That was one lucky horse.
With her cunt mopped up, Brenda squirmed back into her denim shorts. They were already damp at the crotch, but nothing like they would have been if she hadn't mopped up. She pulled her tee shirt on. The horse was placidly munching grass. She grabbed a handful of mane, hooked a leg over and swung lithely onto his back.
"Giddup," she commanded.
Zeus, who liked to please his rider in every way, moved out from the grove of trees. They returned to the lane and headed back the way they had come, at a sedate pace.
On the way, they passed one of the modernized, converted farmhouses. Brenda had seen the people who lived there. The woman was elegant and fashionable. Brenda felt sorry for her. Girls from the city did not have fun the way a country girl did, she thought.
But Brenda was wrong about that…
CHAPTER TWO
The huge bull mastiff dog came walking into the back yard of the converted farmhouse with a stiff-legged gait. His big, blunt head turned slowly from side to side, sniffing. His amber eyes glinted and his long, red tongue lolled out.
The dog wanted to get laid.
The big brute had a hard-on, a gigantic fuck-tool quite in proportion to his powerful, two-hundred-pound body. He lusted for someplace to slide that hard-on, someplace hot and wet and slippery. His balls were swollen as big as melons. He needed to empty them.
There was not a bitch in heat in the area. His keen canine senses assured the dog of that. And yet the dumb brute had scented hot pussy. That was why his cock had gotten stiff.
Being a mere dog, the mastiff did not understand this, nor did he question it. A dog does not have a well-developed sense of depravity or morality.
A dog does not realize that bestiality is wrong.
But this dog knew what a hot cunt was and how it pulled on his prick until he shot his wad, and now the huge animal was being driven wild by that definite aroma of hot pussy.
The delicious scent seemed to come from the farmhouse.
He sniffed, puzzled. There seemed to be two separate and distinct scents, two hot cunts, the aromas wafting over him together. He eyed the house balefully. He wanted to go up and scratch on the back door. But he was hesitant. He was brave enough, but he was not inclined to approach strange humans who sometimes hit him with a stick. With a little grunt, the big brute curled up, his head resting on his forepaws.
He was going to wait there… although he had no idea what it was that he was waiting for. That aroma was compelling to him, it drew him like a magnet. His cock stayed stiff. He was belly down on the ground and his big prick was plowing a furrow into the earth. His hindquarters twitched a little, sliding his cock along the ground. He rumbled in his throat.
The mastiff was named Samson.
Samson was going to get lucky.
The woman who lived in the converted farmhouse was named Molly Turner. She was entertaining her good friend, Claire Dupont, at the moment. They were sitting in the spacious kitchen, with the copper pots hung on pegs on the wall but the appliances all modern, drinking coffee and talking about their love-lives.
That was why the mastiff smelled hot cunt.
The women were horny.
"I get so damned frustrated, sometimes," said elegant Claire. Claire was a tall, slender blonde with lovely long legs, a taut ass and a tiny waist. She had blue eyes and a wide, sensual mouth that seemed to have been designed for sucking on a prick. Claire did not look like the sort of woman who would have to remain frustrated for long, should she want to take a lover. She was the sort of woman into whom any man would love to sink his prick.
"Yeah, me too," Molly agreed.
Molly was a nice contrast to Claire. She had long, dark hair and flashing brown eyes. She was more rounded than Claire, and softer, with tits like twin balloons – balloons that had been blown up via the stiff valves of her nipples – and a round ass that counterbalanced her tits. Like Claire, Molly could have had almost any man, had she chosen to. A glance from her flashing eyes, the way she sometimes slid her tongue across her lower lip – Molly could drive men wild.
The girls did not know yet that they were driving a frustrated bull mastiff wild.
They sat there with the coffee cups steaming on the table and their cunts steaming between their legs.
The two women had recently moved into two converted farmhouses that were located next to each other on the lane. Their husbands were partners in an advertising agency and, having been successful, decided that they should seek the idyllic life of the countryside instead of living in the crime-plagued city. Molly and Claire had liked the idea, at first. But soon enough they had become bored… and horny. Their husbands still worked in the city and often had to stay overnight entertaining a client or doing a rush job on some project or other. This frustrated both women. They did not like to sleep alone and they both liked to get fucked at least once a day.
Claire said, "I almost got laid yesterday."
Molly looked interested. "Really?" she said.
Claire shrugged. She said, "I've never actually been unfaithful to Harry. I never felt the need to, when he was home every night. But out here in the boondocks…"
"Who was he?" Molly asked.
"Well, it was Mike Rowley."
Mike Rowley had done some of the work in modernizing both of the women's farmhouses and still did odd jobs for them.
"Mike, eh? That's interesting," Molly said. "He's a good-looking guy." She leaned forward. "How far did you go?"
Claire sipped some coffee, then said, "Not very far. But I was awful tempted. I was flirting with him and he kissed me and… well, I let him squeeze my tits and…" She blushed slightly. "And I rubbed his cock, through his pants. He's got a real big prick, by the way. It was really turning me on to play with it. But I didn't really want to cheat on Harry, and I was afraid that Mike might talk, too. Boast about it, you know? So I made him stop. Mike wasn't very happy about it. He called me a cock-teaser."
"You can't blame him, huh?"
"If I'd played with his prick any longer, I just wouldn't have been able to stop myself from fucking him… or sucking him off. Or if I'd let him get his hand on my hot cunt – ohhh! Maybe I should have fucked him, I don't know. I guess it wouldn't have done any harm, as long as Harry never found out about it. Just once, you know… not a love affair or anything, nothing with emotional entanglements or obligations." She grinned. "Just a good, physical fuck."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Molly said.
"Do you cheat on Robert?"
"Naw… but I might, if it just sort of happened."
Claire blushed a little and said, "Hell, a woman needs it, right? I've been frigging my cunt a lot lately."
"Yeah, so do I," Molly admitted.
"But a handjob ain't like the real thing, is it? I mean, it's better than nothing and you get your rocks off, but I always feel a little silly about it – a married woman frigging her pussy! Maybe the next time I go to town I'll stop at one of those sex shops and buy myself a nice cock-shaped vibrator. Or maybe a big rubber prick!"
Molly grinned.
"The kind that lesbians fuck each other with?" she asked.
"With a leather harness and all, right? I'd have to find some girl to use it on me."
"Can I borrow it if you get one?" Molly asked.
"I don't know – I might get jealous of the damned thing." They both giggled at that ridiculous idea. Then Claire looked devilish and said, "I guess you could borrow it… if you used it on my cunt!"
"Naughty girl!" Molly said. Then she added, "It might be kind of fun, at that. Not that we're lesbians or anything, but just sort of fooling around."
"This talk is making me hot," Claire said.
She was looking carefully at Molly, her gaze more serious. She seemed to be pondering something. She raised her coffee cup but didn't drink from it. She gazed through the rising steam.