He moved slowly along the street with the darkness all about him. There was a slight wind blowing on this May evening and a hint of rain in the air. The wind, the breeze really, felt good as it brushed over his warm body. Pete had worked up considerable perspiration earlier, and now his flesh was sticky and somewhat uncomfortable. However, the breeze through the cloth of his suit alleviated this a little, enough so that it pleased him to continue walking from one block to the next. He was astonished to find himself standing directly in front of Rose's place. He glanced at the house almost guiltily and saw there were no lights on in the house. He breathed a sigh of relief, for he didn't want the woman to think he had stolen back to… to what?
"To fuck her," he said aloud but softly. "That's why I came here. Why kid myself."
He found himself walking up her driveway in a rather furtive manner, as if he did not want Cindy, next door, to accidentally discover him – as if he did not want Rose to, either.
"This woman bugs me," he murmured softly. "She bugs me because she's strange."
He moved to the rear of her house and, seeing a window, stopped nearby, trying not to make a sound in the still of the night. He peered through the window and discovered there was a dim light on in the room.
He discovered something else, also.
He saw a dog.
A Great Dane, he thought.
A male dog.
A Great Dane male dog.
And he was doing something.
Something that excited Pete Braden more than ever before.
Rose was in the room, too.
She was on her hands and knees.
The Great Dane dog, the Great Dane male dog was above her.
He was also behind her.
He was, Pete saw, in the process of fucking Rose.
His body shook like mad. He had never seen a thing like this in his entire life, though he had heard about such things in a vague sort of way. Such things were done by old bags in a certain type of place, and for money he had heard, but never, never had he witnessed such a thing as was taking place in this woman's bedroom.
The dog was humping the woman at a furious rate.
Rose was almost naked, having on black stockings, a garter belt to match, and a black bra. The dog had a long, fast-stabbing tool.
He was using it on Rose's cunt.
Pete pulled himself away from the window and staggered up the driveway. He had gone no more than twenty steps when he stopped, felt his prick, discovering it was tremendously hard, and turned about to retrace his steps to the window. He glanced in again at the unbelievable scene.
It was the same, except that the large dog was fucking more quickly now. He was also drawing his tool farther out with each thrust. Pete could see the red, angry look of it. The skin covering the dog's tool fell away, exposing it completely to Pete's view. The only time he could not see it was during the quick inward jab when the dog made his fuck-motion. The look on Rose's face was one of supreme ecstasy, the like of which Pete had never before seen. He wondered if she had resorted to the male dog because of him, because he had walked out on her when she had been desperately passionate. A supposition such as this seemed far out but also quite likely. Again, as he studied her wanton expression, he wondered about her, how she could have behaved as she had with him and then, later, to turn around and allow an animal to fuck her. He thought about this last bit and grinned grotesquely. Animals, even dogs, do fuck. Period.
Animals were much smarter about the matter than humans.
Humans considered it necessary to kid themselves. They insisted, at least most females did, that it was love. Pete wanted to walk away from the scene, but he also wanted to remain and observe it. He pressed his face against the pane, wishing the window were up just a bit so he could hear the sounds of the bestial fucking. Glancing by chance across the room, he saw there was a window there that was up a few inches. Moving carefully, trying not to make a sound that would alert either Rose or the dog, he moved away from the first window and made his way slowly through the darkness until he saw light shining faintly through the second window. He crouched down low, listened and watched. He heard the grunts, the snorts of the male dog as it apparently tried to go off in the woman's cunt. From this vantage point Pete could see everything clearer, better, much more graphically than from the other window. The dog's cock was long and extremely swollen, it appeared. Pete had seen male dogs fucking females before, female dogs, that is, but he could not recall having noticed that a dog's cock could be so large and long. The red shaft looked as if it were about to explode in all directions. Of course, Pete could catch only fleeting glimpses of it, and these occurred when the dog pulled back, his prong extracted partially, as he sought to breed the female. Pete wondered if the dog really cared that the female he was prodding so savagely was not of his species.
A terrible urge to sneeze came over Pete, and he had to duck out of sight, crawl away, practically on his hands and knees, and press his upper lip fiercely. When he thought he had the urge under control, he started back for the window for another look at the exhilarating scene.
"If I were a woman," he murmured so softly that no one could have heard him, "I think I'd try this at least once myself."
When he reached the window, he peered over the edge and knew a momentary disappointment. The dog was not fucking the woman. They had finished. Rose lay across the bed, her feet touching the floor, and the big male dog was between her legs, lapping her cunt at a frantic rate.
Pete could not help it.
The scene was just too hot for him.
He shot off in his pants.
He filled them with male cum.
He made no sounds, however, and the dog continued lapping the woman's cunt.
Suddenly Rose began to moan and beat the bed with both fists. The dog seemed to recognize this as a sign.
He hunched both of his forefeet over the woman's hips and began to frantically dart his long, wicked-looking whang in the direction of her cunt.
Pete saw it enter the woman's hole and disappear all the way to the hilt.
Pete shot off in his pants again.
He turned and stumbled out of the driveway as quickly as he could.
CHAPTER THREE
By the time he reached his place, the rain had begun to fall fairly hard. Pete scarcely noticed it, so engrossed was he by what he had just witnessed, so conscious was he of the condition of his underpants. As he moved up onto the front porch, he managed to grin and relax somewhat, which was probably a good thing because when he bent down to look through one of the tiny windows in the door and into the house, he saw Mary sitting on the sofa, nude from the waist up. She was not alone. Mark was very much still about the place. He was, in fact, standing directly in front of Mary, his prong out, very hard-looking and very definitely in Mary's mouth. Mary was sucking the man off. Pete blinked. This was something she rarely had done even to him, her husband.