Anon.



Life with my husband Benny is a bore, sexually anyway. Benny is a nice guy, though, and a great provider. I don’t have to work. That’s part of my problem. Being twenty-two with no kids, married to a thirty-five-year-old couch potato leaves a girl plenty of time to daydream and fantasise. It also leaves plenty of time to masturbate. I could go find a lover. I have the looks and body to attract any man I want. Benny wouldn’t object if he thought I might leave him if he did. I don’t cheat, because I don’t want the hassles that juggling relationships entail. I’d be hurting Benny for no good reason. Benny is no stud, but he’ll do, and masturbation suits me just fine.

Benny is an easy man to live with. All he wants is his nightly quick fuck and snore, clean socks, and a well-stocked beer cooler beside his easy chair in front of the TV. When sports are playing on TV, I could fuck the high school football team upstairs. He wouldn’t care as long as they weren’t supposed to be playing a game. The real reason I don’t cheat stems from my strict moral upbringing. Even my fantasies are tame. They mostly involve exposure, sexual blackmail, forced to work as a whore, that sort of thing. Most of the weird stuff involves some type of control. I can’t even imagine freely doing those things, but I can imagine being forced.

About the wildest thing I ever do is go to town without panties on wearing a light dress on windy days. Big deal, right? Well, for me, that was a big deal. Judging by the reactions of the dozen or so people who have seen my legs to the hip bones, I think it was a big deal, too. Like I said, I had a strict moral childhood. I grew up in a very small conservative town in Utah. No one does that in Utah. Things here aren’t much better, but at least no one knows me. I live in a quiet neighbourhood by a lake near a power plant. I generally keep to myself. Few neighbours talk to each other. Most of my neighbours work at the plant and don’t socialise with outsiders. The houses are widely spaced, so you don’t get that suburban feeling. I call it urban country.

When new people moved into the house across from us, I thought it might be nice to have someone to visit or borrow sugar from. I decided to make an effort to meet the new couple, the only people that would be like a neighbour, so I thought I should be neighbourly from the start–get off on the right foot, so to speak. From peeking through the blinds, I could see that they were older than Benny by twenty-five years, but I always got along with older people. They looked nice and charming, their kids were probably all grown and gone. They appeared to be young retirees with a lot of life still in them: neat, pleasant looking, well off. I thought they might make good friends.

I gave them a day to get settled in, then put on a nice summer dress, did my hair and makeup, gathered my courage, and headed over with a fruit basket I’d arranged. I made a big basket to make a big impression. I used both hands to hold the basket, and the fruit almost hid my face. I had to turn sideways to greet the man when he opened the door for me. I told him who I was, and said I just stopped by with a house warming gift. He asked me to wait a moment, then shut the door on me. I stood in shock and got a little pissed.

I waited a couple of minutes, then started to walk away when the door opened and they were both there to welcome me in. I put on a big smile, struggled with the basket, and moved inside, expecting someone to take the basket. I was about to suggest they do so when I felt something go up under my skirt from the rear, and they were both in front of me. Something wet touched my inner thigh near my crotch. When a warm wet tongue snaked through my crotch, I knew they had a dog, a big dog, a big nasty dog. I could not help but wonder, with all the delay, why they hadn’t put such a rude animal outside before inviting a lady into their home.

I tried not to freak-out in the hope that the woman would see what was going on and rescue me without an embarrassing scene. The man could see his dog’s head under the back of my dress, but he did not seem inclined to stop the animal, typical man. The dog’s tongue kept licking through my crotch, sending electric chills, exciting chills up my spine. I was sure she didn’t know what her dog was up to. She was admiring my basket of fruit, still making no attempt to relieve me of the burden. I turned a bit so she could see where her dog had his head, and I was almost sure she did see. I turned almost sideways to her. It was as if she were trying not to see, and this fact disturbed me.

In the meantime, my arms were getting very tired and my knees were getting weak. That damn dog’s tongue was having a field day with the crotch of my panties, and his muzzle poking me in the ass was damn near lifting me to my toes. Just as I was about to say something, the head went away. What a relief. The dog came around to my front and nosed under my dress again, this time, pressing his muzzle against my inflamed clit and licking even harder. This time, I knew they knew, because they made room for him to get at me. Their damn dog plastered my panties to my pussy with his nose pressing hard while breathing hot air on my clitoris. His actions were not at all subtle. The intense licking had my full attention and awakened my clit wide awake, screaming, be neighbourly! Be neighbourly!

I may be a bit dense at times, but I finally realised that they had actually let the dog in and were placing me at his mercy. As long as I clung to that basket, I was at his mercy. That knowledge sent a rush of excitement through me. They allowed me time to adjust to the dog’s vulgar licking by engaging me in idle chitchat, discussing my fruit. When they could see that I wasn’t about to bolt for the door, she took the fruit basket, leaving me standing before them with their dog’s head lapping vigorously under my skirt. I immediately wanted the basket back, because I didn’t know what to do with my hands.

I had to do something, so I pushed on his head. Some show of resistance just seemed the proper thing to do under the circumstances. The attempt was futile. I know my face was a bright red and the blush wasn’t all embarrassment. The assistance I expected never came as they both stood back and watched me pushing on the skirt-draped head of their large mutt. I could see their eyes focused on my bare legs with amused grins as my skirt bobbed with every lap. I didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t speak if I did. Gradually, I stopped struggling, realising that if they weren’t going to help, I had no chance. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t even move; my legs would not hear of leaving. My inflamed vagina blocked all messages to my legs and only sent reassuring messages to my brain, saying, “Relax, he’s a good doggie. He won’t bite.”

I just stood there with this stupid, far off stare, letting their dog lap away at my panty covered pussy, while trying to respond to their inane small-talk. His tongue was driving me mad. That long, hot, wet slab of soft meat felt so damn good, even through my panties. I didn’t want the delicious licking to stop. My arms hung limply at my side as they talked to me as though nothing out of the ordinary were going on. That was easy for them, but impossible for me. I had to fight to stay in place and keep my balance. I tried to pay attention, and nodded frequently. The novelty of the situation added to the excitement. They were playing some sort of game with me, and I began to appreciate the novelty if not the vulgarity of the game.

After several long minutes, the woman, Sarah Peterson, came up and asked if I’d like to sit. Thinking the game was over, I said, “Please!”

She took my elbow and led, saying, “Just ease back slowly, dear.” The game wasn’t over. My clit said, thank you.

I eased back, taking baby steps, trying not to disturb the dog. She halted us and told me to sit before we’d reached the sofa. I squatted gingerly. When my ass encountered the edge of the sofa, I collapsed in a sprawl. The big black lab mounted my outstretched right leg and began humping while clutching my thigh with his right front leg jammed tightly against my pussy, transmitting every hump. I could feel his long and thick penis sliding against my calf. They took seats on either side of me while their dog humped my leg with wild animalistic abandon. The dog had a firm grip up high on my right thigh, so his head was over my right breast, slobbering on the bare upper swell of my right breast. The horny mutt was drooling a puddle on my breast. I watched that puddle slide into my cleavage.

I glanced down to see this big, bright red prick sliding on the inside of my calf. His cock was really big, easily ten inches long and thick as a Polish sausage. Hot, red, slick, and hard, with a strange lump near the base. He had huge black balls that swung with his humps, and his furry sheath tickled my leg with each humping thrust. I could not believe this was happening to me, or that I was allowing their dog to hump my leg, actually holding my leg out straight for him so the dog could fuck himself on it.

Sarah was on my left, watching the dog’s cock hump me, while her husband patted the dog’s head lovingly. He actually made the dog’s tongue drool on my other breast. My head, bent forward from the back of the sofa, was very near the dog’s dripping tongue. He expels his hot doggie breath right in my face and drops of saliva frequently flicked on my face. This was so vulgar and obscene, but it excited me as well. I had to fight the urge to suck on his hanging, flopping, slobber-slinging tongue. They continued small talking throughout this bizarre event, even while hot jets of dog cum shot up my leg.

God, that was bizarre, I thought wildly! Feeling those hot jets peppering my skin, some shooting high up my thigh to land in ropey strands. Jet after jet kept coming, drenching my entire leg. All the while he’s cumming, his tongue is flopping and flapping all over my face.

I hate when a dog licks my face, and this was much worse. This wasn’t a lick, it was a lobber sling. I can’t say I minded, though, or I would have turned my head instead of tilting up my chin to place my parted lips under the tongue. He shot his last shot with an inch of his tongue actually in my mouth. I’m not sure how it got there, but I didn’t spit it out, even though his saliva ran from his tongue onto mine and puddled in the back of my throat.

The dog licked my face with my mouth hanging slack. Suddenly, his tongue slithered deep inside my mouth, taking me by surprise. He licked repeatedly inside my mouth, something no dog ever did to me, treating my mouth like an empty jar of honey. By this time, I let him do whatever he wanted to do, and he licked all the saliva from the back of my throat, my teeth, cheeks, gums, roof, and tongue. I actually held my mouth open for this unnatural French kiss and went so far as to hold my tongue to the roof of my mouth to let him lick the underside.

Sarah said, “Isn’t that precious, Steve, Duke has a new girlfriend.”

I just turned my eyes to look at her, then gagged as her dog tried to get his tongue down my throat. Tried hell, he did, repeatedly. Hell, it felt like he was trying to lap the contents from my stomach. That tongue had to be a foot long. That was the oddest sensation, and I put them out of my mind as I lent myself to this bizarre act, prompting Steve to say, “It would seem so. She certainly knows how to kiss a dog.”

I had the strange desire to feed him the contents of my stomach. So with his mouth opening wide like a lion, I turned my head and moved into the maw to get the back my mouth near the back of his mouth by opening my mouth like a lioness. That’s when the tongue felt a foot long, and that’s no exaggeration. His teeth made indents in cheeks, and I could feel the tip of his tongue curl, low in my oesophagus, drawing his tongue fully in and out of my gullet, as though lapping honey from the bottom of the jar. I had to snatch breaths between licks, but I got good at breathing that way. I became a good doggie French kisser rather quickly.

This bizarre scene probably only lasted a few minutes, but felt like hours. He finally dismounted, then went off to lick his shrinking dick. At least he did that afterward. My new boyfriend was no crude jerk. Sarah leaned over and examined my leg, saying, “I’d better get something to clean that mess up for you. Just sit tight, dear.”

With dog cum running down to my shoes, I sat waiting. Steve simply smiled, then engaged me in small talk as though I’d just delivered a fruit basket and sat down to chat. He said his son was the principal of the high school and wanted to know if I knew him. I didn’t. I didn’t know anyone. We talked about the town, the weather, and the low property taxes. Talking casually with him while his dog’s cum slithered down my leg in plain sight was unnerving to say the least. I tried to act nonchalant, but Steve would not keep his eyes off my legs. I didn’t bother to re-arrange my skirt. My legs were almost bare to my crotch. I was glad I shaved that morning. My legs looked great, especially the right one, all shiny and wet.

When she returned with a warm wash cloth, she set about wiping my leg, lifting my straight leg by the ankle higher than was necessary, putting the mess on display while at the same time causing my skirt to slide further up my legs. She held my leg so high that she exposed my wet panties. Steve peered between my legs by looking under my raised right thigh. Sarah was taking her sweet time and intentionally giving her husband a peek at my panty covered pussy. I thought about covering myself, but having his eyes on my wet crotch excited me. I simply sat back and allowed her to do as she pleased.

She took this as a silent okay to further expose and humiliate me. She raised my leg straight up, my toes pointing to the ceiling. This lewd position made the cum run down my inner thigh toward my panties. My skirt was in my lap. Steve sat on the forward edge of the sofa looking at my pussy, making no attempt to conceal the fact that it was my pussy he was staring at. The panties were transparent in the crotch, so we all stared at my pussy. Sarah did not do the obvious by starting low and working her way up. She piddled around at my foot until the cum was at my crotch, adding to the wetness that was already there.

I could not believe they were treating me this way. They looked and talked so regular and conservative. Nothing seemed to phase them. You’d have thought the dog had just made me spill a glass of wine in my lap. The first acknowledgement was when Sarah said, “We really appreciate you indulging our ill-mannered dog. Most women would have bolted at the first feel of a dog’s tongue between their legs, much less down their throat. We especially appreciate you allowing him to relieve himself on your lovely leg. Her legs are lovely, aren’t they, Steve?”

Steve examined my messy leg, saying, “Quite lovely. By the looks of things, I’m sure Duke was well-pleased with them.”

Sarah slowly cleaned my lower leg, steadily advancing toward my open crotch. I say open crotch because she opened it my moving my left leg far to the left, ostensibly so she could stand in its place. By this time, the dog’s semen had reached my panty leg band. Steve and I watched the semen gather, then overflow onto my crotch. Steve laid my dress back to assist, totally exposing my panties. I simply sat there like a child getting a sponge bath.

When she got to my crotch, she wiped, pressing my soggy panties up my crack. She wiped long and hard, then set my leg down. She looked at my wet face and surprised me by using that same rag to wipe dog slobber from my face, paying particular attention to my lips with the messiest part of the rag, mixing up a slobber/dog-cum cocktail, then brushing my teeth and gums with it. I let her do this to me without so much as a whimper of protest. She even swabbed inside my bra, saying, “There, now you’re good as new. No-one will ever know what you let Duke do to you.”

Steve added, “That’s the nice thing about dogs. They never kiss and tell, and as you discovered, dogs can kiss.”

Sarah said, “And they can’t get a girl pregnant. That’s another big plus. You wouldn’t want to deliver a litter of pups, would you, dear? Imagine the scandal.”

I sat and listened, still in a daze, still highly aroused. After this exchange, they helped me up and guided me to the door. As I passed through, she said, “Come back anytime. I’m sure Duke will be pleased to see you again.”

The door shut behind me and I could hear their snickering laughter.

*****

Suddenly, all the outrage welled up in me. I was furious, hurt, and insulted, but mostly OUTRAGED! I stomped back to my house, cursing the animal kingdom, the elderly, and Benny for moving us to freaksville, spitting and wiping my face all the way. I headed straight for the shower, and oddly, masturbated, then again on my bed after the shower, while cooking dinner, and three more times before I retired. I was still outraged, but getting it under control.

Well, you can imagine what fantasies that encounter sparked. The next day, I set a personal record, twelve orgasms in one day. I was still outraged, but I now had it well under control. I could not get the event out of my mind. Between masturbation sessions I fumed. How could they accept my gift, then treat me like, like a bitch! Late in the day, in the middle of a good fuming, Sarah popped by to give me a huge bouquet of flowers. I almost slammed the door in her face, but her warm smile calmed me. Hoping for an explanation and an apology, I invited her in.

I didn’t get one. If anything, her visit left me totally confused and wondering if I’d dreamed the entire sordid mess. She was so sweet and friendly, as though nothing at all had happened. She never even hinted, no reference whatsoever. Fuck! She stayed and talked for over an hour. We kept talking. Nothing! After another hour or so she says, “I collect ceramic figurines. Would you care to see my collection?”

I thought, so that’s it. Fetch the bitch, My clit said, Get your bitch ass over there you dumb pussy! MOVE!

I smiled knowingly, then realised I was dressed all wrong, excused myself, and returned wearing the same summer dress, pausing only long enough to shave those damn stray pussy hairs that had embarrassed me the first time. With no bra and my sheerest panties, I was all set. She showed me her fucking figurines. She never let my boyfriend in. He scratched at the door. Steve set the newspaper aside and went out to play fetch with him. Sarah kept drawing my astonished attention back to those god damn figurines. I left on the verge of tears. He had a hard-on! Couldn’t they see he needed me?

A week went by with daily visits, sometimes at her place, sometimes at mine, sometimes with Duke in the house, sometimes with Duke in my house. Duke sometimes took a carnal interest in me, but was shooed away as one would expect. I was sure that I was crazy or they were. I did not dream that. I had a paw scratch on my inner thigh to prove it. I did manage to steer the conversation to the doggie topic while Duke was in my house. Turns out, he was not a funny-looking black lab at all. He is a cross between a male basset hound (known for their huge cocks) and a female mastiff (the biggest dog breed). One that had to be artificially inseminated owing to the fact that the basset’s dick dragged the ground, whereas the mastiff’s vagina was four feet in the air.

Seems like someone wanted to create a medium-sized dog with a massive cock and long slobbery tongue. That was Duke, and he cost a small fortune. She wouldn’t say how much a small fortune was to her, but I’m guessing over ten grand. Though I tried to steer the topic to the sexual, Sarah effectively steered me away. There was no discussion about Duke that couldn’t have gone down at a lady’s club social. She left me frustrated again, but she did drop a hint that he was nuts about peanut butter.

Crazy thoughts kept entering my mind as I tried to figure it all out. Wasn’t I good enough? Did I do something wrong? Did it offend them that I tried to push him away at first? Should I have tried to get him to fuck me and not been so passive. I should have sucked the tongue when I had the chance. They liked seeing his tongue in my mouth. I could tell she got off on getting her dog’s sperm in my mouth, too. I should have opened my mouth or licked the rag. I could see that there were so many ways I could have made it better for them, no wonder they didn’t want me. Peanut butter, huh?

Just when I had resolved to put the whole thing out of my mind, I get a phone call from Sarah, and she sounds different, like she did that first day, and she says, “Paula, Duke has been missing you. Could you stop by for a short visit?”

I was over in a flash. Steve invited me in as she went to the patio and called for my boyfriend. The same thing happened, but I was much better prepared. They were also more daring and at ease. Nothing overt was said. We played the game. Duke took one look at me and made a beeline for my snatch. I made no move to prevent access to my pussy. I stood with my feet and knees apart, not too obvious, but obvious enough and remained standing under his tongue assault much longer than the first time. This time, when I sat, I purposefully sat in a slump to extend more of my leg and get my head lower, in the place where my breasts had been. I wanted to suck on that magnificent tongue while he got off on my leg.

When he mounted my leg, he hugged my hips. His cock rubbed closer to my knee. While he screwed my leg, his tongue was over my face, touching my lips. I was a bit reluctant to take it into my mouth as there was so much slobber running down it. They were both looking expectantly, so, to please them, I thought, Fuck it, and opened my mouth. I sucked it in, slobber and all, sucked it deep, and sucked it like a dick that hung from the side of his mouth. I pleased them, but pleased myself more.

When he shot his load, the ropey strands shot along the inside of my thigh. Some hit my crotch, and some filled my navel. After the dog recovered from the climax, his tongue came alive, and my mouth became a wide open receptacle. As before, he wanted at my gullet, and as before, he got at it with my able assistance.

When he was done with me, Sarah cleaned me and my crotch very thoroughly under her husband’s watchful eyes. She had my skirt folded up above my panties, ostensibly to make sure she got it all. As before, I got my teeth cleaned. Only this time she wiped the sperm with a cloth, then wiped my teeth with the sperm soaked cloth, she would then wipe more sperm, and clean more teeth. Pretty bizarre, but I got used to it. Before it was over, I opened my mouth wide and even licked at the rag which pleasantly surprised them, prompting Sarah to exclaim, “Oh, you like that stuff!”

I smiled sheepishly, then licked some dog cum off her fingers. When I left, I was a happy bitch with sparkling clean teeth and cum breath, dreaming up creative uses for peanut butter.

This time, I didn’t drive myself crazy. I waited patiently. I caught on quickly, and acted normal until I got the signal from Sarah. Unfortunately, their needs have been nowhere near as often as my schedule demanded, but I was in no position to demand. I waited for the signal. When it finally came, after a full week of agony, I literally trotted across the street and stood at their door, wagging my tail. I felt like I had a tail, and a bitch pussy right under it stuffed with peanut butter.

Though games weren’t necessary, we still played them. The act was more fun for all of us that way. We settled into a routine that followed closely to the second script, with the exception of the clean-up. Since I loved dog come so much, they dispensed with the rag and used their fingers. Yuck, but you get used to anything, and by the fifth visit, I developed a taste for the stuff and eagerly slurped dog cum from plastic spoons which they discarded after use, acting as though they’d used the instruments to pick up poodle turds.

This was all part of the game. Somebody trained that dog and it wasn’t me. Somebody was only willing to share him one day a week, the selfish bitch.

After my seventh or eighth game visit, I stopped wearing panties, though I wasn’t sure they wanted it that way. I wanted it that way. By this time, I’d lost all of my inhibitions; besides, the woman found clever ways of showing her husband my naked pussy. She’d pull out my leg band at the crotch to wipe the inside of my panty crotch. I know, it was pretty lame, but we were all into the game. When they noticed I’d come over without panties, they really got carried away with the clean-up. She especially. Though most of the dog cum was splashed up my inner thighs, she pretended his sperm had gone inside my hole. You can imagine how she addressed that problem. No, you can’t, I assure you.

She had hubby hold my legs out wide while she swabbed my hole like a mother taking care of her baby, only mothers don’t use their fingers then feed their babies what they swab. She inserted Q-tips to clean deep while hubby pulled the lips apart, then I’d get the soggy Q-tip to suck on while they soggied-up another. I loved it.

I thought they played childish games, but I grew to love them as much, if not more, than they obviously did. They never tired of playing those silly, dirty games. We dragged out the sessions by having me stand and walk around for longer periods of foreplay. The dog followed with his head under my micro mini skirt, licking the peanut butter that I’d rolled into a ball, set in the freezer, and stuffed up my pussy as far as it would go. They’d take me on a tour of the house and pretended to ignore him and what he was doing, while I did the opposite, going out of my way to offer my pussy-wrapped, peanut-butter-ball, doggie treat, being very obvious.

They’d be telling me their plans for a room while I leaned hard with my shoulders against a wall, my feet wide, feeding my pussy to their dog. If he wanted at it from the rear, I’d assume an ass-jutting squat with my hands braced on my knees, wiggling on his muzzle while talking to them. No matter where we were, I’d find a creative and obscene way to feed the animal while carrying on a conversation. My personal favourite was to casually brace one hand on a wall or door jam, hike a leg high, then reach around my hiked hip with the other and pull my pussy open for the licking.

With the skirt being so tight, his constant nosing under from the front and rear eventually pushed the hem over the swell of my hips, leaving me naked from the waist down. When that happened, walk-around time was over. They’d usually take seats to get a good view, and I’d stand before them. Now, they would take notice. I’d stand before them with their dog’s nose in my ass and his long tongue curling up through my legs from behind to swab my clit before drawing back through my crack. Their eyes never left my pussy while we talked. I got quite bold, standing with my feet widely planted, rocking on the tongue in a sensuous grind.

Sometimes, this overt demonstration required comment. She’d say something like, “I can’t tell you how pleased we are to find a woman who is willing to service our dog.”

He might say, “Paula, you’d be surprised how many women freak out when they feel a dog’s long hot tongue snake up into their vaginas.”

My smiles let them know I enjoyed these crude statements. Openly drawing attention to my behaviour made what I was doing seem all the more obscene. Usually, I’d smile and offer them a more obscene pose. One time, the dog was in front, trying to get his muzzle up my hole. Steve said, “Whatever you have up there really has him excited.”

I pulled their coffee table out and stood on it, widened my stance, widened my knees, thrust out my pelvis, reached down, and used my fingers to open myself as wide as I could. God, it felt so wicked doing that with them watching. This prompted her to say, “Yes, that’s much better.”

Duke, of course, came around and sat between them. I moved my open pussy to his reaching muzzle, and we all watched that long slab of tongue snake deeply inside. Sarah casually leaned in, placing a finger alongside the point of entry, adding her finger pressure to the outward pull of my own, saying, “Is his tongue getting way up inside your vagina, Paula?”

I said, ‘Yes, clear to my womb, I think.”

Steve joined her on my other side. I loved watching along with them as Duke’s tongue stabbed repeatedly deep into my pussy. Withdrawing completely on each stroke to return to the deepest recesses of my pussy. I was getting fucked by a tongue and it felt better than any dick I’d ever had.

Sarah suggested I might do better by lying on my back. Her wish was my command, so I reclined on my back with my elbows hooked over the backs of my drawn-back thighs, using my fingers to spread open my pussy. They stood looking down on that scene, watching Duke lick the bottom of my pussy jar. Steve leaned in close to observe the licking of my womb with his finger helping on the side of my hole, saying, “Ah, yes, that position seems to have done the trick. Whatever you have up there, he’s getting to it now, aren’t you boy!”

Sarah smiled, and said, “You are such a dear to allow him to do that. I didn’t know there were women like you around. We were ready to hire a professional, but where do you find human females willing to rent themselves out as human bitches to satisfy a horny pet?”

I loved it. I told her I’d gladly serve as his bitch for free, hoping they’d suggest a liberal breeding schedule, and one that included mating. I was ready to allow the dog to fuck me from the second visit on. They, however, seemed content to wait for things to unfold naturally, probably hoping I’d suggest fucking. She did say, “Paula, I think he’d prefer you performed this service in the nude. Bitches don’t wear clothes, you know.”

Hey, I was game. I stripped. From then on, they referred to me as bitch, or Duke’s bitch. The things they said while I performed this service were degrading, demeaning, and intended to humiliate me. I ate those words up, and they knew it. The intimacy between me and Duke progressed with each visit, and I could see that the Peterson’s especially liked seeing us as lovers. Toward that end, I tried to play up that angle. We engaged in foreplay as lovers do. Feeding Duke from my PUSSY became cunnilingus when I masturbated to it and writhed on his tongue.

Getting Duke to kiss me was as easy as slipping a finger full of peanut butter in my mouth. Sarah always had a plate with big dollops of peanut butter ringed with celery sticks sitting on the coffee table. With the flavour of peanut butter on my breath, Duke would lick my mouth out thoroughly, and always ended by swabbing out my gullet. This gave me ample opportunity to ham-up the kiss. I held his head and kissed back, sometimes sucking his tongue, mouthing words of endearment.

I also stripped slowly, usually while on the floor. As I freed each article, and exposed my naked flesh, a superstitious smear of peanut butter brought Duke’s tongue. I’d offer each nipple to his licking tongue and swoon while he teased my sensitive flesh. My inner thighs, ass, and pussy received the same treatment, though Duke didn’t need peanut butter to lick pussy. A peanut butter ball, however, did make him delve deep, which made for highly provocative oral sex scenes. The Peterson’s loved our act, and so did I.

Since oral sex is a part of human foreplay, and Duke was performing on me, I felt obliged to offer him that same intimate service. His cock was frequently in my face as he constantly walked over me if I was on my back. Once naked, I preferred being on my back, so having his red prick dangling in my face was fairly common. Actually sucking on a dog’s dick was a bit more than I could accept, and Duke would never stay still long enough, anyway. The first time I impulsively reached out with my tongue and licked his dick, the Peterson’s both sat forward, eager to see me do that again.

Pleasing the Peterson’s was high on my list of priorities. I loved those people. We grew very close in those first few weeks, and most of the time there was nothing sexual happening. Sarah, especially, was like a mother to me. We often talked for hours. Steve never took advantage of the intimacy we shared, and I often wished he would have. I found him distinguished and very sexy. There was so much love between the three of us, so seeing how they liked what I’d done was all I needed to want to do more.

After seeing their reaction, whenever Duke’s cock came within my tongue’s reach, my tongue reached. I licked Duke from the tip of his pointed cock to his balls, and even sucked his cock fully within my mouth for as long as he’d stay in place. I made a big scene chasing after that dog’s dick, and the Peterson’s never tired of watching me do that. They loved watching my passionate display and hearing my impassioned moans after capturing that cock in my mouth. To watch me, you’d think I was doing my damnedest to get Duke to cum in my mouth, but he didn’t, not that first time, anyway. If he had, I would have swallowed every drop and nursed his spent cock.

On my next visit, we changed the script for the sofa scene. They sat me on the floor with my back against the cushions, then had Duke mount me with his front paws on the sofa behind my head. This placed his cock between my tits and the tip in my mouth. The Peterson’s pressed my boobs in from both sides, making a boob-wrap for Duke to fuck. I smiled and took a dick between my smiling lips.

I quickly pursed my lips to receive the rapid dick jabs, making a bitch pussy of my mouth. This wasn’t a blow job as much as a mouth fuck, and I knew what was coming from the first poke, a deluge of canine spunk right in the kisser. When he cums, I’m ready, I thought. He flooded my mouth. I sucked and swallowed as hard and as fast as I could. I missed quite a bit, but that was because he didn’t always shoot inside my mouth. If the jet shot out on the down-stroke, I took it in the face. When it was over, I was such a mess, Duke wasn’t even interested in cleaning me up. The Peterson’s were.

I wanted to fuck the dog after one long foreplay session that had me rolling nude on the floor with his dick in my mouth most of the time. When Duke couldn’t stand any more foreplay, I sat on the edge of the sofa between the Peterson’s and spread my legs. I was being as overt as possible, clearly offering him my pussy and not my leg. The dumb dog was so used to fucking my leg that he went for the leg anyway.

He hugged my waist and the cock rode high on the inside of my right thigh, often poking me in the pussy, but not staying. I tried to capture his cock with my pussy. They could see what I was trying to do, but offered no assistance. They simply watched me make a fool of myself, squirming like a bitch in heat while their mutt humped my body and slobbered on my face. He ended by squirting his cum all over my pussy and my hand as I tried getting the tip of his shooting cock aimed at my hole.

I found this delightfully frustrating, but I wanted that big doggie cock in my hot pussy. Once he gets wrapped around my leg, there’s no way to manoeuvre. Beforehand, I had considered assuming the classic doggie style position. I decided against that overt act because the missionary position gave them a better view. If I had just sat back and gotten my legs up and out more, he’d have had no choice but to rub on me where pussy was. I could have easily guided him in from there. I promised myself that, next time, that’s exactly what I would do. I was determined to fuck that dog, and I now knew they wanted to watch him fuck me.

I was about to pop over for a visit to their house, a normal visit, when a phone call came. The call was Sarah. She said, “Paula, we want you to come over and service our dog, but I must tell you, we are both upset with your last performance.”

I knew this was a put on; she was in her game voice. I assumed mine and said, “Oh, I try very hard to please you and your dog, Mrs. Peterson.”

I always call them ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.’ Peterson in game mode, Sarah and Steve when we just talk and visit. “You don’t try hard enough. We’ve waited patiently for almost three months, and you still haven’t learned how to properly service him. We think you are holding back, trying to avoid the obvious. I think you know very well what I’m referring to, don’t you, Paula?”

“You want me to allow him to fuck me in my pussy, and you expect me to let him cum in my pussy?”

“That is exactly right, Paula. That is the service we expect from a human bitch. That is what you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Peterson. I’m your dog’s bitch.”

“Well, you’re not a very good one if he can’t fuck you in the pussy and shoot his doggie cum way up inside your pussy where it belongs. I’m tired of cleaning up the mess you make, Paula. If you were a good bitch, you’d think ahead and bring something along to plug up your bitch fuck hole so you could carry the sperm home with you.”

Her vulgar banter excited me greatly, and I wanted to out vulgar her. I pleaded, “Mrs. Peterson, I’m so sorry and inconsiderate. Please don’t fire me. I’ll do better. I’ll let him fuck my pussy any time he wants, and I’ll find something big to plug my bitch fuck hole with. I won’t spill a drop of your dog’s sperm, I promise.”

“That’s much better. All right. We will expect you within the hour. Shave your pussy bald and leave your clothes on the doorstep. Do you understand?”

I gulped, but said, “Yes, I understand. I’ll be there soon.”

I hurriedly showered and shaved, then rummaged around the kitchen for a suitable plug. I settled on a large potato which I carefully peeled and carved in the middle until it took on an elongated hour glass look. I tried the spud plug and found it difficult to insert. I considered using a body cream, but remembered that Duke would be licking the cream. Perhaps a vegetable oil, I thought.

I used a liberal amount of peanut oil, massaging the oil into the area where I’d shaved. On impulse, I poured some into my hole while lying on my back with my ass up in the air. I figured Duke would like peanut flavoured oil. When I stood, what leaked out, I rubbed into my legs. With my pussy and legs well-oiled, I attempted to re-insert the plug. The oily spud slid in almost effortlessly, and once my vaginal muscles closed over the middle, the Idaho pussy plug remained locked firmly in place.

I walked around with the plug inside and liked the feeling. A smile crossed my face as I pictured my husband having to pull the plug out before his fuck. The smile grew as I pictured his dick sliding in all that doggie cum. The smile became a guttural laugh as I saw myself refusing to explain the sperm-like substance or the reason for a plug. I patted my pussy and said, “Get used to this thing, pussy. After you get your doggie douche, the spud plug isn’t coming out until Benny takes it out.”

I decided to wear the plug over, hoping to make an impression. I modelled my nude form before a full-length mirror, liking the effect the three inches of potato sticking out from my tightly stretched pussy lips made. I loved the way the end of the potato moved from side to side with each step. I slipped on old loafers and donned my housecoat.

I paid little attention to the neighbourhood, because we were it, pretty much. Besides, it wasn’t all that uncommon for a housewife to go from one house to another in a housecoat. A half-dozen homes had a view of my crossing, though most would have needed binoculars to know who I was. No one was outside at the time, anyway. I crossed to their house and went to the door. I debated about waiting to drop the housecoat as the door opened, but movement at the window to my side told me I was being observed. I listened for cars, then shrugged off the housecoat, kicking off my shoes before ringing the doorbell.

Excitement welled in me with the knowledge that I stood naked, outdoors, in my own neighbourhood. I prayed for the door to quickly open. It did not. I waited anxiously, nervously, for two minutes before giving another ring. They were up to playing games. I appreciated the game, and took delight in my own predicament. My role became easier as I stood there, waiting. I began to rationalise, So what if somebody sees me. What can they say? I didn’t know any of them. I hardly cared what they thought. The idea of being seen, being recognised, being seen with a potato stuffed up my pussy, took on a strange appeal. Perhaps Benny would find out.

I took to pacing the walk that ran parallel with the front of the house, up against the house, pausing before the large picture window. I wanted to demonstrate my boldness, but more than that, I wanted the stimulation walking brought between my legs. I could feel the eyes of the couple on my bare, stuffed pussy, but the potato’s eyes felt even better. I listened for the sound of approaching cars, almost hopefully. For ten minutes, I paced without the door opening or a car passing. I rang again, growing impatient. I rang once more when the sound of an approaching car stood my hairs on end.

I pounded the door as the car drew near, then stood motionless as it passed. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the couple driving by never even looked my way. A flood of relief and excitement coursed through me. The door opened. I smiled at the Peterson’s who stood looking at my stuffed pussy. I opened my stance and thrust out my pussy out for them, saying, “Will this do?” Before they responded, I decided to get vulgar. Knowing the type of lewd banter they loved, I added, “Will this pussy plug keep all of your dog’s hot sperm in my pussy where it belongs, after he fucks my bitch cunt?”

My words brought smiles. Steve said, “I don’t know, honey. What do you think?”

Sarah said, “Turn around and bend over. Let’s just see how tight a fit we have here. I wouldn’t want any accidents to occur. Dog sperm is hard to get out of the carpet.”

I was still standing in the open, on the front walk, but did as requested, spreading my feet wide and bending low to grasp my ankles. While bent almost double, I noticed that I stood among tiny black ants and they were getting on my foot. Sarah stepped up and fisted the potato, turning, twisting, then removing my plug with a sucking pop, saying, “I’ll be damned, a pussy spud.” I groaned as she re-inserted my genuine Idaho Vaginal Flow Inhibitor pussy spud, indeed. She then told me to stand and turnabout.

Sarah said, “Okay, now do a few jumping jacks.” I smiled inwardly, then did a dozen. “Do a few deep squats.” I did a dozen squats.

On the final squat, I remained in that deep squat with my hands braced on my knees, keeping my knees widespread. The tip of the spud almost touched the ground as I held my pose. I felt ants crawling over my legs, but tried to ignore them. I said, “See, my pussy is well-plugged. After I let your dog fuck me with his big doggie cock, and after he shoots his doggie cum way up inside my pussy, I’ll plug my hole. No dog cum will leak out to spoil your carpet, I promise.”

They stalled. Sarah said, “I don’t know.”

“Look, I want to make up for being a bad bitch. Duke is my lover, and I am his bitch. He is entitled to my pussy, and I have no right to deny him access to it. His sperm belongs in my pussy, and I should have to wear my lover’s sperm there as a lesson. I promise to keep this plug in even after I get home. You can stop in unannounced and check on me. Furthermore, only my husband can remove the plug so that he can enjoy his rights by virtue of our marriage. If he chooses not to remove it, I’ll wear the plug in place until morning.”

This monologue pleased them as I was sure it would. They looked happy. He said, “Honey, I think she has learned her lesson. I think she deserves another chance, don’t you?”

“Well, it is hard to find a girl willing to grovel naked on our doorstep in broad daylight where anyone can see her, just for the opportunity to mate with our dog.”

Steve said, “And with a spud stuffed up her pussy so she can carry the dog sperm back to her husband.”

“That’s right, and don’t forget, she is willing to make her husband take sloppy seconds after our dog, her lover.”

“Yes, that is very important. Duke’s needs must come first, always. It would be better if her husband officially recognised that reality, however.”

They both let that message sink in. I now understood where they were headed. I had the perfect husband for what they wanted. He’d put up with anything. I said, “Suppose I made Benny check with you first to see if Duke needed any pussy before I let him have some. Would that be satisfactory?”

Steve said, “He would do that?”

I smiled and nodded.

Sarah said, “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t make the offer if I couldn’t deliver. Look, tonight, Benny will be pulling this plug out. He’ll want to know what it’s all about, especially when he sees the mess. I plan to lay it all out for him, tell him everything. I will make him understand that Duke is my lover and his needs come first. I’ll inform Benny that he can only have my pussy after Duke has had it first. He’ll always be getting sloppy seconds, and that a fresh, clean, pussy is reserved only for Duke. I’ll have him call you this evening so that he can personally tell you that he understands the way things are going to be from now on. Now, can I please come in and screw your dog? I’m getting a cramp, and ants are starting to crawl up my leg.”

Sarah exclaimed, “Oh, look, honey! There’s a whole line of ants and they’re crawling up her leg.”

Steve bent down to watch the file march onto my left foot between my big and second toe. Hundreds, possibly thousands, were behind them. I saw them too, but made no move to escape, patiently awaiting permission to get up though they never told me to remain in the squat in the first place. The squat did help to conceal me, as there was a bushy plant behind me. The ants crawling up my leg made me tingle. I knew they weren’t the biting type. I suspected that my wet, musky, vaginal scent or the oil probably attracted them and that my pussy was most likely their destination. Actually, I was as curious as the Peterson’s were to see what they’d do once they got there.

I decided to drop a hint, saying, “Are you going to make me stay like this until I’m covered in ants as punishment for not being a good bitch, for not freely offering up my pussy to receive Duke’s animal cock, for not welcoming his dog cum deep in my womb?”

By this time, several hundred were marching up my inner thigh, headed right for my pussy. The line was thick on the concrete walk. Soon, thousands would converge on my body. As the couple watched in awe, ants grew thick around the spud. Sarah was amazed at my willingness to endure this assault. Her voice, heavy with arousal, said, “That’s exactly what you deserve. In fact, to teach you a lesson, I want you to remove that plug.”

“But they will get inside my pussy. Is there no other way?”

“No, I want them to get in your pussy.”

I removed the plug carefully, trying not to disturb the many ants on the potato itself. Those on my pussy lips moved into the gaping hole under the couple’s watchful eyes. Sarah, inspired by my passive acceptance, said, “That’s not good enough. I want you to sit in front of the line of ants and open up your hole with your fingers.”

To their surprise, that’s exactly what I did. They had to step outside and move to the side to get a head on view of my open pussy as I hooked my index fingers in from opposite sides. They both knelt to watch the ants, now numbering in the thousands, move up my ass crack and into my pussy hole. I wiggled my butt to get my hole aligned with the column. The column marched right up my hole. I never felt anything as strangely titillating as thousands of tiny legs tickled my interior walls and swarmed over my labia, clit, and fingers. The line showed no sign of diminishing, and I showed no sign of distress. After a few minutes, every place that I’d massaged the oil into was covered in ants. My pussy was a solid black, moving mass, alive with delicious sensation, inside and out.

They let me remain seated in the ant column for five or six minutes before Sarah said, “Okay, you can get up now.”

I withdrew my fingers, trapping tens of thousands of the ants inside my pussy. I rose to my feet, my legs and crotch infested. I knew I would not be invited in and wondered what Sarah would do.

Sarah looked at me and said, “Let that be a lesson to you. If you cause any more trouble, the next time we’ll look for a fire ant nest for you to squat on. Now, go home and rid yourself. You’d best be ant free when you return. Oh, and carry your housecoat and shoes. Return without them. One other thing: Put the plug back in.”

I killed hundreds of ants re-inserting the pussy spud, but the pleasure was worth it. My pussy felt alive as I left the doorstep. Thoughts of being seen had evaporated. I no longer cared. The joy of walking naked across the street in broad daylight with my friends watching excited me tremendously. I took my time; I even stopped to check my mail box. I stopped again at my garden hose and sprayed those ants clinging to my body. At my door, I waved. A hot shower and a long douche cleared my pussy, though there were probably ants, and ant body parts, in places I didn’t want to think about. Clean and fresh, I made the return trip totally naked.

My trip was interrupted by a car that sent me scurrying back to my door. Another passed as I neared their door. I was sure the man saw me, the car did slow. I ducked behind the little bush for another, avoiding the stray ants still in the area. My quiet neighbourhood had suddenly become a thoroughfare. That’s when I realised that I’d made the crossing at a power plant shift change. The Peterson’s also realised this. They opened the door shortly after the ring.

They brought me to their dining table for a pelvic exam. They laid me out like a lab specimen and used a penlight to look inside my pussy. Sarah announced that all looked well. A few black specks were ignored. Duke was pawing the sliding glass door, eager to get at me. Sarah spun me around so that my pussy faced the dog, then fingered my pussy, saying, “Look, Duke, we brought you some pussy to fuck. She’s going to be a good bitch from now on and let you fuck your cock up her pussy. You can empty your balls in this nasty little bitch any time you want, precious.”

Looking to her husband while finger fucking me, Sarah said, “Oh, look how happy and excited he is, dear. He can’t wait to mount his bitch.”

“Come on, dear, we’ve kept these two lovers apart long enough. Can’t you see they’re both eager to mate? Look at the bitch squirming in anticipation of taking Duke’s cock up her pussy. Her pussy is salivating for his cock. You want that dog dick, don’t you, bitch?”

“Yes! Yes! I want to feel his cock in my pussy so badly. I need a good animal screwing. My pussy will suck his cock dry.”

Sarah said, “Not before your mouth gets him good and hard.”

She opened the glass door as her husband helped me to my feet. Duke bounded over and devoured my pussy as I held my lips open for him, saying, “Oh, yes, baby. It’s all yours, now.”

I put on a vulgar exhibition as I offered up my pussy in a variety of spread beaver poses. Duke was more excited than he’d ever been, and his long cock dangled from its furry sheath as he moved about me. When Sarah felt we were ready, she lifted Duke by his front paws. He stood over me on his hind legs, his hard cock jutting far out. I immediately dropped to my knees and began sucking that cock slavishly, going deep while massaging his sheath and balls with both hands.

Sarah said, “I should let him ejaculate in your mouth and make you swallow it.”

I lifted off to say, “You should; you really should.”

They exchanged smiles. Sarah said, “Maybe next time. Right now, we need to get you bred.”

She led me to the sofa and drew me down between them. I immediately brought my legs up and they each took one and opened me into the splits, offering Duke my pussy with my ass poised at the edge of the cushion. Duke jumped up and gripped me around the chest. I reached down and grasped his hard cock, guiding the tip to my hole.

The couple, both leaned in to observe the penetration from each side. Duke’s humping loins quickly drove home the twelve-inch slab of dog cock, bringing forth a swoon from me. I felt him deep, his pointy cock denting the back of my vagina as the middle swelled inside my pussy. I cried out, “Oh, Fuck! This feels fantastic. God help me, I love this. Oh, fuck my pussy, Duke! Fuck it hard!”

The dog humped hard and fast for ten minutes before pumping a copious load up my pussy. I could feel the hot jets pepper my womb and I announced that I was taking his sperm. Duke remained inside while the knot receded for a good fifteen minutes. Sarah placed his front paws on my shoulders while we waited. This exposed our connected genitals to the Peterson’s best advantage. They both reached hands into my crotch to feel the connection. When Duke emerged, Sarah was ready with the plug and quickly inserted the spud, saying, “There, now take that to your husband with our regards.”

I relaxed in a slump with a satisfied look on my face. I fondled the part of the spud sticking out and purred, “Oh, I will. It will be a pleasure feeling him sloshing around in Duke’s cum.”

Steve said, “Paula, do you really have that much control over your husband?”

I looked to Steve, and said, “That turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“It does. It turns us both on.”

“I’m glad, because I can deliver. Yes, I do have that much and more. Tell me, what do you really want.”

“All right, we would love it if you could stipulate that he can’t have you until immediately after Duke has had you. Here, in our presence, of course.”

“That’s kinky. I like it. All right, I’ll see to it.”

Sarah spoke up, “There’s more. We will want safeguards against cheating. We need some way to insure that the rules are followed. We can’t have you cheating on Duke.”

“Of course not. What did you have in mind?”

“A chastity belt. One that we hold the key to.”

“A chastity belt! That’s fantastic. Do you have one?”

Sarah smiled and said, “Wait here.”

She returned with a chain contraption. I stood to examine the device. I’d never seen one before, and expected leather harness arrangement of some kind. What I held looked like the bottoms to a string bikini but without any solid material covering. It had a metal belt with a long chain dangling from the centre. Sarah removed the potato and said, “We won’t be needing this, now. She tossed the slimy spud aside. Dog cum poured down my legs, but that didn’t seem to bother her.

She fastened the belt snugly around my waist, above my hip bones, then passed the chain between my ass cheeks, drawing the chain up my pussy crack in the front. She fastened the free end to the belt going around my waist with a through pin and snapped a lock on it. The chain going between my legs fits snugly in the groove of my pussy. I was unfuckable.

“There, you can pee in that thing, but taking a shit will pose a problem. You can shit, but it will be awfully messy. A shower afterward is a must. You can always come here and we’ll unlock you.”

I marvelled at the simplicity and comfort, but I missed my spud plug. I said, “Okay, I guess that seals the deal. Benny isn’t getting any pussy until he plays by the rules. At least I won’t have to return home naked, now.”

“No, but you’ll have to return home right away. You are about to stain my carpet. Honey, get the door for this leaky bitch.”

Steve opened the door and I hurried out. I took a quick look around, then started off across the street. Halfway across, a car came along and I took off like a bottle rocket, just getting inside as it passed. It was a close call that had my heart pounding. Benny had just gotten home and was on his way to the TV carrying a fresh six pack and a bag of chips. He halted dead in his tracks and looked me over, almost dropping his beer. “Honey, what the fuck?”

I caught my breath and walked up to him. His eyes went over the device, then focused on the mess running down both legs. I said, “It’s dog cum, Benny. I’ve been fucking the neighbour’s dog.”

I brushed past him on my way to the shower. Benny followed as I expected. I turned on the water and stepped into the stall. Benny said, “Would you please clarify that?”

“What word didn’t you understand?”

“You fucked a dog?”

“Good, Benny. I think you’ve got it.”

“Why?”

“Because he fucks me better and longer than you. He’s a great fuck. I’m his bitch. He’s my lover. Any more questions?”

“Do the neighbours know?”

“They set it up. My job is to service their dog. I take my job seriously.”

“So what’s with the gizmo, and why were you out running around naked?”

“I wasn’t naked, I’m wearing a chastity belt.”

“A chastity belt? Those things are for virgins.”

“No, they are to keep unauthorised cocks out of privately owned pussies and assholes.”

“Who has the key?”

“The Peterson’s, of course.”

“So how do I get pussy?”

“Well, that’s going to be a problem. They have rules. Duke gets first crack at my crack. You can have pussy, but you have to get it right after Duke gets his, before they lock their pussy up again. They said they’d allow you enough time as long as you don’t take too long. I told them they needn’t worry about that.”

I could see that Benny wasn’t as upset as he pretended to be. His eyes couldn’t leave my chastity belt, as he kept my shower door open while I showered.

He asked me to spell out in detail how things were. His raging hard-on betrayed how he really felt about my taking a dog lover, so I gave him a detailed description of the act and its effect on me. He almost came in his pants when I mentioned that Duke would always have fresh pussy, and he would always follow Duke only if the Peterson’s were satisfied with his complete and total acceptance of the true order of things. By that evening, he was more than ready to make the call to explain to them what he understood his role to be.

I almost came just listening to my husband profess over and over in a variety of lewd and graphic terms that he was second to Duke and that I was Duke’s number one lover and bitch. Of course, he quickly discovered the key words and phrases that turned them on and used them liberally. They told Benny to bring the bitch over for mating.

Benny did not like walking me over wearing only the chastity belt; but by then, I’d have it no other way. He thoroughly enjoyed watching me mate with the beast, and dutifully followed, shoving his meagre prick in the sloppy mess and dumping his load in record time. After that first session, he refastened the belt and then fastened a jewelled dog collar around my neck, one that they handed him. They told him I must wear it always. The ornate collar had a hanging tag with the words, ‘Duke’s Bitch‘, inscribed on both sides in letters easy to read from several feet away. I wore the collar proudly and intended to wear it everywhere. They snapped a leash to the collar and handed the end to Benny.

I’ve been a bitch ever since, and I love it.

The End.