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Grace Wilkinson

The family pet

CHAPTER ONE

The spring sunshine fell warmly through the open window onto the naked torso of the tall full-breasted redhead who was stretching and yawning her voluptuously proportioned breasts as she breathed in deep, and her long red wavy hair spreading out across the pillow like a heavy fan.

Mrs. Georgia Rogers stretched as she awoke, blinking slightly at the fresh morning sunlight. When they had gone to bed the night before she had forgotten that the new daylight saving time would probably mean more sunlight in the morning, and she had left the curtains open.

Not that she minded a bit waking up to the refreshing spring sunshine. She was feeling spring all over lately – particularly up between her firmly curved thighs, and the fact that Howard had been rather preoccupied lately had served as well to keep her natural sexual interests rather highly stirred. Spring warmth was kerosene to that flame, instead of a healing balm. But she didn't mind. In fact, the young wife rather enjoyed it, because then her orgasms would be all the more lusty and overwhelming when they finally came.

Georgia shrugged and all of the sheet fell away from her opulently contoured body, revealing, beside the ripe fullness of her lust-inciting breasts, her nicely rounded belly, the tiniest of waists, flawless white skin, and just the hint of burnished red pubic hair at the center of her loins. She had the unusual sort of redheaded coloring seen only rarely – bright coppery hair and the most perfect of creamy complexions, and a figure just as youthful and sensual as the day she'd been married, in spite of the fact that she was now thirty-four and had a teenage daughter.

As she stretched she fluffed out her long lustrous hair, which had never been cut. Howard had been crazy about her hair. Like most men, that was the first thing he had noticed. But then, men also paid attention to her magnificently put together body as well. Curves no man could resist, she had been told.

Georgia smiled softly to herself as she considered all this. Taking both of her protuberant pink nipples between thumb and forefinger, she toyed with them until they stiffened in self-defense, imparting pleasant sensations into her swollen breasts and a corresponding tingle deep down in the center of her belly. She was not a wanton, but only a normal woman who had come to enjoy her husband's sexuality, and of late that sexuality had been somewhat lax. Consequently, every morning she seemed to wake up more aroused than the morning before.

Not that Howard noticed. Indeed, he didn't seem to notice anything much lately except his business affairs. His company had put together a hefty real estate package recently on the west side of the Chicago River only to have it come out in the newspapers that instead of developing the area as they had promised the original owners, the City of Chicago, the land was being re-sold at a tremendous profit to the federal government for an office complex. Consequently his entire organization seemed currently to be in a constant state of upheaval and anxiety over what new charges would arrive with each new day and – in particular – what citizens' lawsuits were in the offing. The prospect was grim. And her Howard had been one of the original prime movers who had clinched the deal through connections at City Hall. His handsome head would be on the block if the public got too noisy.

Georgia patted her breasts and then pushed her hands up in back of her lengthy hair, and let it fall again. Her pretty head couldn't really get much interested in men's affairs. All she knew was that Howard just wasn't performing in bed as usual.

As yet she hadn't made her mind up what to do about it, however. She kept expecting him to break out of the doldrums at any moment.

"Georgia, have you seen my cufflinks?" came a cross voice from the bathroom, and then her husband was standing in the doorway, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt, his shock of wavy black hair falling forward over his forehead. He was clad only in his underwear and the shirt, and her eyes locked unavoidably on the spot where his genitals nestled between his legs, but disappointingly, there was no special bulge there to excite her.

"But you've got so many," she started to say.

"I mean the ones with the footballs on them. I can't wear jewelry any more. Orders around the office. Too many newspaper reporters coming through all the time. The boss has given up his diamond rings even. No more small pinkies. Imagine. He won't be able to show his face in City Hall."

Georgia laughed and tried to help him by looking around the bedroom a little bit, but she couldn't seem to locate the cufflinks he was referring to. Finally he changed to a button-cuff shirt and went back in the bathroom, and Georgia slipped a housecoat over her glowing body and went downstairs to start breakfast.

Karen, their thirteen year old platinum blonde daughter, was already humming and singing in the shower. Georgia smiled to herself and made her way down the stairs. Karen was certainly getting to be a beautiful girl. They would have to get together for a long mother-and-daughter chat very soon!

Going to the refrigerator, Georgia began in an orderly fashion to organize breakfast for the family. She kept her housecoat carefully closed when she caught sight of the milkman coming around, and then relaxed again. Really, though, she was the sort of woman who preferred to give her unusually well developed body free rein in its movements. She hated constricting clothing – except, of course, when it attracted attentive and appreciative male glances, and the housecoat normally fell open quite a lot in the ordinary course of things as she moved about her cozy kitchen.

Georgia had started the bacon and put out the pan for the eggs, and was setting out the plates and silverware and so on when she heard the scratching at the screen door.

What on earth…?

Drawing her dressing gown tightly about her waist, she went to the back door and peered outside, but couldn't see a thing unusual there. The small public park looked typically quiet for this time of morning, where it sat somnolently behind their house. There was absolutely no one about.

And then came that scratching again, like a cat at the screen door. It really gave her a start of an almost sensual nature, like someone drawing chalk the wrong way up the blackboard of her spine. She opened the door and looked down through the screening.

Well, this was a handsome animal! A big, shaggy German shepherd without any apparent collar or identification was looking up at her with big mournful eyes. His coat was so rough that there was the distinct impression that he had recently been in a fight. His hair was very shaggy and dirty and seemed to go in every direction. His mouth opened slightly and Georgia glimpsed a fullish red tongue.

"Well, and where have you come from, lamb? My, don't you look hungry. Wait right there and Mama will bring you something." The young wife let the door swing shut behind her and returned to the refrigerator to rummage around for some leftover meat or something. There was a lamb bone there from Sunday dinner with plenty of meat still on it, and also some freshly ground beef. She decided that old lamb was a wiser investment, and also poured for the hungry-looking animal a bowl of milk.

Returning to the back door, Georgia found the German shepherd sitting well back from it and down the steps. Well, he certainly seemed well behaved and well trained, she thought as she opened both doors and went down the steps.

A breeze came up and wafted slightly about her tall, elegantly torsoed body, causing her housecoat to open a little. Her full-fleshed breasts juggled upward and seemed to spill out from the open material, and strangely, the dog's big brown eyes fastened on their gleaming whiteness, and he totally ignored the food. Georgia blushed instinctively and tried to hold her housecoat more snugly to her body with one elbow where bending over to put the dishes down on the colored concrete blocks of the patio. This was far from easy with two dishes in her hands, but her cleavage was so considerable that she felt she had to do something. The dog was just a dog, but she couldn't just let everything spill out for all of the neighbors to see.