now; but so
compelling were the lustful tremors coursing through her veins, so hypnotic was the
effect of Clare's compulsive personality, that she remained rooted to the spot a helpless
prey to her own unwanted arousal and the other girl's passionate emotions.
Abruptly Clare's hand snaked downwards and cupped Margie's pubic mound, the
fingers curling between the girl's legs to sink softly into the moist warm folds of her
lust-aroused cunt. As soon as she felt the hotly throbbing lips of Margie's hair-fringed
vagina clasp over her probing fingertips, the lovely brunette dropped to her knees and,
parting the pinkly glistening flanges, sank the full length of her scalding tongue deep
into the streaming depths of the young housewife's cuntal passage.
Margie gasped aloud. The lewdly flicking tip of Clare's tongue was sending such shafts
of erotic passion spearing through her loins that her knees turned to water and
uncontrollable shudders rippled through her pelvis in a lustful flood that could not be
denied. She reached instinctively for the dark silken head slaving at her genitals and,
holding it close to her, subsided backwards on to a cushion-strewn daybed by the wall.
As she lay there with her thighs spread wide and her breasts rising and falling in time
with the hoarse breaths rasping in and out of her lungs, Clare shuffled closer. Curling
her arms around the back of Margie's thighs, she brought her hands up and over her
hips so that her fingertips were pressing into the desire-maddened redhead's naked
belly. Then, gently drawing the soft flesh up towards Margie's waist and releasing it
again, she oscillated the passion-swollen lips of the girl's wetly hair-fringed cunt up and
down past the spearing point of her tongue. Feeling the jabbing shaft of flesh slide
rhythmically against the blood-gorged head of her clitoris, the young housewife jerked
convulsively. Her knees drew up as though they were being pulled on wires, offering
the whole flat plane of her lust-moistened loins to Clare's raping tongue. The soles of
her feet slammed down on the kneeling girl's shoulders and she levered her pelvis up
from the daybed to press her seething cunt more closely against the greedily sucking
lips ravishing her naked genitals.
"Oooooooooooh!" she groaned in ecstasy. "Aaaaaaaaaaagh!"
Mellowed by the vodka, her mind was a whirling conflict of contradictory emotions.
How could she allow this girl this stranger, to even touch her sexually, let alone lick
and suck her most secret parts?... How could she, who wouldn't even let her own
husband kiss her there, permit another woman such liberties?... She must be mad even
to think of such lewdly abandoned depravities!... What was she doing? What was she
thinking of? What had happened to her moral scruples, for God's sakes?... And above
all how could she, Margie, possibly be enjoying such salaciously debased behavior?...
But enjoying it she was! God, it was so good! Oh Christ, it was marvelous!... Writhing
and squirming under the expert lashing of Clare's lewd tongue-fucking she thrashed
her body from side to side in an ecstasy of lustful abandon.
Then the hungrily sucking brunette raised her head and demanded: "Don't you like it,
darling? Isn't that what you really want, honey? Do you like me sucking and licking
your tight little cunt the darling hot wet pussy there between your legs? Do you want
me to go on shoving my tongue into you, baby? Shall I suck you until you cum?"
"Oooohhhhh... oh yessssssss! Yes please!"
Margie moaned. "Say it."
"Ooooohhhhhhh... suck me! Lick me! Stick your tongue into me! Suck me until you
make me... until you make me cum!"
"And while I'm sucking and licking your hot little pussy," the insidiously erotic voice
murmured, "you can think of my cunt too my hairy cunt that's streaming wet between
my legs! My cunt that's hot and gaping and trembling because it's exciting me sucking
you!"
"Yessssssss!" the drunken redhead whimpered. "I'll think of your cunt too!"
"And when I've sucked you a little more, will you suck my cunt for me?"
"Ah, yes!" Margie whispered without a moment's hesitation. "Yes, I'll suck your lovely
hot wet cunt too!"
"And we'll go on sucking each other, and sticking our tongues into each other's pussies
until we both cum?"
"Yessssssss!"
"Then you can start right now," Clare said in a suddenly brisk voice, "and you can suck
me until I cum. I'm going to squat over you and ram my cunt into your face and you
must stick your lovely hot little tongue up me and suck me until I cum!"
Nimbly, she sprang up from between the gasping redhead's lewdly splayed thighs and
scrambled onto the daybed. Planting her knees on either side of Margie's quivering
shoulders, she hunched herself down until the soft curve of her belly was brushing
against the maddeningly hardened tips of her neighbor's throbbing nipples and the wet
scythe of hairs outlining her own lustfully aroused genitals was grazing the innocent
redhead's nose and chin. Then, lowering herself gently along the whole trembling
length of Margie's voluptuously spread-eagled body, she brought the passion swollen
pink lips of her vagina down onto the girl's already open mouth.
An electric thrill unlike anything she had ever experienced before galvanized Margie's
loins as the warm fleshy folds of Clare's cunt pressed wetly down over her parted lips.
Instinctively, she flicked her own tongue deep into the hotly clasping hole, sensing with
a pulse-leaping tingle of pleasure the jerk of the brunette's pelvis at the first searing
contact of her probing flesh. The hot pungent taste of Clare's vaginal secretions was
elixir in her mouth; the tantalizing musky odor of woman-sex was about her nostrils;
the all-embracing soft pressure of genital flesh was enveloping her face. Twining her
arms around the depraved brunette's tiny waist, she gave herself up completely to erotic
sensation.
She didn't hear the soft whistle or the pad of paws on the wooden floor. She only felt
suddenly, after the coolness of air blowing over her steaming loins, the searing touch of
a long rough tongue at her cunt! My God! Clare had called in her dog!
For a hundredth of a second, fear, revulsion, shock, and the prudity engendered by a
very moral upbringing froze Margie's squirming frame like a movie halted in mid-scene.
Then an inexplicable sensation of sheer depravity burned through her nakedly lust-filled
young body, a maddeningly intensified feeling of abandon she had no intention of
questioning. As her tongue speared afresh into the trembling thrusting loins of the
brunette whose steaming pussy covered her face, she jackknifed her long legs back with
a convulsive movement to give the unseen German shepherd greater access to her own
liquor-aroused cunt.
In sudden spine-tingling frenzy she writhed frantically beneath the lashing hotness of
the wet animal-tongue as it licked up and down the throbbing smooth-fleshed furrow
between the quivering mounds of her upraised buttocks. She sucked in her breath and
held it until she feared her lungs would burst while the lewdly splayed cunt of the
passion-crazed brunette on top of her ground down onto her gasping mouth, and the
dog's cold nose teased lasciviously against the sensitive area surrounding her up-thrust
anal mouth, its worming tip burrowing with an uncanny knowledge into the tiny
puckered oval.
Ooooooooooooh! she mentally exclaimed at the shocking animal-rape of her obscenely
spread loins, her young mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Oh, God!... I
mustn't... I shouldn't... aaaaaaaaagh! But it's so wonderful, so marvelous!... With his
tongue in my cunt and mine in hers, it's almost like being two people at once the
attacker and the attacked, the ravisher and the raped!... Ooooooooooooh! She choked
inwardly to the unbelievable animal-probing of her unprotected loins by the still unseen
male creature. My God! He was starting to lick her there as if she were just another
bitch dog in heat!... And goddamn, that was just what she was, wasn't it? Could... could
he sense it automatically? Or was he conditioned by his sessions with Clare and her
friends instinctively to plunder any cunt that was offered to him?
Ooooohhhhhh! she inwardly wailed, hearing the dog's simultaneous whimper as he
taunted the tiny wrinkled hole of her anus with his lapping tongue. Good God! He'd
actually fucked Clare herself... he'd stuffed his scarlet throbbing animal-cock right into
her seething pussy until she had cum! Margie had seen it herself the day before! But
surely he wouldn't...? Surely he couldn't....
But the erotically inflamed redhead wasn't so sure in her almost drunken state, she
didn't know what was going on any more. Oh! Oh, what was he doing to her down
there? If only she hadn't unknowingly drunk that vodka!... But then she'd never have
had the pleasure of this voluptuous brunette's hotly throbbing loins clasping her own
tongue in their sucking grasp...! It was impossible to connect her thoughts coherently!
Or to make sense! Not with Clare's cunt open to her wildly spearing tongue and her
own cunt deliciously ravaged by the slavering animal between her thighs! But am I
much more than an animal myself? the confused young housewife thought with
heaving lungs as lewd sensations from the German shepherd's hot, savage tongue
flamed sensuously through her captive loins. Under the twin attack of her two wanton
companions, she bucked and twisted, gasping aloud as she felt the wetly searing 
animaltongue burning upwards towards the passion-flushed lips of her excited young pussy.
Ooooooooh, God!
Margie trembled uncontrollably, her quaking pelvis thrusting ever more fiercely
upwards as the dog swept his moist, branding flesh along the narrow pink crevice
between her widespread thighs and up over the full split of her hair-fringed cunt. From
her quivering rectal mouth it traced the passion-engorged edges of her lust-swollen
pussy lips to the tiny erect bud of her clitoris. Blinding surges of new born lust stabbed
through her nakedly trembling body at the contact of the heated dog-flesh with her
super sensitive cuntal skin. Again and again he lapped between her legs, the thick
length of his fluid tongue spreading throughout her moistly yielding flesh and carrying
her further away from reality with every breathtaking lick!
Hypnotically, it went on and on and the naked, obscenely exposed redhead who lay in a
desire-blinded state of mounting passion between the lustfully driving loins of her
hostess and the incessant wild tongue of an inconceivable, desire-maddened beast, could
only moan out her sensual delight. Unceasingly, the massive dog splayed the smoothly
inflamed intimacy of her secret genital flesh with his probing tongue, finally pausing to
curl it with a lewd thrust far up into her aching wet vaginal passage.
"Oooooohhhhh!" she cried aloud into the wetly throbbing folds of Clare's plunging
vagina. "Oooooohh, heaven! Aaaaaaggh, God, but it's gooooooood!" It was sheer
forbidden wickedness in its most degenerate form but she was loving it!
Over the panting of her breath and the sucking squelch of their two bodies lustfully
coupling in the damp heat of the pool house, she could hear Clare's voice salaciously
encouraging her dog: "Come on boy! Come on Major! There's a good dog! Throw it to
her, boy! Go on, lick her, suck her, stuff your tongue up her hot little cunt... lick the
shit out of her! Go on you lap up the cum from that steaming pussy! There's a good
boy!..."
Margie drew back her head from Clare's own seething loins and gasped: "God, yes...
lick it for me, you beautiful wild dog! Aaaaaaaaagh! like that... yes, yes, like that lover!
Shove it up inside me! Yesssssss! Yessssss! Lick my cunt you wonderful lover, you!
Aaaaaaaagggghhh! Ooooooooooh!"
Lifting her wantonly quaking pelvis and trembling buttocks still higher towards the
animal's frenzied ravaging, Margie hardly knew what she was saying. In the whirling,
drunken maelstrom of overwhelming carnal passion in which she thrashed, the fear and
horror of the powerful beast that she had experienced in her thoughts had washed away
further and further with every lap of his wetly searing tongue! She hardly saw him as an
animal any longer only, with the maddeningly exciting Clare Hotchkiss, as a partner a
magnificent, needed lover who was sending her up into undreamed of heights of
sensual rapture. In her ecstasy, she forced her hands down past the brunette's trembling
shoulders and grasped hold of the dog's furry head to pull his long muzzle tighter into
her throbbing cuntal channel.
His firebrand tongue raced up into her moistly seething hole like a white-hot whip, his
excited animal whines matching Margie's own abandoned whimperings as he zealously
lashed and tongue-fucked the glistening blood-flushed flesh between her obscenely
spread thighs and tautly stretched buttocks.
"Oh! Oooooooh, God! You're driving me mad, lover! Maaaaaad!" the trembling young
redhead gasped hoarsely. Between sucks and nibbles and tongue-thrusts into Clare's
raging cunt, she fell into a rhythmic moaning as her mind slipped further and further
into an ecstatic sensual oblivion under the mesmerizing effects of Major's bliss-inducing
tongue hotly licking and fucking into her wildly inflamed vagina.
Frantically, her pinioned head twisted from side to side between the brunette's
thrashing thighs as the rich girl ground her aching pelvis ever more lustfully against
Margie's slavering lips and mouth. She was lost in a lewd fantasy of perverse desire
while the big dog the big, beautiful, bestial brute of a darling dog! lapped flames of fire
into her seething loins and belly. Was he as excited too, she wondered in her alcoholic
haze? Did his loins quiver and bounce and jerk? Was his belly on fire? Was his
beautiful dog-cock out?... was that obscenely compelling hard scarlet cone of flesh
slipping out of its furry sheath?... Oh God! Clare was still hissing lewdly at the creature
as he slavered beneath her furiously flailing head. Surely she wouldn't tell him to...?
Surely he wasn't going to... going to put that glistening tapered shaft of throbbing
animal flesh into...
The salaciously debased thought sent Margie out of her mind. She could contain herself
no longer. A storm broke in the searing depths of her belly and sent irresistible
lightning flashes of sensation hurtling out through her frenzied limbs to the four
corners of the earth. Her hips arched galvanically up from the daybed. Her abdominal
muscles tensed rigidly... and then suddenly her whole body was seized with a fit of
convulsive shuddering that shook and trembled the universe. Wildly, she drew back her
head from the wetly clasping embrace of Clare's cuntal lips and screamed: "Aaaaaaaagh,
Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm I'm I'm going to... Yes, I am! I'm cumming! I'm
cuuuuuuummmmmmmming!"
Plunging her head forward again into the hotly seeping crevice between Clare's
pounding buttocks, she filled her mouth with the pungently exciting flow of the girl's
cuntal juices and sent her tongue raging up between the lust-swollen flanges of flesh to
swirl hungrily at the slippery pulsating shaft of her desire-swimming clitoris.
The wanton brunette jerked and shuddered... and then her hips began a savage bucking
movement that smashed her cunt again and again into Margie's greedily sucking mouth
as the two girls panted and groaned out their mutual orgasms in a lewd and passionate
embrace on the furiously creaking day bed.
Wagging his tail, the big German shepherd backed away from the obscenely coupled
young women, his front legs flat on the floor, and began barking wildly as if in
applause.


Chapter 4

It was on the following Tuesday that Margie Crossley first saw her husband out with
the other woman. It happened quite by accident really: she certainly had no intention of
spying on him. An old school friend who had moved to the East Coast had called her in
the morning. She was in town for the day; could Margie have lunch with her? They had
eaten on the terrace at Mario's and after they had parted, feeling unusually mellow from
the effects of the food, the hot sun, and the bottle of wine they had shared, Margie had
decided to stroll along the boulevard and look at the stores. Then, chancing to glance in
at the vine-covered patio of a Mexican restaurant, she had seen Luke.
He was sitting at a table with a checkered cloth, his back half turned to the entrance.
His arm was draped loosely around the fleshy shoulders of the woman sharing his
rustic bench a heavy blonde with an over made up face and a coarse, buzzing laugh that
set Margie's teeth on edge. As she paused in mid-stride, her eyes widening with
astonishment, the redhead saw her husband lean sidways and murmur something into
the woman's ear there were cheap plastic flower earrings in garish colors clipped to the
lobes and she knew at once, with a sure instinctive certainty, that they had... done it
together.
The blonde laughed again, her brassy head falling back on Luke's shoulder as he
signaled for the waiter to bring them more drinks. Margie bit her lip to stop the tears
that welled unbidden to her eyes and hurried on.
Her mind was seething with mixed emotions as she made her way home. She had
gotten used to the idea that Luke neglected her because he spent so much time around
pool rooms and saloons: he was a drinking man, after all. But another woman that was
something else! If indeed the blonde she had seen him with was another woman in that
sense. Was she in fact the reason why he always came home late? Did he arrive for his
ruined dinners hot from the sweaty sheets of that bitch's bed? Or was she just some
casual floozie he had picked up somewhere a hustler maybe whom he saw occasionally
when he felt he wanted to throw it to someone? Margie thought not: there had been
something, some indefinable intimacy in the way they looked together, some hint of
mutually shared secrets, that she knew intuitively spoke of a relationship deeper than
anything you could build up with a B-girl you met once a week at Tuesday lunchtime.
Yet if the brassy blonde was her husband's mistress, where did that leave her? She
wasn't even sure that she felt actually jealous. She knew she ought to... but then you
were only jealous of people you loved. And she guessed she had never loved Luke not
really loved him, the way they said it should be on television and in the movies. Sure,
she was fond of him or she had been until recently, until he had been treating her so
badly. He'd excited her, too, in bed... at first. Then she'd cooled off a little when his
demands so unreasonable.
But she had been grateful to him just the same: he'd got her away from home; he'd
given her the house she wanted; they had money.
Nevertheless, she felt she'd repaid anything she owed him in that way. She'd tried her
best to be a good wife... and a faithful one. Until last week, she thought with an inward
guilty shiver at the memory of her sexual rapture with Clare in the Hotchkiss pool
house.
That had given her an insight into the kind of physical ecstasy she hadn't dreamed
existed! She'd never really known how high she could fly until last Friday. She knew it
was wicked, but the very thought of the transports of lustful desire she had shared with
the wealthy young brunette sent tremors of passionate recollection shuddering down
her spine. Well okay if Luke was going to behave like that, she would go to Clare's
house on Friday and meet Sue and Sylvia, and the hell with it! That would show the
bastard!
Suddenly she smiled to herself. Goddamn, she was jealous! She was behaving like any
little girl who saw her boy friend out with a blonde! She wasn't jealous because she
loved him: she was jealous because, even if nobody knew it, that big ass was making her
look a fool by starting an affair with a woman like that. She was jealous because he was
deceiving her, lying to her... she could stand anything but that. And she was jealous
because he was two-timing her with a vulgar tramp: if he preferred a big-breasted
peroxide blonde who must be at least thirty-five to her, Margie, what the hell kind of a
woman must folks think she was, for God's sakes? Luke was quite a man, whatever his
faults; she'd have thought he would have had better taste! Maybe she wasn't jealous
after all, she thought furiously; maybe she was just angry!
By the time she turned in her own driveway she was seething with a bitter resentment.
It was then that she saw the dog.
He was standing on the lawn between two of the rose bushes. His tail was wagging and
with his panting mouth open and his pink tongue lolling out, he looked as if he was
smiling at her. At first she thought it was Clare's dog, Major but then she saw that this
animal was larger and darker and stronger than the Hotchkisses' German shepherd. It
was in fact Bruno... Sue Firman's black beast who had surprised her in the shrubbery
when she had been spying on Clare and her friends. He must have wandered across the
road from the Firman property while she was out, and she had surprised him in her
turn, coming upon him unexpectedly as she soft-footed up the avenue in her rubber
soled shoes. She went into the house and shut the door.
At least, she thought as she showered and toweled herself down, the proof of Luke's
unfaithfulness would give her the excuse for going to Clare's on Friday with a clear
conscience. She need have no fear and no guilt! about what might happen across the
road when she knew her husband was two-timing her with that brassy floozie she had
seen in the Mexican restaurant!
Walking naked back into the bedroom, she slid back the glass doors to let in the
afternoon sun. The dog was waiting outside, looking up at her expectantly. His tail was
still wagging.
"Go home, boy!" Margie said absently. "Go on home... Bruno... go home Bruno, there's
a good dog!"
The German shepherd loped past her into the room.
Margie stared at the great black beast in astonishment. He ambled across to the bed
and lay down beside it, resting his nose on his paws.
She paused at the open window, biting the tip of her thumb indeterminately. She had
been going to lie down for a while, letting the sinking sun's rays soak into her naked
body as she gazed out at the garden and reflected on how best she could handle the
new problem of Luke's infidelity. But she could hardly relax with Bruno lying at the
foot of the bed like an oversize lap dog! Yet how was she to get him out?
"Bruno!" she exclaimed as fiercely as she could, pointing to the window and the
backyard beyond. "Go! Go on home, there's a good dog!"
The German shepherd's amber eyes regarded her solemnly over his lowered nose. His
tail thumped the floor.
She walked across and stood over him. He was wearing no collar so she couldn't haul
him to his feet and lead him forcibly out of the house. Nor did she feel inclined to get
dressed and go over to the Firman place to ask them to take him away. She didn't even
know them yet. But the problem remained: if he wouldn't go when she told him, what
was she to do? Bravely, she leaned down and wrapped her arms around his massive
shoulders, trying to lever the great brute off the floor. He was immovable as a rock. She
stood up with a sigh of exasperation. She hardly dared try anything more violent: he
looked like a fierce animal... and she knew that at the first sign of a warning growl, she
would turn and run! She had never really learned how to handle dogs. And anyway she
was determined not to miss the little siesta in the sun she had promised herself. It was
ridiculous!
"Oh God!" she muttered irritably. "I suppose I shall just have to leave him there until
Luke comes home or until he decides to go!"
Shrugging, she lay down on the bed and stretched her limbs luxuriously in the golden
light. With a low whine, the great dog scrambled up and lay down beside her.
For the second time, the nakedly voluptuous redhead gazed at the powerful animal in
amazement. They'd been in the house almost two months now and he'd never as much
as crossed the boundary of the property before. But today, after he had encountered her
in her neighbor's shrubbery that time, he had appeared to be actually waiting for her! It
was almost as if...
Margie let her head drop back on the pillows. A sudden wild idea had occurred to her.
She didn't know whether it was the wine she had drunk with her lunch, the tantalizing
memories of her afternoon with Clare and Major, the recollection of the astonishing
scene she had witnessed between Clare, Sue, Sylvia and the other dogs, or the
cumulative effect of her disillusion and anger over Luke's behavior or maybe it was a
combination of all four... but all at once she knew exactly what she wanted to do. What
she was going to do, she mentally corrected herself.
It was sheer forbidden wickedness again, wickedness in its most degenerate and debased
form but she was suffused with a devil may care feeling that swamped all her
preconceived ideas and blotted out her scruples. She was damned well going to do what
she wanted to do for once!
She had felt Clare's dog, Major, licking her pussy into a state of such flaming
excitement that she had cum! It had left her, she now realized, full of wildly forbidden
ideas. And since this large, beautiful, black-coated beast seemed to have chosen
deliberately to seek her out, why shouldn't she take advantage of it and make some of
them come true? But this time... this time she wanted to see!
Staring intently at the dog's watchful eyes, she slowly opened her legs and began with
the fingers of one hand to manipulate the hair-fringed lips of her vaginal slit. At the
same time she drew up the knee of the leg nearest to him so that he could gaze full at
the already moistly glistening pink folds of flesh up between.
Bruno raised his head and gave a low whimper. He lifted his muzzle and sniffed the air.
Then, lumbering to his feet, he padded across the bed and stood between her legs
panting, his lolling tongue dripping saliva onto the backs of her now frantically
massaging fingers.
A moment later he licked out at the feverishly wet crevice between Margie's legs, lashed
through its sensually aroused inner flesh like a fluid flame, and whatever she had ever
known as moral or accepted was at that second totally lost! She lay quivering and
jerking on the bed, raising her wetly glistening hand to stroke and pet the soft fur
between his upstanding ears as the huge dog slavered at her hotly offered pussy. Her
breath quickened and her mind raced, filled with the hellishly beautiful thoughts of
what was going to happen! She was a witch, she thought wildly, a devil's advocate, a
monster, she would go to hell but she didn't care... not today she didn't!
From that moment she was no longer concerned with the corrupt perversion of her
intentions only how she was going to accomplish them. In fact, she realized with an
inward shudder of horror, the very lewdness of the debasing idea was itself serving to
spur her on.
Feverishly, the panting German shepherd licked at her cunt, his scorching tongue
slithering over the firmly erected bud of her clitoris. Scintillating shocks of animal-like
lust raged through her obscenely offered loins, singing at the nerve-ends of her
sensually trembling flesh. God, she could see his liquid tongue splaying through the
hotly saturated crevice of her cuntal slit! He had opened her as wide down there as if
his tongue had been a razor! Her sensitive vaginal membrane glinted reflectively up at
her in the rays of the setting sun, its tempting silken curls damply matted. The sight of
it sent lewd tremors racing through her brain! Her thrusting young breasts tingled in
their swollen excitement as she arched her pelvis up off the mattress and frantically
stroked the dog's bobbing head.
And then she saw it! Her sparkling green eyes widened at the gleaming sight of the
animal's thick, scarlet penis emerging from its long black sheath, wet and hard, the
tapered end swinging and dancing as it pressed forward from its fleshy concealment
while he lapped at her scalding cunt. For a long breathless moment, the auburn-haired
young wife watched the massive dog's moistly glistening shaft of naked hardness dangle
beneath his strong animal-loins, her mouth and throat at first drying up and then
salivating at the captivating sight of its fiery rapaciousness.
Now was the time! Here was her chance to do what she wanted!
"Bruno, darling... he down! Lie down, baby! There's a good dog! Margie wants you to
he down, darling! Please Bruno... lie down and roll over!" she softly whispered, fondling
his head and ears. "Lie down my handsome lover and I'll make you happy! I'll... I'll
keep my pussy where you can still lick it if you want. And I hope you do..."
The girl's brain swam in wanton debauchment as she slowly eased herself forward,
working herself onto her knees and backing the m apprehensive animal away from her
raging loins. Once he growled softly, but she didn't stop: there was no other way of
taking control if she was to do what she wanted. As she advanced, she continued to
whisper lovingly, simultaneously stroking her hands over the fur of the dog's tense
body, her eyes continuously fastened on the solid length of long scarlet cock hanging
throbbingly below his furry belly.
Bruno watched her carefully as she raised up and inched forward. He listened to the
soft sounds coming from her mouth. He didn't fear her: she was a friend. Her sensually
soothing touch told him that. In fact, her stroking fingers were confusingly cooling his
mating hunger. He sensed the tension at his animal-loins dissipating beneath her warm,
friendly hand. He moved back himself and lay down, a perplexed whimper working its
way from his throat.
Margie felt the questioning whine vibrate through her as she watched his huge cock
withdraw back into its protective sheath. For a moment longer he watched her and then
he obediently rolled over as she ordered him, while the girl crawled forward and
positioned herself so that her hotly seething cunt was inches away from his nose. She
leaned forward, supporting herself with one hand, so that her head was directly over the
peeking opening of his cock-sheath, where the huge scarlet hardness had disappeared.
Frantically obscene sensations of raw, uncontrolled desire flamed through her body. She
knew what she was going to do and the thought was driving her wild with salacious
excitement.
Gently moving her hips towards his animal face, she spread her legs, lay on her side,
and drew his nose snugly in towards her wetly trembling cunt.
As his tongue lapped once more at the lust-bloated lips of her wildly throbbing genitals
the huge dog whimpered and jerked but he continued to lie patiently on his back as
Margie's passion-driven hand moved slowly towards his hidden animal-cock and she
lowered her cheek to his warm, hard animal belly.
She was the wickedest woman in the world, she thought, clasping hold of his furconcealed 
penis and beginning to manipulate the soft hairy flesh back and forth, feeling
its thickness within! She would be damned forever... and she didn't give a shit! It was
too exciting even to think about!
Oooooooooooh! God, but it was marvelous!
Bruno's thrashing tongue laved sensuously at the maddeningly quivering bud of her
clitoris. The beautiful creature! she thought, clinging tightly to his sheltered cock and
ardently stroking its furry sheath. Oh, the darling!
Slowly, gently, she worked the heavy black protective skin back and forth while the
massive German shepherd lay half on his back, his great head nestled between Margie's
openly spread thighs, his feverish tongue spearing relentlessly into the wet yielding
crevice of her furiously seething cunt.
And then... suddenly it appeared once more the redly tapered glistening tip of his long
thick hardness, slipping ever forward towards her lust-contorted face, a quivering cone
of lustful animal maleness that simply begged to be touched!
Panting, she moved her fingers up to clasp it.
Consumed with wicked passion, the lustful young wife ran her grasping hand up and
down the slender, tapered forepart of Bruno's throbbing hardness, letting the viscid,
slippery dog-flesh slide lasciviously between her trembling fingers. As the dog's tongue
brought ever more convulsive spasms from her liquidly raging genitals and her hand
obscenely masturbated his cock, her mind was a chaos of frenzied desire, guiltily
aroused by the utterly forbidden quality of the debased act she was committing. Her
brain reeled with a mixture of excitement and dread as she felt for the first time the
thick, pulsating dog-cock, a wanton thrill of lewd delight racing through her at its
captivating rubbery tautness. My God, it was no less beautiful than her husband
Luke's... so hot and hard, and swelling even more with every stroke!
She heard Bruno's high pitched whimper as he continued to lick voraciously at her fire
filled cunt, and she increased the pressure and pace of her genital caresses in an effort
to repay him for the mind-shattering pleasure he was bringing her. She felt his powerful
body responding to her obscene fondling of his scarlet thrusting penis, his animal loins
jerking convulsively forward. Bringing up her other hand, she brushed it excitedly along
his hairy belly and cradled his huge sperm-bloated balls, cupping them warmly and
then lightly scratching them with her fingertips. Again he whined, the delicate taunting
caress impelling him to accelerate his lapping at the splayed and flooding mouth of
Margie's tightly clasping cunt.
The smoothly tapered length of his thickening cock thrust rhythmically at her slaving
fingers while his lashing tongue whipped the hot, liquid flesh of her wide-splayed cunt
and its burning vaginal walls in growing ferocity! God, she thought, reveling in the
licentiousness of her abnormal action, she had never in her life imagined such sexual
depravity! Wh-what would his animal-cum be like... if she could make him cum?
Would it be like Luke's... hot and thick, squirting from the tip of his cock in pumping,
jet-like streams? Or were animals different? Oh God she wanted to feel his animal-cum
shooting into her hand, dribbling between her fingers and splashing hotly onto her
breasts and belly! All of the perverted fires of hell seemed to be burning down there
between her scissoring legs. Her belly raged, and her loins, her lust-churning cunt, were
incandescent with the seethe of desire scalding there! Clutching at Bruno's hugely
swollen animal balls, she began to milk and caress them with renewed fury as she
plunged her hand shamelessly up and down his massively throbbing penis. She was
going to cum herself beneath his beautiful tongue... cum as she never had in her life!
She heard the dog whimper, and then whimper again at the mounting tension of his
bestial ecstasy. Christ! she was actually bringing him pleasure too!
Maybe she was going out of her mind, the naked, obscenely slaving young wife thought
as she worked wildly at the German shepherd's quivering cock-flesh... and then
suddenly the powerful dog gave a guttural snarl as his flanks hollowed and he began
furiously to hump his scarlet cock harder and harder into her greedily clasping wet
fingers. Simultaneously she sensed her own orgasm at hand, the pressure building
galvanically deep within her belly, stoking the fire at her loins.
Frantically, she pumped at the slickly thrusting shaft of flesh as her cunt was shot
through with uncontrollable shudders of ecstasy... and then suddenly the burning rod
of animal-flesh in her hand began to jerk wildly in the clasp of her massaging fingers.
As she opened her mouth and panted out her own climax, it spewed forth the searing,
liquid animal-cum from deep in the dog's convulsively constricted testicles... not as she
had imagined it but even more excitingly! The stream of scalding, viscid sperm was like
an unceasing hose, squirting out the top of her tightly clenched hand, spraying the
trembling surface of her skin time and time again, almost as if he was pissing on her!
The lust-filled realization exploded within her in a burst of demonic joy as her orgasm
swept through her body like some earth-destroying, never before experienced cataclysm!
The dog was gone before Margie could even try to comprehend what had happened.
Perspiring, she lay back on the bed in exhausted nakedness, her chest still heaving as
she stared tremblingly at the empty, open windows, a swaying drape, and the long
shadows stealing across the deserted garden beyond.
God, she had done it! And it was incredible, unbelievable! But there wasn't a soul she
could tell about it! In fact the only proof she herself had that the whole thing had not
been some lewdly exaggerated dream, that the unbelievable had really occurred, was the
still warmly glowing trickle of Bruno's sperm that trailed wetly between her fingers and
ran slowly down the quivering curves of her breasts and belly.


Chapter 5

Sue Firman put her coffee cup and saucer decidedly down on the low marble table and
tossed back her blonde hair. "You can say what you like," she announced firmly. "I'll
stick with my original impression: I don't like her!"
"Oh, come on, Sue," Clare Hotchkiss exclaimed. "She's a nice enough little thing, for
God's sakes! And you have to admit she's a looker!"
"I think she's ravishing, just ravishing!" Sylvia Phillips said, her bright, bird-like face
animated and her dark eyes sparkling.
"She certainly ravished you!" the blonde said sourly. "I thought she'd never leave your
pussy alone! Poor Rudi hardly got a look in!"
The three wives were having morning coffee together at Sylvia's house the day after
Margie Crossley's initiation into their group. To their surprise, when the conversation
had turned to sex after the Hotchkiss maid had departed for her afternoon off, the
young redhead had not seemed in the least uncomfortable as they expected. Nor had
she blanched when the dogs were introduced indeed she had seemed to get on
especially well with Sue's German shepherd, Bruno. And when they had taken off their
clothes and the lovemaking had started, they had all even Clare been astonished by the
lustful enthusiasm and lewd excesses in which Margie had uninhibitedly indulged.
Now, as they engaged in a morning-after post mortem, it was beginning to emerge that
the blonde and fleshy Sue was in some way jealous of the newcomer's success.
"I honestly don't see anything wrong with the girl," Clare was saying. "And, as I
already pointed out, she is lovely!"
"If you like that kind of looks," Sue said contemptuously. "She's like one of those
Playboy nudes or a Vargas girl come to life!"
"I don't see anything wrong in that," Sylvia said warmly. "She sure learned fast what
you can do with a tongue! And if she happens to be good to look at as well..." She
shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
"Anyway," the blonde pursued, "it's not so much the way she looks that gets me: it's
the kind of person she is, Talking of looks, though, did you see that dress she was
wearing? My dear!"
"What's wrong with her personality?" Clare asked.
"Oh... you know. I mean, she's not quite, is she? Not one of us. She doesn't rate
socially. Did you ever see that gorilla of a husband she has? I believe he's a salesman or
something." She made a dismissive gesture. "To tell the truth, I thought she was rather
a vulgar little thing, if you want to know. Anyway, I certainly wouldn't want to get
mixed up with her in any way socially."
"Do have some more coffee, Sue," Sylvia said. "I'll ring for some fresh milk... are you
trying to say that you don't want her to come again, dear?"
"Well, of course, I can't stop you or Clare inviting her if you think she's so marvelous,"
Sue Firman said distantly. "Just count me out of any future sessions she's in on, that's
all."
There was a silence. Finally Clare sighed and said: "Of course if that's the way you feel,
Sue... naturally Sylvia and I wouldn't want to do anything without you. After all, We're
kind of a team, aren't we? Besides, there's Bruno! He's the best lover of all the dogs!"
"And he has the biggest cock!" Sylvia put in, her eyes glinting and her dark curls
bobbing up and down as she nodded enthusiastically.

* * *

Margie Crossley was in tears. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday had come and gone
and the expected luncheon invitation to Clare Hotchkiss's on Friday hadn't
materialized. Then, late on Thursday afternoon, Clare herself had walked up the
driveway and rung the bell. She had put it as nicely as she could, with as much tact and
delicacy as she could command, but the stark and unpalatable fact remained, Margie
thought as she flung herself sobbing on the bed after her guest had left. However you
tried to dress it up, they didn't want her any more. She hadn't made it. No amount of
polite phrases and evasions, no soft talk about not wanting to make the existing
arrangement unwieldy, no consoling we-think-you're-very-nice-but could disguise the
brutal and humiliating realization: she wasn't good enough for them!
And it was all, she was sure, on account of that fat, snobbish blonde bitch Sue Firman
across the street! Her dream of a glittering social life in Clare Hotchkiss's set was
shattered! The doors to that burgeoning world of lustful physical experience that she
had only just discovered a madly exciting, lascivious and enticing world in which she
had enjoyed an erotic ecstasy more intense than any she had known those doors that
had only just opened had been slammed in her face!
The cow! she thought vindictively. The goddamn fat cow! for somehow she knew that it
must have been Harry Finnan's wife who was the instigator of her shaming rejection.
She had sensed the blonde's mental withdrawal as soon as they met in Clare's drawing
room. She had noticed the lack of warmth in her voice, the way her eyes never met
Margie's own candid green ones, the fact that she never addressed a remark directly to
her. And the chilling reserve in Sue's manner had even extended to their lovemaking
later on, for in all the lewdly exciting patterns they had experimented with that
afternoon, she alone had never touched Margie and somehow never seemed to have
been available to be touched herself...
Now, damn her, she had used her superior social position and her long friendship with
the other two to bitch up Margie's newfound happiness forever!
I'd like to cut her fucking throat! the angry and humiliated redhead said spitefully to
herself as she tossed and turned in anguish on her bed. I'd like to make the bitch as
unhappy as she's made me. I'd like...
Suddenly she sat up, choking back her tears. There was a way she could make the
snobbish blonde unhappy! Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it before! Most girls
in her position, casting furiously about for a weapon with which to wound their enemy,
would instinctively have made a play for their rival's man. But she would do it
differently! She would strike a shrewder blow still... and fortunately she had the means
to do it!
She would seduce Sue Firman's precious dog!
And she knew how! The big German shepherd had taken to coming across to the
Crossley house every afternoon since he had made his first dramatic appearance the day
Margie had discovered Luke with his mistress. At first she had tried to discourage him,
but it seemed that Bruno had a mind of his own and he refused to leave until he heard
the sound of Harry Firman's Cadillac approaching along the avenue. It would be a
simple matter to entice him into the house again indeed he was always trying to get in
every time she opened a door or window and pick up the threads where they had left
off on that first exciting and forbidden occasion less than a week ago. After that... well,
Margie thought to herself with a vengeful smile, we'll see what happens!
She swung her feet to the floor and crossed the room to the French window. "Bruno?"
she called, flinging it wide. "Bruno? Bruno?... are you there, boy?... come here Bruno,
there's a good dog!..."

* * *

"Bruno?" Sue Firman called. "Bruno? Where is that damned dog, for God's sakes? I
can't think what's come over him these days! He's never there when I want him." She
tossed her blonde head irritably and walked over to the French windows leading to
Clare's patio, her naked breasts bouncing heavily against her bronzed chest.
Sylvia and Clare untwined themselves on the black leather couch and watched as she
whistled fruitlessly into the garden. "Darling, leave it," Clare said. "He's probably gone
off on some expedition of his own. You know what dogs are!"
"Sure I know," Sue replied. "Obedient. Or that's what they should be. Bruno always has
been, until the last few days. That's why I can't understand "
"Oh Sue!" Sylvia interrupted. "Do come off it! Rudi was just beginning to... you know!
Come on back here and let's get together again!" Reaching down the length of her
slender body, she fingered apart the curling dark hair at her loins to expose her pinkly
gleaming vaginal slit and turned to fondle the German shepherd panting at her side.
The fleshily curvaceous blonde sighed. "Well all right then," she said, returning to the
divan to plunge her hand under the heaving flanks of Clare's dog, Major, "But I'd sure
like to know what that damned Bruno is doing right now!"

* * *

Margie raised herself cautiously to her hands and knees on the bed. Beside her, the
massive German shepherd lay with inquiring eyes, the hardened scarlet cone of his
animal-cock throbbing wetly beyond the hot clasp of its furry sheath. The voluptuous
redhead was trembling. For over a week now she had been coaxing Bruno into the
house each afternoon... and every day she had masturbated him until he had cum,
establishing a pattern that the big dog was now unable to break. His animal-senses were
conditioned to the imperative after-lunch summons from the Crossley's French window,
and the delicious fondlings and manipulations from Margie's fast-becoming-expert
hands, followed by his daily orgasmic release as she frenziedly fingered herself on the
bed beside him. She had listened with vengeful amusement to Sue's ineffectual calls and
whistles from across the street the previous Friday and again today... and now she was
going to prove her mastery over the fleshy blonde's dog once and for all! She would
make goddamn sure that he was so dependent on her that he would never again take
part in any of the depraved Friday afternoon sessions at the Hotchkiss house unless she,
Margie, was there too! If the snobbish bitches wanted to have Bruno, the powerful,
beautiful, darling Bruno, in with them, then they would damned well have to have
Margie Crossley too! It would be a package deal, she thought with a bitter inward smile
and this afternoon was to be the clincher!
Above the ripely swelling mounds of her hanging breasts, her heart thudded within her
as she knelt on all fours on the bed. Her erect and bud-like nipples throbbed achingly
and the familiar fire in her loins was raging like an inferno between her spread thighs.
Her mind, steeped now in wanton debauchment, was reeling with the lustful knowledge
of the incredibly obscene depravity she was about to instigate. It was insane... it was
unbelievable... it was the most lewdly debased thing she had ever heard of... and by God
it was exciting!
She was actually going to make Bruno fuck her!
Her breath sobbed in and out of her lungs in hoarse gasps as she tremblingly reached
beneath her with one hand and slowly separated the damply hair-fringed lips of her
passion-flushed cunt, moistly parting them to reveal the intimate wetness of its hot pink
inner flesh. For a moment she ran her forefinger up and down the quivering cuntal
folds, lubricating the entire scalding split nestling in the hairy furrow between her legs...
then, leaning down to rest her shoulders and sideways-turned face on the pillows, she
stretched both hands behind her to grasp the full rounded moons of her buttocks and
draw them lasciviously apart.
As the big German shepherd raised his head to stare at the lewdly exposed vaginal
opening glistening pinkly among the tangled hairs lining the cleft between Margie's
obscenely splayed ass-cheeks, the lustfully excited redhead whispered softly: "Darling
Bruno!... come on, boy! Fuck me! Fuck me from behind as if I was one of your own
bitches!... fuck your mistress, Bruno, there's a good dog!..."
The use and the sound of the salacious four-letter word repeated again and again
inflamed her passion infused brain, fanning the flames licking at her trembling belly
and feverishly moistened loins. Panting wildly, she looked back from her obscenely
assumed position to meet her animal lover's glowing amber eyes as they gazed at the
up-thrust mounds of her pervertedly offered buttocks.
The bed shook as Bruno heaved himself to his feet and thrust his nose at the obscenely
spread cuntal slit. Frantically, Margie pulled at the resilient white moons of her ass
cheeks until the tiny puckered mouth of her pink anus was opening and closing in
front of the dog's sniffing muzzle. And then suddenly she squealed with delight as she
felt his warm damp tongue licking down through the widespread crevice between her
naked buttocks, pausing to stab at the wrinkled and trembling rectal opening before it
lashed further down towards the passion-inflamed split of her widely exposed vagina.
Would he just lick her until she came today, as he always did... or would he, now that
she had put herself in the right position, actually fuck her? What would it be like? How
would it feel to have that hard and redly glistening cone of animal-cock rammed deep
into her belly? What would it be like to sense the hotly clasping lips of her cunt
wrapped around Bruno's throbbing and slippery shaft? Margie whimpered in erotic
anticipation as the dog's enticing lapping tongue splayed open the blood-swollen lips of
her warmly seething pussy, licking wetly over and through the tingling, electrified folds
to the hardened bud of her quivering erect clitoris.
She whimpered and mewled as the caressing ribbon of flesh lingered tantalizingly there
for a moment and then suddenly she gasped and shuddered as the huge German
shepherd mounted her shamelessly upraised buttocks and locked his muscular hairy
forepaws on either side of her slender waist. Feeling the hot, hard animal-weight of his
body against the base of her trembling spine, Margie looked sideways into the mirror
on the dressing-table and saw with a forbidden inward thrill the reflection of their
obscenely coupled bodies in the glass... oh God! There it was!... her waiting loins
quivered anew as she saw his hugely mirrored red cock slither forth even farther from
its concealing sheath. The sight of its long thick hardness was driving her out of her
mind with the need to feel it racing licentiously deep up inside her naked belly. She
stared fascinated at its wetly glistening tip and watched with lewdly fixed eyes as Bruno
began jerking his loins, straining to guide the shining scarlet rod of flesh towards the
pinkly waiting wetness of her desire-inflamed cunt.
Releasing one buttock, she felt for her powerful lover's rigidly expanding animal-cock
and felt his furry forelegs tighten around her naked hips and thighs as she nudged the
quivering head against her pussy and sensed the first hot contact of his wet-tipped
hardness with her excitedly opening cunt.
"Ooooooooh!" she moaned ecstatically. "Aaaaaaah! That's right Bruno my darling! Put
it into me! Fuck me, you darling dog!"
Her breath was thrillingly whipped away before the piercing charge of the dog's
muscular haunches as his huge hardened cock soared far up into the hot, dilated
channel of her wetly clutching vagina. She felt its massive cone-shaped hardness
spreading open the trembling folds of her sensitive inner vaginal flesh, smoothing out
every tiny fold and wrinkle of her liquidly ridged passage in half-painful joy.
Uncontrollably, she grunted and gasped her lustfully blinded rapture in time to the
rhythmically increasing thrusts of the animal-lover fucking vigorously into her from
behind.
In almost insane erotic passion, Margie thrust her own hand between her milk-white
hip and Bruno's contracting flank to warmly cup and squeeze his heavily bloated balls
in their hairy pouch. Her wild and passionate whimpers blended with Bruno's. lustful
whines as the mighty dog fucked up into the slavishly kneeling girl with heavy, buttock
flattening fury. She had seen it happen before, but she could never, not in her wildest
dreams, have imagined what it would be like! She could never have imagined the
delirious rapture it could bring! Nothing in her most lascivious and salacious
imagination could have matched the thrill of the forbidden lust-inciting spectacle she
was witnessing in the mirror!
With dilated eyes, she watched the huge dog's long thick scarlet cock plunge like a
racing piston up into her own hotly undulating young cunt. On the quick convulsive
out-stroke, Margie's pink inner vaginal flesh appeared, clinging to the dog's penis like a
pair of hungrily sucking lips and then, as his loins powerfully jerked, the damp pink
folds were stuffed back in again with an obscene wet sluicing noise that drove her wild.
"Aaaaaaaagh! It's... it's so... beautiful...!" the frenziedly aroused redhead chanted as she
flailed her head from side to side in forbidden bliss. She had raised up on to her hands
now and she was grinding and fucking her whitely spasming ass-cheeks unceasingly
backward as Bruno humped up into her from behind in unremitting feral desire,
smacking his animal loins into her yielding buttocks. Her nakedly curvaceous body
shivered with every inhuman thrust, her hanging white breasts dancing and swaying to
the jolting convulsions of her tightly-locked animal-lover.
As the great German shepherd fucked his flaming rod of burning animal-hardness
deeper and deeper up into his new mistress's warmly absorbing cunt, Margie became
aware from the building tension hotly swirling in her own loins that the moment of
ecstatic explosion could not be far away.
"Oh God! Oh Christ! I'm going to cum... we're both going to cum...! My wonderful,
lovely, beautiful Bruno we're going to cum together!" she panted wildly.
She felt the dog's huge cock growing and beginning to jerk slightly deep up inside her,
sensed the worming tip caressing all the way up to the underside of her hotly inflamed
belly, quivered to the convulsive tremors of his hairily contracting flanks... and then
suddenly she felt a bullet-like spurt of boiling semen from Bruno's deeply embedded
cock, followed by an unleashing of his animal-cum that seemed to her to saturate and
squirt hotly throughout her entire quaking belly and fill her greedily sucking young
cunt almost to bursting point. As the dog's spasms increased in intensity, her own wild
eruption of forbidden bliss showered through her, her arched and nakedly curving body
shuddering in obscenely wicked rapture to the human and animal whimpers that filled
the room.
Then it was all over! She had done it! Margie felt herself falling exhaustedly forward on
to the pillows, her sperm-flooded cunt still milking greedily at Bruno's rapidly deflating
and retracting animal-cock. She felt him withdraw from between her legs, his softened
penis plopping lewdly from her clasping cuntal flesh... and she knew without looking
that when she turned her head he would be gone.
Yet turn it she did... and he was indeed gone, her magnificent animal-lover, her
beautiful Bruno! But he would be back!
And so she thought with a vindictive glance out the window towards the Hotchkiss
house-and so would she!...


Chapter 6
Margie had been downtown again on Tuesday and passed by the Mexican restaurant
where she had seen Luke with the brassy blonde. They were there again, at the same
table, still laughing and giggling intimately together. So that was it, Margie thought
grimly. She had been right and it was some kind of permanent affair! The knowledge
made her all the more determined to regain her foothold in Clare Hotchkiss's little 
setup, and the hell with the consequences!
When Luke came home just before ten that night there were only pastrami sandwiches
for him. After she had settled the complaints about the lack of a hot meal, his auburn
haired young wife thought she would do a little probing on her own. She steeled her
nerves and lit a cigarette. "Who did you have lunch with today?" she asked casually...
and she could have bitten out her tongue as soon as the words were out of her mouth!
Over-anxiety had made her goof! What she had meant to say was: "What did you do at
lunch time today?" hoping to catch him out if he was fool enough to say he was out of
town or something. But phrasing it the way she did had tipped him off that she
probably knew he had lunched with someone... and he was far too smart to be caught
out now.
"Lunch?" he repeated, flicking her a sideways glance from his hazel eyes. "Lunch was a
big drag deal today, baby. I had to entertain some broad."
Margie cursed herself inwardly. Her blunder had made him suspicious and he was
going to tell as much of the truth as he dared enough anyway so that she wouldn't be
able to point the finger and accuse him of two-timing her! "A woman?" she said. "Who
was that then?"
"Oh, some dame with a big can and a headful of hair," Luke said with elaborate
nonchalance. "She's uh the wife of some guy who has a small vineyard over by the
Mexican border. He's interested in buying a coupla cultivators but it seems the wife has
the loot, so she's the one has to be kinda sweetened up."
"Why does she have to be sweetened up in town instead of over by the Mexican
border?" Margie asked.
He shot her another look. "Did I say I saw her in town?... okay, so I guess you musta
seen us.
So what? So now you know who the broad was."
The redhead bit her Up. She had unintentionally given away her knowledge a second
time. It was of course possible that Luke was telling the truth... or that he was telling
the truth and the woman was his mistress. But she still had two more strings to her
bow; he wouldn't know that she had seen them together before, two weeks ago. "When
did you meet her?" she asked casually.
"Oh, a month ago, I guess," he said easily. "This ain't the first time I've spent money on
the bitch. I already had to take her out a coupla times before. Business-wise she's
playin' hard to get but it'll be worth it if the order comes through. Right now, though,
it's dragsville.
Margie sighed. The clever bastard! He'd been smart enough to think up a story that
would explain any number of meetings she might have seen or heard about, at the same
time feeding her enough of the truth to make it seem like he wasn't lying or hiding
anything from her... either that or he really was telling the truth! In either case he had
hedged his bets and covered himself.
There remained her last string. If he had been in bed all afternoon fucking that fat and
brassy tramp, he'd hardly be in a fit state to make love to his wife at night. She poured
him three fingers of rye in a highball glass, added cubes of ice, and moved around the
back of his chair. "Lukey," she wheedled, running her hand up the short hairs at the
nape of his thick neck. "Honey, Margie gets awful lonesome on her own all day. She
could sure do with a little masculine company. What d'you say we take our drinks on
in the bedroom and strip off right now? It's kind of hot tonight... and after all it is
almost eleven." She leaned forward so that the full taut curve of one breast brushed
tantalizingly against his cheek.
. "Aw, lay off, baby, will ya?" Luke complained, reaching for his glass.
The voluptuous redhead hitched one softly rounded buttock up on to the edge of the
table and sat facing him, leaning slightly forward so that the low "vee" of her neckline
gaped a little to expose the voluptuously deep cleft between her breasts. She twisted to
one side, pulling the thin material of the dress tightly against the soft bulge of her belly
and revealing that the ripely swelling mounds of flesh visible in the triangle below her
neck were free of any brassiere. "Come on darling," she cooed. "Margie'd like to feel a
real man's hand around her someplace.
Would you like me... would you like me to... kiss you?... The w-w-way we did...
before?" She reached over and trailed her fingers teasingly along the muscled line of his
jaw.
Luke smiled sourly. "So now you got hot pants for me all of a sudden?" he inquired.
"Look, baby if you want a guy he should throw it to you, better you should feed him
something more than a pastrami sandwich before!"
"Lukey... please! I'm sorry about dinner but you were so late and I didn't know... please
honey, let's go on in the bedroom and"
"Aw, for Chrissake lay off of me, will ya?" Luke snapped, interrupting her. He shrugged
away her hand angrily. "Quit wavin' them tits in my face, goddamn it, and let a guy get
some peace!"

* * *

Sue Firman was furious. "It's outrageous!" she exclaimed. "I never heard of such a
thing! A dog my own damned dog for God's sakes! gets so hung up on some cheap
little tramp that
I can't get him to obey me and come in on our sessions unless she comes along too! It's
absurd!"
"Sue, darling," Clare said. "Please..."
"And I'll bet she's done it deliberately too, the scheming little bitch," the fleshy blonde
went on resentfully. "I don't know what she did or how she did it, but I'll swear it was
planned, whatever it was! Just so that she could worm her way back in among us where
she doesn't belong!"
"Oh, what does it matter?" Sylvia asked. "The point is, Bruno is back. And we needed
him back: he's the best lover of all of them. We all agreed. It didn't work nearly as well
without him. And if having him back means we have to have Margie too, I for one
don't mind. I like her, and so does Clare. Besides, it's far more interesting with four!"
"The hell with that!" Sue said angrily. "That's not the point, in any case: the real point
is, it's my goddamn dog. She's no right to "
"No right?" Sylvia interrupted mischievously. "What are you going to do about it,
darling? D'you want me to ask Sid to plead a case for you in court? What are you going
to sue for alienation of your dog's affection?"
"It's all very well to joke about it, Syl, but-"
"Sue, dear, please "
"I don't see why I should "
"We all agreed "
"But you said "
"I'm damned if I'll allow that little bitch "
"It's the group that matters, after all. Why can't you "
"Look! Let's not quarrel about it for heaven's sake," Clare said sharply, cutting across
the babble of voices in her drawing room.
"Who's quarreling? All I said was "
"Sue, please... now look, girls," Clare said reasonably, "Let's have a cool, clear recap on
this, shall we? Here's the way it seems to me: we had a scene going, the three of us,
with our dogs. Sometimes our husbands would join in too but in any case it was a
swinging scene. It worked fine. Then I introduced Margie okay, I admit I was the one
who started it, but then she attracted me and although it made the numbers kind of
uneven because she doesn't have a dog. I thought it still worked fine. So did Sylvia. But
Sue disagreed. She wanted Margie out."
"I'll say I did! I told you before-"
"We played it her way," Clare continued over Sue's interruption. "Because she wasn't
happy, we junked poor Margie. That was okay too.
Sylvia and I were prepared to give up our own interest in the girl because it was
threatening the solidarity of the group. But then it seemed that, somehow, by junking
our new member we were also junking Bruno! At least we lost him. He just wouldn't
play."
"Yes, and I'll tell you why: That scheming little "
"But we wanted him to play," Clare went on imperturbably. "We all agreed we couldn't
do without him. And then we found let's not go into why right now that he would
play... if Margie came too! So we agreed again: they'd both come back and we'd go on
as before. It seemed to me to be working out fine. But now Sue wants Margie out again.
Why?"
"Because she doesn't fit, is all," the blonde said sullenly. "She's no part of our social 
setup. like I said before, she doesn't belong."
"I think she fits okay," Sylvia said. "I went along with you before, but now I'm not so
sure. It seems to me she could belong."
"I think so too," Clare said. "I don't see anything wrong with her and that's the truth.
But I'm not going to have any of this either-she-goes-or-I-go routine. We're supposed to
be grown up civilized people, for heaven's sake: we have to find some sort of
compromise."
"All right then," Sue said slowly. "I'll make you a proposition. If you're both so certain
that she belongs, I suggest we prove it one way or the other and if you're right, why
then I'll go along with you and withdraw my objection. How's that?"
"That's fine, honey," Sylvia said dubiously. "But how on earth can you prove it... except
by doing it? And we have done it and you won't go along with us."
"Yes, how can you prove a thing like that?" Clare demanded.
Sue's blue eyes were narrowed. "Quite simply," she said. "It's just a question of whether
she belongs or not, isn't it? Well, something Clare said just now gave me the idea: let
her prove that she fits in?"
"What do you mean?"
"Clare happened to mention that Harry and Sid and Edgar sometimes come in on our
sessions... and of course they know about the dogs."
"Well?"
"Well, let Little Miss Nobody bring her husband along to the next session, that's all!
Our husbands know about and approve our relationship with Bruno and Rudi and
Major.
They'll swing with us and play ball if we feel like a little swapping. Can your new friend
say the same?"
"Ah!... I see what you mean," Clare breathed.
"If that great redneck can take seeing his itsy-bitsy wife screwed silly by three men,
three women, and three dogs... and if he'll come in on the deal too... then I'll agree that
the girl fits in," Sue said triumphantly. "But only if he'll cooperate can she really be
accepted in the group. Do you agree?"
"I guess that's fair," Clare said slowly. "Yes, I agree." Sylvia nodded enthusiastically.
The idea appealed to her mischievous nature. Besides, she liked big men.
"The only thing is, who's going to tell her?" Clare said. "It's a hell of a proposition to
put to somebody in cold blood. I've done the dirty work once; I don't feel like doing it
again."
"Well, I certainly won't," Sylvia said promptly.
"Don't worry, I'll do it myself." Sue said viciously. "It'll be a pleasure..."

* * *

Margie cleared away the remains of the well-done T-bone steak and the potato salad.
She poured another half tumbler of rye, added ice cubes, and slid the glass across the
table towards Luke. "It's nothing formal, honey," she said persuasively. "Just those three
other couples and us, meeting one evening for a few drinks, that's all."
Luke belched and reached for the glass. His eyes were bleary. "That was a helluva good
dinner," he said appreciatively, swallowing a mouthful of the amber liquid. "Look, you
know I can't stomach those jerks, Marge."
"Just this once," his wife pleaded. "They're not that bad, really. You'll get plenty of
straight liquor. No imagine cocktails, I promise!"
"Well, I don't know..."
"Besides, Sid Phillips has a lot of clients in farming and Edgar Hotchkiss is opening up
a huge new development carved out of the hills up beyond Apple Valley. They'll need a
whole lot of equipment on those construction sites. You might do yourself a bit of good
in a business way."
Luke sighed. "What are you trying to do to me?" he said good-humoredly, mellowed for
once by food and drink. "Turn me into a goddman Brooks Brothers ad?"
Margie let the filmy negligee she was wearing fall open, displaying the naked contours
of her tautly bulging breasts and the smooth swell of her belly beneath. "Just this once,"
she coaxed again. "Do it to please Margie, daddy, there's a good guy!"
The big man sighed again, sliding his hand familiarly up under the hem of her robe to
cup the hairy crevice between her slightly parted legs. "Okay, okay, okay," he groaned
with assumed weariness. "Just this once then. Anything to get you off my back for
Chrissake!"


Chapter 7

Perhaps to demonstrate his independence from the traditions of respectable suburban
society, Luke was wearing a white T-shirt and a checked lumber jacket over his sky-blue
denim pants. Since Margie had only persuaded him to come by plugging the fact that
the gathering was informal, she could hardly say anything for fear of putting him off
the idea altogether... but she could have wished that he looked a little less like a
backwoodsman. As she had feared, the three other men were all clad in softly draped
clerical gray suits with button-down shirt collars and silk ties. From the beginning, the
conversation was stiff.
"D' you care for a martini, Crossley?" Edgar Hotchkiss asked superciliously as soon as
the introductions had been made.
"Make mine Scotch," Luke growled, staring suspiciously around the expensively
furnished drawing room. "Or rye if you have it. On the rocks."
"Just as you like," Edgar said, glancing up at the big man from under his raised
eyebrows. He moved across to a glass-topped table groaning under a vast assortment of
bottles, most of them imported from Europe.
Sid Phillips, the attorney, small and dapper, moved in and swept an appraising eye over
Luke, taking in the lumber jacket, the heavy shoes, the not-too-well-shaven blue chin
and the large muscular hands. "One doesn't seem to have seen you around the club,
Crossley," he said. "Haven't you taken out membership yet?"
"I uh I guess I haven't gotten around to it yet," Luke said.
"Oh, but one should. One has a... well, a kind of duty, I guess, to one's neighbors, don't
you think? I mean to say, if one lives in a neighborhood, one does feel that everyone of
the same social class, of course should, so to speak, pull together, don't you think? I'm
sure you'd be very welcome... if you could find a proposer."
"Yeah," Luke said. "Mrs. Crossley and me... well, we've been kind a busy since we
moved into the neighborhood. You know. Plenty to do in the house and all that."
"The house," Phillips repeated, smoothing down his sleek black hair with one hand.
"Yes, of course."
From the other side of the room, Margie watched in anguished silence. She'd taken care
to see that Luke had been fairly well primed with liquor before they started out...
otherwise, in a mood less mellow than that in which he had reluctantly agreed to come,
he might well have called the whole thing off. On the other hand, if he drank much
more, and if the three men continued to talk down to him like this, it was highly-likely
that he would take offense and the smoldering resentment within him would burst into
flame with results she couldn't bear even to think about! She turned to exchange some
triviality with Sylvia Phillips, looking darkly beautiful in a floor-length sheath of
crimson satin. Beyond her Clare Hotchkiss, elegant in a black satin mandarin trouser
suit decorated with gold motifs, chatted with Sue Firman, whose generous curves were
swathed in yards of blue tulle edged with silver sequins.
Margie eyed her over the rim of her martini glass. She hadn't forgotten the hidden
barbs in the fleshy blonde's conversation when she had called at the Crossley house to
inform her of the conditions under which she could be re-admitted to the Hotchkiss
circle. Nor was she able to banish from her mind the sarcastic undertones in Sue's voice
when she had insultingly delivered, in her snobbishly drawling way, the ultimatum
which had resulted in Luke's presence there tonight. Fiercely she hoped feeling for once
a protective fondness for her husband that Luke would rise above the baiting to which
he was being subjected and prove them all wrong. But she wasn't too sure that her
prayers would be answered. Luke was far too impatient to stand this kind of thing for
long! Daydreaming for a split second, she wished that she could in some magical way
become rich and famous herself... a sudden offer to star in the movies, an oil strike on
some piece of property that belonged to Luke... and then she would show the goddamn
bitch! She'd take the greatest pleasure in the world, when Margie Crossley was the
woman everybody wanted to meet, to turn her back on the whole damned scene walk
right out of it and let them know she didn't think they were good enough for her! But
for the moment (she sighed and swallowed the rest of her drink) she simply had to
hope that Luke would rise to the occasion and act as her membership card to the
private club she so much wanted to stay in...
Harry Firman, his groomed fat face shining under the lights, had joined the group of
men. "I see you have a Mustang," he said to Luke. "How do you find it?"
"Suits me fine," Luke said shortly.
Firman nodded. "We use to have one. The Caddy's not really suitable for neighborhood
shopping and that sort of thing. Too unwieldy. So I bought a Mustang for Sue, but she
found it a little noisy. Yours is a '69, isn't it?"
Luke shrugged. "Could be. I bought it off a used-car lot."
"Really?" Firman sounded surprised. "I think they ironed out that suspension trouble
and corrected the under steer a little in '71. Don't you find that worries you?"
"I said it suits me fine," Luke repeated a little more loudly.
"Yes, it's fine for a town runabout," Sid Phillips said offhandedly. "But when one comes
down to it, there's only one nation that really make automobiles, I mean really make
them, and that's the Italians. Don't you agree, old man?"
"The only imported car I ever sat in," Luke said, "was a Mercedes police wagon in
Sausalito when I was run in one time for drunken driving."
In the embarrassed silence that followed this remark, Clare called across: "Don't tell me
you boys are talking cars again! Why don't you choose a more interesting subject,
something we can all contribute to... like sports, for instance!"
"Ah yes, sports," Edgar Hotchkiss said, handing Luke a second drink. "Do you play
tennis, Crossley?"
"Nope."
"What a pity. The three of us play, of course. It would be great to have a fourth on
hand, so to speak. We can always get a game at the club, naturally but the extra man
actually in the neighborhood would have been a help."
"Actually," Luke drawled in insulting imitation of the older man's cultured accents, "I
should have thought your womenfolk could have filled the gap for you. Don't they play
uh tennis? They don't seem to have nothin' else to do."
"Oh well... we tend to leave the other sports to the women, don't you know," Hotchkiss
said with a sidelong glance at Firman and Phillips.
"I'll bet," Luke said.
"I'm not quite sure what you mean by that, old man."
"I'm not sure neither," Luke said, gulping down the remainder of his drink and moving
across to the liquor table to pour himself another. "But I have a fuckin' good idea!"
"I say, Crossley," Harry Firman expostulated. "Watch that language old chap. Ladies
present, you know!"
Margie's husband stared lingeringly at each of the three other wives in the room and
said nothing. The skin over his cheekbones was flushed, his eyes were gleaming
dangerously, and there was a vein pulsing at his temple.
Sid Phillips looked at him quizzically. "One doesn't see you at the Rotarians' lunches,
Crossley," he said. "Aren't you interested in your fellow citizens at all?"
The angry flush on Luke's cheeks had deepened. "Not in some of them, I ain't," he said
meaningly. "Okay, I'm a salesman. I don't have a Cadillac. I don't have time to play
tennis. I'm not a Rotarian. And there's one other thing I don't have: I ain't got no
patience with snobs. I don't have no time for goddamn smart-assed jerks who talk
down to me."
"Oh, now look here, old man," Edgar Hotchkiss began. "There's no need to "
"There ain't no need for nothing," Luke interrupted loudly. "No need for you socially
conscious punks to put up with a roughneck like me at your pretty little party. And
especially no need for me to stand for your goddamn patronizing talk. I'm getting out!"
He banged down his empty glass and strode to the French windows, turning to glare at
Margie as he jerked them open. "Just an informal gathering!" he sneered wrathfully.
"Informal my ass!"
With a snort of disgust he turned his back on them and stalked out into the darkness.

* * *

It was just after midnight and they had all drunk a great deal. They'd had their clothes
off for over an hour. There had been a wild mass orgy with each of the men taking it in
turns to suck and fuck the four women and then Edgar Hotchkiss had called in Major
and Rudi and Bruno, and the three big German shepherds had dashed frenziedly from
one obscenely coupled pair to the other, the long scarlet rods of their glistening animal
cocks swaying lewdly beneath their loins as they lapped at the rigid penises of the men
and then mounted the eagerly crouched forms of the passion-dazed women in a savage
explosion of feral lust.
Now the dogs had been sent out of the drawing room again and they were pausing for
another round of drinks. Only Sue Firman and
Sid Phillips were still lasciviously entwined on the floor. The attorney was lying on his
back with the nakedly voluptuous blonde on her back on top of him, her obscenely
spread legs draped over his thighs and calves and her widely splayed and moistly
glistening cunt stuffed with all but the thickly gleaming stump of Phillips's cock. As he
arched his loins up off the floor to thrust the rigid pole of flesh up into her dilated
cuntal passage, Margie Crossley, watching the debased scene with her fingers rubbing
frantically at the swollen clitoris throbbing between her wetly parted legs, hurried across
the room to join them. Much as she despised Sue Firman, she was too aroused to resist.
Sue's head had fallen backwards over the attorney's shoulder and her mouth opened
and closed spasmodically as the mewling-sounds of lustful passion forced their way
through her full sensuous lips. Her ripely mounded breasts rose and fell convulsively
beneath his imprisoning fingers and her belly quivered in time to the frantic thrusts of
his penis from below.
With nipples darkly erect in the center of her bulging milk-white breasts, Margie stared
for a long moment at the defenselessly gaping pussy with its blonde hair-lined lips, at
the shafting rod of Phillips' penis plunging into it, and at the bloated pouch of his balls
resting on the floor between his thighs. Then with an inarticulate cry she dropped to
her knees between the four writhing legs on the floor and advanced her own lewdly
parted lips toward the pair of steaming loins spread wantonly wide before her.
Taking Sid's testicles in her mouth, she rolled the sperm-swollen glands softly around
her tongue and then licked slowly up the bulge of his throbbing cock, on through the
wetly folded pink flanges of Sue's cunt, and up to the inflamed and swollen bud of the
undulating blonde's turgid clitoris.
Seeing the young redhead cross the room, Phillips had briefly raised his head to grin
and wink at her, but the searing contact of Margie's slavering tongue was the first
evidence Sue had that a third person had joined them in their solo debauch. She jerked
galvanically, her hips arching up with an unbearable tingle of erotic excitement as the
aspiring girl's lips licked and sucked forcefully around the whole moistened furrow of
her pussy and the muscular stiffness of the rigid shaft plowing into it.
Between them, the attorney and the young social climber worked in demonic rhythm
over the whole area of Sue's obscenely exposed loins. Margie sucked and licked and
mewled and nibbled at the berserk blonde's hotly shuddering cunt. Sid rammed his
iron-hard cudgel deeper and deeper up into her quivering belly as she jerked and
gasped in erotic frenzy above him.
Margie, her green eyes shining with lascivious excitement, was still wildly fingering her
own clitoris as she speared her tongue up alongside Sid Phillips' pistoning cock in the
lust-heated depths of Sue's aching vaginal passage. And then suddenly, over the fierce
grinding of Sid's loins, she felt her blonde neighbor tense and begin to quiver
uncontrollably. Sue's hands darted down to cradle the redhead's face as she sucked
furiously at her dilating pussy. Her back arched up off Sid's hips and she cried
frenziedly: "Oh God! Oh Jesus! I'm cumming again!... I'm cumming!... Aaaaaaaaaaagh!"
The young housewife felt Sue's cunt opening up beneath her sucking lips and warm
gushes of hot sticky feminine cum flooded into her mouth and around the plunging
cock sawing into it. Simultaneously, Sid gave a hoarse cry and his hands began clawing
Sue Firman's heaving breasts in wild abandon as his penis jerked convulsively and the
first powerful wave of his hot thick cum squirted far up into the velvet depths of her
blonde-haired vagina.
Hearing the twin groans of ecstasy and feeling the urgent shudders of the two sweating
bodies as they spurted their loads of boiling hot secretions around her hungry mouth,
Margie too began to tremble and thrash between their thighs, groaning out the spasms
of her orgasm deep into the steaming wetness of their jerking loins as her saliva
streamed down Sue's wide-spread pussy to mingle with the floods of cum around the
attorney's spending balls.
There were gasps of excitement and applause from the others who had gathered around
in an attentive circle to watch the obscene spectacle and then suddenly they all sprang
guiltily apart as the French windows crashed open and a thick voice rasped:
"She wouldn't even go down on her own goddamn husband and yet she'll take part in
this kind of filth.'"
Margie, Sue and the attorney scrambled nakedly to their feet and stared with the others
in horrified amazement at the wild figure swaying just inside the open door with
bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
It was Luke Crossley... and it was evident that he had been watching from the darkened
garden for some time.
He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. Obviously he was very drunk. He
stood for a moment with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene, and then he strode
forward and shouted:
"So this is your goddamn Ivy League social set-up! A neighborhood whore-house for
Chrissake, full of tramps and pimps! This is the smart-assed scene we weren't good
enough for, is it? Fucking like animals in a goddamn farmyard with the motherfuckin'
dogs thrown in because the men aren't men enough to make it on their own, I guess! I
can see why you punks leave the other sports to the women." His voice took on savage
tinge of biting sarcasm as he mimicked Edgar Hotchkiss's pronouncement of earlier in
the evening. "People like you, with your highfalutin' airs and your shit-under-the-nose
expressions Jesus fuckin' Christ, you make me want to throw up, the whole goddamn
lot of you!"
The seven people in the room had frozen in attitudes of fear and astonishment at
Luke's explosive entry. Margie was caught near the leather divan, her full breasts
quivering and one hand in front of her mouth. The other three women were now
grouped together in a terrified huddle by the fireplace and the men were gathered
around the drinks trolley. Edgar
Hotchkiss strode nakedly forward into the center of the room. "Now see here, old
man," he began, "there's no need to "
"Don't old-man me, you short-assed shit-head," Luke roared. "I can do without your
patronizing crap, by God!"
"I'll ask you to remember that this is private property," Edgar said stiffly. "I'm afraid I'll
have to ask you to leave."
Luke gave a drunken laugh. "You and who else?" he demanded. "Which of you is man
enough to try and throw me out? Or d'you think you could make it together, the whole
flabby pack of you?"
"I'm afraid "
"You'll be afraid of something else before I'm through!"
"Set the dogs on him, Edgar," Sue Firman called spitefully. "You can't be expected to
take on a gorilla like that by yourselves."
Hotchkiss compressed his lips and nodded. "Good idea," he said grimly, turning
towards the door.
"You make one step towards that door and I'll break your motherfuckin' back," Luke
growled menacingly.
Edgar Hotchkiss sat down suddenly on an armchair. He had gone very pale.
"Now listen to me," Luke shouted. "I got something to say and I got something to do.
You all sit down on your fat asses and listen and watch, and nothing'll happen to you.
But if a single one of you makes a move, man or woman, I'll beat him or her to pulp.
That clear? Okay then sit, all of you."
Quaking with fear, six naked bodies lowered themselves gingerly to armchairs and
sofas. The big man turned at last to his red-haired young wife, who was still standing
by the couch, her eyes filled with tears and her hands trembling. "As for you," he
hissed, "you cock-sucking little bitch I got something to say to you personal. After
tonight, I'm through. I'm quitting for keeps. Go on and have your farmyard party but
you won't find me there when you get home. I'm gettin' out. Right now."
Suddenly defiant, Margie sneered back at him, "To go back to your cheap little tramp of
a farmer's wife from the Mexican border, I suppose." Her dream world had crumbled
about her naked feet, so she had nothing to lose anymore.
"So what if I am?" Luke yelled. "As it happens she is a farmer's wife only there ain't no
farmer anymore. I'm going on down and shack up with that broad. She may be a little
rough around the edges but she's worth a hundred of you, or any of these stuffed-shirt
pricks around this goddamn neighborhood."
"Go on then, you big ape," the redhead said tearfully, "and see if I care."
"Don't worry, I will. But there's something I'm gonna do first. You played me along for
a sucker, baby; tried to rope me in on your dirty little wife-swap scene. Okay so you
want to make a spectacle of yourself in front of these punks. Well, honey, you got your
wish!"
"W-w-w-what do you mean?" Margie quavered.
"You'll see. Your hosts are kinda expecting somethin' in the way of a display from us, I
guess. Well, they're gonna get one, and they're gonna get one good." Staring at her
menacingly, he unbuckled the belt at his waist and advanced across the room towards
her. "Get down on that couch," he said menacingly.
"Don't you touch me, Luke Crossley!" the frightened young redhead cried, backing
nervously away from him.
He grinned lasciviously at her, his drink-dimmed eyes narrowed. Then, hauling down
the zipper of his jeans, he produced his turgid penis, the thick hard shaft standing out
from beneath the slight paunch he was beginning blunt spear. "All right, you guys," he
cried. "You wanna grab yourselves a piece of tail from this two-timin' bitch? That's
okay with me. But first I'm going to do you all a favor' I'm gonna open her up to make
the way easy for you... and you can watch to see the way it should be done, if that's
how you get your kicks. But remember what I told you: don't nobody move or they get
busted wide open!"
The three naked men and their wives gazed in horrified fascination as he moved
purposefully towards the helpless redhead cowering by the couch, the thickly muscled
pole of flesh swaying menacingly from the gaping "vee" of his fly as he walked. The
bulbous blood-gorged cock-head was already protruding from the soft folds of his
foreskin, the slit at its tip gleaming wetly with seminal fluid.
"Luke, darling, please," the poor girl pleaded. "Not in front of all these... please..."
"Not in front...? But that's what you wanted, honey, ain't it?" the big man asked with
mock concern. "I'm only trying to help!"
The watchers gasped aloud in unison as he leaped suddenly forward and pushed
Margie's shoulders, catching her off balance so that she fell backwards towards the
couch, the edge catching her right behind the knee and sprawling her flat on her back,
long tapered white legs opening wide as she landed on the shiny leather.
Luke sprang at her recumbent figure and trapped her in that obscene position as she
sought to close her legs. He clamped his sweating palms against the soft insides of her
thighs and held them spread spart, his thumbs resting on the hair-fringed flanges of her
cunt.
"D-d-d-don't touch me!" Margie squealed again, squirming back against the cold leather
of the couch. She wanted to close her eyes to shut out the horror but she knew there
was no escape now. He was going to ravish her helpless body in front of her new
friends no matter how hard she pleaded for mercy. The naked pink flesh of her
defenseless vagina was offered up to his leering gaze in abject sacrifice and she lay
frozen in humiliation, watching terrified as Luke's tongue circled his lips in preparation
for the brutal ravishment about to take place. He was evidently enjoying the cruel
mental torment he was subjecting her to. He was a sadist at heart and like a trapped
animal she gazed mesmerized at the spark of rage in his eye as it brightened to a glow.
With a slow torturing outward movement of his thumbs, he drew the cum-drenched
pink lips of her cunt apart, exposing the hot wet slit to his lustful stare. For a moment
longer he eyed it greedily and then with an animal groan he dropped his head and
buried the full length of his slippery tongue in the warmly throbbing walls of her pussy.
Margie jerked, a soul-searing groan tearing itself from her lips. Her buttocks ground
feverishly into the couch cushion trying to escape the public humiliation of this
depraved attack on her secret flesh. She had never allowed Luke to kiss her there even
in private. She had never allowed anyone until that marvelous day with Clare in the
pool house. But for her husband to force her in front of all these people... it was
horrible! Her head flailed from side to side in anguish as his tongue speared relentlessly
in and out of the involuntarily dilating lips of her ravaged cunt.
And yet, in spite of her terror and revulsion at the degradation of being publicly
humiliated by her own husband, tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure began to ripple deep
in her nakedly exposed belly. Her arms lay tensed at her sides as her firmly rounded
breasts quivered from the buffeting her defenseless loins were receiving from Luke's
slavering tongue. Her heart contracted as his meaty hands reached up over the white
flatness of her trembling belly and dug harshly into the fleshy softness of her breasts,
his fingers rolling the hardening nipples in remorseless fury. As his lips slavered
obscenely at the widespread tightness of the quaking young redhead's cunt, his eyes
remained open watching in arrogant delight the contortions of her face up through the
ripely shuddering mounds of her breasts... and the riveted stares of the six naked figures
beyond.
The terrified girl lay frozen in abject submission as her husband continued the torturing
thrusts of his tongue into her vagina. He watched the helpless tears flow down her
cheeks with cruel satisfaction. The goddamn little bitch... he'd teach her to fuck about
with some dirty wife-swap syndicate before he left! If she wanted to make a display of
herself in front of these shit-head snobs, he'd damn well see it was a good one!
Chuckling drunkenly to himself, Luke brought his hands down and pushed them under
the backs of the knees splayed out wide on either side of him. He lifted and pushed
them up and over her prone body so that the kneecaps ground down into her softly
mounded breasts and exposed the whole flat plane of her naked pussy to the lustful
stares of their unwilling audience. This would get her, he grinned to himself... and he
flicked the tip of his tongue into the tightly puckered hole of her anus nestled just
below the wetly shining opening of her cunt.
The unexpected moistly searing contact with the sensitive rubbery orifice brought a
long low moan of anguish from Margie's lips. "Ooooooh, God! No! No! Luke... don't!
Please don't!" she whimpered, trying desperately to screw her buttocks away from the
probing tongue licking mercilessly at her unprotected anus. His only answer was a
lewdly drunken chuckle... and a further stab into the tight fleshy nether ring.
Margie sobbed helplessly before his depraved attack... and then suddenly, in spite of the
humiliation, in spite of her horror and revulsion that this was being done to her for the
first time by a man, against her will, in front of her friends, she felt her body begin to
desert her. Her buttocks began to jerk back involuntarily at the darting tongue sending
spasms of unwantedly delicious sensation thrilling through her raw nerve ends. The
cruel realization of her loss of control was hitting her with its full impact. She moaned
again in misery at the thought, not only of the obscene and perverted spectacle she was
being forced to provide for the neighbors she thought so highly of, but of the fact that
she was beginning to enjoy it! Her shamelessly aroused body jerked spasmodically and
then started a slow abandoned movement up against Luke's thrusting tongue. Her
hands curled down into his hair and her fingers clenched there, pulling the punishing
lash of his tongue deeper and deeper into her... and then suddenly cool air was playing
over her hotly perspiring loins and he had jerked his head free and left her lying there.
Margie, brought abruptly back to reality from the transports of erotic delight in which
she had been soaring, raised her head with a gasp of surprise as her legs slowly lowered.
He was standing beside the couch, his bluntly inflamed cock swaying above his spermbloated 
testicles in the opening of his jeans. A thinly glistening thread of seminal fluid
plunged forward from the purplish blood-engorged head. "Stretch your legs out and roll
over on your tits," her enraged husband commanded harshly. It was no part of his plan
that the bitch should enjoy herself!
"W-w-w-what do you mean?" Margie stared at him in blank incomprehension.
"Do as I say. I told our hosts I'd make it easy for them. I guess the front door should be
okay by now... so I'm coming in back!"
"Oh no! Not that!" the helpless redhead whimpered as the full realization of the
horrible, indecent ravishment he was suggesting burst upon her. "Luke, please... please
don't do it to me there! Not like that! You can't... It's... it's inhuman!"
"Just try me," Luke chuckled coarsely. He bent down and seized her legs, twisting her
violently so that she was flung face downwards on the sofa. As she sobbed piteously
into the hard black leather, he knelt up between her spread thighs and forced them
ruthlessly apart with his knees. "Reach behind you and spread the cheeks of your ass,"
he snarled.
"I can't... You can't do this to me! Please, please..." She broke off with a squeal of pain
as he brought his open hand cracking viciously down across her buttocks, leaving the
red weals of finger marks flaming on the whitely trembling flesh.
"Do what you're told, you cock-sucking bitch!"
Her chest racked with deep tearing sobs, the defenseless girl moved her quivering hands
back behind her over the rounded spheres of her buttocks and reluctantly dragged them
apart to expose the tiny puckered hole of her anus, still glistening from the
ministrations of Luke's tongue, as it nestled in its furrow of moist pubic hair. She
couldn't believe that he would really do such a bestial thing to her! It was monstrous! It
was the ultimate depth of degradation... and especially before witnesses! Surely he was
just trying to frighten her, to make her crawl and plead for mercy?
The expressions of horror and outrage had faded from the faces of the six people
watching around the room. On every single one now there was an avidly greedy look a
mixture of lustful curiosity and sadistic pleasure and plain erotic excitement. The
hulking salesman was really going to rape his lovely young wife in the ass... in front of
them! This was something new, something they hadn't seen before! This was a sexual
kick they would all remember! Sue Firman's eyes in particular gleamed with salacious
light.
Margie squirmed as she felt Luke's finger poking at the wetly inter-folded opening
centered in her quivering anal crevice and she jerked convulsively from the sudden
contact. "Relax!" the big man growled threateningly. "And keep that ass spread out!"
The voluptuous redhead felt the tip of his finger again at the entrance to her naked
rectum and she desperately clenched the tiny puckered ring tight in an attempt to delay
the brutal penetration she knew must follow. Luke probed for a moment at the outer
edges of the small elastic circle and then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he shoved his
middle finger deep into the warm velvety passage.
Moans of helpless protest forced their way through the cowering girl's tightly clenched
teeth as he drilled deeper and deeper, expanding the tightness of her rectum until she
thought she would faint from the pain of the cruel invasion. He began moving the
finger around inside the tight nether opening, sawing it in and out to stretch the
contracted anus in preparation for the greater entry that was coming.
Then, as suddenly as he had plunged it in, Luke withdrew his finger from her widespread 
anus. Forcing his hand between Margie's trembling belly and the cold leather
cushion of the couch, he stroked his fingers back along the wetly sliding length of her
vaginal furrow and smeared the cuntal moisture up and around her plundered anus to
lubricate the opening. An instant later she felt the hard rubbery tip of his cock press
against the tight hairless opening between her buttocks.
Edgar, Clare, and the others were sitting forward in their chairs now, their mouths
open and their chests heaving with excitement.
Margie held her breath as she felt the rigid, lust-thickened penis wedged into the crevice
of her buttocks begin to thrust forward. Oh God, it was huge! She had always found it
uncomfortably large when they fucked the regular way. She knew she would never be
able to take it in her rectum without her belly being torn apart!
The muscles on Luke's hairy stomach stood out in the open "vee" of his jeans as he
strained forward. Margie felt the soft probing between her buttocks grow into a hard
and relentless pressure against the tight rubbery ring of her anus. "Ooooooh! God no!
Please, Luke Aaaaaaagh!" she screamed suddenly as the puckered nether ring suddenly
gave way and the blunt bulbous head of Luke's massive cock surged up inside with a
plunging rush. A spasm of. pain shot through her a pain so unbearable that she twisted
and screeched again and again, trying with all her strength to evade the bestial
impalement. Her buttocks writhed like a trapped animal desperate to escape, but her
movements served only to wedge the thickly gleaming cudgel more securely into her
tortured back passage.
Luke clasped his sweating hand over his helpless young wife's mouth and nose to
muffle her cries. At the same time his pounding thighs forced the thick cock another
inch... and then another... up into her writhing body. Margie could scarcely think.
Everything she did brought pain and more pain, piling humiliation on humiliation. It
was as though a monstrous battering-ram was being relentlessly shoved into the tiny
opening of her virginal rectum!
Suddenly the big man's loins smacked heavily into the softness of her cruelly spread
buttocks. The punishing instrument was buried to the hilt in her almost split anus! She
was hopelessly skewered on the brutally thick hardness of her druken husband's raping
penis!
Panting hoarsely behind her, his hand still gagging her cries, he began to saw
rhythmically deep into the soft depths of her back passage as she fought with wild
desperation against the horror and degradation of the depraved public attack on her
defenseless little anus. Faster and faster his pounding hips pumped, thrusting the
inflamed spear of his lustfully expanded rod again and again into the ravished tightness
of her anus. She was impaled on the stone-hard cock as inexorably as a pinned insect!
The eyes of the three watching couples were glistening now with obscenely lustful
arousal. Edgar Hotchkiss and his two friends sat with massive erections, the sleekly
attentive Sid Phillips absently massaging the loose foreskin up and down his thickening
pole of male flesh as his gaze remained lewdly riveted on the threshing couple upon the
couch. Sue Firman's two hands were buried between her slightly spread thighs, the
fingers scrabbling wildly in the gleaming folds of moist pink cuntal flesh showing
between the curling blonde hairs mantling her loins. Clare and Sylvia were leaning
together on the sofa, caressing each other's tautly swelling breasts.
Suddenly Luke sank his clutching fingers whitely into the soft flesh of Margie's tender
hips, hauling her roughly into a kneeling position as he struggled upright himself and
forced her unwilling thighs still farther apart with his knees. They could see the thickly
gleaming stump of his vast cock disappearing into her wide-stretched anus above the
still gaping aperture of her ravaged and glistening cunt.
The anguished young wife's auburn head dropped forward onto her crossed arms and
her tear-strained face turned this way and that in helpless subjugation as the tempo of
Luke's pounding hips increased and the huge penis plowed on and on into her cruelly
distended anal passage, pulling tiny pink ridges of clasping flesh out into view each
time he withdrew for another vicious lunge inside. The skin of her buttocks quivered
under the pressure of his brutally grasping fingers as her enraged husband pulled her
defenseless body savagely back onto his pistoning shaft; the soft bulge of her belly
shuddered uncontrollably and her dangling breasts bounced against the leather of the
couch as she was buffeted with each fiercely thrusting plunge.
With fascinated compulsion the sexually aroused onlookers saw the drunken husband
suddenly raise up his lust-contorted face. His mouth opened and he uttered a gasping
cry as the material of the jeans hollowed over his pounding flanks. His hips arched
convulsively forward, ramming the iron-hard cudgel even deeper into the helpless girl's
writhing belly as the throbbing head exploded into a wild staccato jerking in the tight
rubbery grip of her vise-like rectum and scalding squirts of semen began jetting far up
into her ravaged rear passage.
For a long brutal moment he held her there, skewered helplessly onto his spewing cock
as he m shot his load of boiling sperm in powerful cream-like spurts deep into her anal
passage. Then he thrust her violently away from him so that she fell forward on the
couch and his deflating, cum-covered penis pulled wetly free of her plundered ass hole
with a sucking squelch.
Seconds later he had risen to his feet, stuffed the limply shining tube of his cock back
inside his jeans, and zipped up his fly.
"That's all you're good for, you perverted little whore," he said contemptuously to the
raped girl sobbing in abject humiliation on the divan, "a fuck up the ass when there's
nothing better around... well, I guess I made my point, and I got something better
around, so I'm getting out!"
With one further scathing glance at the nakedly transfixed sextet around the room, he
buckled his belt and strode through the French windows into the night without a
backward look.

* * *

Half an hour later, the party had regained its impetus. The lustful feelings aroused by
the sight of Luke's brutal rape of his helpless wife had exploded in a fresh wave of
orgiastic excess as soon as the shock of his presence had evaporated.
Sue and Edgar, Harry and Sylvia, were tangled in an obscene chaos of limbs in front of
the fireplace. The voluptuously fleshy blonde was on her hands and knees, her ovaled
lips clasped greedily around the lust-thickened cock of Edgar Hotchkiss as her golden
head bobbed slavishly up and down the gleaming wet shaft. Behind her, the hips of
Harry Firman thrashed heavily to and fro as he plowed his punishing rod of flesh
savagely in and out of her open-splayed cunt from the rear. Sylvia Phillips was standing
up, her legs lewdly straddling the quivering trio as she leaned forward over Sue's back
to thrust her probing tongue deep into Harry's throat. The kneeling Edgar was moving
his lips and tongue up and down the full length of the damp hairy-lined furrow
salaciously exposed between her widespread thighs.
Beside the couch, Clare Hotchkiss lay stretched in an attitude of wanton abandon as Sid
Phillips buried his face in her quaking loins and sank his tongue deep into the heated
wetness of her humping cunt. Only Margie Crossley, sitting alone and dejected on the
couch itself, was left out.
The ravished young redhead was in an agony of despair. Apart from the brutal
humiliation of her public rape by Luke, she was miserably aware that she had failed.
She would never be accepted in the circle now! Sue Firman would see to that! Her
husband's outrageous behavior had closed the door once and for all on the glittering
social world she had hoped so fervently to enter. By her own impatience to improve her
position socially she had lost her place in the Hotchkiss set... and she had even lost
Luke! Now, drunk as they were, they had all rejected her and left her alone. She was an
outcast, a pariah! Tears flowed unchecked down her ivory cheeks as she writhed in an
ecstasy of self-torment. And what made it worse was that Luke's obscene ravishment of
her anus had nevertheless kindled a fire in her loins that clamored to be put out... and
she dared not ask anyone there to help!
She was plumbing the uttermost depths of shame and hopelessness when she heard the
rapid pad of animal paws across the floor and a lean powerful shape arrowed up on to
the couch and nuzzled affectionately against her tear-streaked face.
It was Bruno her beautiful, faithful Bruno, who had somehow got out of the house and
made his way through the French wind solace her in her bitterest hour! Sobbing, she
reached up to fling her arms around his furry neck and kiss him passionately on his
cold and eager nose.
Squirming lewdly under the lashing of the attorney's probing tongue, Clare Hotchkiss
sat up on the floor. "Margie darling," she breathed with sparkling eyes, "get up on your
knees! Kneel up on the sofa so that he can do it to you from behind. That's why he's
come... he wants to fuck you!"
Half laughing and half crying, the beautiful young redhead struggled on to all fours on
the shiny leather. "Yes... yes... that's what he wants, isn't it?" she panted, unhesitatingly
spreading her long white legs and full young thighs wide apart towards the big dog.
"My darling dog, my lovely baby... you want to fuck me... like you did before, don't
you?" She gasped hotly, the use and sound of the four letter word again acting like a
lurid bellows to fan the licking flames in her trembling belly and feverishly moistened
loins. Lowering her head and shoulders, she looked avidly back from her obscenely
assumed position to see her animal-lover's amber eyes fixed greedily on the up-thrust
white mounds of her lewdly offered buttocks.
Without removing her ravaged cunt from the reach of Sid Phillips' spearing tongue,
Clare watched with glistening, lustful eyes as the black German shepherd approached
the erotically inflamed, kneeling girl.
"Come on, Bruno" she whispered hoarsely, her breasts rising and falling with forbidden
excitement. "Come on boy... up! Up and fuck our Margie! She needs your cock so badly
tonight! Come on, there's a good dog!"
Flashing her hostess a grateful glance, Margie sucked in her breath with a gasp as the
huge dog lunged forward and a pair of strong, furry forepaws clutched her tightly
around her trembling hips. Bruno was going to mount her!
The glazed eyes of the sensuously aroused redhead swam in lurid bliss as she felt the
hot hardness of the dog's massive animal-body brush against the soft, smooth skin of
her nakedly exposed buttocks. Gasping with excitement, she twisted her head to look
back, trying to catch sight of his animal-cock. Oh God! There it was! In his upright
position, clinging with powerful front legs to the rounded arch of her nakedly offered
hips, she saw his huge scarlet penis slipping from its heavy sheath, the pointed tip of
the lustfully hardened shaft glistening and jerking towards her hopeful cunt. God, it
was unbelievable... like a beveled spear of gradually thickening cock-flesh that seemed
to have no end! In wanton fascination she stared, watching it expand farther and farther
out of the hairy protective sheath. God Almighty! He... it... was the most beautiful thing
she'd ever seen!
"Ooooooooh!" she gasped ecstatically as the stiffly pointed tip of the gleaming scarlet
cone brushed against her sensitive cuntal lips. " Aaaaaaaaaagh!"
The swollen animal hardness taunted the wetly hair-lined orifice as it relentlessly
probed for its flesh-splitting entry. And then suddenly the frantically excited girl felt the
tapered length of the huge dog-cock moistly penetrate the interfolded flesh of her hotly
quivering cunt! Slowly, the rigidly burning rod of animal-flesh plowed deeper and
deeper up into her clasping vaginal passage... and then Bruno's loins began the familiar
convulsive jerking, sawing the glistening shaft in and out of her as she gasped and
mewled before the deliciously debased and unnatural intrusion into the heated depths
of her wickedly excited cunt.
Margie's whole young body shuddered with the violence of the forbidden sensations
racing through her nakedly kneeling form. Her swollen breasts danced and shuddered
beneath her. Hot tremors ran up and down the length of her spine and her breath
whined in and out of her heaving lungs as Bruno whimpered his animal-ecstasy behind
her savagely bucking ass cheeks. She was lost in a swirling vortex of lust! Her brain was
spinning deliriously from the unbearable sensations raging between her wide split
thighs! She began to toss her head from side to side in cadence with the powerful
thrusts of the handsome black beast's loins as he agonizingly delicious animal-cock
plunged with ever increasing fury into her seething cunt.
Insane spasms of unbelievable delight churned furiously through her hotly fired genitals
and flamed up into her churning belly as she felt her wildly desired climax approaching
and the first scalding squirts of Bruno's massively spurting orgasm streamed into the
boiling clasp of her quivering young vagina. Oooooooh God! she thought in her
abandon. Oh God! Oh God! She would gladly sell her soul to the devil... just so long as
this heaven never stopped... never, never, never stopped...!


Chapter 8

Margie Crossley stood on the sidewalk and stared into a shop window a couple of
blocks off Sunset Boulevard. Her world was in pieces. Luke had gone... for good. Her
marriage was finished for ever. She could never go back to him, even if he went on his
bended knees and pleaded with her not after what had happened last night. And her
dream of a glittering success in the high-living social strata frequented by Clare
Hotchkiss and her friends was equally in ruins.
True, the party had gone well enough as soon as they had recovered from Luke's
explosive exit and the wanton debauch he had subjected her to before it. But it had only
been because of the unexpected arrival of Bruno her darling, beautiful, loving Bruno
that she herself had been able to contribute anything positive to it. And she couldn't
rely on the powerful German shepherd, much as she loved him, for her place in the
Hotchkiss set. The dog did belong after all to Sue Firman, and however much Margie
hated that blonde, nothing could change that!
The saddened young redhead had learned her lesson. Her husband had walked out on
her for good, leaving her for that brassy floozie he had probably picked up around some
pool room, whatever he might say about farms near the Mexican border. And she
herself, in her suddenly aware sexuality, was left to realize that physical happiness
indeed all forms of human contentment must depend not on those around her but
upon herself and what she made of her own life...
There was nothing else for it, she mused with an inward sigh: she had so far made a
mess of her life and she would have to wipe the slate clean and start over. But what
could she do?
She stared pensively into the window of the store. It was a high-class pet shop, and
there were birds in cages, guinea-pigs, baskets full of softly tumbling, floppy-eared
puppies, kittens, long-eared rabbits with twitching noses, and tanks full of fish behind
the glass. But Margie's eyes were drawn inexorably to the animal forming the central
attraction in the display a tall and handsome black Labrador standing between two
partitions at the back of the window. His coat was smooth and glossy, his legs were
sturdily elegant, and his liquid brown eyes stared yearningly out at the sad-faced girl as
she stood alone in the sun on the sidewalk. She realized that without being aware of it
she had been eyeing him absently for several minutes. His mournful gaze stirred her
strangely in the innermost depths of her being: it was almost as though in his mute and
animal way he was trying to communicate with her, to pass some important message
through the intervening sheet of plate glass... and suddenly she knew what it was.
Suddenly she knew what she wanted to do what she had to do!
If she had to start her life over, she would go back to where it had begun in reality. Her
future lay she was sure of it now not in the snobbish neighborhoods around the
Hollywood area but in Monterey where she had been born and brought up.
She would go back there and suddenly it all seemed terribly clear and terribly simple
and she would open a pet shop of her own. For at the moment anyway it seemed that
she found the society of animals more congenial and infinitely less disillusioning than
that of men.
Squaring her shapely shoulders, she tossed back her auburn hair, exchanged a glance
with the Labrador in the window, and walked firmly to the door of the shop. Then,
with a confident smile on her lips, she turned the handle and walked inside.


THE END
