THE WIDOW'S PET
By Duncan Fox


Foreword

The seething passions that lurk within many individuals are often hidden beneath a
veneer of normalcy. Indeed, such passions may be so strongly repressed and hidden
that they will emerge only under the most extreme conditions, often startling their
owners as much as those around them.
Carol Jeffers is one of these outwardly proper and quite normal people. But within her
a love of perversity lies coiled like a snake, awaiting only the proper stimulus to arouse
it. And when the lovely redhead finds herself suddenly widowed, suddenly and
irrevocably cut off from the gratifications of the flesh, her secret desires at last come to
the fore.
THE WIDOW'S PET – the story of one woman who must come to terms with her
own nature and needs. A novel of fiction for entertainment. A page of our restless
society as food for serious thought.
-The Publisher


Chapter 1

Carol Jeffers spread her legs wide as the hot, wonderful cock drove deep into her cunt,
glutting her, cramming her hole full. Her arms and legs were clasped around her
husband. He began humping his prick into her tight box, his shaft sliding hotly along
the walls of her wet hole. His crotch began pulverizing her clit, and she was jammed
higher and higher and higher. The bed under her was quivering and shaking from the
impact of the humping and heaving. The springs began squeaking more and more
loudly. Someone was whining and whimpering like an animal.
Carol woke up with a jolt from the whining and the shaking of the bed. Groggy with
sleep and frustration, she reached for the bedside lamp. Its soft glow spilled over the
empty room, the nearly vacant expanse of her king-sized bed. Blearily, she focused her
eyes on the source of the whining and shaking. A twinge of sorrow lanced through her,
distracting her from the aching hollowness she always felt at the sight of the vacant bed.
"Oh, Cyrano," she sighed, reaching for the struggling animal by her feet. Her fingers
combed through the jet-black kinky tangle of the big poodle's topknot. His head turned
toward her, his brown eyes wet with pain. "Cyrano, you just can't reach there any
more," she told him tenderly.
Desperately, the black dog twisted again, struggled to reach the thrusting pink shaft of
his erect cock. A whine of pain and frustration was torn from him as his long, pink
tongue flicked out, a fraction of an inch short of his goal.
"No, Cyrano," Carol sighed, tugging at his neck, trying to get his attention away from
his prick. "You just can't reach yourself any more."
With the persistence of an animal, he ignored her, battled against the fused links of his
injured spine. He struggled to reach his crotch, to stroke his aroused cock.
Carol tossed her head with frustration, combed one lock of her long, straight red hair
back from her forehead, and tucked it behind her ear. She sighed wearily. "I don't know
which of us came off worse in the wreck, Cyrano," she said to the still-whimpering and
struggling poodle. "I lost my husband, which left me frustrated and horny, and your
back got frozen so you can't even lick yourself."
Cyrano looked at her with his dark, wet, sad eyes and licked his nose, left it shining
wet. He was panting softly from his exertions. He tried again to reach his aroused prick,
failed yet again and whimpered with frustration. He looked at his mistress, his eyes
pleading.
"But what can I do?" she asked, acting as if he could understand what she was saying.
With a mournful whimper, Cyrano turned. Kicking and pushing with his front paws,
he battled to curl a backbone that would no longer curl. His hindquarters skidded on
the satin spread. His raised hind leg kicked futilely in the air as he struggled. His battle
was shaking the whole bed, and that, mingled with his whining, was what had woken
Carol. Her exhausted brain had done its best to fit the shaking and whimpering into
her dream. But still she had woken up.
"God! I've got to get some sleep," she said aloud. "Cyrano, you have got to stop that!"
Cyrano ignored her, then gave her one more pleading, hopeful look.
"Baby," Carol sighed, trying not to stare at the pink shaft of his hard cock. "Baby, I can
feed you and curry you and scratch your back. But that is one itch I just can't take care
of." Then she was silent for a moment as desperation sent her thoughts down strange
new paths.
"Or can I?" she mused, eyeing the dog's big prick dubiously, studying how it thrust out
of its hairy sheath. She wasn't sure, but it looked as if Cyrano's balls were swollen with
a load of sperm. She reflected that, at the age of two, the big black dog was probably at
his breeding prime, his virile best.
Cyrano had given up on her and was ignoring her now. He kicked and scrabbled, still
trying to reach his dick. He couldn't understand his crippling, was unable to
comprehend that he would never again be able to curl himself up doggy-fashion. For a
moment, Carol wished she had let the vet put him to sleep. But she just couldn't have
– he was the only thing she had left from two ecstatic years of marriage. The feeling
that she owed Cyrano something goaded her into seriously contemplating the
unthinkable.
"God! If I don't do something, I'll never get any sleep," she protested to the silent,
empty room. Hesitantly, she reached for the gleaming skewer of Cyrano's cock. She
carefully let him smell her fingers, and see what she was doing. Nervously, shyly, she
touched his hard prick. The heat of his aroused meat startled her when her fingers
brushed it roughly.
Cyrano yipped and his teeth snapped desperately. He missed her hand only because of
his stiffness.
"Sorry," she apologized in a hoarse whisper. "I'm new at this type of thing. I suppose
bitches are pretty wet and slippery, aren't they?" Turning away for a moment, she
reached for the petroleum jelly still senselessly tucked away in the bedside table. After
smearing her fingers with the lubricant, she reached again for Cyrano's prick.
"This'll feel better," she assured him. This time it was the hardness of the dog's cock
that startled her when she touched him. She grasped his rod delicately in her fingertips
and, hesitantly, began to stroke it. Cyrano lay down with a soft doggy moan of passion,
and squirmed farther onto his back to more fully expose his groin to her.
Twisting awkwardly, Carol crawled out from under the covers. She ignored the touch of
the cool air on her slender, naked body. The rosy tips of her tits hardened as she
fondled Cyrano's throbbing cock, stroked it lengthwise. She found the act crazily erotic,
felt the knot of her own sexual frustration grow larger as she masturbated her panting
pet.
"I suppose," she noted as she got more jelly on her fingers, "that my tongue might be
even better at this, but I'm not ready to go that far with you. I mean, there are limits,
after all."
Cyrano whimpered softly and writhed on the bed as she circled his stabbing prick with
her palm and pumped her fist. His hindquarters began to tremble and attempt to hump
as she jacked his prick.
"Now, I'm only doing this so we can both get some sleep," Carol informed him as she
stroked his prick with her hand. His prod was slick and bone-hard in her grasp, hot
and alive and eager and wet. A hard lump was growing near the tip. She did her best to
ignore her own arousal and stroked and stroked, trying to bring the helpless animal off
with her hand.
"I suppose vets do this to gather samples for artificial insemination," she noted, trying,
in an attempt to still her own sexual excitement, to be clinical about what she was
doing. "The old hand job. Used to work to cool my boy friends when we went to the
drive-in movies. Didn't do a thing for me, though. I had to go home and diddle myself
when the date was over. Come on, Cyrano, come on!"
Cyrano was whining again, but whining in a different tone this time. Because of the
inflexibility of his spine, his humping was more an abortive jerking.
Carol's own lust was building higher and higher from the feel of the hot cock in her
fist. The backs of her fingers were rubbing the dog's hairy belly as she pumped his cock.
The length and diameter of his prick excited her, and she found herself comparing it
with her late husband's tool. She thought of how great Jake's rod had felt filling her
cunt, and felt hot juices drool from her frustrated hole.
"Come on, Cyrano, come on!" she urged the animal. Her arm and wrist were tiring
from the endless pumping of the canine cock. She wondered if there were some nerve
damage the vet hadn't detected. She couldn't believe it would have taken this long if
Cyrano had been mating with a poodle bitch. She felt the knot at the cock tip again and
suddenly understood its purpose. It held his dick full depth in a bitch until he had
poured a load of sperm into her clutching hole.
The thought of what that knot would feel like tearing at her own cunt, brought a hot
wave from Carol's pussy, and a flush of shame to her face. What was she thinking of?
Better forget that idea.
But the prick in her fist wouldn't let her forget. She stroked and tugged at it. On her
knees on the bed, her white, slender ass raised high, she leaned on one elbow and
pumped her hand. Her small, firm tits jiggled and jerked as she struggled to bring the
animal to an orgasm. Her nose was aware of his hot, live smell. Somehow it touched
the primitive animal deep in her own body, and increased her arousal even more.
Cyrano was whimpering in time with the humping of his hindquarters. His tongue
trailed out of one side of his mouth, a velvety pink ribbon that contrasted with his 
jetblack whiskers. His saliva was staining the bedspread.
"Come on, baby," she whispered. Her face was close to his. She jerked on his thrusting
prick, and smelled the doggy odor of him. "Come on!"
The cock in her fist swelled. The tip got harder and larger. Deciding that all of his shaft
should be stimulated, she cupped her other hand around the knot. She braced herself
up on both elbows and pumped her hands desperately. The ache in her arms grew, as
did the hot fire in her cunt.
Cyrano began to come. His prick pumped heavily, pulsed strongly in her grasp. She felt
a hot jet of sperm press against the palm of the hand she had over his cockhead, then
pressure back and spill over her other hand. The spurts came slowly and powerfully.
Wave after scalding wave of canine jizz drenched her clutching hands as she massaged
the dog's erupting cock. The smell of canine cum was heavy in the air. Her hands were
drowned in thick waves of juice. His back legs were kicking in time with his spurts, as
if he were trying to drive his cock still deeper into a bitch. Anxious to please her
beloved pet, Carol matched the moves of her hands to his kicking and spraying. His
pearly-gray spunk flowed over her hands, down his belly, and onto the satin bedspread.
Carol's pussy was dying with hunger as she watched. She remembered how Jake's cock
had felt pumping and spurting in her cunt. The fact that she would never feel it again
brought tears of frustration from her eyes and from her empty hole.
Cyrano whined as his spraying died slowly to a lingering, pulsating trickle, and then
faded to nothingness. It seemed to Carol that the process had taken hours. The shaft 
in her hand was still hard, the knob still distended. She wondered how long he would
keep his hard-on. Gingerly, she eased her two-fisted grasp on his dick. As she
straightened up, she kept her attention on him, uncertain how he would react now.
Lying half on his back, panting, the poodle didn't stir. The only motion was the
heaving of his deep rib cage as he panted. His cock slowly retreated, slid back into its
hairy sheath. His belly was matted and sticky with overflow jism. For a while he kept
one hind leg lifted high, spread to expose his gut. Then, slowly, he lowered it in a series
of jerks until it closed, concealed his now-satisfied cock.
"God, I'm horny," Carol moaned to herself as she sprawled on her back in the middle
of the bed. The light from the bedside lamp highlighted her slender body, gleamed on
the dark-red curls of her crotch. Without even thinking about it, she spread the outer
lips of her cunt and stroked the hot inner labia. Her finger touched her clit and her
slender hips jerked and heaved. She drilled two fingers deep into her streaming hole,
struggled to release the bottled-up lust that felt like hot lava in her body.
With a jolt she suddenly remembered doggy jizz was still drenching her hands. She was
smearing her own cunt with Cyrano's sperm, forcing his juice deep into her hole with
her probing fingers, painting it over her clit as she pressed and rolled the nerve-bud
with her slim fingers.
She started to pull her hands away from her twat, but her sexual hunger wouldn't let
her. It was too late anyway – she had already transferred most of the hot fuck juice to
her slippery box. It if was damaging, the damage was already done. Pregnancy was
impossible, fortunately. When she was done, douching would solve the disease problem,
if there was one.
Meanwhile, all that mattered was the desperate, hungry ache in her guts. Jake had been
an expert at curing that hunger. He had been as sex-crazy as she was-willing to try
anything, anywhere, anytime. The first time had, in fact, been on the roof of his
apartment building, under the glittering starry sky. The lounge had creaked and
squealed as they had clutched each other more and more closely. He had fumbled at
her clothes, and she at his. Then his hands had played over her naked body and she
had abandoned herself to him and gripped the hard tower of his cock.
He had sucked on her dainty tits until she thought they had actually grown from the
stimulation. Then his finger had plunged into her virgin cunt and her hips had heaved
up in blatant invitation.
He had moved over her, nuzzled the tip of his cock into her hole, and slowly drilled his
shaft into her box. There had been no pain, only exquisite pleasure. Her only regret as
she took his prick was that she hadn't done it earlier, that she had waited so long for
her first fuck.
Now, lying on her back on the bed she shared only with her dog, Carol wept softly for
those days. Her soaked fingers probed deep into her red-bushed pussy and toyed with
the aroused nubbin of her clit. She still slept naked, the way Jake had taught her to. She
was on her back, her legs spread wide as if ready to receive him. But all she had was her
own fingers. She diddled her clit and pumped them in her hole.
For some reason, she remembered another incident with Jake and latched onto it as her
lust boiled higher. They had been on a picnic out in the country. In a secluded, grassy
clearing they had lunched and snuggled and necked. Some impish impulse had made
her turn it into a wrestling match. In moments, they had both been aroused beyond
belief. Clothes had been stripped away with a crazy disregard for buttons and snaps 
and hooks. Carol's bra had been destroyed completely. Then, both naked, they had
continued wrestling. They tumbled over and over in the grass. Leaves and twigs and
weeds scratched their bare bodies.
Squirming on her back on the big bed, Carol decided she would never find sexual
satisfaction like that again. Her fingers plunging in and out, in and out of her cunt, she
relived that crazy, naked scramble on the grass. It had been bare skin against bare skin,
tits against chest or back or even butt-cheeks. Unable to huddle protectively because of
his incredible hard-on, Jake's cock and balls had beaten at her thighs, her belly and ribs,
even her neck and face. They had battled with a crazy madness, and finished by fucking
wildly.
Carol heaved and jerked, fought desperately to bring herself to the glittering apex of an
orgasm. One foot slipped on the satin spread, touched Cyrano's furry warmth. The
tired poodle raised his head, sniffed the air, then lay down again as Carol continued
finger-fucking, oblivious to everything but her memories and her pleasure.
At one point on that long-ago day, Jake's cock had dangled over her face. She had been
on her back. His legs were pinning her arms to the grass. His head was toward her
crotch. Suddenly, she had opened her mouth and engulfed his towering shaft with her
lips. She had sucked his cock in, lifted her head so she could slide his prick the length
of her tongue. She had felt his hot breath on the insides of her thighs. Then his mouth
had pressed into her red twat, and his tongue had speared into her steaming hole. As
the sun burned down on them both, her hips had bucked crazily. He mouthed her
pussy, tongued her clit, and then scooped up her secretions. She had tasted his hot
drippings on the back of her tongue and her lust had raged still higher.
Then with a mad, wild twist, she had thrown him off. His prick had pulled free of her
mouth as he tumbled to the grass beside her.
Carol writhed crazily, tearing one hand out of her ravenous cunt to torment the firm
mound of her tit, finger it in feeble imitation of the way Jake's demanding fingers had
massaged it. There was a whimpering noise in the bedroom again. Only this time it was
coming from Carol, not from the poodle still lying at her feet. Sweat gleamed on her
slender body as she squirmed and heaved in the throes of pleasure.
Her mind was still on the crazy episode in the clearing, on reliving every exquisite facet
of their romp. Jake's hands had reached for her, and one had closed on a tit, hard. She
had welcomed the brutal pain, loved it. She had struggled to get free, to turn the tables
on him, and pin him with her slight weight. But she knew she couldn't do it unless he
let her do it. His fingers had bruised her boob, burned her nipple. He had thrown her
off with an easy jerk of his strong arms, and she had gone rolling and tumbling across
the clearing. She had been laughing and giggling in mad denial of her raging lust for
him.
Desperately, Carol jammed three fingers into her streaming cunt. She was wantonly
oblivious of the dog jizz still coating her hands. She pumped her fingers in her
fountaining pink hole. Her tight, firm ass bounced on the resilient mattress as she
finger-fucked herself. She mangled her clitoris with her thumb, rolled it against the
bony arch of her mound, felt the little button squirm, try to escape the crushing it so
loved to get.
No holds had been barred in that animal coupling in the summer sun so long ago. His
hand had closed on her crotch, his fingers digging into her tender pussy flesh. There
had been pain, but there had also been pleasure from the brutal invasion. Carol had
wrapped her hand around Jake's bobbing, waving bludgeon of a cock. She had
threatened his balls with her hand, but refrained from bringing him to his knees with
her firm grip on his nuts. Instead, she released them, wrapped her hand around his
throbbing dick again, and pumped it madly while he explored her fountaining pussy
with his fingers.
Then she had fought to get on top of him again. She had succeeded for one ecstatically
brief minute, had actually managed to screw herself on his cock for a moment before he
rebelled and heaved her off.
Carol's head rolled crazily on the bed, her long red hair whipping around her face. She
whined at the ceiling. Cyrano lifted his head and eyed his mistress' gaping cunt. She
was stirring her fingers in her red-bushed snatch. The dog cocked his head, listened to
her half-demented ravings. His nostrils flared as he noted, catalogued, savored the smell
of her aroused cunt.
Carol was nearing her peak. She used both hands on her cunt, tried to jack herself that
little notch higher, strove desperately for that flaming release. In her mind, she was
nearing the end of that afternoon in the sun. Exhaustion was making her ache both in
reality and in her recollections-ache with a delicious exhaustion that in her dreams was
going to end with sweet surrender to her mate.
He was on her back, pinning her to the grass with his weight. She had struggled weakly
against his bulk, pushed with her hands in an attempt to lift herself. She had failed. Her
boobs had been ground hard into the scratchy grass. Jake had been lying across her.
Then, still grinding her into the ground, he shifted, squirmed around on top of her.
Then he had been lying lengthwise on top of her, his shoulders on hers. His cock had
been nuzzling impertinently at her ass. She had squirmed her hips, and the tip of his
prick had burrowed into her crack, and her lust had boiled higher. When she had lifted
her butt, he hadn't resisted, had let her hitch her backside upward. He had wriggled,
and his prick had pried farther into her ass crack, probed like a blind worm for an
opening, found the tight bud of her asshole.
She had hiked her butt higher, and Jake had pressed forward, and she had felt her bung
being slowly wedged open by his cock. It had burned like fire, sent flames of pleasure
roaring through her. She had fought to actually admit his buggering tool. He had
drilled into her brownie, dilated her sphincter an agonizing millimeter at a time. She
had lifted her butt in invitation. He had slowly forced his shaft through the resisting
pucker of her asshole. He had buggered her as she knelt submissively before him, her
cheek on the ground, her ass held high for his penetration.
He had fucked her as a stud fucks a bitch, only in the wrong hole. There, in an open
field, with summer breezes drying their sweat, the sun blistering their naked skins, he
had driven his prick full depth in her bowels and she had begun to come. He had
reached around under her and driven his fingers into her streaming pussy. She had let
him ream her tail with his cock. They had fucked like perverted animals in the wild, his
cock pistoning in and out of her outraged ass as her lust drove her mad.
On her back on the bed, Carol relived the ass-fuck, and pistoned her fingers in her
fountaining cunt. She tormented her clitoris with the fingers of her other hand and
recalled the exquisite pain/pleasure of the mad coupling. She actually felt her asshole
spasming. It was as if it could feel Jake's cruel prick cramming it, jamming it open.
Carol began to come. Her pussy erupted. Wave after thick, slippery wave of fluids
streamed over her hands, mingled with Cyrano's sperm, spilled down over her winking
asshole. Her body knotted in one final convulsion as she remembered the jerking and
spurting of Jake's cock in her spasming butt. Her heels digging into the bed, Carol
arched up for a long, fiery moment as her orgasm raged through her. Then she slowly
sagged and collapsed. She was exhausted, drained and hollow. Her soaked hands slid
from her pussy, smearing her cunt hair and the naked skin of her pelvis with secretions.
Sprawled on her back, exhausted, her nipples slowly softening, Carol Jeffers drifted off
to sleep. She stirred once. Her hips squirmed slightly, searching for something that was
no longer there. Then she was still. She lay unabashedly exposed. Her legs were spread
wide, her hands were at her sides. The light from the forgotten lamp spilled over her
pale, smooth body.
The large black poodle raised his head, stared at his red-haired mistress. His long pink
tongue licked out, combed his whiskers into a grin. He yawned, exposed his gleaming
white teeth. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. It reeked of cunt. His tongue licked
up, bathed his nose.
Oblivious to everything, Carol slept on. Her tits rose and fell evenly. Her head rolled
slightly to one side. Her face was a shadow. Her lips were parted slightly. Her nipples
were partially erect, not engorged as at the height of her passion, but not completely
relaxed, either.
Cyrano tested the air with his sensitive nose. Something in it intrigued him, stirred
primitive appetites. After another nervous yawn he struggled to get to his feet. His rigid
spine made it hard, as did the slipperiness of the satin bedspread. But finally he got his
back feet under him. They were spraddled defensively against the slipperiness of the
spread. As if exploring a trap, he stretched his neck forward. His nose was seeking and
testing, searching for the source of the tantalizing aroma.
A hesitant step and he was moving up between Carol's wide-spread legs. His nose and
whiskers brushed the inside of one sleek thigh. The leg moved, spread her even wider.
"The knee bent more. Another cautious step brought Cryano's nose within inches of
Carol's moist, humid crotch. He licked to one side, on her sensitive inner thigh. Carol
squirmed in her sleep, and her thigh spread still wider. The slit of her pussy gaped
open. It was a pink-petaled gash bordered by damp red curls.
Cyrano licked again, at the edge of her pussy hair. His hot, velvety tongue stroked her
flesh where her hand had smeared sex juices. Carol's flat stomach shuddered in
response to the warm, sensuous stroking. Carefully, Cyrano washed her.
He swept his long pink tongue over her pale skin. The strands of red hair at the edge of
her pussy tugged straight as he lapped the edges of her furry crotch.
Standing between her widespread thighs, the big black poodle licked the fragrant,
appetizing secretions of her naked skin. He licked the insides of both thighs. Carol's
hips squirmed as she tried, in her sleep, to spread her legs still wider.
Having exhausted that source, Cyrano moved closer to the heart of her pussy. His
tongue combed through the tangled mat of her twat, tugged at her cuntlips, stretched
the kinks out of her curls. His tongue slithered into her pussy, and in a mad reaction
that made him flinch back, Carol's hips heaved up.
For a moment the dog paused, eyed the slender red-haired woman carefully. Her face
was turned toward the ceiling. He could see her delicate features. Her lips were parted
with lust, not relaxation, now. Her breathing was heavier, quicker. The points of her
nipples cast long shadows over her boobs because of their increased arousal. A fine film
of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her fingers curled, clutched the bed, and her
stomach sucked inward. Her toes curled in a primitive reflex gripping motion.
Cyrano yielded to the siren call from her crotch, and lowered his head. His tongue
flicked out, stroked the length of her slit, spreading the soft bulge of her labia, plowing
between the soft, aroused petals of her inner folds. Carol moaned and writhed. Her
head rolled and her eyelids fluttered as she hung on the borderline of sleep. The big
poodle ignored her stirrings this time, and raped his tongue along her slit again. It
stroked over the nerve-packed head of her clitoris, and Carol woke up. She stared
blindly at the ceiling, remembering that time Jake had driven her mad with his tongue.
The tongue ripped her cunt open again. It was hot and rough and burning. Carol
heaved as lust exploded through her like lightning. But Jake was dead, and she was
alone, and there was no way she could be feeling what she was feeling. Her chain of
thought was blasted to shining fragments by the searing stimulation of another tongue
stroke along her swollen gash. With a jerk, Carol heaved her head up and looked down,
and saw the huge black dog standing between her gaping thighs. His legs were braced,
his muzzle was at her crotch. She let out a howl as his tongue ripped through her
aroused cunt folds again.
"Nooo, Cyrano!" she protested, her voice a crazy wail as he ravaged her dripping split
yet again. Since there was no tone of command in her order, the dog ignored her, and
wedged his cold nose into her hot crotch. It felt as if a burning coal had touched her
cunt. Carol's lust burned away the shreds of resistance she had succeeded in mustering.
Seeking the source of her sweet fluid, Cyrano bored his tongue into her pussy hole.
Carol's hips heaved and squirmed madly as he penetrated her snatch. She felt his
tongue drill deep into her box, deeper than any human tongue possibly could. It was
insane! A velvety rasp was scraping the sensitive, rippled walls of her hole, and a chill
black nose was pressing her outraged clitoris. Cyrano's hot breath was burning her
flesh.
After scooping up a wave of her juices with his tongue, Cyrano probed for more, drove
his tongue still deeper into the honey hole he had found.
"Awww, nooo," Carol moaned, futilely protesting her own incredible arousal. She
touched Cyrano's head, stroked the hard bones of his skull.
Her fingers combed through the warm, kinky wool of his topknot. His jaw worked, his
tongue probed into her cunt yet again. Her hips heaved, thrust her pussy against his
probing muzzle. He drilled his tongue deep into her fountaining hole, scrubbing her
cunt walls clean of her flood of secretions.
Something made him shift his attack. His harsh tongue stroked her clitoris. It felt like
red-hot sandpaper. Carol wailed, and clutched Cyrano's fur until he tugged free. His
head plunged downward, his tongue stroked, blistered her asshole with its hot
roughness. Carol heaved her hips up, inviting a repeat of that intimate lapping. It came
again, and she went half-mad with pleasure. Reaching down, she grabbed her asscheeks
and yanked them apart until the skin stretched and stung. Cyrano's tongue struck like a
lash, probed, actually penetrating her bung a fraction of an inch. Carol began to come.
The tongue stripped the juices from her shitter, continued up toward her cunt, then
drilled into that streaming hole as her glands overflowed from the incredible
stimulation. Carol came as she felt the dog's tongue drill deep into her twat hole.
Writhing, half-mad with lust, she invited him to tongue-fuck her some more. She knew
what she was doing was crazy, but she didn't care. The pleasure roared through her.
Cyrano plunged his tongue into her sweet snatch again and again, scooping out wave
after wave of her come. The source of her delicious juices seemed endless. The more he
licked the more there was. He pressed his muzzle hard into the wet gash as he twisted
his tongue into her hole, searching for the ultimate source of her delicious sweetness.
Carol heaved, howled, as her orgasm went on and on and on. Even Jake at his most
devoted and persistent had never been able to get this reaction from her. Sooner or later
his arousal had always gotten the best of him and he had stopped licking her cunt and
plunged his cock deep into her spasming hole. But Cyrano apparently had no urge to
do that. All he wanted was to drink her twat dry. He kept right on trying as her climax
raged on and on and on.
An exquisite ache in her muscles finally brought Carol down from her peak, stilled the
streaming of her cunt and collapsed her hips back onto the bed. When his source of
supply was yanked away from him, Cyrano followed it, probed with his nose until she
had to heave herself up on one shaking arm and forcefully push him away.
"No!" she told him firmly.
Cyrano backed up, and, hurt by her sudden rejection, looked at her reproachfully.
"That's enough, Cyrano," she added, again as if he could understand. "That's enough,"
she repeated more softly, realizing it was not his fault.
"Oh, Cyrano," Carol sighed at last. "You lecher, you really did it, didn't you?"
Cyrano cocked his head. He was panting slightly, and his insidious pink tongue was
dancing over his lower teeth. He sat down.
"God only knows what horrible disease I'll get now," Carol moaned, struggling to her
feet. "Probably come down with distemper!"
She tried to keep her mind off how good it had been as she douched thoroughly. She
knew that sooner or later she would want to do it again.
"Doc Wells may faint when I ask him," she said to Cyrano as she came back into the
bedroom. "But I'm going to have to ask him about it. You're due for a check-up this
week. I'll have to gather my strength and find a way to phrase the question."
Cyrano's tail wagged hopefully, but he didn't lift his head.
"Probably," Carol answered. "Probably I will let you lick my pussy again, dammit. Now
go to sleep, lecher." She turned out the light. She felt the dog's comforting warmth and
weight against her legs as she fell asleep.


Chapter 2

Peter Collins nibbled gently on the earlobe of the short, curvy blonde beside him, then
slid his hand up her side and over the warm, yielding mound of her enormous boob.
The soft material of her blouse skated slickly over her skin. He could feel the bump of
her nipple against his palm when the fabric was pulled across it. Her head tilted back,
and she whimpered deep in her throat as he nibbled on her ear. His cock was so hard it
was threatening to split his zipper. He wondered if she would free his straining rod for
him, or if he would have to do it himself.
Her warm, dainty hand slid up his thigh, seemed about to answer his question.
Cautiously he popped the top button of her blouse through the buttonhole and stroked
the soft skin between her tits. Fingers that tickled insanely measured the hardness and
size of his prick. Then, as he slipped his fingers farther inside Ginger's blouse, stroked
the warm softness of her tit, stroked closer to the nipple, he felt her fiddling with the
tab of his zipper.
Every tooth of the zipper let go at once. There was a twitch that sent an electric spark
through him. Her head was tilted so she could look at his lap. He saw her blue eyes
sparkle as they caught the light from the candle on the mantelpiece. His lips brushed
her perfumed cheek. He was amazed at its softness. His prick surged upward. It was
free of his pants, but still held in by his shorts. He unfastened the next button of her
blouse, his hand moving easily now, and his fingers curved over the globe of her huge
jug. It had the barest trace of a crease on its underside. The nipple persisted in
squirming between his fingers as he measured the firmness of her boob.
His lips fastened on hers. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, without waiting for
him to make the first move. As he tasted the Scotch on her breath, he felt her free his
prick and curl her fingers around it, and begin stroking it delicately. He felt her fingers
sliding on his pre-cum, and knew just how ready he was to plunge his tool into her hot
cunt.
But she wasn't ready, not by a long shot. There were still too many layers of material
separating their bodies. Quickly, he undid her remaining buttons and eased the blouse
back off her shoulders. She let go of his cock and allowed him to strip her, to bare her
to her waist, all without breaking the sucking, tasting kiss. Instead of grabbing again for
his prick, she unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled away, let her strip it down his arms. It
caught in the waist of his trousers until he tugged impatiently. Then he threw it aside.
Now, when they came back together, it was bare skin against bare skin from waist to
shoulders. Her left boob nuzzled warmly against his ribs. The rubbery nipples teased
the sparse, curling hairs on his chest. He had his arm around her shoulders. His free
hand was cupping and gently lifting the delectable weight of her right tit. He stroked
his thumb over the rubbery nubbin, felt it bounce alertly back for the next stroke across
it. It grew every time he touched it.
Ginger was unfastening his belt now, then unhooking the waist of his trousers. She
tugged at them and his underpants together. Peter lifted his hips, let her drag his
clothes down. His cock dragged through the fly of his underpants and then whipped
free, flopping against his thigh.
Tearing free of the saliva-swapping kiss that threatened to go on forever, he bowed his
head and lifted her boob. His lips touched her hot nipple, closed on it. Her chest
heaved up in response. He sucked her tit, battered it with his tongue. He felt and heard
her whimper softly deep in her throat. Releasing his grasp on her jug, he slid his hand
down her soft stomach. When he touched the waistband of her slacks, she sucked in
her belly. He probed in between the slacks and her soft flesh, squirmed his fingertips
down along her yielding tummy. His nails caught in the elastic of her panties. He
pushed them down until he was stopped by the lack of room in her tight slacks. He had
to stop his penetration.
Still nibbling on her scrumptious tit, he almost panicked when he couldn't find the
fastener on her slacks. Then he remembered it was right in front and quickly flipped
the button loose. A moment and the zipper slid easily down, and her slacks spread
open. Awkwardly, slipping his loafers off at the same time, he kicked free of his
hobbling trousers. He moved his hand down over her belly again, outside her panties,
inside her slacks, and felt the hot humidity as he neared her crotch. Through the thin,
slick nylon of her panties, he could feel the kinks of her bush pressed flat against her
skin. He felt the hard arch of her pubis through the cushion of her cunt mound, and
then the moist softness of her pussy as her thighs spread slightly.
A soft animal moan raised the hackles on the back of Peter's neck. For a moment he
thought it was Ginger since he had just pressed his fingers against her pussy.
"What was that?" she whispered softly.
The moan came again, trailed off into a long, low whine. Peter made a wry face.
"Gwen," he said curtly.
"Who's Gwen?" Ginger demanded as another blood-curdling moan pierced the air.
"Sounds like something out of a horror movie."
"My dog," he answered.
"Really?"
Peter felt the mood deteriorating and acted quickly to recapture it. "Forget her," he told
Ginger, praying that Gwen would shut up.
Quickly, Peter began a two-pronged attack on Ginger: His lips closed on her knocker
and his hand probed inside her panties, pressed through the twisting curls of her twat
hair. He wondered if she was a genuine blonde. He slipped his finger into her hot gash
and touched the slippery bump of her clitoris. This time, the moan was from Ginger.
Gwen had finally shut up. Ginger's hips squirmed and wriggled as he slipped his finger
farther into her hot slit. He was stretching her nylon panties to the limit as he probed
up between her thighs. Her hand was squeezing his cock almost to the point of pain.
She lifted and let him drag her panties down and expose her pussy more. Quickly, she
lifted and he stripped the panties and slacks off her sleek, slender legs. Then the two of
them coiled into a tight, naked, erotic knot on the sofa. Tits mashed against chest,
thighs rubbed and tangled with thighs. Peter felt his cock getting even harder.
They each retrieved one arm from the tight tangle and explored each other's crotches.
Peter felt her fingers sliding around his prick, then under his balls. She lifted his nuts,
let them roll from side to side. He cupped her soft pussy in his hand, let his longest
finger slide into her slippery crack. It was sucked into the hot, eager well of her hole.
Probing deeper into her snatch, he cupped his palm against her pubic arch. He had her
clit trapped against the bone.
He finger-fucked her, rolling her clitoris against her mons. He was rewarded by a hot
moan. Then Ginger wrenched her mouth free of his and clamped her hand tightly
around his twitching cock.
Slowly, slowly, she leaned back away from him, lay back on the couch. He followed. He
leaned forward, but kept his hand in her cunt. She stretched out and looked up at him.
Her short hair was tousled and erotic-looking. Her eyes were glittering. Her tits were
magnificent as they heaved with lust. The nipples were dark in the candlelight, the
shadows emphasizing the thrusting softness of her generous globes. He hovered over
her as she lay there, one arm bent, her fingers combing through his crotch hair, her
other hand clutching his aroused prick.
Tearing his eyes off her face and jugs, he glanced down her rounded body, then lifted
his hand from her cunt. She was a natural blonde! The muff between her thighs was a
delicate strawberry shade. She lifted one leg and swung it around him so she was
straddling him. One of her legs was behind him, the other across his thighs. Her pussy
gaped open in front of him. He explored it with his thumb. He spread her cuntlips to
reveal the blushing pink petals of her twat. He stroked his thumb through the slippery
tissues of her inner labia, rolled her clit. Then he eased his thumb into her tight,
sucking, hot hole, and watched her lush body writhe with ecstasy from the penetration.
"Do me," she moaned hungrily. "Please, do me
"Do what now?" he asked softly, teasing her.
"Fuck me," she said softly. "Fuck me."
He pumped his thumb in her syrupy hole and studied her. He slid one hand up and
pressed down on her big boob. He felt her nipple try to bore into his palm. He wasn't
being deliberately cruel – he was just savoring the exotic moment. His cock was
throbbing in her hot grasp. She tugged anxiously at his long, slender prod, trying to
drag him in the right direction.
"Fuck me," she repeated in a tone that made his blood boil.
With a squirming wrench, he managed to turn, to move over her, to settle himself
between her thighs. He thought for a moment about precautions, but it was too late for
that. Either she was safe, or she wasn't. They were past the point-of-no-return.
Ginger guided the tip of his prick to her oozing hole, and he sank his shaft deep into
her velvety snatch. He felt her hot cunt walls embrace his cock. His balls squeezed a
stinging hot drop of pre-cum into her arms around him. He lay on top of her, crushing
her petite body into the sofa. Her face tipped up. He fastened his mouth on hers again.
Her jugs were warm, pillowy cushions against his chest, cushions that squirmed
excitingly as he writhed on her soft body.
His hips began to move. He drew his pulsing cock out of her cunt, slid it back in, felt
the ripples of her cunt walls stroke his already burning meat. He fucked slowly and
carefully at first, then faster as his lust boiled higher and higher.
Ginger began to whimper as he put the prick to her; her hips began heaving and
twisting under him. Her fingers raked his back as he pounded his cock into her
clutching cunt. He felt a pool of cum boiling in his gut. He prayed he would be able to
so bring her off soon. If he didn't, he was going to spray her guts with his load before
she was satisfied. And he didn't want that. He and Ginger both knew it was a one-night
stand. But still he Wanted their fuck to be good, something they could both remember
without regrets.
"Yes!" Ginger whined. "Yeeesss! I'm coming! COOOMMMIIINNNGGG!!"
She arched under him. He drilled his cock full depth into her cunt, grinding his pubic
arch against hers, his cockhead nuzzling the blunt end of her snatch. He felt her cunt
walls spasming around his prick. He held on.
"AAAAWWWWaaaa!" Her voice trailed off. The tenseness went out of her all at once.
Suddenly she was totally limp under him.
He gave her a minute, then began to move his dick in her hole again.
"You mean you didn't come?" she gasped.
"This time," he answered, eagerly pistoning his prick in her tight twat. Lifting up on his
hands, he looked down, saw the pale length of his prick drive into her soft pink hole.
His hips humped determinedly, slamming his cock into her box. They came together
with a wet crunch on every stroke. Peter felt her beginning to writhe again. He was
driving her to a second peak. He was getting close to his own blistering orgasm, and
this time he was going to let it come, was not going to hold it back. It would be great if
he brought her off at the same time, but it wasn't a necessity.
His prick was on fire. He pounded it into her cunt furiously, trying to trigger the hot
spark that would lead to the explosion. He rammed into her snatch harder and harder
and harder as his orgasm drew closer and closer. Then he was holding it back with an
incredible effort of will, struggling to get as high on the mountain as he could before
the avalanche swept him away.
"Oohh! OOOHHHH!! " Ginger keened insanely. "Not again! Aww, not again!"
Her orgasmic wail of pleasure was punctuated this time by the explosive eruption of his
cock in her spasming cunt. Thick, blistering spurts of jizz spattered deep into her hole.
He unloaded all his pent-up load in a powerful series of bursts. His toes curling, he
clutched her shoulders and tried to run her through with his spurting dong. His
muscles valiantly wrung the last glittering drops of sperm into her snatch. Then his
body could at last relax. They both slumped exhausted and panting onto the couch.
They were just catching their breaths when a long, agonizing moan pierced the warm,
peaceful apartment. Ginger pushed him away and sat up. She combed her tousled hair
into place with her fingers. From the way she sat, she was fully conscious of the effect
her naked body was having on him, and was pleased with it.
"Where is that dog, anyway?" she asked.
Gwen let out another mournful wail.
"The bedroom."
"Well, why don't you let her out?" Ginger asked.
"I didn't know how you felt about dogs," Peter explained lamely. "She's kind of big."
"I like big dogs," Ginger answered. "Now let the poor thing out. Golly!"
"I'm coming, Gwen, I'm coming," Peter said as he headed for the bedroom. When he
opened the door, a hundred-pound ball of fur shot past him.
"A sheepdog!" Ginger exclaimed as Gwen cavorted clumsily around the small room.
She was wagging her entire back end with glee. She sniffed nearsightedly at Ginger's
bare skin, and a pink tongue flashed out of her hairy muzzle and took a wet swipe at
Ginger's face.
"How adorable!" Ginger exclaimed.
Gwen blundered through the scattered clothing and nuzzled Peter as he fixed drinks for
himself and Ginger. He glanced down when Gwen let out a mournful moan.
"What's the matter, baby? You can't need to go out right now. Besides, I'm hardly
dressed for it," Peter told the shaggy beast. He carried the drinks across the room, his
prick swaying gently at every step.
Gwen gave another blood-curdling moan, and then shivered. Peter frowned.
"What's the matter?" Ginger asked.
"She's in heat." He curled his arm around Ginger's naked shoulder. He hooked his
elbow behind her neck, and reached down and began casually fondling her tit.
"In heat?" Ginger asked, puzzled.
"Her mating time," Peter explained. "She wants to get laid. She's horny."
"Oh, poor baby," Ginger sympathized, tangling her slim fingers in Gwen's long, shaggy
locks. "I know just how you feel."
Peter refrained from making any comment. He was sure Ginger did know exactly how
the big dog felt. It wasn't so much the lack of resistance he had met in Ginger as her
easy, practiced skill at taking cock that made him suspect she regarded sex rather
casually. Not that he had any objections to her attitude. But somewhere, somehow,
something was lacking. It had been a good fuck, but nothing more than that.
Gwen wailed piteously, and he caught the twinkle of her eyes through the yarn-like
drapery over her face. "No sleep tonight," he sighed.
"Goodie!" Ginger chirped over the rim of her glass.
"I mean, no peace and quiet," Peter elaborated. "When Gwen gets into this mood, she
can raise the dead with her moaning. It's only the second time she's been in heat. The
first time I had to move to this apartment because of the complaints from the
neighbors."
"Why don't you breed her?" Ginger asked over Gwen's next mating call.
"At midnight on a Saturday night? Besides, all I need would be a herd of puppies to
deal with, too."
"So have her fixed," Ginger suggested.
"Can't," Peter sighed after waiting a moment for Gwen to stop howling. "Promised the
breeder I wouldn't. She'll be bred eventually. She's too young right now."
Ginger shuddered at a growling moan from Gwen. The dog was pacing restlessly. Peter
saw Ginger's nipples peaking sharply. Was it from the noise? "You mean she'll go on
like this all night?" Ginger asked.
"She'll go on like this for days," Peter said bitterly, shouting to be heard over Gwen's
next cry.
"That's awful! I don't think I could stand it," Ginger said.
Peter knew what was coming, and felt a twinge of disappointment. He would have liked
to deliver his cock to Ginger a second time. It was simple lust, not love, though.
"I think I'll have to leave," Ginger said mournfully. "I'd invite you over, but my
roommate's here this weekend. You understand, don't you?"
Peter admitted he did as Ginger dressed. Gwen kept on wailing. He didn't bother to
dress. He waited, then saw Ginger to the door and let her out. Gwen made a break for
freedom and he grabbed a fistful of fur as he gave Ginger an awkward peck.
"Well, thanks a heap," he said to Gwen after locking the door and letting go of the
huge dog.
Gwen moaned. He went to get another drink. He wondered why he had gotten a bitch.
There had been a male he could have had. Instead, he had taken Gwen. At the time he
had joked with the breeder that he preferred girls – as much to turn off the breeder's
obvious interest in him as anything. But it hadn't been that much of a joke, really.
Still naked, his cock itchy with dried cum, Peter leaned against the mantel and sipped
his Scotch. The candle was still burning. Gwen paced and paced. She was moaning and
growling almost constantly. Her volume and her repertoire were greater than they had
been the first time. It promised to be a brutal, long night, and Peter suddenly felt very
tired. He sympathized, too, with the frustrated animal. He remembered only too well
his own horny teenage days.
Gwen let out a particularly blood-curdling cry. Peter's drink slopped over his hand as
he flinched. "My God, girl, it can't be that bad," he told the dog.
As if pleased with the effect, Gwen repeated the jarring wail. She lifted her head and let
her cry trail off. She sounded like a tormented soul in hell.
"Jesus! If you're going to do that all night, I'm going to crack up!" Peter complained
sharply.
Gwen did it again. Peter killed the rest of his drink in desperation. "What in hell do
you expect me to do about it?" he asked, peeved.
Gwen shambled over and leaned against his bare leg, pushing him off balance. She
looked up at him trustingly with the you-can-do-anything expression she used when
she was hungry or sick or hurt. She nuzzled his hand with her cold nose. Her hot
tongue stroked his fingers lovingly. Startled, he glanced down at her.
"You've got to be kidding!" he snorted, trying to ignore the idea that had formed in his
head. It was as if Gwen had put it there.
She again nuzzled his hand and moaned, and the idea hardened. It wouldn't go away.
He really felt sorry for the dog. He also knew that he was due for a sleepless night if
something wasn't done. Her constant mating calls would have him climbing the walls
soon. And he was worried that even in this apartment her cries would disturb the
neighbors. He couldn't afford to move again.
After pouring himself more Scotch, he went over to the couch. It was still spotted with
drying jizz and cunt juice from him and Ginger. He sat down. Trustingly, Gwen
followed him. She shouldered past the coffee table, almost tipping it over with her bulk.
Peter gulped his drink and massaged the dog's big, broad back with his free hand. He
let his hand move toward her tail, kneading her fur and skin. Gwen shivered and
whimpered hopefully. Peter paused at the base of her bobbed tail. He felt her back
hunch up as he scratched her thick coat.
Gwen twisted her head and looked at him. He had the distinct feeling she knew what
he was considering and was desperately hopeful. After her pleading glance, he knew he
couldn't disappoint such a poor helpless animal. A final swallow of Scotch steeled him
for what he was about to do. Cautiously, without looking, he searched her back end. He
felt hot flesh, then slippery tissues dripping juices. He knew that was her cunt. Talking
to Gwen soothingly, as if he were dealing with a virginal young girl, he probed the tip
of his finger into her pussy. He felt a brief resistance, and then his finger slid into her
wet, clinging hole. Gwen pushed back against his hand.
The heat surprised him. Her cunt was hotter than a human female's. And the size of
her hole surprised him, too. He explored it with one finger, ignoring the ecstatic groans
Gwen was giving out now. Cautiously, he slipped two fingers into her pussy, and Gwen
whined with pleasure. Her cunt felt as spacious as any girl he had ever fucked. Peter
pumped his fingers in and out of her steaming sheath, felt her juices stream down over
his hand. He diddled his free fingers between her cuntlips – if that was what they were
– and Gwen groaned with pleasure. Her hunching and shifting speeded. She pushed
harder against his hand, exactly as if she wanted more finger-fucking.
A brief thought flashed through Peter's head, and he discarded it quickly. The old story
of shepherds and their sheep came to him. Then, sternly, he reminded himself that this
was a sheep dog, not a sheep, and that there were limits, after all. Besides, he had just
fucked – though it had only been an easy and uncaring lay.
As he pumped his fingers in Gwen's blistering, soaking cunt, he stroked her powerful
back, knowing that had she really been mating, she would have had the weight of
another dog bearing down on her as added stimulus. Gwen lunged against his hand as
he pressed down near her tail and pumped his fingers in her steaming quim.
Gwen's whining was becoming more rhythmic now, and punctuated the pistoning of
his fingers in her box. Peter wondered what a canine orgasm was like, wondered what it
felt like. The cunt around his fingers seemed tighter and hotter than it had been at the
start. It was gripping him as he diddled it.
Gwen's whining gradually deepened to a grunting. Then the grunts began to stretch
out. The smell of her arousal grew even stronger in the apartment. The fleshy sheath
was squeezing his fingers now, clutching them, convulsing and relaxing. Then it
knotted tightly around his fingers, relaxed a moment, and knotted tight again. He drove
his fingers as deeply into Gwen's cunt as he could.
The dog shuddered. Her last grunt trailed out into a long moan that raised Peter's
hackles. Something in her primitive orgasmic wail stirred an animal horniness deep in
his guts. He felt his cock raising its head in answer to the mating call. He tried to shake
off the crazy feeling, but Gwen's continuing orgasmic ecstasy drilled through him,
triggered hot flames in his guts. Suddenly, in spite of his recent climax, he was sorry
Ginger had left.
Gwen's hot hole was still clinging to his fingers. She was shivering as her orgasm
stretched out for a long, long time, then faded slowly away. He could feel the tension
draining from her muscles and started to extract his dripping fingers from her hole,
then paused. Her cunt was still knotted tight, was holding him in! From somewhere he
recalled that when mating, dogs were locked together for a long time after ejaculation.
So he held on, afraid to disappoint or enrage the big dog pressing against his legs. She
was panting happily.
When at last the grip on his fingers relaxed, Peter drew them out of the canine cunt
slowly and carefully. Gwen let out an almost human sigh of satisfaction and leaned
even more heavily against him, exhausted. He sat there as she turned and licked blindly
and happily at him. Her hot, velvety tongue stroked his naked, hairy thigh. It felt like
soft, pliable sandpaper. He tousled her shaggy head lovingly.
"You're welcome," he assured his pet politely when she kept licking at his leg. The
touch of her cold nose was followed instantly by a contrasting hot swipe from her
tongue. "Glad I could be of assistance in your time of need."
Gwen went right on licking, evidently finding something on his skin she enjoyed.
Perhaps dried sweat, left from his fuck with Ginger. The big dog hesitantly placed one
huge paw on the sofa beside his thigh, then surged upward. Peter started to push her
back, started to enforce his rule about getting on the furniture, then didn't. After all,
Gwen was just trying to thank him for her release, however short it might be.
Her hot tongue left a cold, wet trail on his thigh. It moved up and in on his leg,
following some unseen lure on his flesh. Then Peter remembered the strand of surplus
jizz that had dribbled onto his leg after he and Ginger had separated. His spunk was
what Gwen was so avidly licking off his leg! If she followed it to the source, she'd end
up at – at his cock!
Peter felt his prick harden at the idea, and clutched his drink desperately, then
remembered it was empty. The glass clattered as he set it down. He reached for the
watery dregs Ginger had left. He felt Gwen's long tongue stroke through his brown
crotch bush, tug the hairs straight. He closed his eyes as a shudder of anticipation
racked him.
Gwen paused, and he thought for a moment she was done. She had her big paws on
both sides of his legs now, and was leaning over his lap. Her thick, shaggy mane tickled
his thighs outrageously. It was arousing rather than distracting. Her hot breath hit his
hard-on. When her cold nose touched it, it was like an electric shock. Peter looked
down. Gwen's tongue darted out. It stroked his aroused dick like a blistering, wet piece
of velvet. He had been given blow jobs by women, knew how their tongues felt. Those
sensations paled before the hot roughness of Gwen's canine tongue.
Gwen stroked the length of the prick in front of her, from tip to base along the top.
Peter felt his juices sizzle as they seeped from the tip of his prick. His rod was quickly
expanding and stretching to its full, lean length, lifting and trying to tip upward against
his belly. Gwen lapped at his meat hungrily.
The thought of her taking his cock in her teeth chilled Peter for a moment, then faded
as her tongue burned his nerve endings again. Reaching down, he stroked the big dog's
head just the way he had stroked the head of the first girl who had sucked his dick. His
hard-on swiveled to one side. Gwen followed it. Her tongue curled along one flank of
his aroused shaft, from back to tip. She slurped his meat clean. His cock continued its
swing, tilted up against his stomach, exposing its helpless underbelly. Gwen struck! Her
tongue rasped against his balls, then up the length of his prick, and over the nerve
patch at the tip. Peter felt his pre-cum flood his knob.
If Gwen stopped when his dick was clean of juice, Peter thought he would die. As if
sensing disaster, his prick seeped a thick gleaming drop of pre-cum. Quickly, frantically,
he smeared the slippery fluid along the underside of his shaft. Gwen immediately swept
his prick clean. Her hot, rough stroke triggered another surge of fragrant seepings.
Peter tipped his prick, and Gwen obligingly curled her tongue around the throbbing
purple head. Her breath was hot on his sensitive meat. She licked his cock again and
again. Her teeth flashed through the tangled strands of wool that cascaded down over
her face. Peter found the hint of danger incredibly arousing. He watched his pet licking
his dick with a skill no woman had ever shown. No woman's tongue could be as deft,
as hot, as rough, or as stimulating as Gwen's was.
Peter's flat belly muscles tightened as Gwen licked and licked his aching cock. His balls
were drawing up, getting ready to cough up their load of sperm, to send it up through
the throbbing length of his rod. By letting his prick lie flat against his belly again, Pete
maneuvered Gwen into stroking her tongue over his sweaty nuts and then up the
underside of his tool. The hot, tugging stroke on his balls seemed to drag even more
sperm into his throbbing nuts. It was an absolutely unbelievable sensation, which Gwen
was happy to repeat.
Peter was ablaze with lust now, feeling the hot knot of an incipient orgasm, the burning
itch of pent-up sperm. His prick demanded, and got, Gwen's attentions. Her tongue
rasped the length of his tool. His prick drooled mindlessly with excitement. Gwen's
expert tongue swept his knob like a live, hot blanket, and another hot flood emerged
from his prick and slid slowly down over the dusky tip of his cock.
Peter remembered the hot clasp of Gwen's cunt around his fingers and shuddered. It
was mad. Mercifully, the dog was not sexually aroused at the moment. If she were, he
might have tried to jam his throbbing cock into her tight hole. One thing he was sure
of: His prick was exactly the proper dimensions to plumb Gwen's doggy snatch. He
wondered if he would ever have nerve enough to try such a perverted thing as fuckir.g
his dog.
Oblivious to her master's train of thought, Gwen kept trying to sweep the tower of
meat in front of her clean of its delectable juices. Her tongue stroked over Peter's
aroused prick with single-minded determination. Peter's glands responded with wave
after searing wave, until his groin was like a pressure cooker it was so full of steaming
cream.
He had to resist the urge to grasp Gwen's head and jam her down on his cock as his
orgasm neared. The thought of her closing her powerful jaws on his shaft kept his
actions within reason, made him battle the upward humping of his hips.
He tipped his prick straight up, curled his fist around the granite-hard shaft. He
pumped his hand on it, masturbating as Gwen's tongue swept over the nerve patch and
the knob. His groin gave a volcanic heave. The first hot spurt of jizz shot straight into
Gwen's gaping mouth. She jerked back comically. Then, as his prick continued to
convulse and jet thick gobs of pearly spunk, Gwen licked again, swept the thick cream
from his recoiling cock. Drooling, heavy waves of jizz spilled down, only to be carried
away by Gwen's hot, cleansing, scrubbing tongue – a tongue that triggered still further
hot bursts from his loaded balls. Every screeching burst of jizz could be felt as a
squirming tremble of the underside of Peter's prick, and every burst was greeted by
Gwen's swiftly moving tongue. His knob began to burn from the friction of her licking.
He shuddered and jerked as his balls tried to wring themselves completely dry. Finally
his groin knotted in a painful cramp and squeezed down on totally empty chambers.
"Enough," he croaked as the dog continued to lick his now-sore prick. "Enough," he
repeated, pushing her away.
Distracted at last, Gwen looked up at him. Her pink tongue lolled out of her mouth.
She was panting gently. She looked ridiculously pleased with herself, almost as if she
knew what she had done. As his prick withered in his grasp, Peter reflected that
animals did indulge in oral sex, though usually with themselves.
His insides shaking, Peter got up and went to get more Scotch. "Oh, baby, what we just
did," he observed to the dog as she coiled herself on the cool wooden floor near the
kitchen door. "What do you think Doc Wells will say when we tell him?"
Gwen lowered her shaggy head with a soft groan of exhaustion.
"But, on the other hand, why tell him?" Peter mused. He had always talked to Gwen as
if she understood. He had no one else to talk with regularly. Ginger had been the first
woman he had fucked in a long time. Now she was gone, and, surprisingly, he really
didn't care.
"You're due for your shots this week," he noted. "If you're still in heat, I'll discuss the
problem with him. But not a word to him about anything else, you hear me?"
Gwen didn't stir, which he took to be agreement. He was feeling rather drunk from all
that Scotch, and drained from his two orgasms. He studied the great shaggy heap of his
pet fondly. He had no regrets over what they had done – he had relieved her
discomfort, and she had responded in kind. No harm had been done. No problems
created.
Except for the memories that were going to nag him now. He couldn't possibly forget
the feel of her tongue on his prick, or the grasp of her cunt around his fingers. His
imagination performed the logical synthesis and his insides clenched at the thought.
With a wrench, he turned away and headed for the shower. He left Gwen sleeping
peacefully in the doorway. He hoped he could get to sleep before the effects of his hand
job wore off and she began paging a mate again.


Chapter 3

Carol tugged Cyrano through the door into the vet's examining room. The slippery
floor gave the resisting poodle no traction. Recognizing the scent of the room as a
source of pain and misery, not healing, Cyrano had set all four feet firmly. He slid into
the room in a sitting position he was so determinedly braced against the pull of the
leash.
A slender girl about fourteen years old quickly closed the door behind Cyrano and cut
off his retreat. Jonathan Wells, D.V.M., finished washing his hands at the stainless-steel
sink. "Help me with him, Ginny," he ordered. "We'll have to each take an end."
Carol twisted the leash in her hands nervously as Cyrano was hoisted up onto the table.
Ginny had his hindquarters, the doctor the head end. Cyrano tucked his tail down
between his legs and shivered forlornly in the middle of the shining stainless-steel table.
As the doctor ran tender, caring hands over the big black poodle, Ginny and Carol tried
to soothe the frightened dog. They bumped shoulders as they both tried to scratch his
throat and ears.
"Hi," the black-haired girl said to Carol.
"Hi," Carol responded, eyeing the girl carefully. She bore a strong resemblance to
Doctor Wells.
"He's my dad," Ginny said casually, answering
Carol's unspoke question. "Oh."
"I'm on vacation. I help when I'm on vacation," Ginny explained, as if the same
questions came up all the time. "I love animals. Do you love animals?"
"Some of them. Dogs. I'm not a cat person, really."
"Oh, I like cats, even," Ginny observed, scratching under Cyrano's collar. "But they are
awfully independent, most of them – not at all affectionate. I like affectionate animals.
Like Cyrano."
"How'd you know his name?" Carol asked, surprised.
"I helped take care of him when he was post-op." Ginny was very pretty, slender with a
budding figure. Her jet-black hair was straight and cut short. "He was awfully badly
hurt. I had to spend a lot of time with him, distract him, so he could heal."
"I – thank you," Carol said. "That was very nice of you. It must have been hard."
"Oh, I enjoyed it," Ginny answered, combing the hair back out of Cyrano's troubled
eyes. "He's sweet."
Carol noticed with surprise and embarrassment that Cyrano seemed to be getting a
hard-on. The pink tip of his prick was definitely protruding from its covering. She
wondered what was getting the dog turned on. Then her mind went to the question she
wanted to ask. With Ginny in the room, it wasn't going to be easy, but she had to
know.
"Well, he seems to be doing just fine, just fine," Doctor Wells reported. He had
completed his examination and was stroking Cyrano's back. "Only one thing troubles
me. I hesitate to mention it, but I think I should."
"What's that?" Carol's heart froze. She was terrified it was something serious.
"Were you planning on breeding him?" he asked, looking straight at Carol.
"Uh – no, I wasn't," she answered, puzzled. "Why?"
"Well, while he was here, we had an opportunity to obtain a semen sample," Doctor
Wells noted. "We do it frequently as a check on a dog's health. For reasons totally
unrelated to the accident, Cyrano is sterile. His sperm are non-motile, dead really."
"Oh." Carol was puzzled.
"What it means is that he could mate with a bitch, and have no trouble completing the
act, even with his spine the way it is. He would ejaculate into her, even, but no issue
would result," the doctor went on.
"Oh," Carol said, understanding better. She was intrigued that Ginny was listening to
the intimate conversation without a blush or any visible reaction. The girl was cooing to
Cyrano, peering into his dark eyes as she scratched and fondled his head and neck.
Encouraged, Carol gathered herself together. "Uh – is there anything – uh – harmful
in a dog's semen?" she asked awkwardly. "Or his saliva?"
Ginny raised her head. One eyebrow went up. Carol flushed. The girl seemed amused
rather than shocked by the question. Doctor Wells pursed his lips for a moment. "I
would – ha-have to know more about the situation before I could give you an answer,"
he stated cautiously.
Carol's mouth went dry as she tried to figure out how to elaborate without having to
tell the vet – and his daughter – what she and Cyrano had done.
"As to the semen, if the dog is healthy, no, there's no danger, generally speaking," the
doctor went on, rescuing Carol. "If premature extraction of the penis is attempted, it
can cause damage, though."
"I see," Carol managed. Her knees began shaking when she realized what the doctor
was implying. She hadn't expected his mind to make the quantum jump, and was
shocked Ginny was still there, taking it all in.
"As far as the saliva goes," the doctor went on, "it can contain infective organisms, and
generally we don't recommend letting a dog lick the face, the mouth, or other moist
areas. A quick washing, however, generally eliminates the risk if such contact does take
place."
"I see," Carol mumbled, leaning against the table. "Thank you."
"Better clip his nails before you try anything or you'll get scratched," Ginny observed,
lifting one of Cyrano's front feet and studying it.
Carol gave a strangled cough.
"Ginny!" the doctor cautioned.
"Well, Daddy, isn't it obvious?" Ginny asked.
Carol studied father and daughter, aghast. They couldn't mean what she thought they
did!
"Maybe Mrs. Jeffers would like to meet Sieg," the doctor suggested hesitantly.
"Sieg?" Carol asked.
"He's my dog," Ginny said quickly. "Would you?"
"Uh – I guess so, but what about Cyrano?" Carol asked.
"Oh, he can come along," Ginny said easily. "He might learn something even. Sieg is
good with other dogs."
"Oh," Carol said lamely as the doctor and Ginny lifted Cyrano down from the table.
"Come on," Ginny said, starting out the back door of the examining room.
"Sieg's real name is Siegfried," Ginny continued. "I didn't know you were married."
"Huh?" Carol was still off balance and giddy and curious.
" 'Mrs. Jeffers', " Ginny explained. "I thought it was 'Miss', not 'Mrs.' "
"I'm a widow. My – my husband was killed in the same accident Cyrano was injured
in."
"Gee, that's terrible. Here we are." She opened the gate in the wooden fence and went
in.
The latch clicked, and suddenly there was a pounding of paws and three dogs
thundered around the side of the house. Two enormous, coal-black Great Danes peeled
off when they saw who it was. The third, a German shepherd, came straight at Ginny.
The girl braced herself for the charge. Carol quailed back, and hauled on Cyrano's
leash. Sieg launched himself at Ginny and struck her full in the chest. The girl went
over backwards with a shriek of pleasure. The huge dog began licking Ginny's face
frantically. She tugged and wrestled with him as his huge paws drove her shoulders into
the ground. His hind feet were straddling her slender hips. His busy tail swept her bare
legs with powerful arcs.
When Sieg began to hump his hindquarters and his red prick slid out like a blazing
lance, Carol expected Ginny to smack the dog down. Instead, the girl accepted the
development as a matter of course. She was obviously aware of it. "Sieg, you silly
animal, not right now, we have company," Ginny giggled, pushing at him halfseriously.
Cyrano strained against the leash. Carol looped it around her hand again. Her own
pulse was hammering hard at the sight of the slender teenager pinned under the so
obviously aroused dog.
Sieg backed up, lowered his head and shoved his muzzle hard into Ginny's crotch, right
where her tight shorts were bunched between her slender thighs. Ginny shrieked and
giggled and wrestled playfully with Sieg's big head, but did nothing to dislodge his nose
from between her legs. "Sieg! What are you doing?! "
It was obvious to Carol that Ginny knew exactly what her dog was doing. The girl's
slender hips were jerking and bouncing as Sieg nipped and nuzzled her crotch. He
turned his head, and Carol thought he was biting Ginny. Then the hook at the waist of
the girl's shorts popped open.
Carol thought she was going to die. She couldn't believe what was happening. Lust
blistered her guts as she watched. Ginny was still wrestling with Sieg's powerful neck,
still doing nothing to dislodge him. Little by little her zipper was opening as she rolled
around on the ground. The shorts spread open, revealing a pair of pastel yellow panties.
As Ginny wrestled with the dog, it seemed to Carol that the girl was purposely moving
in such a way that her shorts gradually slid down her hips and slender legs. In a
twinkling she had them off completely.
Sieg licked eagerly at Ginny's crotch. Now there was no mock resistance from his
mistress. She welcomed the thrust of his nose, and squirmed on the grass delightedly.
Hooking her thumbs into her panties, she dragged them down, exposing a pussy with
full lips, and jet-black hair. Kicking her legs up, Ginny freed herself of her panties just
as Sieg dug his nose into her pussy.
Sieg's pink tongue lashed out. Carol lurched as she remembered what Cyrano's tongue
had felt like on her open gash. Ginny lurched as if she were being electrocuted. She
squirmed crazily on the ground as Sieg licked her gaping cunt. Ginny's tits, small as
they were, strained against her tight T-shirt. Her nipples were hard little acorns under
the thin cotton. The hem had ridden upward so her flat, trim, darkly tanned belly was
exposed. Her bathing-suit mark cut across just above the first dark strands of her cunt
hair. Sieg's muzzle was like an arrow. It was probing determinedly into the thick bush
between the girl's tanned thighs.
Carol's cunt was melting. Cyrano was heaving and jerking at the leash, trying to reach
Ginny's inviting box, but Carol wasn't about to let her dog take part in such a
perverted scene.
Sieg was humping again. He was fully aroused. His prick was a glowing hot dart that
thrust out from his underside. His monster shaft brought a lump of need and fright to
Carol's throat. There was only one way for the drama to proceed. Carol's snatch
twitched as she thought about it.
With a whine that made Carol's blood turn to ice, Sieg pawed at his aroused mistress,
tried to turn her over. Obediently, Ginny rolled to her stomach. Sieg straddled her
immediately, lurching over her as she hoisted her ass up, got to her knees. Sieg
mounted her. His forelegs grasping her flanks, he hunched his back forward. His cock
was seeking and stabbing. Whining and growling, he tried to mate with the young girl
under him. Ginny was whimpering as she waited for the thrust of his doggy cock into
her dripping pussy.
Carol had her fist crammed into her mouth. She watched the impending fuck with
mingled fear and excitement. Cyrano strained at the leash in a vain attempt to displace
Sieg.
The dog's cock stabbed between Ginny's thighs, and Carol lurched. The red prickshaft
poked blindly, and then Ginny actually reached back and guided it. She spread her
thighs a little, moved her knees forward and her ass back. Sieg humped, and his cock
drilled into Ginny's cunt. Carol moaned as she saw the dog's cock ram into Ginny's
dripping quim. Sieg hunched, thrusting deeper into the girl. He was panting heavily
and his tongue was hanging out of the side of his fanged mouth. His fur bristled as he
fucked into Ginny.
"Unh," Ginny grunted. Her head rolled. She was on her hands and knees, with the
heavy dog on top of her. Her lithe body writhed erotically as she accepted the dog's
pistoning cock. Sweat beaded her face as her jaw sagged with passion.
Carol tried to imagine what that hot cock would feel like driving into her own cunt.
She felt twat juice flood her panties at the thought. Cyrano shifted his attention,
turning toward his mistress and nuzzling against her right at crotch-level. Without
thinking about it, Carol spread her legs and thrust her cunt forward, accepting the
poodle's probe.
Sieg was panting and groaning now. His hindquarters humping hard, he pistoned his
cock in Ginny's fourteen-year-old snatch. His forelegs clutched her waist, pressed back
against her thighs, held her tight as he fucked her. His tail jerked erotically in the air as
he humped and humped and humped his prick into his mistress' streaming cunt. His
back was curved so far it made Carol's twinge in response. She realized with a sad jolt
that, because of the accident, Cyrano could never hump like that.
Sieg was fucking Ginny harder and harder and harder. The expression on the girl's face
was mingled pleasure and pain. She accepted each of his thrusts eagerly. Sieg pounded
at her cunt, pounded and pounded and then stopped. Carol knew he was pumping
doggy jizz deep into Ginny's spasming hole. Carol thought of that bony knot at the tip
digging into the walls of Ginny's cunt, the scalding blasts of sperm. Carol slid to the
ground, spread her legs and hauled her short summer skirt up, baring her crotch to her
pet. She dragged her panties down desperately. Cyrano plunged his chill muzzle into
her steaming twat flesh. As he rammed his tongue deep into Carol's cunt, scooping out
her sweet juices, she looked over at Siegfried and Ginny. The big dog was hugging the
girl, shivering as he emptied all his load into her tight cunt. Ginny's arms had folded.
She was resting her cheek on her forearms and was braced on her spread elbows. Her
back was arched, and her aroused tits strained against her thin T-shirt.
Carol moaned as Cyrano's tongue slashed the length of her pink slit and rasped over
her clitoris. Her hips heaved up as Cyrano wedged her labia open with his nose and
stroked her slippery pussy folds with his velvet rasp. The tip of his tongue hit her
asshole, and Carol jerked in reaction. Carol knew Ginny was watching Cyrano lap her
oozing cunt, and humiliation burned through her as she thought what she must look
like. What a silly act, after what Ginny had done. Carol started to thrust Cyrano away
from her crotch, to reject the big black poodle. But her unbelievable arousal wouldn't
let her. All she could do was lie there in the blazing sun and accept the thrusts and
explorations of Cyrano's impertinent tongue inside her juicy box. She squirmed as she
climbed closer and closer to a blistering orgasm.
"Stay, Sieg!" Ginny said sharply. Carol looked over, saw the big shepherd trying to free
his prick from the girl's cunt. "Stay!" Ginny ordered again. The dog obeyed with a soft
whine.
"Locked in me," Ginny explained.
Carol's passion-numbed brain sorted through this and realized Sieg's cock was still
swollen, and holding him in the tight hole of Ginny's cunt. If he tried to pull his dick
out, he would tear her snatch badly. Then Cyrano's tongue stroked Carol's asshole
again, and she heaved up, her thought-thread broken with an erotic twang. Flames
lashed through her.
"Poor Cyrano," Ginny observed softly. "All turned on and no place to go."
Carol realized that it was inevitable that her dog would be ferociously aroused. The area
absolutely reeked of sex. She felt a surge of sympathy for the dog and struggled to
gather her wits enough to figure out a way to relieve his agony without losing the
exquisite pleasure of his cunt-lapping tongue. Twisting to one side, she struggled to
reach his prick. It thrust out under his belly. Her hand was inches short. Carol
squirmed, and Cyrano turned away from her reaching hand, following her pussy.
"No, Cyrano," Carol managed. "Stay, Cyrano!" She tried again. This time Cyrano let
her rotate under his nose. Her fingers closed around his thrusting cock. It felt as if its
heat were burning her hand. It was a long reach, so she kept turning. Cyrano continued
plunging his tongue in and out of her cunt single-mindedly. He turned, too, but in the
opposite direction. He was trying to get deeper into her pussy, which was difficult
because of her raised and struggling thighs. Suddenly his hind leg was pressing against
Carol's ribs. He moved, and his paw skidded across her, over her throat, and suddenly
he was straddling her. It was an insane canine-human sixty-nine that placed the dog's
gleaming red cock right over her head. She curled the fingers of both hands around his
searing rod and masturbated him as her own arousal grew and grew.
She was going to come from the stroking Cyrano's tongue was giving her pussy. It was
tracing an opposite course, striking her clit first, then going down across her hole, and
ending with a hot swipe at her asshole. He wiggled his head from side to side, his nose
stirring in her juicy gash. He drilled his tongue deep into her cunt, and Carol's hips
heaved insanely as she orgasmed. Her grip on Cyrano's prick tightened and she felt the
knot in her fingers, and knew he was going to come, and that his spunk was going to
splatter her hands, her torso, her clothes. She writhed, trying to escape the hot,
spattering shower about to descend on her.
As her orgasm faded, she managed to move far enough to get Cyrano's cock aimed over
her head. Then he let go. His hindquarters pumped against the rigidity of his spine.
Scalding streams of dog jizz spattered over Carol's face, burned her eyelids, nose and
cheeks, burned her lips and chin. Automatically, she licked her lips, tasting Cyrano's
sperm. He poured most of his load over her face before her passion-battered mind
thought to have her turn her head aside. But, by then it was too late. So she gave up
and let the stinging drops of jizz rain down on her. The cock in her hand jumped and
jerked as it erupted. Cyrano was still straining to reach her gaping twat. She held him
back with her grip on his prick. Her thighs were spread wide so the red-bushed heart of
her ravaged pussy was exposed to the glaring sun.
Cyrano's orgasm seemed to be going on forever. Finally it faded to a trickle. Carol
released his throbbing cock before the knot at the end disappeared. Cyrano clambered
off her and tried futilely to lick his prick clean as Carol caught her breath. Ginny, freed
from Siegfried at last, was lying on the grass, watching the sperm dry on Carol's face.
"Hi, you okay?" Ginny asked cheerily.
Carol struggled up and tugged her skirt down.
"I think so," she stammered, embarrassed. "How about you?"
"I'm fine. Siegfried's well-trained."
"You do it often?" Carol asked.
"Uh-huh," Ginny admitted easily. "Don't you with Cyrano?"
Carol shook her head. "This was only the second time we've done anything."
"Cyrano likes it. I got to get his semen sample that time," Ginny reported calmly.
That explained a couple of things. Like where Cyrano had become so horny, and
experienced. "I'd like to wash up," Carol said stupidly.
"Sure, come on," Ginny said as Carol hauled her underpants on. Ginny picked up her
panties and shorts, stepped into them quickly and, trailed by the two dogs, went into
the house. After washing up, Carol returned to the vet's office. She hoped there were no
obvious signs of her ordeal, though Doctor Wells certainly had to be aware and
approving of what his daughter was doing.
"Ah, there you are, Mrs. Jeffers," he greeted her.
Cyrano lurched forward. Carol held him back with difficulty as the handsome young
man with the sheepdog smiled at her apologetically. "Gwen's in heat," he informed
Carol politely.
"This is Peter Collins," Doctor Wells said. "Peter, this is Carol Jeffers."
"Mrs. Jeffers?" Peter asked. He was interested in the slender, red-haired beauty in front
of him, but kept his distance to avoid problems with the dogs they each had.
"I'm a widow," Carol explained, and then wondered why she had said that so quickly.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Peter responded, and she had the feeling that he really was.
"I thought you two should meet," the doctor interrupted smoothly. "It seems Gwen is
driving Peter nuts because of her condition. However, he doesn't want to breed her
yet."
"Oh?" Carol said.
"I told him Cyrano was sterile but capable, and suggested him as a possible solution.
That is, if you and, of course, Cyrano, would be interested," the doctor went on.
"I don't know if he'd be interested or not," Carol noted, thinking of what had just
happened. "And I'm afraid with his back condition, he can't really-uh-hump very well,"
she finished awkwardly.
"He seems interested," the doctor noted dryly as Carol was jerked forward by a
powerful tug on the leash. "And, as for his back, he could still accomplish the act, given
proper support for his forepaws. But what about you?"
Carol flushed, thinking the question somehow referred to what had gone on between
her and Cyrano. "What about me?" she asked warily.
"Are you willing to let Cyrano ease this poor bitch's agony?" Doctor Wells asked
patiently.
"I – uh – why, yes, I guess so," Carol stammered. "I mean, sure, why not? Cyrano
would like it, and so would Gwen. So why not?"
"Excellent, excellent," the doctor said.
"Great," Peter Collins added, breaking his silence. He hadn't taken his eyes off Carol.
"If you two have the time now," the doctor noted, glancing at his watch, "I can arrange
the dogs so you can see how best to deal with Cyrano's back problem."
"What back problem?" Peter asked, having missed that because of his interest in Carol.
The doctor explained the situation as he set things up in an outdoor pen. Gwen docilely
let herself be guided between two low tables. Her collar was secured to the mesh in
front of her. The tables were adjusted to give her some room to move, but close enough
for Cyrano, if he were so inclined, to put his front paws on them on either side of
Gwen.
"We use this system," Doctor Wells observed, "to prevent injury when large dogs are to
be mated. It takes the weight of the male off the bitch. There was a case recently in
England where the mating of two rhinoceros was so violent they both died."
"What a way to go," Peter Collins said, and sighed.
"Now, we introduce Cyrano, and if he is interested, and if Gwen is willing, that itch of
hers will be very efficiently scratched."
Cyrano was ushered into the pen and his leash was removed. The three of them settled
down to watch. Gwen tugged back against her leash, tried to turn so she could see
behind herself better. Cyrano stood where he had been left. He looked at the three
watching people. His tongue was hanging out slightly, and his tail was wagging
hopefully.
"Oh, dear," Carol sighed. "He isn't interested."
"Well, let's not give up so quickly," Doctor Wells responded. "Humans don't usually
mate in public, why should dogs? I have more patients waiting. Why don't you two
make yourselves comfortable over there in the – ah – observation post, I call it. You'll
be out of sight, but able to watch. If you need any help, there's a buzzer there that goes
to the examining room. When the dogs are done, you can release them yourselves. Just
remember, don't try to separate them prematurely. When they're ready to separate,
they'll do so themselves."
Peter and Carol went over to the "observation post". It was a small room on the back
of the office building, with one-way windows and comfortable furnishings – a pair of
chairs and a low couch. A sink on one wall aroused Carol's curiosity. It seemed a
peculiar set-up. Then Peter spotted the row of books on animal obstetrics.
"They must put animals in labor in that pen, too," he decided. "The couch gives the
doctor a place to catch a nap while he's waiting. The sink if for washing up."
"Makes sense," Carol said. "Oh, look. I think Cyrano's starting to get interested."
The poodle was sniffing delicately at Gwen's backside. Gwen lunged and twisted, trying
again to see behind herself. Carol felt Peter come up beside her, and glanced over at
him. She hadn't even had a date since Jake's death, hadn't paid any attention to other
men at all. She felt that no one could take Jake's place, ever. But Peter seemed pleasant
enough. He was soft-spoken and a little shy, maybe. But his interest in her was obvious.
"Now, be a good little girl, Gwen," Peter whispered, as if his dog could hear him.
"Oh, do you talk to Gwen, too? I mean, talk to her like she was a person?" Carol asked,
surprised.
"Why not?" Peter chuckled. "She thinks she's a person."
"So does Cyrano," Carol admitted, smiling warmly.
Cyrano was sniffing at Gwen. Now his nose was exploring the hairy expanse of her ass.
His tail was slowly sagging as his concentration on the bitch in front of him increased.
Carol, used to reading Cyrano's moods, knew from the angle of his tail and the set of
his feet that his interest in the big sheepdog was growing steadily.
"Gwen's getting hot," Peter reported. "See how she's shivering?"
"Uh-huh." Carol wondered why it was so warm in the room all of a sudden. Carefully,
she unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, the one just above the tips of her boobs.
"Oh! Look at that!" she exclaimed as Cyrano's tongue licked out at Gwen, slashing
through her wooly coat and touching the pink gash of her hole. Carol knew how that
hot tongue felt, and her cunt simmered at the memory. Unconsciously, she sidled over
until her bare arm was touching Peter Collins. His arm went around her, and she
leaned against him for support. She was enjoying having him beside her.
Cyrano was licking deep into Gwen's seething pussy. She shuddered and squirmed in
arousal.
Peter's arm tightened around Carol. "Guy's got quite a technique," he observed.
"Does he ever!" Carol agreed, her voice shaking. She was getting hotter and hotter as
Cyrano's cunt-lapping became bolder and bolder. Without really even thinking about it,
she slid her hand over and brushed Peter's crotch, then jerked away at the feel of the
hard lump inside his pants. "Sorry," she managed, as if it had been an accident.
"It's okay," he assured her.
Carol was boiling hot. The sight of Cyrano stroking his tongue deep into Gwen's hole
was amazing. Carol knew only too well how deep into a cunt her stud could reach, and
what it felt like to have that hot pink probe squirming deep into a nerve-lined snatch.
"Likes long foreplay," Peter said tensely. "So do I."
"How old is Gwen?" Carol asked, trying to change the subject. "Two."
"She's never been bred?"
"No," he answered absently. His eyes remained on the animals in the pen.
Carol kept her own eyes on the pen, too.
"Ooohhh! There he goes!"
Cyrano was rearing up. His front paws groped, landing on the tables on either side of
Gwen. She was quivering. Her hindquarters were presented invitingly. Cyrano
struggled to find her cunt with his thrusting red prick. Carol felt all hot and melty as
the moment of penetration drew closer. She felt Peter's hand low on her belly and
moved over in front of him. His fingers sneaked delicately down toward her crotch. She
did nothing to stop him. Her increasing desire held her motionless.
Peter's fingers touched the inside of her thigh, brushed her pussy through her skirt and
panties. And she just let him. She shifted her hips to give him better access to her
crotch. She could feel the hard tower of his cock against her butt. She leaned forward,
and the lump nuzzled between her asscheeks.
The point of Cyrano's cock touched Gwen's cunt, and the sheepdog jerked and tugged
backward against her chain, trying to get more of the cock into her cunt quickly.
Cyrano pawed forward on the tables. Walking forward, he wedged his prick into her
hole farther. His back end hunched awkwardly as he drilled his prick into the hot
sheath of Gwen's cunt.
Blindly, Carol reached back and liberated Peter Collins' cock. She curled her fingers
around the shaft. She didn't say a thing about what she was doing, or why. She was too
turned-on to do anything but do it with him, to beg him to fuck her as her dog was
fucking his.
Peter tugged her skirt upward, found the waistband of her panties. He dragged them
down. Carol squirmed so he could get them lower on her thighs. Neither of them took
their eyes off the canine fuck. Cyrano drove his lean tool deeper and deeper into
Gwen's willing hole.
Peter's fingers stirred in Carol's already-drenched pussy, explored between cuntlips and
then plunged deep into her box. She spread her thighs. It was something, but it wasn't
what she wanted so desperately. She wanted his cock in her hole. It had been too long!
She wanted a man's cock rammed into her aching cunt. She wanted to feel it fucking
her and then spurting a thick, creamy load.
She dragged the back of her skirt up around her waist and leaned forward. Desperately,
she guided the head of Peter's prick down the crack of her ass, lurched as it touched her
bung. She shoved the knob still lower, until it burrowed between the backs of her
thighs.
It nuzzled into her pussy, and she thrust her ass out invitingly. Peter pulled his fingers
from her cunt and his cock wormed into her hole hesitantly. Carol pushed back as
Peter pushed forward, and she felt his wonderful dick slowly penetrating her horny
snatch.
Out in the pen, Cyrano had his prick sunk full depth in Gwen's cunt and was
pumping, was trying to hunch a back that no longer hunched. His head hanging, his
tongue dangling, he panted from the heat and the exertion. Gwen was wiggling her ass
like an experienced whore as the canine cock pistoned in her hole.
Peter Collins thrust deeper. Carol moaned softly as he glutted her cunt with hard cock.
He pushed forward and up, and she sat back and down, spreading her thighs, until she
was straddling him. They were both clinging desperately to the windowsill. Peter's cock
was as deeply into her twat as he could get it. When his hips came up against her butt,
she realized he still had his pants up. All she had done was open his fly and take his
cock out!
She pulled up, slid his prick out, and then sat back, spiking her hole on his rod again.
He reached around and played with her clit. Carol was shuddering, erupting in a
flaming orgasm long before she had expected to. But the cock in her box had not yet
spurted, so she kept pumping and pumping and pumping on it.
Cyrano was shuddering. His prick was rammed completely into the helpless bitch.
Carol knew her dog was spurting jizz into Peter's dog. Gwen was quivering in the
throes of her own pleasure as she was filled with the poodle's powerless sperm. Her
instincts were satisfied by just the act of fucking. It didn't matter whether the sperm
were alive or dead.
Peter was screwing harder and harder. Carol anticipated his orgasm, tried to tighten her
cunt around his pistoning prick. He slammed up against her butt, scraping the insides
of her thighs.
She moaned, and began to come again. She whimpered. Her eyes glazed as she
orgasmed. She felt the prick in her convulsing cunt jumping and spurting, felt Peter
clutching her with animal desperation as he unloaded his spunk into her clinging hole.
For a long time they shuddered in the throes of their pleasure. Then, slowly, Peter
eased off, and his still-stiff but shrinking prick slid out of Carol's flooded hole.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I don't know what came over me."
"I'm sorry, too. But it wasn't all your fault. I asked for it. It was that, out there, that did
it to us, I guess."
"Guess so," Peter agreed. "Well, it's done and over now, both for them and for us."
"Uh-yes," Carol agreed, dragging her panties up.
"Did everything go all right?" Doctor Wells asked, sticking his head in the door a few
minutes later.
"Just fine," they both chorused with guilty quickness. Then they looked at each other
and blushed.
"Everything went just fine," Peter said. "Gwen will be happy for a little while, at least."
"Her heat will last for a few more days," the doctor noted. "You might want to make
arrangements for later in the week."
"Not right now," Peter said quickly.
"Some other time," Carol said, almost simultaneously.
"Very well, just call," the vet agreed easily as they retrieved their exhausted dogs.
"Uh-are you busy this evening?" Peter asked Carol hesitantly as he patted his sated dog.
Carol had been braced, had been waiting for his question. She had been planning to
make some excuse, to retreat to her safe, empty apartment. But the way Peter put it,
shyly and politely, attracted her to him, made it very difficult to say no.
"I guess not," she answered, cuddling Cyrano. "Poor Cyrano, you're pooped, aren't
you? Barely recovered from surgery and we're working you half to death."
"He seemed willing enough," Peter pointed out cautiously.
"Well, what do you expect him to do when he's presented with an attractive bitch like
Gwen?" Carol responded. Then she remembered how she had just allowed Peter to fuck
her, saw the parallel, and shivered. "But I can't leave Cyrano at home alone, not after
today," she said, suddenly wanting to escape Peter's invitation.
"He's welcome to come over to my place," the man offered politely.
Carol shook her head. "Uh – well, maybe we could all go to my apartment, instead.
Gwen can come along – if she promises not to seduce Cyrano!"
"Oh, she promises!" Peter said quickly. "And so do I."
Carol flashed him a grateful grin. He did understand! "Come on, it's not far," she said.
She was drawn to Peter again. The jizz flooding her crotch reminded her of how good it
had felt to have a cock in her cunt again.


Chapter 4

"I don't see how Gwen could be driving you nuts," Carol observed, looking at the two
dogs. They were lying companionably side by side on the cool floor.
"You haven't heard her when she gets horny," Peter retorted. "Uh-sorry."
"About what."
"The language."
"Oh, that's all right," Carol assured him quickly. "Cyrano gets horny, too, and that's
the only word for it."
"Yeah, well, at least he doesn't moan like a lost soul and keep you awake all night,"
Peter observed. He kept wanting to slip his arm around her shoulders, but didn't. He
didn't want to rush things. He had been smitten the moment he had seen her. He had
been both sorry and glad to hear she was a widow-sorry for her, but glad he had a
chance. "To tell you the truth, I've had to take some rather drastic measures in order to
get some sleep."
"Drastic measures?"
"Uh-you're going to think this is pretty sick," Peter said reluctantly. "But I've – uh –
masturbated her just to get her to shut up."
"Oh!" Carol exclaimed, startled. "Well, actually, Cyrano can't reach himself the way he
used to."
"How's that?" Peter asked. "With his tongue," she answered. "Oh, right. Of course."
"Because of his back, he can't reach, and he gets so desperate that I've taken to
masturbating him," she said quickly.
Peter thought of her delicate hand stroking the flaming prick of the black poodle and
felt a hot surge of desire. He wanted to watch her do it. He was surprised to feel Carol
move even closer to him on the couch. He let his arm drop gently around her
shoulders.
"It's nice they were able to get together this afternoon," Carol went on quickly. "Cyrano
needs to learn that he's a dog, after all. At least sexually."
Peter caught the nuance in her statement and decided to probe it delicately. "If
Cyrano's like most male dogs, he probably gets kind of pushy sometimes, kind of nosy
with women. I've known some dogs to stick their noses right up under a woman's
skirt." He felt Carol shiver, and was afraid he had gone too far.
"Oh, he does," Carol answered, a tremor in her voice.
"Gwen does with me, too," Peter said quickly, hoping to ease Carol's nervousness.
"Matter of fact, one time, after I'd masturbated her, I let her go – kinda far with me.
She was so grateful it was pathetic." He felt his cock hardening as he made the
admission, as he recalled how Gwen's tongue had stroked his prick until he orgasmed
and then lapped up his jizz.
"So have I. With Cyrano, I mean," Carol said huskily. She began squeezing Peter's
thigh, hard.
Feeling the seething lust in her, Peter turned his head and welded his lips to hers in a
hot, passionate kiss. Her hand slid up his thigh like a shy animal, touched his prick,
recoiled, then touched it again, and pinched it. He stroked her trim torso, slid his hand
up toward her tit, and covered the perfect mound. It felt as if, under the blouse, she was
not wearing a bra. It wasn't easy to tell. Carefully, Peter stroked his thumb over Carol's
warm jug, felt the hard bump of her nipple.
"How do you masturbate Gwen?" Carol asked innocently after breaking the kiss. She
was still fondling his hard-on through his pants.
Peter realized abruptly that Carol was as turned-on by what he had told her as he had
been by her revelation. "Well, she keeps moaning and groaning. I have to do
something," he answered. "So I slip a finger into her hole and pump gently. When she
gets good and wet, which doesn't take long, I usually put a second finger in. And then I
just fuck her, I guess you'd have to say."
"What does it feel like inside her?" Carol asked. He felt her lowering his zipper
delicately.
"She's hot, hotter than a woman, and grips tighter," he responded as his prick drooled
onto his underpants. He touched the button of Carol's blouse, the one below the one
she had unbuttoned at the vet's. When she didn't flinch, he eased the button through
the hole. Tenderly, he stroked the valley between her tits.
"Cyrano's cock is hotter than a man's," Carol told him. "It's harder, too, and wetter. It's
longer and skinnier than most men's erections."
Peter felt her pry his prick out and wrap her hand around it. It was almost as if she
were comparing his tool with Cyrano's doggy cock. Sliding his hand lower, Peter
unbuttoned the next button of Carol's blouse and eased it back off one shoulder. Carol
squirmed her arm out of the sleeve and bared half her chest to him. He slid the hand he
had on her shoulder down and touched her bare knee, then moved it slowly up under
her skirt.
He felt her legs clamp together, hesitantly open, close again, then open wider. He eased
his fingers up the sleek flesh of her inner thigh.
"I pump my fingers in and out of Gwen's cunt. Slowly at first. She sort of clamps
around them, relaxes, for a moment, and clamps again. It's a crazy feeling, the way she
can grip."
"Have you ever thought of doing her – some other way?" Carol asked, hoping Peter
would know what she meant. He did.
He eased his fingers into Carol's humid crotch, pressing the material of her panties
against her yielding pussy, then eased the fabric aside and wormed his fingers through
the leg opening and into her hairy snatch. "Yeah, but I haven't tried it." He slipped one
finger into Carol's warm, slippery cunt hole. "Must be wild when Cyrano shoots off,"
he mused, trying to get Carol to talk about it more.
"It is," she admitted, pumping her fist on his dick. "Like I said, he's hotter than a man,
and harder. As he gets more and more aroused, there's a knot that forms at the tip. All
I do is tug at his cock. I don't really slide my hand up and down on it. He starts to
whimper and whine he gets so excited." She lifted her butt and Peter dragged her
panties down and off.
He slid two fingers deep into her pink hole and found her clitoris with his thumb. He
diddled that little berry delicately and pumped his fingers in and out of her hot cunt.
Her juices streamed down over his hand.
Carol's voice got more and more ragged as she went on. "He humps his hindquarters,
as much as he can. And when he comes, it's hotter, and slower and more watery than a
human. It stings my fingers."
Peter slipped his hand out of Carol's pussy, cupped her hip, and drew her around and
across him so she was straddling his lap. She was still holding his rigidly aroused cock,
hovering over it. Gently, he urged her forward and down. He felt the tip of his prick
being scratched by her pussy patch. Then his knob nuzzled between her cuntlips and
socketed itself in the entrance to her hole.
She let her cunt down on him slowly, with a jerky motion that made his prick sizzle
with excitement. Her eyes were open. They were a startling blue color. On her face was
a mixture of lust and fear. She spiked her twat slowly on his rod.
"Why am I doing this?" she asked softly. "Jake's only been dead a few months!"
Tenderly, Peter rid her of her blouse, bared her torso completely. He admired the trim
lines, the delicacy of her tits, the hard points of her nipples. "Life goes on," he
answered. "And you're irresistible, just like Gwen is irresistible to Cyrano."
"You're irresistible," Carol answered. "You're not married."
"No."
"But you've had lots of women," Carol moaned, shifting so his cock stirred in her hot,
velvety hole.
"No," he answered, "not a lot of women. A few. But none that meant anything to me.
Until now. That's why I have Gwen."
"Cyrano was a wedding present," Carol told him. "He's the only thing I have left from
my marriage. It was a very good marriage. Jake was a wonderful man, a wonderful
lover. We used to do crazy things, Jake and me. Now I do crazy things with Cyrano."
"I do crazy things with Gwen."
"Oh, God!" Carol moaned, lifting and dropping.
Peter's cock was burning her cunt walls. She was hanging onto him, her hands linked
behind his neck. Then she leaned back away from him. He began massaging her boobs,
began pressing them against her ribs as she lifted and dropped on his jutting pole. His
groin knotting, he fought back his climax, held it off desperately. He tried not to think
about the fact he was competing with a dead man. He didn't succeed. He was
determined to make this better than any orgasm she had ever had with her dead
husband.
Over her shoulder, he could see the two dogs. They were still lying down, but their
heads were up now. They were watching, age-old wisdom in their eyes. Their pink
tongues were hanging out. Peter had the feeling they were getting as turned-on from
watching humans fuck as humans did from watching dogs.
Carol unhooked her hands from behind his neck and reached down to where her skirt
was bunched up. Tugging it upward, she probed her fingers into her steaming slit and
began playing with her clitoris. Peter slid his hands around her slender body and down
her tight, firm ass. He pried at her butt-cheeks, probed her crack as she bounced up and
down on his dick.
"Yes," she moaned. "Touch my asshole."
He touched it, wiggled the tip of his finger into the tight bung.
"Aww, love it," Carol growled. "Love it, love it, love it!" Her tits quivered and shivered
with the violence of her fucking. Her fingers played a frantic tune on her clitoris.
"I'm coming," she moaned. "I'm going to come! I'M COMING! Come with me, come
with me! COME WITH MEEE!! " She went rigid. Her body went into an orgasmic
convulsion and her cunt spasmed around Peter's prick.
Peter was unable to hold back any longer. His cock spurted hot, sticky shots of jizz
straight up into her clutching twat. His hips jerked upward, held them both suspended
in mid air. He drilled his prick against the end of her cunt. His balls were drawn up
tight against his body. They unloaded into the ecstatically writhing woman.
Carol remained rigid for a long, pulse-racing minute, and then the strength drained
from her and she slumped forward against him. Her hands were still in her crotch. His
hips dropped back to the sofa and he cuddled her tenderly.
"Oh, God!" she sighed against his chest. "I didn't even get your pants down, did I?"
Peter chuckled. "As a matter-of-fact, no," he answered.
"That's so – so whorish."
"I like it," Peter argued. "Except that the zipper tends to rake my prick raw sometimes.
Like right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Carol exclaimed, and hastily dismounted. Her skirt settled back in
place around her hips. Her blouse trailed down behind her, the tail still caught in the
waistband of her skirt.
"Considering all that has happened, I think we should make a decision," Peter
announced solemnly.
"What's that?" Carol asked, puzzled.
"We should either get naked, or get dressed. Now, our actions vote for naked, and half
the present company are naked already."
"They are?"
"The dogs," Peter explained. Carol giggled. "I'll show you mine, if you'll show me
yours." As he had hoped, the ancient childhood line broke the ice completely. Carol
relaxed and laughed. Then they both stripped quickly and threw their clothes aside.
"You're beautiful," he said honestly as he studied her. She was very slender and sleek.
Her skin was slightly freckled. He liked her red muff, and her small, firm tits with their
tight, dark nipples. Her legs were slim and graceful, well-shaped; her waist was small,
her tummy flat, her cunt mound prominent.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Would you like a drink?"
"Scotch, if you have it."
"Uh-huh."
He liked watching her walk around naked. Her ass flexed and rolled interestingly, and
her legs had a natural grace. She carried herself well, very straight and tall. Her long,
straight red hair brushed her pale shoulders as she walked.
The liquor loosened them both up further, as did sitting side by side, naked. Peter felt a
warm comradeship developing between them. It was something he had never felt with a
girl before.
"Oh, dear," Carol sighed. "Poor Cyrano."
Cyrano was straining to reach his crotch, struggling to lick his aroused prick. His feet
were scrabbling on the slippery floor.
"Well, I'll be damned," Peter exclaimed softly. "Who would have thought it?"
Gwen had turned toward Cyrano as the poodle struggled. Taking in what he was trying
to do, the big shaggy bitch nosed his head back out of the way. Then her long, pink
tongue flicked out, stroking the aroused tip of Cyrano's prick.
Peter's own excitement increased as he watched his bitch licking Cyrano's cock. Peter
remembered very well just how great it had felt to have his cock licked by Gwen's long,
skillful tongue.
"Suppose shell do him all the way?" Carol asked breathlessly.
"She did me," Peter answered.
Cyrano stretched out on his side and lifted his upper leg high so Gwen could get to his
belly. It was a position of total submission. But he was submitting to exquisite pleasure.
Gwen seemed perfectly happy to oblige. Her tongue stroked his cock from tip to base
with long, powerful, firm sweeps. The sharp red tool twisted and pulled.
"It makes me – want to do you," Carol whispered hotly, her hand gripping Peter's
aching cock.
"Go ahead!"
"But I want to watch, too," she complained.
"Looks like Gwen's getting turned-on again," Peter noted as he watched the two dogs.
The sheepdog was making throaty noises as she lapped Cyrano's cock. Her
hindquarters were shifting, her back feet were scuffling on the floor as she licked and
licked Cyrano's prick with her velvety tongue.
"But – but Cyrano's just lying there enjoying it," Carol pointed out. "Just like a man.
Gets his jollies and leaves the woman hanging."
"I resept that!" Peter protested.
"I was only teasing," Carol informed him, giving his prick a fond squeeze. "You
satisfied me just fine!"
"Looks like I'll have to do something about Gwen, next," Peter observed, his gut
tightening as he said it.
"That-that would be the gentlemanly thing to do," Carol agreed.
Cyrano's legs were kicking and struggling as his humping reflex took over. Strangely,
though, he showed no inclination to slake his lust in Gwen's cunt, seemed content to
just let her lick his cock. "Never seen a dog take a blow job that way before," Peter
observed.
"I think some strange things go on at the vet's," Carol noted tightly. Peter had the
feeling that she knew more than she was telling, and that it was more than a suspicion
on her part. "Oh?" he asked curiously.
"He's going to come," Carol whispered. Was she avoiding revealing what she knew?
Then she added, "Ever stop to wonder how they got the sperm sample from Cyrano?
How they know he's infertile?"
"Hummmm," Peter mused. Then his train of thought was derailed by the lusty
squirming of the ecstasy-racked poodle. Cyrano was humping, as much as his fused
vertebrae would allow him to. Gwen was licking his throbbing dick with a wet slapping
sound, and wiggling her wooly backside as she did it.
She swallowed your cum, huh?" Carol asked. "Every drop."
"Cyrano's drunk mine, too," she confessed. "He gave me the most fantastic tongue job I
have ever had!"
"Cyrano's coming!" Peter announced.
The dog began to spurt. Thin sperm shot out, and Gwen's flashing pink tongue lapped
it up, slapped against the jerking, spraying prick. Cyrano was whining erotically as he
orgasmed. Gwen was wiggling crazily as if incredibly aroused by what she was doing.
Peter could see the inflamed tissues of her pussy beneath the base of her tail, and his
cock throbbed at the thought of drilling into that hot hole.
The poodle's orgasm lasted a long, aching time. Gwen kept right on licking his cock
until at last she had drained him of all jizz. With a soft "whuff", the sheepdog backed
away. Cyrano remained on his side, panting. Gwen let out a long, mournful mating cry.
The poodle didn't even raise his head.
"Looks as if I'm going to have to show your dog how to be a gentleman," Peter noted
tightly.
Gwen raised her voice again in a howl of frustration.
"With your hand?" Carol asked tensely.
"That wasn't exactly what I was thinking of," Peter confessed.
"That's wicked!" Carol hissed, deliciously excited at the prospect of watching him fuck
the dog.
Peter thought of mentioning that she had admitted she had done wild things with her
late husband, but decided it was better not to resurrect his ghost. "Can't leave poor
Gwen all horny and frustrated," he pointed out, as the dog wailed again.
"She'll get me evicted if she doesn't shut up," Carol noted. "How are you going to do
it?"
"How else? Doggy fashion," Peter joked nervously as he got on his hands and knees on
the floor. He gauged the height of his cock in relation to the dog's cunt.
"You'll need a cushion under your knees," Carol noted, grabbing one of the pillows
from the couch.
Gwen, noticing the activity, gave up on Cyrano and shambled over to her master. He
had eased her agony once – she looked to him for relief again. Peter grasped her big,
shaggy head and tousled her fur lovingly. "This is going to be a bit different," he told
her. "But you'll like it-I hope."
Gwen lowered her head and licked his cock. He pushed her away gently but firmly.
"No, baby, not this time."
Carol took charge of Gwen's head as Peter moved around behind her. As Carol soothed
and scratched the animal, Peter put the cushion behind her back feet and sank to his
knees on it. It raised him just enough. His cock was right at the level of the big dog's
cunt mouth. Peter's cock felt as if it were going to explode it was so aroused.
"I want to see," Carol complained, looked down the length of Gwen's broad, wooly
back.
"I'll get her started with my fingers. Then she'll stay put," Peter replied. The thought of
being watched while finger-fucking his dog was making his blood boil.
He slipped his fingers into Gwen's dripping quim, and felt the hot sheath convulse
around them. The dog was more than ready for a screw. She shivered with anticipation
when he worked his fingers in her ravenous hole. Carol let go of Gwen's head and
moved around so she could watch.
"Here goes," Peter grunted, extracting his fingers from her doggy-pussy slowly, guiding
his cock to the hole with his other hand as he did so.
"Jeez, she's hot!" Peter grunted, astonished at the heat of the dog's twat flesh. The
animal's higher body temperature felt much hotter than it was because the nerve
endings of his prickhead were so sensitive.
Carol made a strange noise in her throat, and Peter glanced at her. She was sitting on
her heels. Her knees were parted slightly and she had one fist crammed into her crotch,
the other crammed into her mouth.
Peter looked back at the target of his lust and slowly pressed his cock into the tight,
searing dog-cunt. Gwen's twat tunnel clenched and he stopped, relaxed, then pushed in
again. The head of his cock was nestled in her hole. The pale shaft was still outside.
The hot clutch of Gwen's cunt around his knob made his prick seep sticky juices. Her
muscular hole relaxed, and he eased into her snatch farther. He was gripping her flanks
now, staring down at his prick. Sweating slightly, he eased his cock into her hot hole.
He was uncertain how the dog was going to take his penetration, unsure how deep he
would be able to sink his human tool in her canine cunt.
"Unbelievable," he grunted. "Hot, and tight, with muscles that're unreal. The most
educated cunt in the world couldn't match this."
"Tell me," Carol begged, staring at the slow coupling of man with dog.
"Feels like a hot, slippery hand's massaging my cock," Peter reported, vocalizing his
sensations as best he could. "It clenches and then relaxes and I slip in a little more prick
and then it clenches again. It clenches tight enough to squeeze the cum out of me even.
Just like a great, hot, slippery fist milking my dick."
He was well into the big dog now. Half his cock was clutched in her hot cunt. The
other half connected him Siamese twin – like with the dog. He saw Gwen shudder,
heard her moan and felt her voice through her body with his super-sensitized prick. His
skin prickled in response to the dog's deep growl.
"How much farther can you go?" Carol whispered.
"I don't know," he admitted. He eased his cock another fraction of an inch into the hot
sheath. Muscles gripped his cock, then relaxed. He eased in another fraction of an inch.
A sliver at a time, his prick disappeared into Gwen's incredible cunt. He didn't stop
until his hips were nestled up against her furry backside. He had the full length of his
prickshaft thrust into Gwen's hole! The bitch pushed back against him and trembled at
the feel of man-prick in her hot cunt.
"All the way," Gwen moaned, her ringers working madly in her dripping crotch.
"All the way," Peter acknowledged. He knelt there, and tipped his head back, savoring
the unbelievable sensations. The walls of Gwen's hole were milking his dick. He still
hadn't gotten used to the searing heat of her dog-cunt. It felt as if his nerve endings
were shriveling from the high temperature. His balls throbbed as, in reaction to the
scorching stimulation, they ground out a mass of sperm.
Gwen whined hungrily and wiggled. The walls of her cunt stroked his dong, sent waves
of fire sweeping through him. Carefully, he drew his blazing rod out of her tight hole,
and slid it back in, then paused as his nuts pulsed on the aching verge of an orgasm.
"Don't come too soon," Carol cautioned.
"Jesus, I'll try not to," he said, irritated at the coaching.
"Sorry," she apologized.
"It's okay," he grunted. He drew out of the dog's cunt, then slid his rod back in. This
time he did it as Gwen's sheath gripped and relaxed, gripped and relaxed. It made the
friction between his dick and her twat flesh vary crazily, made his balls clench on the
verge of erupting again.
"God, this is turning me on!" Carol confessed. "God!"
"Yeah, well, I won't have anything for you when I get through here," Peter warned her.
"I've got my own ideas about that," Carol informed him breathily.
Gwen moaned deep in her throat and shifted restlessly. Peter leaned forward and
soothed her. "It's okay, baby," He tugged at her shaggy coat the way she liked so much.
She hunched at his weight on her back.
Peter stayed over her as he drew his dick out and thrust back in. Humping his hips, he
tried to duplicate the fucking-action of a dog. As he pumped his prick in Gwen, he
wrapped his arms around her bulky body and hung on. He humped and humped at
her. He was shortening his fuck-strokes as her cunt walls tightened their grip on his
tool. A stud would be locked into her by now. He was trying to be as doglike as
possible for Gwen's sake. It had the added advantage of decreasing the friction against
his prick and delaying his own orgasm even further.
But it wasn't going to delay it forever – he was too aroused for that. The motion of his
hips created an exquisite squirming against his cock-head, and the tightness of Gwen's
hole around his meat was growing and growing.
Gwen whined, hunched, and shuddered. He felt her cunt walls milking his cock. The
bitch was coming, orgasming from having a human cock thrust into her heated hole.
Peter kept on humping and humping and humping in the animal's convulsing cunt.
His own guts knotted as his lust soared. The knowledge Gwen was orgasming increased
Peter's pleasure until it couldn't hold back any longer. He thrust, and his cock spasmed.
The thick cream of his jizz set his cum-tube afire as it ripped the length of his cock and
burst into the unfamiliar, hot, welcoming confines of the dog's cunt. His butt-cheeks
clenching and his hips shivering, Peter rammed his prick full depth and unloaded.
Every muscle in his passion-flogged body was helping. He pushed so hard Gwen's paws
slipped on the rug. The dog staggered slightly until he steadied her, tightening his arms
around her bulky body.
Gwen whined and shuddered in the throes of her orgasm as Peter unloaded his
steaming fuck juice into her. The heavy body under Peter twisted. Wooly fur scrubbed
his naked chest and belly as he clung to her. He pressed his cheek to her powerful,
sturdy neck. His nuts wrung themselves dry with a final convulsive wrench. They
remained knotted as the cunt around his cock held on tightly. His hard-on held and
held and held until it became an aching steel bullet in the dog's hot grasp. It was as if
his body were trying to duplicate the locking mechanism of a dog's. He remained
motionless in the bitch's hot cunt for what seemed like hours.
Finally, Gwen's twat relaxed and she shifted uncomfortably under Peter's weight.
Releasing his cramped arms, he pushed himself up and away, and drew back. His cock
pulled out of Gwen's tight hole with a strange sucking sensation.
As he sat back on his heels, Peter felt the strength drain out of him as his prick
shriveled at last. His hard-on had held for so long it was sheer relief when it finally
faded – it was like an overworked muscle getting to relax completely at last. Gwen
turned, gave his face an affectionate licking, then shambled off to the water dish. She
drank her fill and then collapsed to the floor with a thump.
Weakly, Peter got to his feet, and staggered back to the couch and sat down. He was
utterly spent from the phenomenal fuck with the dog. It hadn't been quite what he had
expected, and it had shaken him. It wasn't so much that Gwen had been better than a
woman, as that she had been so vastly different. He didn't know if he wanted to fuck
the dog again or not.
"Here, Cyrano," Carol called. "Come, Cyrano. Come on, boy. Come on."
Peter lifted his head and managed to focus his eyes on Carol. She was on the floor,
leaning back on her elbows. Her naked body was stretched toward the big black poodle.
Her legs were spread wide. Her pussy gaped open.
"Come, Cyrano, come," she urged. "Come!"
Cyrano struggled to his feet. His nose tested the air and his ears twitched as he listened
to his mistress calling. Cautiously, he started toward her, carefully, as if uncertain this
was what she wanted. Peter reflected that if Carol were like most people, she had
frequently rejected the sexual advances of her dog. So she was now trying to break
down that conditioning. Cyrano was entering the forbidden territory cautiously. Even
though he had done it before, he was responding carefully to the unusual invitation.
"Come," Carol urged. She began fingering her open crotch. After coating her hand with
twat juice, she held it out and let the big poodle test her scent carefully. His tongue
licked out, cleaned her ringers. Peter saw her shiver at the hot sweep of the tongue on
her hand.
On a sudden impulse, Peter gathered his strength and managed to get hold of the
pillow he had used under his knees. He eased it under Carol's ass. She lifted up to let
him, realizing that having her hips elevated would improve Cyrano's penetration of her
cunt.
Cyrano followed her hand as she pulled it toward herself, toward her crotch. He sniffed
carefully, then licked her thigh delicately. Peter saw a few strands of her pussy hair
stretch as they caught on the dog's tongue. Carol leaned back on her elbows again, and
hunched so she could watch the poodle warm to his task. His nose nuzzled into her
pussy, and she shuddered. The hair down her back quivered from the motion of her
head.
Peter's exhausted cock tried to raise its head. It ached as he became aroused by the
bestial scene in front of him. He shivered as Cyrano's rough tongue stroked up Carol's
slit, pried between the cuntlips, revealed her hot, pink inner labia. Carol's belly was
wrinkled because of her hunched position. It shuddered as her muscles convulsed.
"Go, Cyrano," she urged. "Eat my pussy, you horny dog!"
Cyrano ripped his pink tongue the length of her slit, stroked her clit. It was a direct hit.
Carol's body heaved and jerked. She let her head drop back for a moment. Her eyes
were slitted with lust.
"God! It's so hot and rough," she moaned. "Awwww!"
This last groan of pleasure came when Cyrano dug his nose into Carol's pussy and
drilled his tongue deep into her cunt. From the looks of it, the animal could penetrate
her hole almost as deeply with his tongue as a man could with his cock. The sight gave
Peter a vague feeling of inferiority.
Carol slid backward, stretching out on her back on the floor. Her hips were still up on
the pillow. Reaching down, she hooked her hands on her thighs and pulled her legs
upward. She let her knees spread apart. The position split her crotch wide open for
Cyrano, exposed her cunt even more completely. Cyrano obliged by stroking his tongue
through her twat hair with long, strong swipes. He made a wet, sticky slapping noise as
he licked her box. Carol's head rolled from side to side on the floor as she abandoned
herself to her pleasure.
Peter's prick was struggling to rise. It was half-hard now. He loved watching the
slender, aristocratic beauty being violated by the dog's rasping tongue. Carol's hips were
jerking and twitching as Cyrano raped her cunt with his tongue.
"My asshole," Carol moaned. "Awwww YEAAHHH!"
The poodle's long, sandpapery tongue had struck farther back when she had doubled
up. It rasped up the crack of her ass, then slid into the slit of her crotch, and finally
went across her clitoris. It was a blazing, sweeping stroke that hit every erogenous zone
in her groin. She lurched as if she had been struck by lightning.
Peter thought his cock might actually get hard enough for a fuck. The contrast of the
black dog lapping the slender redhead's gaping pussy was driving him slightly mad. He
wanted to plunge his cock into that heaving hole. It seemed like Cyrano was having all
the fun.
Cyrano was licking and licking. Carol was heaving and jerking with every lash of the
long pink tongue into her gaping cunt. A bright flush blossomed low on her torso,
spread up from the matted, saliva-wet tangle of her muff, out over her belly, then over
her chest to her boobs. It was the flush of an orgasm. The sight brought Peter's cock to
full erection. He was ready, capable of fucking the heaving woman. In fact, he was
incapable of doing anything else.
He eased Cyrano away from the convulsing female, and, as she focused her hazy eyes
on him, set the head of his prick in her hole. It was slippery with her cum and the dog's
saliva. With a single thrust, Peter rammed his cock balls deep into her cunt. His rod
was still coated with hot juices from Gwen's hole. The embrace of Carol's cunt set his
nerves ablaze. He felt her hole convulse. It was still spasming from her orgasm. Peter
continued the stimulation with his thrusting cock.
He was going to come, too. It was going to be a quick, hard orgasm, and was going to
be as much ache as pleasure as his body tried to find sources of sperm that no longer
existed because of his incredible sexual activity. His groin cramped and he jerked as
pain and pleasure gripped him. It was a rapid, gut-knotting orgasm that wrung him out.
And then there was a wild, hot stroking tongue on his ass. Cyrano had struck at the
only flavorful target available. His tongue squirmed crazily between Peter's butt-cheeks,
slapped his clenching nuts and sent blazing waves of fire slashing through Peter.
"Haw!" Peter grunted as he felt a faint dribble of jizz leave his prick. Then his muscles
collapsed with exhaustion. Weakly, he reached back, tried to push Cyrano away. The
licking only irritated him now that he had passed the crest.
"Uunnhhh," Carol moaned under him, and he rolled off her. "No more," she begged
softly. "No more."
Cyrano, concerned by Carol's condition, and aggravated by Peter's thrusting, pushing
hand, growled ominously. Carol roused herself enough to reassure the dog, and then
slumped back down again. "We're crazy," she sighed.
"Sorry about that last," Peter apologized.
She shook her head. "It was a fitting climax, if you'll forgive the pun."
"I'd better be going," Peter said, trying to get up.
"No, stay," she urged. "That big bed is too lonely now. Stay." She shivered. "But no
more sex. Not today."
"I couldn't get it up again if my life depended on it," he assured her.


Chapter 5

"Do you feel badly about what we did?" Peter asked.
Carol kept her eyes on the ground and held Cyrano back. He was trying to plunge off
into the weeds after some imaginary prey. The fingers of her other hand were
interlocked with Peter's. Gwen shambled along, a wayward heap of gray and white
yarn, an animated fuck rug. Carol wrestled with the question. She felt she should feel
guilty, but for some reason, she didn't.
"No," she answered at last.
"That's good," Peter said, relieved.
"Though I probably should," she went on.
"Why?"
She kicked a pebble along the dirt track they were on. "Jake's only been dead six
months."
"That's quite a long time for a healthy young woman," Peter noted.
"It's damned short of the traditional year," Carol countered.
"But you said you don't feel guilty."
"No," she admitted. "I guess I think Jake wouldn't mind, somehow."
"He sounds like he was quite a guy."
"He was wonderful," Carol sighed. "I'm sorry," she apologized softly.
"It's okay," Peter replied, smiling. "You must have had a wonderful marriage."
"Uh-huh," Carol agreed. She was intrigued by the lack of pain she felt as she talked
about it. "Think we could let the dogs run free now?" she asked.
Peter looked around. They were in a field of short grass. "I guess Cyrano could run. I'd
better keep Gwen on the leash, though, since she's in heat."
"Oh, right," Carol agreed, reeling in the poodle and unhooking the leash. Once free,
Cyrano paused as if surprised, shook himself thoroughly, and then bounded happily off
into the grass, his ears flapping and flopping.
Carol kept an eye on him as he frolicked through the field. "Jake was super in a lot of
ways," she mused.
"Got a picture of him?" Peter asked.
Carol shook her head. "It hurt too much." She smiled. "He wasn't handsome, really.
His nose was crooked, and his eyes were just a teeny bit squiggly. One was higher than
the other. He was terribly hairy, too, all over."
"All over?"
"All over," she confirmed. "Like a great big bear. Even on his back."
Peter snorted. "I'm hairless as a baby. Even my chest."
"Not everywhere, though," Carol pointed out.
"Everyone has hair there," Peter answered. "You make him sound like an ogre."
"He was as gentle as a baby," Carol said quickly. "Well, most of the time, anyway."
"Oh?"
"Sometimes, during sex he wasn't so gentle. But, of course, sometimes I didn't want
him to be gentle." She remembered the wild wrestling match. "He was very good at it,"
she said softly. Her eyes had a dreamy, faraway look.
"You don't have to talk about it."
"I don't mind, if you don't."
Peter shrugged. "It's okay with me."
"He knew just how to get me going," Carol mused. "God! Then he'd take me apart
inside with that great cock of his. He'd do it any time, any place, any style, any hole!"
Peter gulped at the ideas she was putting in his head. He was afraid his hard-on was
going to show. He was incredibly turned-on by the slender red-headed woman beside
him. The thought of fucking her here, in broad daylight, right out in the open, made
his cock throb.
"Cyrano!" Carol called. "Cyrano, you come back here!"
"Where'd he go?" Peter asked.
"Into the woods over there," Carol said nervously. "I thought he'd come right back out,
but he didn't. Oh, what if he gets lost?"
Peter soothed Carol quickly. "That's not very likely. Dogs have a homing instinct. He
won't have gone far."
Carol started running across the field, afraid something had happened to her dog. Peter
followed, with Gwen jogging along behind.
"How come you named him Cyrano?" Peter asked, trying to distract Carol.
"Because of the nose, of course," Carol answered. "What famous Frenchman had a
schnoz like that?"
"Makes sense," Peter agreed, half-trotting to keep up with her.
"Cyrano!" Carol called desperately as they neared the woods. "He went in right about
here."
"Great, no path," Peter grunted, bending low to duck under a tree limb.
Carol stopped so suddenly he rammed into her.
"Do you hear water?" she asked.
Peter cocked his head and then nodded. "Sounds close. A good-sized stream."
"Thank heavens!"
"Oh? That would worry me," Peter argued. "No footprints on water."
"Cyrano hates water," Carol answered. "We'll find him going up and down along the
edge, unless of course it's narrow enough for him to jump.
The stream was too wide to be jumped. Cyrano came frolicking along the bank. Carol
glared at him, then hugged him.
"You silly dog," she cooed. "Someone told you your ancestors were swimmers. Ever
since you've been trying to figure out how to do it without getting wet."
"Huh?"
"He hears water, or smells it, and he heads straight for it. Then when he gets there, he
doesn't want to get his feet wet. So, he dithers like an old maid at the seashore."
Gwen gave a lurch that dragged Peter to the edge of the stream. She dipped her muzzle
and drank noisily. "Maybe Cyrano's thirsty. Or does he drink only wine?"
"Actually, he's partial to beer. But he drinks water if he can do it without getting his
feet wet."
Evidently reassured, since the stream hadn't reached out and grabbed Gwen, Cyrano
followed and drank. Once his thirst was slaked, he turned toward the bitch-dog and
began sniffing her. Coyly, Gwen turned away from him. He followed her quickly, his
nose angling toward her dripping, in-season cunt.
"Oh, great, here we go again," Carol sighed.
Peter frowned. "Well, shall we let them do it? I'm in favor of noninterference."
Carol snorted. "We have to do something, no matter what, because of Cyrano's back.
Either pull them apart, or help."
Peter eyed Carol warily. He had fucked her twice, and screwed his dog while she
watched. But he didn't want her to get the idea it was just sex he was interested in.
Carol looked at him, and her lips quirked in a wry smile. "You're thinking what I'm
thinking, I'll bet."
"What's that?" he asked.
"Helping them to get together will get us horny. Right?"
Peter nodded reluctantly. "It did the last time."
"Gwen isn't about to settle for a blow job," Carol noted. "She's got hot pants today."
"She's not wearing any pants," Peter pointed out.
"Neither am I," Carol responded. She was wearing a light summer dress that swirled
around her legs as she walked.
"Oh?"
She grinned at him impishly. "Thought that would get you."
"For real?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she taunted.
"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just going to find out," he answered, nettled.
"Ho, ho, ho, you and who else? That oversexed rug you call a dog?"
"I don't need any help," he snapped. He bit back a cruel retort regarding Cyrano's
back.
"She sucks cock," Carol snorted.
"If you're not careful, you're likely to be sucking one yourself," Peter warned
ominously.
"Fooey! You haven't got the nerve."
"You're really asking for it."
"Of course I'm asking for it, you – you eunuch!" Carol screeched at him.
Forgetting the dogs completely, Peter charged. His shoulder slammed into Carol's soft
stomach. The force of the blow sent them both into the water. Carol landed flat on her
back with Peter on top of her. She was giggling and laughing in spite of the violence of
their collision. She fought vigorously when he tried to pin her to the bottom of the
shallow stream.
"Come on," she urged, "prove what a man you are. Prove it!"
Peter succeeded in pinning her arms with her knees, then began unbuttoning her dress
down the front. She had nothing on under it. He ripped her dress off her tits, and
settled down to her stomach, still keeping her arms pinned. His cock was a pulsing
tower inside his pants. He unfastened his belt and opened his fly. His cock sprang out
against the satin skin of her stomach.
Peter put his hands on her tits and mashed them against her ribs. He could feel the rise
and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her eyes glittered hotly. He pinched her nipples –
gently at first, then harder when she laughed at him. He took her rosy nubbins and
twisted them hard. Pain and pleasure flashed across her face. Her long red hair swirled
around her head, trailed downstream in languid streamers. Her dress was soaked. The
bodice was soggy, rumpled, scrunched up where he had folded it back to bare her
boobs.
Lifting his ass off her, he reached under himself and unbuttoned her dress the rest of
the way. He spread it open, bared her completely. What she had said was true. No
panties. Whether she had started out that way, or stripped them off sometime when he
wasn't looking was immaterial.
Carol kicked and squirmed under him. Glittering drops of water spattered into the air
as she thrashed in the water. Peter reached under himself and located the hot softness
of her pussy. He jabbed his fingers into her gash. Her resistance was shattered. She
shuddered as he slipped his fingers deep into her steaming hole. "Unh!" Carol grunted.
"My dog's a cocksucker, huh?" Peter asked, beginning to thoroughly enjoy the game.
"Yes," Carol said sharply.
"Would you like to try a little nibble?" he asked sweetly.
"You haven't got the guts to make me," Carol retorted.
"If you're not careful, I'll make you kiss my ass," Peter growled.
"But you don't dare let me suck your precious cock," Carol snorted. "You're afraid I'd
bite it off."
Peter knew she was deliberately taunting him. His cock throbbed as he thought about
shoving it into her mouth, about pouring a thick, creamy load down her throat. His
balls ached in anticipation.
"How are the dogs?" Carol asked suddenly, interrupting the game because she was
worried about them.
"They're fine, ignore them," Peter growled, angry at the interruption. "But-"
"They can damn well take care of themselves for a change," he snapped. He moved
forward on her chest, still keeping her arms trapped under his legs. "You've got
something else to do."
"You can't make me," she challenged him.
He grabbed her ears and used them to lift her head out of the water. "I can and I will,"
he snorted.
"I'll bite it off," Carol warned, then grinned. "You do and I'll twist your ears off," he
retorted, adding force to his words by twisting them painfully.
"OW!" Carol yelped.
"So, suck it," Peter ordered.
Carol started to refuse, so he twisted her ears again. His cock was brushing her lips. She
tried to turn her head away. He held her firmly, and nudged his prick against her lips
again. Hesitantly, her mouth opened. He bumped his cockhead against her once more.
"Open up," he urged, pinching her ears.
Carol opened up. He pushed his prick into her mouth. He felt it slide along the velvet
warmth of her tongue. The stroke against its underside brought a stinging flow from
the tip of his cock. Her tongue recoiled at the taste of his juices.
"Suck my dick," he ordered.
Her lips closed around his knob and her cheeks caved in. Her tongue pressed against
the underside of his prick. He felt blood being drawn to the knob. By pulling on her
ears, he lifted her head farther, then drove more of his prick into her mouth. She
looked up at him, her eyes big and round. Her face was distorted by the distended rod
in her mouth. There was pleading in her eyes, but whether it was pleading for more or
pleading for release, he didn't know. And he wasn't about to try to find out, either. He
wasn't hurting her with his grip on her ears now, but kept a tight hold on them just in
case.
He moved her head back and forth, slid his cock in and out of her gripping mouth. Her
nostrils flared as she inhaled. He felt her chest struggle to inflate against his weight. He
felt her boobs under his ass. He sat on her. His trousers were gaping open.
"Rub my cock with your tongue," he ordered. Carol did so, thereby triggering more
pre-cum.
The tendons on her neck stood out with the strain of holding her head up. His grasp
on her ears wasn't giving her much support.
"On't 'ome im 'y oouf," she mumbled around his cock.
"What?" Peter let her spit out his dick for a moment.
"I said, 'Don't come in my mouth.' "
"Sure thing," he agreed, then forced her to take his prick back into her. He moved her
head in a fucking motion again. He slid his prick back and forth along her stroking
tongue. She sucked, drew more blood to his already engorged meat. Early juices hurried
the length of his cum-channel, Peter was thoroughly enjoying his dominance. He loved
sitting on her, loved watching her take his dong into her mouth. The sight of his prick
spiking her aristocratic face was almost as arousing as the feel of her mouth around his
cock. His hips squirming, he screwed her mouth with his big tool.
"No teeth!" he told her sharply, and squeezed her ears warningly.
Her lips shielding her teeth, she let his cock go clear to the back of her mouth. He felt
her throat squirm and her guts heave as she gagged on his towering rod. He ignored
her reaction, and jammed his cock farther down her throat. She swallowed and her
throat massaged the rubbery tip of his prick, almost making him come.
Figuring she couldn't breathe, Peter let her back off and get a breath of air, then corked
her throat again. He began to move her head back and forth. He moved his hips in
opposition to her head, in a steady fucking motion. A hot pool of jizz was building in
his groin as he slid his prick in and out of her sucking mouth.
" 'on't 'ome," Carol pleaded desperately. Tears glittered in her eyes.
Peter didn't answer. He just kept pumping his cock in her mouth. He was going to
come, and he was going to come in her mouth. He wasn't going to unload down her
throat. He was going to spurt his load all over her tongue, so she would taste his juices,
savor his hot jizz.
He was getting closer and closer and closer now. He moved her head faster and faster.
His hips moved sharply, pumping his prick in the back of her mouth. When he saw the
fear and the pleading and the tears in her eyes, he shut his. She had asked for this, and
she was going to get it. The sperm in his groin was tossing like an ocean in a storm,
bursting to get free.
Her tongue and throat knotted around the knob of his dick, squeezed and pressed the
undersurface, the nerve trigger of his prick. His prostate convulsed and erupted. A huge
shot of jizz ripped the length of his tool and hit the back of her throat. His cock
convulsed and heaved, pumping thick, gooey spurts of spunk into her. He drew back,
felt her tongue squirming against the underside of his erupting prick. He opened his
eyes. Her mouth was working and working as he flooded her with jizz. She had to gulp
and swallow to keep from choking on his thick fuck juice.
She had to breathe, and she had to swallow, but she couldn't do both at the same time.
As a result, a pool of cum gathered in her mouth between swallows. She was getting a
full dose of sperm, whether she liked it or not.
"Suck it dry," he ordered. He held her head up, keeping his prick in her mouth until
his spurting died away to a pulsing trickle. His cock and groin knotted one final time,
wrung the last drops of spunk from his chambers. Carol's mouth closed tightly around
his prick and she sucked. His fear that he might have gone too far with her vanished.
She was willingly drawing the last thin seepings from his rod. Her tongue carefully
cleansed his knob, wiped the last vestiges of his spurting from his hot meat.
Carol swallowed. He released her ears. She kept her head raised and licked his prick
with careful, tender sweeps of her tongue. Then she sighed, and let her head splash
down into the shallow stream. Her eyes closed, and her throat worked as she swallowed
and swallowed and swallowed.
"Bastard," she muttered, a faint smile on her lips.
"You asked for it," he pointed out unapologetically.
"And I got it," she sighed. "Must have been a gallon of the stuff."
Peter got off her, then offered her his hand. She took it, and scrambled to her feet. Her
sodden dress hung around her like an open robe. As he helped her out of the water, she
shed the soaked garment. "Might as well get rid of this," she noted.
Instead of undressing, Peter fastened his trousers. It was more erotic to be fully dressed
while his woman was naked, than to be naked with her. He enjoyed the play of the
sunlight over her graceful body. She lay down on the grass to catch her breath. She felt
her ears carefully.
"Ouch. You really did a job on me," she observed.
Peter sat down beside her. He managed to restrain his urge to apologize.
"Where are the dogs?" she asked, looking around.
Peter let out a piercing whistle. Gwen came bouncing through the brush. Cyrano,
aroused and eager, was right behind her. Gwen came jogging up to her master. Peter
scratched her ears as Cyrano snuffled hungrily at her heated pussy. Gwen whined
mournfully, and wiggled her back end as Cyrano painfully tried to mount her.
"Shouldn't we do something?" Carol asked.
Peter frowned. "Let 'em go find a log or something. I'll be damned if I'll be a mating
platform for them." He pushed the dogs away. "Go on, Gwen. Go away."
Gwen eyed him doubtfully, and then shambled away. Cyrano was right behind, his
nose at her backside, his hind legs spraddled wide. His erect cock swung and swayed
heavily.
Peter turned his attention to Carol. He stroked one hand possessively over her bare
torso, cupped one of her tits tenderly. He thumbed the nubbin, watched the rubbery
protuberance surge up, beg for more.
"Mmmmmm," Carol purred as he played with her jug. She was lying flat on her back,
on the ground. Her arms were at her sides. The sun burned down on her naked body.
Little drops of water glittered in her pussy hair.
Sweeping his hand down her trim body, Peter combed his fingers through the dark red
curls of her pussy. Her legs slid apart slightly as he cupped her mound. His fingers
teased delicately along her cuntlips. Carol said nothing. She squirmed erotically as he
played with her sun-drenched twat. There was a tiny smile on her lips and her flat
stomach shivered delicately.
Leaning over, Peter nibbled one of her boobs, tongued the nubbin of her nipple. He felt
her shudder under him. Her back arched as she thrust her tits up at him. He slid a
finger into the hot, slippery tunnel of her cunt and tongue-flicked her tit.
Leaving her tit, he licked a path down her body. His tongue left a glistening trail on her
satin flesh. He stopped at her navel and probed. Her gut sucked in and she moaned. He
reamed her belly-button out with his tongue. Then he continued still lower, down her
shuddering belly.
Her legs slid apart as he neared her crotch. Carefully, he circled her red-haired twat,
licked the crease where thigh joined body. He carefully moved between her spread legs.
He was facing her crotch, facing up her body. He paused, his mouth inches from her
cunt. He let her anticipate his next move for a long, aching eternity. Then he lowered
his mouth to her pussy. Her wiry hair scratched and tickled his nose and cheeks. He
was engulfed in her scent. He spread her pussylips with his fingers and licked along the
rippled petals of her pink flesh, tasted the salty, metallic flavor of her secretions.
Pressing his face into her pussy, he thrust his tongue deep into her cunt mouth. He
wiggled it in the hot, gripping hole. His nose ground down on her clit, his jaw jiggled
against her asshole. He pumped his tongue in and out of her cunt in a fucking motion,
triggered waves of juices. Her hips heaved and squirmed under him. He looked up
along the flat plane of her belly, to the hills of her boobs, to the volcanic peaks of her
aroused nipples. She shuddered and squirmed as he reamed her steamy hole.
Lifting his head, he plowed her gash with his tongue, stroked it across the bump of her
urethra, and found the squirming protrusion of her clit. He closed his lips on it and
sucked, drew it out as far as it would go. He battered the little pearl with his tongue. He
felt Carol buck madly. The hot sun on the back of his neck, he suckled on her clit and
dug his chin into the hollow of the gate of her cunt.
Carol was moaning and whining. She thrashed on the ground as he ate and ate her
oozing snatch. Her juices were flooding his chin as he sucked on her clit. Her hips
heaved as he tormented her. He was amazed she managed somehow to keep from
grabbing his head. It was a subtle acknowledgement of his dominance – she let him do
what he wanted, didn't try to get him to do what she wanted. The heaving of her hips
drove her pussy at him. His lips squirmed and sucked in the hot, pink folds of her cunt.
He tongued her clit against her pubic arch.
"Awww!" Carol groaned. "I'm coming!"
As the sun beat down on them, Peter brought the naked woman to a heaving,
shuddering orgasm. He drank her flood of juices, savored the sticky taste of her cuntal
secretions. His cock was hardening, was rapidly becoming a painful lump in his pants.
He slurped and sucked at her twat until, her final, shuddering, heaving convulsion
done, she slowly collapsed.
He pulled back from her and knelt between her spread legs. He studied her slender
beauty as she shuddered back down from her peak. Her pussy was wet and stringy with
his spit and her cum. The inner labia were flushed, were glistening wet. They protruded
from her outer cuntlips they were still so aroused. Her belly shuddered sporadically,
then gradually relaxed as she breathed deeply.
His cock ached. Peter opened his fly and released his towering rod. Then he got to his
feet and stripped naked. He sat beside Carol on the grass, and felt the warm sun on his
engorged hard-on.
"Wow," Carol said at last, glancing at him. "Liked that, huh."
"You better believe it."
"Still think I'm not forceful enough?" Peter asked.
"No. You're fair, too. You didn't have to do that."
"I did it as much for me as I did for you. Only trouble is, it got my cock hard again."
"Poor baby," Carol teased, reaching over and gently stroking his hard-on.
"We'll manage to solve the problem somehow, I imagine."
"I imagine," Carol agreed, curling her fingers around his shaft and lying back
contentedly. "But not right now. I need a little recovery time."
"I'm in no hurry."
"Jake and I-I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I shouldn't talk about Jake all the time," she apologized.
"You don't. You've hardly talked about him at all. Maybe it's time you did. It'll get him
out of your system."
"I was just going to say that Jake and I were always in a hurry," Carol said. "We tried
everything. We did it quick and fast and in a hurry. It was – it was almost like we knew
we didn't have much time together."
"It's different with us," Peter noted. "Maybe that's a good omen."
"Are you proposing?" Carol teased.
"No way, baby," Peter snorted. "Neither of us is ready for that!"
"You're right," Carol agreed. "But I like you, though."
"I like you, too. In fact, I probably love you, but that doth not a marriage make. The
feeling isn't quite right yet."
"No, it isn't," Carol agreed.
A crashing in the underbrush interrupted them. "Oh, oh, here they come," Peter said,
sighing resignedly.
Gwen came plowing into the clearing, with Cyrano close behind. He was still in a
desperate state of arousal. Gwen sat down, practically on the poodle's head. He snuffled
frantically at her streaming hole.
"Oh, Cyrano, you lecher," Carol said, rolling to her side.
Gwen trotted over to Peter and stood there panting, then whined softly. "You're a
sexpot," Peter told his dog.
Gwen moaned deep in her throat. She sat down as Cyrano's nose jabbed at her hot hole
again. The poodle let out a yip of frustration.
"Come here, Cyrano," Carol urged, tugging on his collar. "I don't know why she
doesn't want you today, but there's not much you can do about it. There's no way you
can twist her ears." Carol glared at Gwen, half-seriously. "Fickle woman, I'll have to
take care of him myself, I guess."
"Gwen just knows what she wants," Peter said defensively.
"Well, she does have good taste," Carol noted. "I wonder if she tastes good."
Peter considered the possibility dubiously. "Maybe she does," he mused. "Cyrano
certainly finds her tasty."
"So, try it," Carol dared him.
Peter shoved his sheepdog around until her tail was toward him. Cautiously, he spread
her fur and sniffed her aroused cunt. The aroma might have been attractive to another
dog, but it certainly wasn't to him. "I've got something else to satisfy her with," he
announced.
"Chicken!" Carol snorted.
"I've never seen you suck Cyrano off," Peter retorted.
"Touche," Carol said. "Are you going to keep that poor bitch in agony forever?"
"You don't want it?" Peter asked, waving his hard-on.
"No, I've had my fun today. Boy, did I ever!"
"What about you, Gwen, you want my cock?" Peter asked. The carnal relationship he
was developing with his dog was sitting easier with him because of Carol's calm
acceptance of it.
Gwen licked his prick and whimpered.
"Okay," Peter agreed, getting to his knees. His gut knotted as he thought about what he
was going to do. His cock throbbed and swayed as he moved around behind the big,
shaggy dog. Carol, he noted, was watching him closely. She was jacking off her poodle
with one hand.
Setting the head of his cock against Gwen's cunt, Peter pumped slowly into her hot,
clinging depths. The heat of her cunt never ceased to amaze him.
Gwen whined and humped her back as he slowly worked his prick into her sticky,
blazing hole. Cyrano was humping his ass end as best he could. Carol continued
massaging the hot, red dart of his cock, and watched Peter stick the cock she had just
sucked into the cunt of his sheepdog. Cyrano dipped his head and licked her pussy, and
Carol spread her thighs with a soft sigh.
Peter focused on the slow penetration of his rod, concentrated on working his prick full
depth into the dog's cunt. Hunching over her shaggy back, he shuddered, trying to
control the urge to slam his cock in and out of the canine hole. He squirmed his prick
in the tight grasp of her cunt. His balls were boiling with jizz. The slurping noise from
Cyrano eating Carol's streaming cunt increased Peter's already incredible lust.
He was going to come, and he was going to come soon. Gwen was whining and
shuddering on the brink of her orgasmic pleasure. He stirred his dick in her spasming
sheath. Cyrano's hind legs pushed and jerked as Carol pumped her hand on his
throbbing prick. Carol's hips were squirming and heaving in reaction to his probing
tongue in her streaming pussy.
"God!" Peter grunted as he began to come. His cock pumped in Gwen's knotted hole.
He leaned hard against her hind end, her thick fur scratching and tickling his naked
body.
Steaming dribbles of Cyrano's jizz were oozing out between the fingers of Carol's hand.
She clasped the knobby head of his erupting cock, and tipped her head back. A hot
flush burned on her cheeks as she shuddered in the grip of her own come.


Chapter 6

Carol and Peter sat in Doctor Wells' cluttered office. Carol was trying to appear serious
and attentive as the vet droned on. Her eyes kept drifting to the framed diplomas and
pictures of animals on the paneled walls. She had a feeling of unreality, as if it all were
a dream. But it was real. And it had been her idea in the first place.
"Over the years, bestiality has included the sexual utilization of every conceivable
animal," Doctor Wells droned on. "Including fowl-such as geese, turkeys and chickens
– canines, felines, and a wide variety of farm animals – cows, sheep, and pigs."
It had taken a great deal of talking to get Peter to see her point, but in the end, he had
agreed. She had had to tell him about Ginny Wells and the shepherd, and what had
happened in the yard that day. Finally, Peter had agreed they needed to know more
about what they were doing, and what the hazards were – both legally and physically.
Carol had not expected a scholarly lecture on the subject of bestiality. She shifted
restlessly in her chair. She wondered what was happening with Cyrano and Gwen.
They had been left in Ginny's car. Carol was worried about what might be going on.
She tried not to apply the word "jealous" to what she was feeling, but knew jealousy
was part of it.
"Now, as to specific cases," the vet went on, finally getting to the point. "Medically, the
risks are minimal. Both the animals are healthy, as, I presume you both are. In any
case, there are very few infections that are common to dogs and humans. Careful
washing after any sexual activity should suffice.
"Legally," the doctor continued, after a deep breath, "bestiality falls in the category of
'unnatural acts'. It's illegal in most states, as is sodomy. However, as long as you
exercise reasonable discretion, I don't think you have anything to fear in that direction,
either."
Carol couldn't take the dry lecture any longer. "What about you?" she asked bluntly.
"Me?" Doctor Wells asked, startled. "Why, I certainly have no intention of revealing
your secret."
"No, I mean, what about your under-age daughter?" Carol persisted. "What is your
legal position when you knowingly allow your daughter, who's a minor, to indulge in
bestial acts with a German shepherd?"
Doctor Wells was struck dumb.
"Why attack him?" Peter asked, defending the doctor. "He just said he had no intention
of abusing our confidence."
"I'm not attacking him," Carol answered. "I just wanted to get out of the legal and
medical fog. Doctor, when I asked you if Cyrano's semen and saliva were dangerous,
you didn't even bat an eye. And after I saw Ginny let that huge beast screw her, I knew
there was no danger in further exploring the matter with you."
"I had forgotten you met Siegfried," Doctor Wells muttered.
"What I want to know," Carol went on boldly, "is what kind of training is required to
get a dog to perform the way Sieg does. And, what else is possible between humans and
animals."
"I see." The doctor sat back in his chair and looked from one to the other of them.
"Why?" he asked at last.
"Why? Because we want to try it!"
"Why?"
Peter spoke up, hesitantly. "I'm not sure why. Why does a couple indulge in mate
swapping? Somewhere in my make-up is a – a kink. I've dated plenty of women, but
never had a lasting relationship with any of them until now. And Gwen and Cyrano are
involved, along with Carol."
"And I'm a widow. I was like an iceberg after Jake died. Until I masturbated Cyrano
that is. Then he licked me, and then Peter came along," Carol explained. "It all got me
going again."
"I see," the doctor said. "With my wife Tara and me, it began when we were children.
The same thing has happened with Ginny. In her case it has the advantage that there
are no worries about pregnancy or VD."
"Then how about offering us the benefits of your experience?" Carol asked.
The doctor flicked a switch on the intercom on his desk. "Tara, are you there?"
"Yes, dear."
"Can you see Ginny?"
"She's playing with a poodle and a sheepdog out in the yard. She's throwing a ball for
them."
"Can you stretch supper for two more."
"Easily."
"Okay. We're having guests this evening. No reason to change any of our other plans at
all"
"Oh? Sounds interesting," Tara said huskily.
"They're both very attractive animal lovers. We'll be over in a little while."
"Why not now? I'll fix drinks."
The doctor lifted a questioning eyebrow at Carol and Peter. When they nodded, he told
his wife they would all be right there.
As the three of them crossed the yard, Cyrano came frolicking over, his ears flopping
merrily. Gwen followed in a sort of shaggy jiggle that had surprising speed. Ginny came
last, a blur of limber, tanned legs and arms.
"You can stay out for a while with the dogs," the doctor told his daughter. "Mrs. Jeffers
and Mr. Collins are having dinner with us, and will – uhm – join us later."
"Really? Groovy!" Ginny exclaimed. Carol saw the girl eye Peter with more than idle
interest, and felt another twinge of jealousy.
"We'll call you when it's dinner time," the vet said, then showed Peter and Carol into
his large, rambling, country house.
Tara Wells was a taller, more mature version of Ginny. She was slender, had impressive
tits, long, straight black hair, and dark eyes. Politely, yet efficiently, she ushered them
through the kitchen and into the large living room. It was tastefully paneled in knotty
pine. There were comfortable chairs and a couch. The walls were covered with superb
photographs of dogs at rest and in action. The two monster black Great Danes that
Carol had seen in the yard scrambled to their feet and ambled over to sniff her and
Peter. The dogs' great heads came almost at chest level.
Carol thought of what kind of a cock such a huge dog would have, and shuddered. Her
pussy itched. And Peter could thrust his cock into the female's hole almost without
bending his knees.
"Tara is an animal photographer," Doctor Wells explained, indicating the pictures on
the walls.
"Sit down, please," Tara said. "And please, call me Tara. And call the stuffed shit Jon or
he'll lecture all night."
The evening passed quickly in average, innocent conversation. Carol felt a growing
tenseness as the meal finished. She helped Tara clear the table.
"One of the nice things about having a photographer for a wife," the vet said, "is that
she can record the family activities." He was threading a loop of movie film into a
projector.
"Oh, Daddy, not movies," Ginny griped, making a face.
"And why not? One of these reels stars you, you know. It's just to get the activities
under way faster."
"It'll help you loosen up," Tara said, bringing Carol and Peter fresh drinks. "It can be
kind of awkward at first."
"The only rule is that during the movie, there isn't to be any – uhm – human to
human hanky-panky," the vet ordered. This, too, produced a protesting moan from his
daughter. He silenced her with a frown.
Carol nervously settled herself beside Peter and gripped his hand tightly. His return
squeeze was reassuring. The lights went out and the screen lit up.
"The canine male shows an astonishing interest in the human female, especially at the
time of menstruation," the vet said. On the screen the huge, charcoal-black Great Dane
was probing his massive muzzle between Tara Wells' legs. She was wearing a shiny
black bikini that contrasted dramatically with her pale flesh.
"Jon, stop lecturing," his wife snorted in the darkness, a trace of irritation in her voice.
"That's Jonah," she went on in a normal tone as the movie continued. "It wasn't that
time of the month for me, either. Jonah just loves me, is all."
Carol's heart-beat quickened. In the movie, Tara was lying on a lounge, and the big
dog's probing of her barely covered crotch was having an arousing effect on her. Tara's
long legs were squirming sinuously. She clung to the sides of the lounge as the muzzle
dug and dug and dug at her cloth-covered twat. A powerful tongue licked the insides of
her thighs from time to time.
"His tongue feels like sandpaper," Tara said in the darkness. "This was filmed in our
yard last year. Jonah is four, full grown. And he's a terrible lecher."
Carol didn't know if she enjoyed Tara's calm discourse, or found it a distraction. The
incredible film was making Carol's gut knot tightly. She imagined the hot sun burning
her flesh as an aroused beast nuzzled and probed for the opening to her cunt. She felt a
hot flood drench her panties. And the thought of doing it while a movie camera
captured every squirm, every nuance of lust and pleasure, made Carol burn hotter.
Tara Wells was silent now. The noise of the movie projector seemed to expand, to fill
the silence. Carol felt she was vibrating in time with the whir of the machine. She felt a
bead of sweat start down between her tits, even though the house was comfortably cool.
Peter's hand on hers was no longer dry and comforting, but slippery and wet. She felt
him trembling and darted a sharp glance at him. His face was a study in concentration
as he stared hungrily at the screen.
Carol's eyes snapped back to the movie. She sucked in a deep breath. Tara was heaving
and struggling on the lounge, trying to wrestle her bikini bottom off. She was baring
her crotch for a more intimate exploration. The monster dog was dancing with
impatience, jittering nervously on his long, powerful legs. His tongue slapped his chops
as he anticipated the royal feast.
Tara kicked free of the bikini bottom. She had a jet-black patch of kinky pussy hair.
Without an invitation or a command, Jonah leaned forward and thrust his huge muzzle
into the inky muff. Tara's body convulsed in a monumental heave that arched her hips
clear off the lounge. While she shuddered and jerked, she tore at her bra as if it were
strangling her. The scrap of cloth holding her boobs jerked away, revealing her
monumental knockers. The great, glorious mounds of flesh were capped with dark,
rigid nipples. Tara's hands closed op her jugs and mangled the heavy mounds as Jonah
explored her gaping pink gash.
The dog's tongue probed and stroked, raked along Tara's pussy. Jonah's taste organ
looked like a great, living, hot pink blanket as it ravaged her exposed cunt flesh. He
twisted and turned his head, dragging the labia open first one way and then the other.
His tongue penetrated her hole, tore along the tender inner folds of flesh. Tara heaved
madly at the stimulation.
Carol felt herself panting and squirming as she watched. Her crotch was wetter than
ever. She could see Ginny's face out of the corner of her eye. In spite of the girl's
objection to the movies, she was now enraptured. Her eyes glittered in the flickering
light from the screen, her tongue darting over her lips as she watched her mother being
tongue-raped by the monstrous dog. The light from the projector shone on the vet's
face, made the film of sweat there gleam. How many times had they seen the film?
Many, surely. Yet it still had the power to hold all three of them riveted to the spot.
Tara was shuddering now as the dog probed his tongue into her streaming pussy. He
was scooping deep into her cunt, slurping up the copious flow from Tara's seething
orgasm. Her heels were dug into the webbing of the lounge, jacking her hips up, giving
the huge dog a perfect target.
"Orgasm number one," Tara said calmly in the darkness.
Carol was fascinated. If that was the first orgasm in the film, how many more would
there be? She tried to judge how much of the film had run, and decided that the reel
was about half over. She wanted to ask how many more climaxes were coming, then
decided she would rather not know. It might be only one more, or it might be a lot
more. She was dying to see what would happen next.
Tara collapsed on the lounge. She was obviously drained, yet mustered the strength to
shove the dog away. Jonah backed reluctantly away from her crotch, his massive tongue
sweeping his chops clean. He stood there panting. His huge fangs showed. Tara's
mouth moved. The dog closed in on her again, moved up along the lounge toward her
head. He towered over her. He bowed his head, let her massage the sleek fur on his
neck and shoulders. Tara guided him with a finger in his collar.
The camera angle moved slowly from the side of the lounge to the foot of it, evidence
that someone – Jon? Had been manning it. How did a man feel, watching his wife
indulge herself so lasciviously with a dog? It had to turn him on. But the camera
remained rock steady. It must have been on a tripod or a wheeled dolly, to have moved
as smoothly as it had.
The technicalities of the filming faded from Carol's mind as the next scene slowly
developed. Jonah was being steered over the lounge, his forefeet on one side of it, his
hind legs on the other, so that he was bridging it with his huge frame. Dangling over
Tara's head was his swaying sheath, a great black tube that sagged down from his trim
belly. There was no sign that he was aroused from what he had been doing to his
mistress. But even in its retracted state, his organ was awe-inspiring.
Tara reached up and gently touched his sheath with her fingers, eased it from side to
side as if testing its size and mass. The pink tip of a beginning canine hard-on began to
show. Then the naked brunette on the lounge lifted her head and flicked the growing
dog-prick with the tip of her tongue.
Carol's insides knotted tighter. She quietly jammed one hand into her oozing crotch,
crossing her legs over her fist in order to grind it into her pussy harder. Her nipples
were on fire. The sight of that gleaming spear of canine cock made her go all weak
inside.
Tara's shapely body twisted on the lounge as she lifted higher to embrace the jutting
prick of her massive pet. The woman pulled up the end of the lounge to support her,
and engulfed the sharp tip of the pink shaft with her lips. Her legs kicked restlessly.
The camera angle allowed tantalizingly brief glimpses of the heart of her pussy, a flash
of red in ebony curls.
Jonah's cock was a stabbing pink javelin now. His hind legs began shivering as his
mistress continued sucking his dick. He was vaguely trying to hump. Did it feel as if his
cock was aimed into the heart of a bitch's cunt, rather than a woman's mouth? His
sleek coat gleamed in the sun, the muscles under it rippling as he shifted and moved
restlessly. Tara was keeping him in place with her grip on his collar and her delicate
touch on his underbelly.
She was taking much more of the jutting cock in her mouth now. She opened her lips,
made a theatrical show of engulfing half the shining red shaft. Then she drew away, and
her lips stroked the aroused length of the dog's prick. She paused. Her tongue licked
over the dog-cock, stroked it from base to tip. Then she embraced it with her mouth
again. She sucked. Her cheeks caved in, and her jaw went down. Jonah hunched up in
reaction. His head twisted and his teeth flashed. Carol could almost hear his moan of
excitement.
Carol had sucked cock, and enjoyed it. She loved the feeling of a hot, live piece of meat
in her mouth. She loved the feeling of a shaft jumping and jerking as it pumped hot,
stinging jizz into her. She loved the taste of the jizz itself, even. Now she was trying to
comprehend sucking a dog's cock. How would it feel to draw the thinner, more watery
cum of a poodle down her throat? Her stomach knotted with revulsion, and her cunt
convulsed with desire as she thought about it. Cyrano had accepted her masturbation,
had enjoyed the hand job. He was going to discover a new treat, soon.
Prying her hand loose from Peter's, Carol reached over into his lap and found the pole
of his cock. It was tenting his trousers up. A small, slender hand jerked away. Carol
glanced over. Ginny was on the couch on the far side of Peter, and had been fondling
his hard-on in the dark! Carol had scared the teenager away. The girl's expression as
she watched the film was studied innocence.
Protectively, Carol took hold of Peter's prick, liberating it from his fly and curling her
fingers around it fondly. She stroked her thumb over the knob. His slippery oozings
speeded her stroke on his aroused meat. Peter's hand crept over her thigh and into her
crotch. She captured it between her crossed legs and pulled her own hand out in order
to give him room.
In the film, Jonah was getting more and more turned on. Tara was still sucking his
cock. The Great Dane's hips were humping harder now. His back was arching, his hind
legs spreading as if he were embracing a bitch. Tara was stroking her fingers back along
the length of his sheath to his balls, gently brushing them with her nails. Her head was
moving back and forth, pistoning the dog's prick in her sucking mouth. The dog was
hunching, harder and faster, more demandingly. Deliberately, Tara revealed the scarlet
prick end for a flashing moment, revealed the swollen knob that had formed, then
closed her mouth around it again. It was visible evidence of the nearness of Jonah's
orgasm.
Tara's hips were writhing and heaving on the lounge. Her slender legs were spread
wide, displaying the aroused heart of her pussy, the flashing, distended pink petals of
her inner lips seeking hungrily for a cock.
"Orgasm number two," Tara said softly. This time there was a tremble of suppressed
excitement in her voice.
Jonah was humping inexorably toward his own climax. His haunches heaving, he
rammed his dong into Tara's sucking mouth, clear to the back of her throat. Her head
jerked in opposition to the dog's thrusts. Her jaw worked as she massaged the hard
knot on the dog's cock.
"He's coming now," Tara whispered. Carol shuddered as a mini-orgasm racked her.
Jonah was quivering. His back end humped sharply. The visible portion of his dick was
pulsing, slowly and powerfully. Tara's throat was working as she swallowed the spurting
waves of dog-jizz, her lush body knotted in the grip of her own orgasm. Her nose flared
as she inhaled quickly while still drinking the scalding jettings of the huge dog. A
dribble of thin, pearly dog-sperm spilled from her mouth and trickled down her chin.
Finally, in order not to suffocate, she was forced to abandon her swallowing.
Jonah's humping trailed off gradually. His hips remained hunched. Tara kept his prick
in her mouth. "It upsets him if I release his cock before the knot goes down," Tara
explained.
So, afterward, it's necessary to keep the dog's prick inside until the knot goes down,
Carol thought. The knowledge made her excitement surge higher for some reason. Was
it the idea of being so at the mercy of an animal – a Great Dane, perhaps?
On the screen, Tara remained motionless, and let the dog's prick withdraw from her
mouth at its own rate. The great pink dart slowly slipped from between her lips,
shining with spit and sperm. Tara flopped back on the lounge, her naked tits heaving as
she caught her breath. She licked her lips clean as she rested, licked up the shining
overflow of dog-jizz.
There was a break in the film – apparently the camera had been shut off.
"Had to give Jonah a rest," Tara noted as the pictures resumed. "He's like all males –
has to recharge his batteries, though it doesn't take him as long as it does humans."
Tara was still on her back on the lounge, but it was higher off the ground, somehow.
Jonah was climbing over her, straddling her with his huge front legs. Her thighs were
spread wide. Her knees were bent up and out. Jonah's hindquarters were at her ass. His
huge cock was fully aroused, and the great, gleaming shaft of dog-prick was aimed right
at the center of Tara's pussy.
Carol sucked in a quick, tense breath. She wondered how much more of this she could
take. She was being burnt alive by the lust the film was triggering in her. She took a
gulp of her drink to moisten her dry mouth, and felt the powerful dose of alcohol slam
into her stomach. She shuddered, and her pussy emitted such a flood of juice she
thought for a moment her bladder had let go. Peter's dick was drenching her hand with
lubricating juices. She squeezed it rhythmically, milking his tool.
Jonah's cock was jabbing against Tara's gaping crotch. The woman was heaving her
hips around in order to get the sharp tip of the dog's dick into the entrance to her cunt.
Then the dog's prick hammered into her snatch, drove into her hole with brutal
ferocity. Her body bucked in reaction. Her hips heaved as the Great Dane's huge dong
slammed into her cunt. Carol tried to decide whether the dog's cock was bigger than a
man's or not, but couldn't, just from the film. It didn't really matter. What made the
film so incredibly arousing was the graceful, pretty, naked woman giving herself so
willingly to the hairy animal. Tara's head whipped from side to side with passion as the
dog raped his prick into her cunt. The dog's snout was inches from her tossing face.
His hot breath had to be blasting straight into her nose. His huge pink tongue hung
slackly from his mouth, and jerked a little each time he heaved against her.
"The Romans used to put on shows where a woman was raped by a lion," Tara noted in
a tight, hot voice. "It was usually fatal, so it was reserved for slaves and Christians for
that reason. The lions generally tore the women to pieces."
Carol had the feeling Tara half wished she could die that way. Then Carol felt a crazy
surge of lust at the idea of dying under the raping mass of the king of the beasts.
Tara wasn't dying from the ripping thrusts of Jonah's huge prick. She was heaving and
bucking with pleasure as her cunt was ravaged by his tool. Jonah was slavering. There
was a savage animal grin on his face as he fucked his cock into her pulsing cunt.
"Orgasm number three," Tara whispered over the noise of the projector. In the film her
body arched madly. "Jonah's locked in me now and I'm gripping him with my cunt.
His prick is pumping and jerking, tugging and pulling at the walls of my hole. Dog
sperm is very hot, feels like a boiling douche deep inside you. I can usually feel hot
rivers of the spunk pressuring back between his prick and my cunt walls. Then it spills
down my ass."
Carol's legs were squirming and twisting around Peter's hand. He rubbed her pussy
hard through her clothes. Carol didn't think she had ever been as aroused as she was at
that moment, and she didn't even have a cock in her – she was just watching a movie!
"It seemed like he was stuck in me for hours," Tara said as the motionless scene
continued. Jonah was hunched over her. She lay exhausted on the lounge. Every once
in a while Jonah would make an attempt to extract his cock from her cunt, and a flash
of pain would flicker across her face. Then she would pat and soothe the huge animal.
He showed his delight with great swipes of his tongue over her sweating face. Then, at
last, Jonah pulled back and his prick came into view, then quickly retracted into its
sheath. Tara stretched her legs out as the dog left her. The last shot was of Tara,
sleeping naked in the hot sun.
"There will be a brief intermission while the projectionist changes reels," Jon said. "It
would be a good time for bathroom stops and getting rid of any unnecessary clothing,
or both."
"How many more reels are there?" Peter asked. "I'm not sure how much more of this I
can take." Carol was glad to hear someone else was reaching the end of their
endurance.
"Only one more reel," the vet said as he clicked switches and fussed with the projector.
Carol had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. Freeing herself from Peter, she
struggled shakily up.
"Straight through the lighted doorway over there," Tara directed.
Carol blinked against the glare of the brightly lighted bathroom. Her reflection in the
mirror revealed flushed cheeks, gleaming eyes, and swollen lips. She was a study in
sexual arousal. She used the toilet, and then debated pulling her slacks back up. The
crotch was soaked. She remembered what Jon had said about getting rid of unnecessary
clothing, and dragged her pants and panties off. Her hands shook as she unbuttoned
her blouse and discarded it, too. The evening was obviously going to end only one way.
The back-lighting from the hall would silhouette her, provide a measure of modesty as
she returned to the dark living room. And once the next reel of film was on, modesty
would be the last thing on her mind.
She wondered, as she sat down next to Peter, and felt his naked hip against hers, if her
first partner would be dog or man.
"Everybody set?" the vet asked, then clicked on the projector.
Carol slipped her hand over and curled her fingers around Peter's dick. It had lost none
of its hardness during the short break. She imagined he must be feeling a little sore
from his continuous arousal.
The picture flashed on the screen, and Carol felt her insides softening. With no lead-up,
no preliminaries at all, it revealed Doctor Jonathan Wells, naked and hard-dicked. He
was an impressively built man. He had a powerful body and thick black hair on his
chest and around his cock. His hand was gripping his erect prick. The tool did not
appear to be overly large, but was well-proportioned and trim-looking, had a wellformed 
shaft and a graceful knob. His balls were drawn up close against his groin.
He was aiming his prick at the cunt hole of a huge Great Dane. "That's Sheba," he
explained. "Of course, this can only be done when she's in heat. Any other time she
rejects all sexual overtures."
Ginny was soothing Sheba, stroking and patting the big dog's head. Ginny was naked,
and the dog's head was even with her budding titties. Her nipples were stiff and hard
with excitement as she watched her father insert his cock into the black bitch's
steaming hole.
"When was this film made?" Peter asked.
"This year. Ginny had just turned fourteen," the vet answered. "It was her introduction
to Sieg, in fact. This is just a preliminary right now."
"Oh," Peter said, intrigued and excited.
"I wasn't a virgin, though," Ginny noted, a touch of pride in her tone. "That had been
taken care of a year before."
"Let's just watch now, shall we?" her father suggested.
Carol nodded absently. She was fascinated by the sight of Doctor Wells slowly sinking
his prick into the Great Dane. The dog twisted and jerked briefly in Ginny's grasp, then
relaxed, and accepted the human cock. Evidently the size differential between a man's
dick and a large dog's was not great. Doctor Wells had little trouble getting his prick
into the flaring opening of Sheba's in-season cunt.
Carol remembered watching Peter drill his cock into Gwen's hole and squirmed. What
was it that was so arousing about seeing a man fuck an animal? Maybe it was the
reminder of how close to being animal man still was. Or, more likely, it was the
"forbidden fruit" aspect-committing an unnatural, forbidden act, an act some called
perverted. Or, maybe it was just because of the difference.
The vet was fucking harder now, pushing his cock deep in Sheba's cunt, glutting the
bitch with his shaft. He was gripping her backside, stroking and scratching the base of
her curling, waving tail. He leaned forward over her.
"The trick here," he noted, "was to bring Sheba to an orgasm without coming myself. I
had other plans for my cock, as you'll see, and had to stay hard."
His effects to bring Sheba off were evidently bearing fruit. The huge black dog was
shuddering, bracing her legs against his drives, hunching her back up against the
scratching and rubbing hand on the base of her spine. She was twisting in Ginny's
grasp, tossing her big head in an almost horse-like manner as Ginny soothed and held
her. Ginny was licking her lips. She was aroused by the act her father was committing
with the dog, and was eagerly anticipating whatever was to come.
"Sheba was starting to orgasm now," Doctor Wells reported. "Her cunt was clasping my
cock tightly, spasming in typical orgasmic reaction. It almost brought me off, in fact.
It's an exquisite feeling to have a hot hole squeezing your cock, milking it. It's
something that no woman can match, no matter how much she practices. Though
I must say that Tara comes very close."
"Thank you, dear, that's one of the nicest things you've said all week!"
"You're welcome," the doctor responded politely. In the movie, he was rigid. His groin
was thrust hard against Sheba, his cock balls deep in the dog's cunt. He was holding
very still, waiting for the dog to relax before trying to extract his cock.
"Not having the locking action of a dog's cock," Doctor Wells noted, "I could have
pulled out at any time. However, Sheba has her rights, and finishing the act is one of
them."
Then Sheba relaxed, and the vet slowly extracted his rock-hard prick from her hole. His
prick gleamed with her juices, and thin fluid trickled from the gleaming heart of her
cunt. Ginny released her head, and Sheba shambled away. It looked like someone was
calling her from outside camera range.
Ginny's eyes were glued to her father's erect cock. She licked her lips and played with
her naked pussy, fingered her labia, showed flashes of pink inner tissues.
Then Tara entered the picture. She had Sieg on the end of a short chain. The big
German shepherd danced nervously at the end of the tether. Tara was naked. It seemed
completely natural, rather than erotic. The entire focus was on Ginny's slender young
body. She watched her father move toward her. His cock, still shining with canine cunt
juices, led the way.
Almost reluctantly, Ginny dropped to her knees, and turned her back to her father.
Then she fell forward on her hands, so her ass was thrust back toward him. She spread
her graceful thighs. Between them Carol saw the dusky fold of her pussy, the crack of
her tight ass.
As Tara and Sieg watched from less than a foot away, the doctor dropped to his knees
and aimed his prick at his daughter's pussy. He set the head of his cock in her hole and
slowly drove it into her cunt.
"The idea here was to give Ginny's hole the proper scent, to interest and arouse Sieg,"
the vet explained from behind the projector.
"You could have used your hand, Daddy," Ginny teased from the darkness. "But this
was a lot more fun."
He cleared his throat. "Yes. I wasn't sure it would be wise for me to come in Ginny, for
fear my semen would dilute the desired scent. It was an exercise in self-control for me
not to complete the act."
"Daddy took my cherry," Ginny said smugly. The film ground on, and the vet extracted
his cock from his daughter's pussy. He smeared the head of his rod around the opening
of her hole, then backed away and took Sieg's leash from his wife. He guided the dog
toward his daughter, who had obediently remained on her hands and knees.
Sieg sniffed cautiously at the proffered cunt. His tongue licked out, tasted her ass,
stroked between her butt-cheeks. Ginny shuddered at the hot, stroking touch. Carol felt
her cunt flooding again, and glanced at Peter.
On the screen, Tara got to her knees and reached under the dog, began to touch and
stimulate his prick. Soon the pink shaft started to thrust out of its sheath. The
combination of Tara's fingering and Ginny's tantalizing aroma were having the desired
effect on Sieg. The dog was humping, tugging at the leash. He was eager to mount the
teenage girl. Tara abandoned her post and crawled around to be with her daughter. She
talked to Ginny as the girl awaited the thrust of Sieg's cock into her cunt.
"I was a little nervous," Ginny admitted from the darkness.
"I can imagine," Carol said huskily. Carol was petrified, because, as she watched, she
knew that before the evening was out, she was going to let Cyrano fuck her. The image
of the poodle thrusting and fucking her made her seethe with excitement.
In the film, the vet was helping Sieg mount his daughter. He protected her back from
the scrabbling claws of the animal. Sieg's hindquarters humped, and Ginny jerked.
Doctor Wells looked underneath, reached down, and guided the cock to its target. Sieg
humped again, and Ginny shuddered as the shaft drilled into her cunt. Sieg hooked his
forelegs on Ginny's hips and hunched and drove at her. Carol was mad that the
position of the dog made it impossible to see the actual penetration.
Tara was still talking to her daughter. Ginny was listening, her face twisted with lust as
the dog fucked her. Her tight young titties shivered at every drive, her nipples stiff, 
dark points. It was amazing. She just knelt there with the dog on her.
Jon left his post behind Sieg, and moved around, so he could watch as his daughter was
fucked by the shepherd. The doctor's cock was still a swaying bludgeon of arousal. As
he watched the action, he knelt behind his wife and aimed his rod at her backside. He
thrust it into her cunt. She lurched with shock at the penetration, but still kept her
attention on Ginny.
Then the doctor extracted his slick prick from her cunt, spread her butt-cheeks and
bored it into her asshole. The dark pucker pushed in, and then slowly began to dilate as
he forced his prick into her bung.
"Jonathan takes advantage of me at times," Tara noted softly as she watched herself
getting buggered. "I really had to keep my attention on Ginny to make sure she was all
right, so I couldn't enjoy it as much as I usually do."
Doctor Wells' prick was halfway into her asshole now, and he was driving steadily
deeper into her butt, forcing his cock into her small bung.
Sieg was fucking Ginny with animal abandon. Ginny was shuddering in reaction. Her
expression left no doubt as to how much she was enjoying getting fucked by the dog.
Twisting her head, Ginny kissed her mother full on the mouth. Tara answered in kind,
kissing her daughter deeply, thoroughly.
"I was orgasming," Ginny observed in a hot whisper. "Oh, boy! Was I ever!"
Sieg began to climax almost at the same time. His hindquarters shivering and
clenching, he spurted his dog-jizz into Ginny's tight twat. His forelegs pulled back hard
on her hips as he shoved his cock into her convulsing cunt. The vet pistoned his prick
in his wife's asshole. Her bung tugged and pushed as he fucked in and out. The muscle
was stretched to a white band by his bulk. Then he rammed into her ass one last time.
His naked butt-cheeks spasmed as he pumped spunk into her bowels.
"I came, too," Tara said dryly as she watched her asshole being flooded with jizz.
The scene held for a long time, man in wife, dog in girl, two males straining at two
females. Then, as Sieg relaxed a little and Doctor Wells drew back from his wife, the
film faded out.
Carol was hot and breathless and ready to do anything with anyone.
"Let the dogs in, Ginny," Doctor Wells ordered as he clicked off the projector. "Tara,
get the lights so we can see what we're doing."


Chapter 7

When the lights came up, Carol was relieved to see that the Wells were all as naked as
she and Peter were. Jon had stripped sometime during the second reel. Ginny moved
with a youthful grace, her ass flexing excitingly as she went to get the dogs. Sheba,
Jonah, and Siegfried came first in a thundering rush. Cyrano was next. His black,
floppy ears flapped comically. Gwen came jigging in a minute later.
"We kept Gwen separated from the others," the vet explained. "Otherwise, the three
males would have wasted their loads on her."
The dogs behaved as if they were radar-guided as they sought out their respective
masters and mistresses. Siegfried bowled Ginny over. She tussled lovingly with him in
what was plainly the preliminary to letting the sturdy dog fuck her. Gwen bumbled
against Peter, and squirmed her wooly bulk frantically. She flicked wet, slobbery kisses
at him when he leaned down to hug her. The more sedate Great Danes were rubbing
and pushing against Jon and Tara and getting their ears scratched. Carol found herself
hugging Cyrano tightly, rubbing her naked tits through his wooly coat, feeling the
quivering strength in him.
When Cyrano nuzzled between her thighs, Carol spread her legs, let his cold muzzle
drill into her aroused pussy. His tongue stroked between her labia like a hot whip, drew
a flood of juices from her glutted pussy. Her fingers knotted in his fur as he dug deeper
into her cunt in search of more delectable juices. She didn't care who saw what her dog
was doing, she was so aroused from the movies. Suddenly she wanted desperately to be
fucked by the dog she loved so much. She knew there were two difficulties to overcome
– his fused spine and his lack of training.
"Slow it up, Ginny," Tara Wells ordered as the girl began going after her dog with her
hands and mouth. "I think our guests should be – uh – serviced first."
"Can't we all do it at once?" Ginny begged.
The vet shook his head. "No, they'll need our help. They've just begun to explore the
possibilities. Cyrano needs some training and encouragement. Peter can best help with
that."
"I can?" Peter looked surprised. He was still fondling the big sheepdog.
"Carol needs the proper aroma in order to interest Cyrano," the vet told him.
"Oh, yeah," Peter agreed, eyeing Carol speculatively.
"You can provide the scent a number of ways. But I think there's one particular one
that will appeal to you most," Doctor Wells went on.
"You bet your bippy!" Peter agreed. Carol blushed, then told herself it was crazy to
blush when she was about to let Cyrano mount her. But the idea of them all watching
while Peter screwed her touched a sensitive hot cord in her depths.
"Now, remember, get Gwen to orgasm before you withdraw from her," the vet went on.
"And avoid climaxing yourself."
"Now that's going to be one hell of a stunt," Peter moaned. "An hour of flicks like that
and you expect me to not come? What if I come but can hold my hard-on long enough
to get inside Carol's cunt?"
"That'd work, if you can do it," the doctor agreed. "Gwen is much wetter than Sheba
was when I was preparing Ginny, so your semen wouldn't drown out her aroma."
Carol felt weird. She was sitting there, listening to the conversation as calmly as if they
were discussing a tea party. They were talking about her, about her taking first a man's
cock, and then letting her dog mount her, and relieve his lust in her clutching, ravenous
hole. And they were all going to watch. And she was going to love it, love having it
done to her, and love having them watch as her dog fucked her. She shuddered and a
wave of lust ripped through her. Her eyes flicked from Peter's erect cock, to the doctor's
jutting tool, to Tara's black crotch, to Ginny's still maturing cunt mound.
"Please," Carol whispered. "Hurry. Before I lose my nerve." She was clutching tightly at
Cyrano – so tightly he whined and twisted in her grip. She eased it a little.
Peter was already moving, turning Gwen away from him and getting behind her. Since
she had already felt his prick before, she docilely let herself be maneuvered. Her tongue
was a flash of pink in her hairy face. She looked as if she were smiling.
Peter got to his knees and aimed his cock into Gwen's cunt and leaned forward. The
dog shivered and braced her feet. Then she twisted her head and surveyed the watching
people. As Peter's cock slid into her hole, she wiggled her backside. Peter rammed his
prick full depth into his dog's cunt. She shuddered and shook with lust.
"Nice girl," Peter soothed her. "Nice girl. You like this, don't you? You're a horny
wench, that's what you are. Give yourself to any stud that comes along." Peter drew his
prick out of her hot sheath, then slowly slid it back in. His butt-cheeks flexed as he
bored into her, drove his cock deep into her hot cunt.
Carol's insides melted a little when Peter withdrew his prick from Gwen again. His
shaft glistened with the dog's plentiful, fragrant juices. A small drop ran down over his
balls. Impulsively, Carol reached out and wiped up the fluid and spread it over her
labia. Peter was still pistoning his prick in Gwen's searing twat. Cyrano's nose flared as
he tested the air. He sniffed Carol's pussy, and seemed puzzled by the mingling of her
aroma with Gwen's.
Peter was still screwing Gwen. His stomach muscles shuddering with his arousal, he
pumped his prick in the dog's hot sheath. He gripped her flanks, and heaved his cock
into her cunt with long, fast strokes. Then the strokes got shorter. Finally he was barely
moving in her cunt.
"She's tightened up on me," he grunted. "Going to come, both of us."
Gwen's bulky body convulsed, and she let out a mournful, ecstatic growl that made
Carol's cunt clench. Peter's butt-cheeks were rigid. He was spurting his thick cream
into the dog's knotted cunt. His stomach muscles as hard as rock, he forced his jizz into
Gwen's scalding hole.
Carol lowered herself to her knees on the floor. She was battling the convulsions of her
aroused body, the muscle-knotting tension. She was a white-hot core of need and fear
and desire and naked lust. She steeled herself for the ordeal. Doctor Wells took over
with Cyrano, began soothing and calming the puzzled, aroused dog. Carol knelt there
and waited for the thrust of Peter's bitch-slicked prick into her cunt. Tension made her
bladder knot. She felt a stinging dribble of piss, and suddenly understood why soldiers
in battle wet their pants.
She saw Peter extract his dripping cock from Gwen, and shook with relief when she
saw he still had a full hard-on. His prick was coated with Gwen's copious flow. He
stroked the knob of his rigid cock around the lips of Gwen's pussy to get an additional
load of secretions to carry to Carol. Then he turned toward her. Carol shivered when
she lost sight of him. She felt him behind her, felt the heat from his aroused flesh as he
came up on her from the rear. She waited, and it actually was only seconds, but it
seemed like an eternity before his prick gently touched her crotch.
It felt like a red-hot poker was nuzzling her pussylips. He stroked up and down, burned
her flesh with his branding iron as he painted her crotch with Gwen's liquids. Then he
wiggled his cock between her pussylips. Carol moaned deep in her throat. Her hole was
dying to be filled, by anything, human or animal.
Peter filled her, but with a slowness that nearly drove her mad. He eased his prick into
her hole. She felt her cunt being slowly filled with his towering dong. Her cunt flooded.
She leaned back against his thrust, and felt his prick fill her snatch completely. She
tipped her head back. Her mouth gaped open as she writhed with pleasure.
"Can't come again," Peter grunted as he eased his cock in and out of Carol's hole.
"Just as well," the vet said. He was still restraining Cyrano. "You ready, Carol?"
"Yes," Carol moaned as she felt her cunt being vacated. "Please, hurry."
"We have to get Cyrano in the right mood and then be careful he doesn't hurt you,"
the vet said, guiding the poodle to his mistress' hind end. "Also, Tara and I will have to
support his front paws, because of his back."
"Okay," Carol moaned. "Okay. Do whatever you have to, but do it!"
She felt Cyrano's hot breath on her butt, then on her pussy, and the insides of her
thighs. She knew he must be puzzled by the sex perfume from Gwen. When Carol
looked back, she saw that Ginny was working on the poodle's cock with her fingers,
and was amazed once again at the absolute wantonness of the young girl. Carol herself
at that age had been incredibly inhibited.
Cyrano's cock was thrusting out. It was a pink spear, searching for the target she had
ready for it. The dog scrambled over her legs. His claws scratched her calves as he
struggled to reach his goal. Tara and Jon were on either side of Carol. Ginny was still
behind with Cyrano. Peter was sitting on the couch, watching hungrily. His cock was a
powerful tower of arousal.
"Lift him," the doctor ordered. Cyrano's front legs went on either side of Carol.
"Holding him under the elbow is the best," he instructed his wife.
Carol didn't care how they were holding the animal. She felt his hairy hindquarters
tickling her naked ass and thighs. There was a sizzling hot touch against her butt. She
jerked when she realized it had to be Cyrano's cock. It was high and off to one side.
She shifted, trying to get the angle right.
"I'll get it," Ginny said eagerly. Carol felt Cyrano's prick being dragged across and
down as the girl guided it. It touched the entrance to Carol's hole, and Carol thought
she would die. The burning sensation was incredible. Cyrano's cock was hot! His body
temperature felt vastly higher than hers. It felt as if he were drilling a blazing torch into
her cunt. His hairy chest scraped her naked back, his shivering legs rubbed against her
thighs as he humped his cock at her gash. His prick entered her hole like a hot dart.
Carol had the feeling her cunt was burning. She felt the canine cock drill into her,
spread her cunt walls, and lust boiled through her like a volcanic eruption.
"Go, Cyrano," Ginny urged harshly.
"How does it feel?" Peter asked. He was still watching avidly.
"Fantastic," Carol moaned. "Absolutely fantastic! He's so hot, and so hard. It's insane!"
"Wait till his cock gets big inside you," Ginny told her. "Then you'll know how really
great a dog is!"
Cyrano was humping, pumping his cock deeper and deeper into his mistress' cunt. He
panted hotly, and his hind feet danced as he struggled awkwardly to keep his balance.
Carol could hear him panting, feel his hot breath burning the back of her neck. Had he
been able to hunch his back the way other dogs could, she knew she would have felt his
weight on her, felt his forelegs tugging and hauling on her when he hooked them under
her hips and thighs.
"Oh, God, I'm coming!" Carol moaned. The fucking went on and on. She shuddered in
the grasp of the violent orgasm. Cyrano seemed a long ways from climaxing. His prick
was still pistoning in her snatch. She could feel the knot developing, could feel his cock
locking into her cunt the way it did in a bitch. The knot tore at the walls of her cunt,
but it didn't hurt, it just drove her mad. Cyrano's moves were changing from a
pumping to more of a shivering, which sent hot vibrations roaring through Carol.
"He's going to come," Ginny whispered. "It'll be hot, scalding hot. It'll feel like your
guts are being hosed with boiling acid."
Instead of being terrified or turned off by the teenager's lurid description, Carol got
hotter than ever. She squirmed back against Cyrano's thrusting hindquarters, and tried
to tighten her cunt around his expanding cockhead. She succeeded in getting a grip of
sorts on his doggy-prick, then felt a blistering jet of sperm sear her aroused twat. The
canine cock clasped in her cunt pumped and convulsed, and shot after scalding shot of
hot dog-jizz burned her innards.
Carol's orgasm roared higher than ever as she shuddered from the insane pleasure. She
felt dog-spunk pressuring out of her glutted cunt, felt it spilling thin and hot down her
pussy, down her thighs. She knew that everyone in the room was watching her. The
exhibitionism of the mad scene got her even more excited.
"GAAAWWWD!" she shrieked as her mind was battered by wave after wave of gross
carnal pleasure. The dog in her cunt kept flooding her with his hot, spurting flow. His
jetting faded and declined, and her orgasm eased. But she still had that knotted cock
trapped in her hole. It was too big now to be drawn out – not only because it was so
big, but because she was incapable of relaxing her clenched cunt.
"Don't move," the vet cautioned.
"I won't," Carol said hoarsely. "Jesus Christ, that feels good. Feels like I have a
doorknob inside me! What's he doing?"
"Catching his breath and waiting for his cock to go down," Tara answered.
"Ah!" Carol jerked. "Don't let him pull out yet!" Cyrano had tugged backwards, and his
cock had dragged painfully at her insides.
"Easy, boy," Tara soothed the bewildered, passion-stunned animal. "Take it easy,
Cyrano."
Carol felt his cock begin to shrink a little, and remained very still so as to avoid
stimulating him at all. Slowly, the knot in her cunt shrank and faded. Then at last,
when she moved cautiously, she felt it shift inside her hole. "It's okay now," she said.
"Help him off."
Tara and John backed Cyrano up, easing him off Carol. His cock slipped out of her
cunt, and she slumped forward on her hands. She kept her ass high in the air as she
rested her forehead on the floor like a praying Moslem. She was racked by a series of
powerful shudders that left her drained and weak. She felt cum drying on her pussy and
thighs. She fought to gather her wits, to recover from being mounted, fucked by a dog.
"Are you okay?" Peter asked, kneeling down on the floor beside her.
"I'm fine," she said huskily. "I could use a drink, though."
"Here, I'll help you up," he offered, guiding her to the couch.
She slumped back, while he got her a Scotch on ice. The first swallow was the best
tasting thing she had ever had in her life. The second swallow sent warmth flowing out
through her body, easing all the tension left from her experience.
"That's my girl," Jon was saying steadily, catching Carol's attention. The Great Dane
was not in heat, so it wasn't possible for anyone to screw the dog. But the huge beast
was more than willing to display the stroking capabilities of her monstrous tongue. Like
a huge pink washrag, it swept over the vet's cock. He was holding his staff up straight.
The dog was so tall, she was staring straight down the muzzle of the vet's prick as she
swept it with her tongue. Her huge white fangs gleamed in the lamplight. They were
just inches from the purple bulb of the vet's cock. She could emasculate him in a
moment.
Fortunately, the Great Dane bitch had no inclination to castrate her master. Poised
delicately despite her bulk, she licked him. She stroked his rigid prick with long, loving
strokes of her tongue. Every stroke of tongue against cock was a wet slap of meat
against meat, and was followed by the soft swish of the velvet organ up the cock.
Doctor Wells had stopped giving his pet any encouragement. He was sitting back,
watching his rod being burned by the velvety friction. He was scratching the dog's head
with one hand, and steadying his cock with the other. His mouth was making subtle
licking motions in time with the dog's mighty sweeps. His hips were squirming and
shifting restlessly. His prick gleamed with dog-spit.
Carol sipped her Scotch, fascinated. She wondered how long it would be before the
man orgasmed. What would the dog do when creamy blobs of jizz erupted from the
meat it was licking? Certainly the animal knew what to expect. Would it lap up the
spermy jettings? Or would it just let them spill, run down over Jon's hand and into his
thick, dark crotch thatch?
The question was going to be answered soon, from the way the man's hips were
squirming and thrusting. He was fucking the air as the dog kept up her steady stroking
of his prick, kept sweeping it from base to tip along the underside. The man's balls
retracted, drew up between his hairy thighs, located themselves against the breech of
the cannon so as to be close to the action when it came.
It came. There was a visible shudder and tnen a convulsion, and the first squirt of
spunk burst high into the air. Even before it started down, the dog's tongue caught it,
right in mid air! The next jetting wad had less altitude, but the dog's tongue was right
there to get it. Then she was licking the knob as wave after wave of jizz pumped from
the slit.
The bitch was gorging herself on the thick, gooey wads. Carol wondered if the dog had
been trained to like the taste of cum, or if it was something that happened naturally.
Canine inclinations toward oral sex never ceased to amaze Carol. Cyrano had taken to
it immediately, with no training at all. And from what the vet had said, dogs were
intrigued by the scent of a woman's period. Peter had admitted that Gwen had brought
him off with her tongue, and drunk down his jizz.
And, as Sheba was masturbating her master, Jonah was devouring his mistress. Tara
was on her back on the floor, on her elbows. Jonah was digging his muzzle into her
open, black-thatched crotch so hard he was shoving her along the floor. The big black
stud was digging his tongue into her streaming cunt. Tara's tits quivered as she shivered
from the deep penetration of the huge tongue – a tongue capable of scraping marrow
from the heart of a bone. Carol had the feeling it must be stripping the flesh from the
walls of Tara's cunt.
If it was, Tara loved it. Her hips were rolling and squirming. She was almost coming
from the hot stroking she was getting. Carol slid her hand up Peter's strong thigh and
brushed his erect cock.
"You still have that thing?" she asked, surprised.
Peter shrugged, not taking his eyes off their hostess and her cunt-lapping dog. "It faded
after I stirred it in you. But then it picked up again. Want to do something about it?"
Carol shivered. "Not right now."
"I can wait," Peter said placidly.
Tara's neck had tired or she had lost control of it – her head was back now, and rolling
crazily. The big animal kept slurping and lapping at her gaping pussy. She was making
crazy animal noises as she was racked with passion. Her long hair swept the floor with
sinuous, snakelike motions. The straining muscles of her belly shuddered, and her legs
kicked and writhed on the braided rug.
"How long can she take it?" Carol asked in amazement as the oral rape went on and on
and on.
"One of the advantages you women have over men," Peter observed dryly. "You can
just keep on coming, while we erupt one time and have to stop to recuperate."
"True," Carol agreed. "But there are limits to human endurance."
"Guh-guh-guh-guh!" Her mouth gaping like a fish's, Tara gurgled incoherently as the
dog kept driving his great pink tongue deep into her fountaining twat. Her labia were
twisted and deformed by every powerful stroke. Her pussy hair, wet and stringy with
dog saliva and human cum, was combed and stretched by the dog's sweeping taste
organ.
Carol felt her pussy burning and weeping in sympathy. "Should we make Jonah stop?"
"If you think I'm going to get between that beast and his meal, you're crazy," Peter
answered. "One thing I learned young was never disturb a dog while he's eating. And
considering how appetizing that morsel he's working on is, I think it goes double."
"Have you got the hots for Tara?" Carol asked, jealous.
"Hell, yes."
"And what about Ginny?" Carol went on, wishing she hadn't.
"Sure. A man would have to be either queer or made of stone not to."
"Peter!"
"Look, Carol, why shouldn't I be interested in them? My God, they're beautiful and
sexy, and, right now, naked. How could I not be interested in them?" he asked.
"Will you – fuck either of them tonight?" Carol asked.
"Given the chance, yes."
"Peter!"
"Don't tell me you wouldn't take Jon if you had the chance."
Carol withdrew into a jealous funk. She was furious with Peter. She told herself that
they weren't married, that she had no real hold on him. And she wasn't jealous of
Gwen. But that was different. Gwen was a dog. She couldn't control her jealousy. So,
she tried to take her mind off it by concentrating on Tara.
The vet's wife was lying on her back. Her arms were spread as if she were being
crucified. Her legs were stretched in a wide vee. Her head rolled slowly from side to
side. Jonah was heaving at her with his enormous muzzle, making her hips buck and
jump with every thrust, every time his tongue ripped into her gash. Carol wanted to
interfere. She was afraid the animal was doing terrible damage to his mistress, but
didn't appear to have passed out, and it was her dog, after all.
"Enough!" Tara called in a shattered voice, and with a "whuff" that bubbled through
Tara's streaming pussy folds, the big dog backed away from her cunt.
Tara gave a final heave, and a shudder, and then lay still. She was panting wearily. Her
chest was rising and falling. The pink flush of her orgasm gradually faded from her
stretched torso. Her crotch was a soggy ruin.
Carol heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed. Then she heard Ginny and Sieg, and tensed
up again. What the young girl had been doing up to this point, Carol couldn't imagine.
Presumably, from the wet, stringy look of the girl's pussy hair, the shepherd had been
licking Ginny's twat. But now, Ginny was trying to get the handsome animal fully
aroused, by stroking and fingering his prick. She had limited success. She dipped her
head under the dog's belly. Her tongue flicked at the canine prick, and the shining
spear of Sieg's cock slid out, swelled and expanded.
Eagerly, Ginny closed her lips around the dart-like tip of the animal's rod and sucked
on it as if it was a straw. Her nose was up against Sieg's hairy belly. Her hips and
cheeks moved as she blew the animal skillfully. Carol had the feeling the teenager
would be just as skilled at getting a man's prick aroused as she was a dog's. Well, if the
girl had any plans for Peter, she would have to deal with Carol first!
Ginny was devoting her attention completely to Sieg at this point. Her mouth was
working the dog's cock over, making it stretch and swell more and more. Ginny's
tongue curled around the stabbing pink lance, licked it with long deliberate strokes.
Ginny's ass was aimed at Carol and Peter. Carol was struck by the beauty of the girl's
butt. The cheeks were firm and sleek and blemish-free, and the crack was dark and
mysterious.
"Come on, Sieg," Ginny urged softly, getting out from under him and grabbing his
collar. "Come on, boy. Fuck-time, Sieg, fuck-time."
"Excuse me," Ginny muttered as she crawled to the coffee table. Sieg followed
awkwardly. He had a little trouble walking because of his sexual arousal. Without
releasing her grasp on his collar, Ginny stretched out on her back on the coffee table.
Her hips were at the end, and her feet were on the floor. Sieg was between the girl's
wide-spread thighs.
The coffee table was less than a foot in front of Carol. She was going to have a close-up
view of the bestial fuck. And Peter was right beside her on the couch. He was going to
be able to see it all, too.
Sieg couldn't have cared less about the spectators. Ginny was more than just aware of
the audience – she was enjoying their presence, playing to them. The little wanton was
an exhibitionist, as well.
Sieg placed one big paw on Ginny's flat stomach. His claws looked as if they might tear
her wide open. Ginny shuddered as he put his weight on her, and her eyes flared hotly.
Her vulnerability was part of her pleasure.
Sieg ducked his head, and ripped his tongue over one of Ginny's boobs. Her nipples
quivered excitedly. She tugged on the animal's chain, and Sieg took a step forward. His
front paw slipped on Ginny's sleek skin. His claws left deep red welts as his paw slid
down to the table.
Sieg's hunching hindquarters surged forward, and his stabbing spear probed blindly at
Ginny's gaping crotch. The sharp tip poked into her labia, first to one side and then the
other.
"Help him," Ginny said softly. "Help him!"
Carol hesitated, then moved quickly when she realized that Peter would be more than
willing to help the naked teenager sprawled on the table. Carol touched the stinging
hot dog-cock and carefully guided it into Ginny's open cunt. Sieg heaved, and his cock
drilled into Ginny's pussy, wedged her cuntlips apart, and disappeared.
Carol's lust stirred as she studied Ginny's open twat. The sight of the dog's red dick
going into the girl started a fire in Carol's sated cunt, rekindled her desire. The
vulnerability of the girl on the table added to the eroticism of the fuck.
"Go, Sieg!" Ginny urged as the dog humped.
"Go!"
Sieg needed no urging. He drove his hungry tool deep into his mistress' box. His hairy
hindquarters heaved, and his prick completely vanished between Ginny's cuntlips. As
he drilled deep into her snatch, he let out a growl of excitement. His body hunched and
thrust at the girl, drove his cock into her so far it touched bottom in her cunt. His
tongue dangled, drooled a gleaming spatter of saliva onto Ginny's throat. His white
teeth flashed an inch from her exposed jugular.
Ginny's hips were shuddering and jerking. Her titties were quivering and her chest
heaving. Her head twisted and rolled as she writhed under the impact of the dog's fuck
thrusts. His cock had to be expanded, locked into her tight tunnel. Her cuntlips were
white from the pressure. She was whining and gasping, as her slender torso heaved and
writhed.
"AWW!" Ginny shrieked. "I'm coming, Sieg, I'm coming! Oooooh, Sieg! Good dog,
good dog, good dog! COOOMMMIIINNNGGG!!"
Sieg licked her, slobbered all over his mistress' graceful throat. He screwed her with
quivering jerks of his hips. He punched his prick into her twat with quick, tight
motions. The German Shepherd raped her with his spearing prick, then froze and
shivered as his cock pulsed slowly and powerfully in her hot sheath. A wave of his
spunk shot back around his pulsing tool, spilled out around his shaft and streamed
down Ginny's ravaged flesh, then dripped to the floor.
Ginny clutched his thick neck fur and writhed. It was a simultaneous orgasm of girl
and dog. She went rigid, and her muscles quivered as Sieg unloaded the last of his 
dogjizz into her quivering snatch. Then she relaxed in a series of racking shudders.
Carol sat back on the couch, the tension draining from her body as Ginny's orgasm
ended.
For a long time, Ginny held Sieg on top of her. Then at last she let the dog pull up, and
back away. His forepaws ripped across her belly as he scrambled off her. His cock
whipped free of her hole, spattering hot juice on her thighs and crotch.
"Aaahhhh," Ginny sighed, making no attempt to change her lascivious, exposed pose
on the coffee table. Carol and Peter stared at her. Carol knew damn well the teenager
was aware Peter was aroused beyond belief. "Hey, daughter," Tara called as she
struggled to her feet. "Douche time!"
"Aw, Mom, do I have to?" Ginny protested.
"You know the rules," Tara insisted. "Up and at 'em. Come on, Carol, we've got one for
you, too. It may not be necessary, but it's a good precaution. Avoids a lot of discomfort
and inconvenience later on."
Carol didn't exactly relish the idea of douching with the Wells women, but at least it
got Ginny away from Peter.
The three of them crowded into the bathroom together. Disposable douches were
handed out and one after the other was used. While one woman douched, the other
two watched. Then they all combed their hair.
"Now we're presentable," Tara noted, "maybe we can talk the men into some dancing."
Carol thought of dancing naked with Peter, and shivered. Then she thought of Ginny
dancing naked with Peter, and decided dancing wasn't such a good idea after all. "It's
getting kind of late," she said hesitantly.
"Nonsense, it's early yet," Tara snorted. "Come on, you don't want to go home
already!"


Chapter 8

One look at Peter as they returned to the living room and Carol knew there was no
chance of getting him out of there. And she was not about to leave him there by
himself. His cock was as hard as iron. He was studying one of the animal photographs
on the wall. His head turned and his eyes flickered over her. Carol shivered when she
saw the naked lust in them. Then his eyes went to Tara, and to Ginny, and the desire in
them got even greater.
The only thing that improved Carol's mood was the look she got from Jon Wells. The
tall, dark-haired vet's cock was sagging, until he looked at Carol, that is. Then, his tool
rose slowly, as he studied her over the rim of his glass.
Ginny skipped across the room to the record player. Carol noticed the way Peter's eyes
followed the lithe youngster. So, Carol put an erotic sway in her own walk, and headed
straight for Doctor Wells. His cock responded in gratifying fashion. Its dusky head rose
as she approached.
"How about a drink?" Carol asked in a sultry voice.
"Scotch?" he asked politely, his eyes flicking from her face to her tits, to her red pussy,
then back to her face.
"It'll do," she said warmly. Her fingers touched his as he handed her his drink. She kept
her eyes on his as she sipped his drink, then handed it back.
She could see Peter out of the corner of her eye. He was torn three ways at the
moment, which made her glad. He was trying to deal with Carol's vamping of their
host, and at the same time, was trying to make a play for Ginny. He was also trying to
keep an eye on Tara. She was kneeling down, scratching Sheba's head as the big animal
licked her jugs with her long, pink tongue.
"How about a dance?" Ginny said, standing in front of Peter. She had her hands linked
behind her. Her slender, graceful body was pertly straight, her legs were tight together.
Her tits were sharply alert. Peter's thrusting, mature cock was pointed right at her flat
tummy.
Carol was mad the girl had chosen slow, traditional music rather than something fast.
Dancing to this meant body-to-body contact, which would inevitably lead to Peter
fucking the damn bitch. Instinctively, though, Carol knew she would only make an ass
of herself if she tried to cut in. The man, the stupid, gullible man, was hooked already.
Ginny held her arms out dancing-class fashion, and Peter curled his arm around her
waist. When they drew together, his erect prick touched her belly, then slid slowly up
between them as they got closer and closer together.
Well, there was one way to show the fool what a mistake he was making. Carol would
show him the difference between an inexperienced teenager and a mature woman.
"Dance?" she asked the doctor, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Do we need to?" he teased.
"It's a nice way to get things started," she answered, stroking his prick with one finger,
making it wiggle and jiggle. "True."
They started out far apart. Carol deliberately kept it that way for a while. "Doesn't it
bother you?" she asked, nodding her head in Peter and Ginny's direction.
"What bother me?" the vet asked, as his prick traced a crazy pattern on Carol's tummy.
"Ginny and Peter," Carol elaborated, knowing damn well he knew what she was
referring to.
"Should it?"
Her exasperation increasing, she moved closer, tantalizing him with her slender form.
"You said you like her to ball animals because of the safety factor – no worry about
pregnancy or VD. Remember?"
"I remember."
"Well?"
"Well what?" he asked, deliberately taunting her.
"Well, what do you think is likely to happen?" Carol asked angrily.
They had stopped dancing. She had stepped away from him, and had her hands on her
hips, and was glaring at him. He reached out insolently and tweaked her nipple. "In the
first place, I'm sure that Peter is clean of VD. And, in the second place, Ginny knows
what is safe and what is not safe as far as getting pregnant goes."
"What's she going to do, blow him?" Carol snapped, angrier than ever.
"No, probably not," the man answered, cupping his hand under one of Carol's small
boobs and stroking his thumb over the nipple. Flashes of lust blitzed through her.
"Well, what then?" Carol exploded. She knew she should push his hand away, but was
enjoying it too much.
"She'll probably take it up her ass."
"What?! "
"It's called buggering," he noted placidly, still toying with her tit.
"I know damn well what it's called," Carol sputtered. "But she's only fourteen! And
she's – she's so small! He'd tear her wide open!"
"Want to bet?" Doctor Wells asked in a tone that made her blood boil.
"You-you're mad!" Carol sputtered.
"No," he answered. "Horny, but not mad." He stroked her naked tit again. "I know my
daughter. In fact, I taught her everything she knows. I took her cherry – three different
times."
"Incest," Carol muttered.
"Is that any worse than bestiality?" the vet responded.
"Bastard," Carol moaned. His finger penetrated her pussy and her body began betraying
her.
"No," he argued, "just realistic. We're all animals. This, at least, is a better way of
expressing ourselves than murder. And definitely more pleasant."
Carol's moan of desire was all the answer she could manage. His thumb had found her
clit and was rolling it against her pubic arch. She was still standing in front of him. 
She had her legs spread now, had one hand on his arm. He fondled her dripping pussy. Her
legs were shivering as he tormented her blazing twat. Revenge against Peter was
growing further and further from her mind as her desire grew and grew.
"Talented girl, my daughter," Jon observed quietly, directing Carol's attention back to
Ginny and Peter.
Ginny was on her knees in front of him. Her tongue, the same tongue that had swept
over her dog's prick, was sweeping over Peter's cock, was bringing his already-rigid
prick to a state of full readiness. Ginny's mouth closed around the knob of Peter's rod
and she sucked on his tool. She let her mouth slide down his shaft as she drew on his
organ.
"She's a superb fellatrice," the doctor noted pedantically.
"She's a cocksucker," Carol said angrily.
"Whatever you call it, she is very good at it," Jon responded. "I speak from experience."
"Well, I'm good at it, too," Carol snapped.
"Really?"
Carol sank to her knees in front of him. She was aware that she had been manipulated
into the blow job, but didn't care. His cock was in front of her – a jutting rod of living
flesh. It was totally unlike an animal's, and very desirable. A glistening dribble of juice
gleamed on its underside. It had drooled down from the smirking slit at the tip. Carol
licked at it, tasted the hot, salty flavor, felt his cock shudder at the delicate flicking
touch of her tongue.
His hand stroked her hair as she stroked his cock with her tongue. She tasted his hot
meat, dried cum, and dog saliva, which were all left from his earlier session with Sheba.
Carol engulfed his cockhead with her lips and sucked a hot drop from his cum-slit. His
hands closed on the back of her head. She let him push her face down on his prick,
until the head of his cock hit the back of her tongue and she gagged. She knew that
Ginny probably took much more, which spurred her to fight down her gagging and try
again. The heavy meat slid to the back of her throat and cut off her air. She swallowed.
The massage made the dick glutting her heave and convulse. She was afraid he was
going to orgasm. She had no objection to drinking his jizz, except that her cunt was
starving for cock. If she brought him off in her mouth, he wouldn't be able to cram his
prick up her cunt or her asshole.
She backed off carefully, until just the knob was in her mouth. She tongued it, wedged
the tip into the cum-slit. She let her teeth nick his rod and felt, rather than heard, his
hiss of protest. She had reminded him of his vulnerability, reminded him that this was
not a one-way street. His grip on her hair relaxed.
Carol eased her head forward, took his cock to the back of her throat again. Her quim a
steaming puddle of arousal, she drew on his fuck-stick. Both men seemed to think that
a teenage slut could outperform a woman. She was out to prove them both wrong. She
felt Jon's hot seepings stinging her throat and backed off again, and spit his dripping
prick out.
She glanced over to see how the competition was doing. It was a jolt to see that Ginny
was on her knees on the coffee table. Her round, firm young ass stuck out prominently,
invitingly. She was crouched like a cat waiting to spring. Her forearms were flat on the
table in front of her. Her knees were folded up under her chest.
Peter was spreading her tight asscheeks with his hands. His cock, shining with her spit,
was aimed at her crack. His knob wormed its way between the fleshy globes, probed for
the dusky pucker of the girl's asshole.
"It's going to hurt without some lubrication," Carol commented.
"Just watch," Jon Wells told her.
One of Ginny's hands moved. She reached back and probed her pussy. Then, as Peter's
prick nuzzled her asshole, she reached back farther, and smeared his thrusting tool and
her crack. Then she drilled one of her fingers into her bung, drove the lubricant into
her ring. From the way she wiggled her butt it was a labor of love and one calculated to
arouse Peter still more.
That was one thing that was not needed. Peter's dick was as hard as Carol had ever
seen it. He jabbed his cockhead at Ginny's tight brownie and leaned forward. The tip of
his cock deformed under the pressure. Ginny's shitter winked and yielded as she
deliberately loosened the muscle. The head of Peter's cock wedged inward, was pinched
when her muscle spasmed, then wedged in a fraction deeper.
Carol's own tail was burning. She remembered the long-ago buggering by her dead
husband. She shivered. She was unable to take her eyes off the slow penetration of
Ginny's ass.
"She was going to learn it anyway, sooner or later," Jon noted. "So, why not with her
family who loves her and cares for her?"
Carol couldn't have cared less about the reasons Ginny had been coached in ass-fucking
by her own father. The only thing Carol cared about at the moment was watching the
slow penetration of Peter's cock. Carol's excitement soared higher as Ginny's tight bung
was slowly dilated.
"Ooooh, great!" Ginny moaned happily. "Far-out!"
Peter was holding the shaft of his prick to stiffen it. He drove against the unnatural
resistance of Ginny's tight asshole. He stared down at his prick as he drilled it slowly
deeper into her bowels with steady thrusts of his hips.
The knob disappeared in Ginny's butt. The muscular ring began clamping tightly into
the groove. Peter paused as Ginny moaned with pleasure. Then he slid his prick the rest
of the way into the teenager's ass with a single, steady, slow thrust. He sheathed his
cock balls deep in her ass.
His hips jammed up against Ginny's buns, cutting off Carol's view of the penetration.
His balls jiggled from the impact.
Carol thought of having her asshole crammed with a hot, hard prick and shuddered.
With a soft moan, she tugged on the cock in her hand and turned her back on its
owner. It was a mute appeal for him to bugger her with his lean cock. Releasing her
grip on his rod, she bent forward on her hands and knees, presenting her ass to him
pleadingly. She kept her eyes on Ginny as Peter extracted his tool from her hot, greasy
shitter. He pulled it almost all the way out, and then drilled it back in. The girl's bung
tugged outward from the searing friction, then pushed in when he shoved his cock into
her ass again. Ginny's face turned so Carol could see it. The girl's features contorted
with lust as she accepted the corn-holing. Her eyes were glazed with passion.
Jon Wells set his cock against Carol's pussy, and thrust deep into her cunt. She
shuddered, and protested incoherently. That wasn't where she wanted his cock! She
wanted it up her ass. Then he whipped his slick prick out of her snatch, and set the
head of it between her butt-cheeks. Carol moaned with pleasure. He pushed. She fought
to admit his knob as the pressure on her asshole increased steadily. Then she felt the
ring open. She battled her reflexes, and felt the cock gain a fraction of an inch, then a
fraction more.
Peter was moving his prick in and out of Ginny's asshole with a slow, pistoning, then
pausing with his cock buried in the girl as he battled his urge to come. He would wait,
his nuts knotted up tight against his crotch. Then they would descend slowly and he
would draw out, thrust back in once or twice, and then freeze again. Beads of sweat
were streaming down his lean body as he prolonged the exquisite agony.
While she watched Ginny getting buggered, Carol's asshole was being dilated a
millimeter at a time by the wedging, rubbery head of Jon's prick. It was an aching,
stinging penetration. There was a feeling of pressure, and stretching, as the entrance to
her bowels was slowly crashed by the brutal drive. Her mouth gaped open as she
watched Ginny being corn-holed by Peter's driving cock.
Peter was still holding off his orgasm. But the pauses with his cock full depth in
Ginny's ass were growing longer and longer. It took more and more time for his balls
to retreat from their firing position. Tara was sitting on the floor beside her Great Dane,
watching the action. She was stroking the dog's big head.
"Unnh!" Carol grunted when her ass ring snapped into the groove behind Jon's knob.
It felt as if she had the big end of a baseball bat jammed into her butt. The vet leaned
over her, into her, and she felt his cock piston into the tunnel of her ass, displacing
everything there. She almost retched, but the pleasure of the stuffing wouldn't let her.
Her gut knotted as her bung spasmed angrily around the unyielding tool glutting it.
Her shitter tried to crap out the bulk and failed, which created a cramping ache. It was
all so fabulous. Carol just barely managed to keep her eyes on Ginny's performance.
A new factor entered the scene when Tara Wells gently set Jonah's big head aside and
got to her knees. She moved over behind Peter. Carol wondered what the woman had
in mind. Tara gripped Peter's butt-cheeks as he neared the end of his latest rest.
Spreading the cheeks of his ass, she pressed her face into his backside and tongued the
brown pucker to his bung. He lurched forward, shoved his cock deeper into Ginny as
Tara's tongue entered his asshole. The mother of the girl he was buggering reached up
between his thighs, curled her hand around his nuts and held them in her warm grasp.
The pain vanished from Carol's asshole as her lust boiled upward. She watched the two
women working Peter over. Carol had a sudden desire to kiss an ass herself, but there
was no ass available.
Yes there was! A nicely rounded, pale-cheeked butt, mature and excitingly curved and
deep. It was five feet away, five feet that would be a mile, if the man fucking her butt
didn't go along with what Carol suddenly wanted to do. The fact that it was another
woman's ass didn't make any difference at all. It was an ass, and an ass was what Carol
wanted, and an ass was what she was going to get.
With a soft whimper, she began to crawl toward her goal. At first, the man in her tail
held back, and his prick slid out of her bung. Then he followed, driving his prick back
into her shit-chute. The motion of her crawling made her buns massage the hard prod
jammed between them, made them stroke the hairy hardness of the hips pressing
against her. The cock up her butt twisted and squirmed maddeningly as she crawled
along.
In spite of her desperate need, Carol had to stop twice and rest. It took hours to cross
the five feet. She was petrified that Peter would orgasm and that everything would be all
over before she got there. Fortunately, his self-control and staying power were
monumental.
Twisting her head at an agonizing angle, Carol groped for the tender, sweet, ample ass
of her hostess as her host set his cock more firmly into her bung. Her tongue stroked
hot flesh, burrowed between butt-cheeks, tasted sweat and found Tara's wrinkled
winkie. With gut-knotting revulsion that made her lust roar even higher, Carol dug her
tongue at the tight dimple, twisted and pressed, fought to gain admittance to the
puckered brownie.
Ass flesh pressed against Carol's face as Tara welcomed the oral assault on her bung.
Tara's face move backward as Peter drew his cock from Ginny's stretched and battered
asshole. The motion transferred to Carol as she wormed the tip of her tongue into
Tara's shitter, smothered her nose in the crack between Tara's asscheeks. Jon's prick
drew out of Carol's bung with a searing pain that made her lust flare higher and drove
her to drill her tongue farther into Tara's shit-chute.
Carol was on the brink of insanity from her pleasure. She tried to picture the crazy
daisy-chain: asshole to cock, asshole to mouth, asshole to mouth, asshole to cock. Her
mind shuddered. A mad humping chain of people, eating and buggering in a squirming
wave like a rippled, humping motion of a caterpillar walking. Peter moved in Ginny's
bung, and the motion was conducted back along the line and resulted in Jon's cock
sliding in and out of Carol's brownie.
The asshole embracing Carol's tongue was winking, orgasming. Carol squirmed her
taste organ in and out with a fucking motion. Having a sudden inspiration, Carol
reached up and thrust her fingers into the steaming swamp of Tara's pussy. Juices
poured over her fingers as she thrust three of them up into the slippery hole. There was
a muffled grunt, and Tara pushed her butt back against Carol's face.
Carol felt as if she were being accordioned between the man fucking her butt and the
woman on her face. And she loved every minute of it. She was being smothered and
glutted. Her shitter burned as the cock slid in and out of it. Her face sweated in the hot
valley of Tara's ass.
The crashing shock waves from Peter were speeding up. Carol knew he must be
nearing the end of his endurance. He had been fucking Ginny's hot, tight ass for an
incredible length of time. His eruption was inevitable, and when it came it would break
the chain. Carol increased the pistoning of her tongue in Tara's asshole and squirmed
her backside as Jon pumped his big dong in her butt. Carol hoped that they would all
come simultaneously, bring each other off in a chain-reaction orgasm.
The ass against Carol's face moved away. She followed it frantically, knowing it marked
the beginning of the end. Carol pressed her mouth against Tara's asshole, thrust her
tongue deep and felt the muscular ring spasming. She swirled the tip of her tongue in
the woman's bowels. The cunt around her fingers went into the clenching convulsion of
an orgasm. Carol's own cunt began clenching around nothingness as an orgasm roared
through her battered body. Her bung knotted around the prick that was, at that
moment, sliding inwards. The cock in her butt heaved, convulsed, and she was getting
an enema of hot jizz.
Carol's orgasm flamed through her like a nova as she was pinched between man and
wife. Her ass was being hosed with spunk, her hand was being drowned in Tara's
flooding cunt juices. Her tongue was slowly being crapped out of Tara's spasming
asshole. For a long, shuddering time, Carol was a solid, red-hot core of pure sex. Her
reasoning mind had completely dissolved in the pleasure.
The daisy-chain collapsed from front to back when Ginny fell forward on her face on
the table. Peter's withering prick slid out of her bung. He fell off to one side, and his ass
pulled away from Tara's face. Tara fell forward onto her daughter's cum-slippery
backside. Peter slid to the floor. Deprived of the ass she had been leaning against, Carol
fell forward, carrying Jon Wells with her. His cock was still clamped in her asshole, was
still dribbling the last of his load into her. Then his prick softened and her crapping
reflexes began driving it out. In a painful series of waves, her stretched-out, well-fucked
bung at last closed.
Carol didn't move until she felt Tara trying to crawl out from under her. Weakly, Carol
squirmed. She felt Jon Wells drag himself off her back. Slowly the tangled heap got
unsnarled. Carol sat slumped on the floor with her head on her knees. She felt gloomy
and depressed, fouled and bewildered.
"Who's for a shower?" Tara Wells asked brightly.
"Me," Ginny croaked.
"Me, too," Carol agreed.
"What about you men?" Tara asked.
Peter and Jon were still stretched out on the floor and were both breathing heavily.
Their cocks were limp and drained, sticky.
"Later," Jon grunted.
"Peter?"
He rolled his head weakly. "I don't have the strength to get up right now," he answered
wearily.
"Men!" Tara snorted. "No stamina."
Carol wondered if she were going to be able to make it to the bathroom. She ached
from head to toe. Her asshole hurt and her neck was stiff from the painful way she had
twisted in order to suck on Tara's bung.
Carol felt refreshed, but still tired, when she returned to the living room with Tara and
Ginny. The three of them had showered together in a tangle of satin, wet skin. The
shower had sluiced away the accumulated cum and aches from their sexual gymnastics.
Carol didn't think she'd ever be horny again. Her emotions were in a tangle, a tangle
that she was trying very hard to sort out.
She kept trying to tell herself that what she had done was wrong. But she didn't quite
believe it. Because what she felt for all of them, animals and humans alike, was a deep
love. They were good, kind people, whose only peculiarity lay in their sexual desires.
What they were doing wasn't hurting anyone, and was binding them all more closely
together.
Cyrano scrambled to his feet and trotted over to her. His cold, wet nose pressed into
her hand, his tongue curled between her fingers, then swept her cheek when she
squatted to hug him tenderly. The love she felt for her dog was greater than ever. Since
she had let him fuck her, a new, stronger bond had been forged between them. She
pressed his warm, wooly head to her tit. He tongue stroked her nipple, sending a warm,
slow wave of fire sweeping through her.
"Hi, lover, how are you?" Tara asked her husband. He was still on his back on the floor.
Jon smiled up at his naked wife as she towered over him. "Wiped out."
"No stamina," Tara teased.
"C'mon, Daddy, rise and shine!" Ginny taunted.
"Respect your elders," he growled with mock ferocity, and glared at her.
"Sieg isn't all worn out like you are," Ginny said pertly.
"Sieg hasn't done what I have tonight," he retorted. "And besides, Sieg is a dog. I'm
only human, after all."
"Oh, pooh," Ginny sniffed, turning away. Stretching gracefully out on the floor, she
began to stroke the dog sensuously. She swept her hands down his neck and flanks. He
lay down on the floor, then gave his mistress a loving swipe with his tongue.
"How are you?" Carol asked Peter. "Too pooped to pop," he answered wearily. He was
still lying on the floor. "I'm kind of tired myself."
"How's Cyrano?"
Carol rubbed the dog's ears. He licked her tits. His tongue rasped over her nipples.
Trickles of fire slithered through her body – she wasn't really sexually aroused, but she
felt the first vague stirrings of desire again.
"Horny," Carol decided.
"I think he loves you," Peter observed. "And I'm sure I do."
"Oh?" Carol felt a surge of pleasure. It was the first time he had said that to her.
Cyrano lowered his nose and sniffed her pussy delicately. His hot breath and cold nose
and Peter's words all combined to increase the flame of her desire.
"I think he wants to show it, too," Peter went on.
Carol spread her thighs a little, let the dog probe her crotch more deeply. "I think
maybe you're right," she agreed. Cyrano's tongue probed into her gash, slithered into
the depths of her cunt. "Lacking a better offer, I might just take him up on it."
Peter shook his head. "I couldn't get a hard-on no matter what," he confessed. "I don't
think you're going to get a better offer."
"You don't mind?" Carol asked.
Peter shook his head again. "No. It's just my luck that I have less staying power than he
does. I think there's enough love in you to go around."
"Ahhh!" Carol gasped as Cyrano's tongue stroked over her clit. "You are sweet. But I'll
bet I can still get a rise out of you."
"You're welcome to try," Peter told her. "But don't leave poor Cyrano with his lust
hanging out."
"But what about his back?" Carol asked. "I'll help support him."
"HmmMMM!" Carol's train of thought was disrupted by another thrust of Cyrano's
tongue into her twat. "I think maybe it would work if I came in over your head."
"Come, Cyrano," she directed, crawling over toward Peter. The poodle trotted after her
obediently. Carol knelt with her knees straddling Peter's head. He stared up into her
gaping snatch with a hot gleam in his eyes. There was no reaction from his prick.
Carol realized as she leaned forward, toward his prick, that he had not washed since he
had buggered Ginny. As she gripped his limp tool and lowered her face to it, she
realized, too, that she didn't care. She sucked the warm, soft cock into her mouth and
swirled her tongue over it. Her mind was focused more on what was happening behind
her, though. She felt warm fur brush her bare backside. Then a cold nose probed
between her thighs. Cyrano's tongue explored her gash again, and she wondered if he
would now associate her taste and scent with sex. Or would he again need the
stimulation of Gwen's canine scent?
Carol's question was answered immediately. She felt her dog's paws scraping at her as
he tried to mount her. Then Peter's hands were grasping Cyrano's forelegs, guiding and
supporting the handicapped dog.
The cock in Carol's mouth was swelling slowly, very slowly. She tongued it, cleansed it
with her saliva. The earthy scent of Peter's crotch was stirring animal desire in Carol's
guts, making her pussy sweat and drip hotly as Cyrano's doggy cock prodded her gash.
She squirmed her hips and felt the burning tip of the poodle's prick lodge in her hole.
Cyrano humped, and his hot dart slid into her cunt. Peter's dick suddenly surged
upward in her mouth. Eagerly, Carol got a firmer grip on it.
She realized abruptly that from where Peter lay under her, he had to be getting an
unparalleled view of the dog's prick going into her twat. Peter was looking straight up
at her gaping cunt, and had to be able to see Cyrano's prick as it parted her red-bushed
pussylips and drilled into the hot, pink hole of her cunt. It was that, more than the
careful massaging of her mouth and tongue that was bringing new life to his exhausted
cock.
The hot dog-cock was prying deeper and deeper into her cunt as she took more and
more of Peter's burgeoning man-cock into her mouth. Cyrano's hairy hind legs heaved
and danced as he pushed his cock into her oozing snatch. Peter's hips squirmed and
shifted as his dick expanded in her mouth.
Lovingly, she stroked his tool with her tongue, pressed it up against the roof of her
mouth. Her hips wriggled as Cyrano bored his slender, sizzling rod into her streaming
pussy. Cupping her fingers around Peter's nuts, she cuddled them up against the base
of his dong. Her fingers touched the ridge behind his balls.
His cock thrust deeper into her mouth, stretched her soft palate, pressed the back of her
tongue, tried to go down her throat. She slipped her fingers farther behind his nuts to
the pucker of his bung and placed one fingertip on it. Then she pressed. His hips jerked
upward and his cock slammed against the back of her throat.
Cyrano lunged, driving his prick the rest of the way into her clutching, eager cunt. The
dog growled and humped. His prick pumped in her burning cunt, his breath seared the
back of her neck. Her long red hair tickled Peter's stomach as her head shifted, as she
mumbled his dick in her mouth, pumped it in and out.
Carol's lust was sweeping upward like a long ocean swell nearing the shore. It was
going to be a long, slow orgasm, rather than a sharp jolting one. She did nothing to
hasten its arrival, just concentrated on giving the two males in her cunt and mouth the
greatest possible pleasure. She clenched her snatch around the dog's thrusting prick and
sucked on the cock in her mouth. She pumped her head, up and down, up and down.
She felt the rubbery knob slide in and out, along her tongue and palate. She felt
Cyrano's cock begin to knot in her cunt, felt the dog's hairy legs shiver as he neared his
peak.
Trying to help the poodle orgasm, Carol relaxed her hole. At the same time, to bring
Peter off faster, she pushed the tip of her finger into his asshole. His hips rammed
upward and his cock pounded the back of her throat. Tipping her head and tilting his
cock, she brought it more in line with her throat. She felt his knob wedge down her
gullet. She swallowed and her throat closed and massaged his dong.
Cyrano heaved in her cunt and her hole contracted defensively. The dog's knot tore at
her tender pussy flesh, sent searing flames through her. She shuddered and heaved. Her
climax drawing closer and closer, she sought to bring the dog and the man off
simultaneously. It was a carnal juggling act.
Carol saw Ginny out of the corner of her eye. The girl was lying with her head on
Sieg's stomach. Her mouth was around the dog's jabbing prick. The teenager was
sucking her pet off! She was also fondling his balls. Carol could hear Tara Wells
whimpering, but couldn't see her. Jonah was panting heavily. The woman had to be
taking the big animal on again. Jon was still lying on the floor, totally drained.
Cyrano's orgasm couldn't be held off any longer. He was growling and grunting as he
humped her. Frantically, Carol twisted her finger up into Peter's asshole in an attempt
to raise him to the flashpoint. Her own orgasm was approaching with the inevitability
of a tidal wave, and was ready to sweep everything ahead of it away.
Peter's hips jumped and bucked. His cock slammed down her throat. She gulped in a
preposterous attempt to swallow the monster sausage. She heaved up to grab a breath,
pushed her head down again, and massaged the lump of his prostate with her finger as
his cock shivered in her sucking mouth.
Cyrano's jerking became frenetic, then stopped and became a shivering. She felt hot,
scalding spurts of dog-jizz shoot into her pulsing cunt. Heat flared through her, and the
wave of her orgasm crested, crashed down, and swept her away, drowned her in
pleasure. Her tongue and jaw closed on the prick in her mouth. It recoiled suddenly,
blasted a wad of spunk down her throat. The gland under her finger jumped and
jerked, firing spurt after spurt of cum into her eagerly sucking mouth.
Carol saw Ginny swallowing her dog's watery fuck juice, slurping and sucking it down.
Then her eyes faded out on her. She heard Jonah's panting change key, heard Tara
whine with pleasure as the dog poured his hot load of sperm into her spasming,
clutching cunt.
Then Carol abandoned herself to the roiling turbulence of her own orgasmic pleasure.


THE END
