Tentatively, she eased the tip of her finger against the slick pink tissues that lay between the puffy lips of her cunt. It felt wonderful, but not as marvelous as it had before George fucked her. Was her twat stretched by the dog's big prick? Had he forced her pussy out of shape and made it looser?
She didn't know about those things, but she certainly hoped not. Withdrawing her fingertip, she let her ass sink beneath the hot water again. She'd ask her mother about such sex problems, if she dared. Her mom would probably only blush and turn away, and there'd never be any answer.
And she couldn't really be completely honest with her mother, anyway. Suppose she went right up and said: Hey, Mom, I've been fucking this dog – you know, good old George – and I wanted to know if his big prick could stretch me out of shape like a used rubber band – and – what's that, Mom? Yes, I said George and I have been fucking…
Sunny slapped the surface of the water with her open palm, making a sound like she knew her mother would make when she fainted and hit the floor.
So much for sex-problem interviews with her mother, and there was nobody else around that Sunny could talk to. She remembered her father as a standoffish type of guy, seldom home and always on the road in his business. The road killed him three years ago – or, more to the point, the freeway. His wife had been a widow ever since, and all his work hadn't left them much more than enough to get by.
Of course, her mother played the widow bit to the hilt, looking sad and never going out on a date with a man. Sunny rinsed her body and sat up in the tub, shaking her head; after a woman had been fucked for a while, years even, how could she possibly go back to not fucking? You couldn't return to being a virgin, so why not make the most of your experience? Especially since her mother was such a good-looking woman, only thirty-two years old, tall and willowy, with those big, firm boobs.
Sunny climbed from the tub and leaned over to pull the plug. She stayed in that bent position, twisting her head around so she could see in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. This was almost the way she would look to George if she let him screw her in the way that was most natural to him – dog fashion.
Her ass was all wet and gleaming, and the crack was just about hairless, but she could make out the light shagginess of her pussy hair. She would have to keep her ass higher than her upper body, she thought, get down on elbows and knees, rather than on her hands and knees, so that her pussy would tilt up at him more. He could get his cock into her hole easier that way, since she wasn't built exactly like a female dog.
Grinning, Sunny stood erect and turned to stare at her crotch in the mirror. She was every bit as bitchy as a female dog in heat, though. Only she was glad that her kind of bitch didn't have to wait around and come in season every so often; she could fuck anytime she wanted to. And that was going to be just about every time she got the slightest chance.
She dried herself quickly, squirming at the contact of the fluffy towel, thinking how sensitive she was all over her body; her skin was very tender, and every fine hair on her arms and legs seemed to stand straight up. She felt like screwing again right now, and she wondered briefly if George could go again so soon.
Word among her giggling classmates was that a man kind of burned himself out right away, while a woman could fuck all night. Once the man shot his wad, the girls said, his cock went soft and he had to wait a long time before it would get hard for him again – and they all knew no guy could screw with a soft prick.
Coming closer to the mirror, Sunny checked her skin for scratches; it wouldn't do for George to leave claw marks on her body, where her mother might see them and wonder.
And she remembered that George's prick hadn't gone all soft and squishy after he came in her pussy. His cock had remained stiff and rigid; only the big head had shrunk back to the size it had been before he squirted off. Was it possible that dogs were better and longer fuckers than guys were?
She hoped so, because she was still touchy and excited all over her newly aroused body. Going to the narrow window, she peered down into the backyard and saw that the dog was chained to his house. Most of the time, George stayed inside their home with her, especially at night, but her mom wanted him outside during most of the day. And since they had fucked, she thought it was safer to chain George up until she got her head together again.
There he was, stretched out on his belly, sound asleep, and she felt a twinge of resentment. The damned dog ought to be sitting up with a hard-on, panting for another chance at her pussy. Then she thought that he might be pooped out, firing such a huge load of sperm into her cunt. After all, it had been George's first fuck, too.
Smiling at that idea, she turned from the window and rummaged for her mother's perfume. She used the good stuff, dabbing some in the cleft of her ass and on her pussy hairs, in her belly button and under her arms. Sunny liked the smell of it, and hoped George would, too.
This time, she'd bring him in the house and up to her bedroom, where no prying eyes could watch them screw. She frowned. Had anyone watched, or was it only her imagination?
Wrapping herself into a terrycloth robe, she found her rubber sandals and slid her feet into them. Well, if somebody had watched her with George, she'd know about it before long. But meanwhile, her mother wasn't going to be home for hours, and Sunny was getting anxious to repeat the glorious experience she'd had earlier. She wanted to know if fucking was really as far-out as it seemed.
Shivering a little with anticipation, she hurried down the stairs and through the kitchen, going out the back door. She almost bumped into the man on the I steps, and caught her breath in shock and fear.
"Oh! Oh, wow – Mr. Lorimer! Man, you just about scared me to death, standing here like this."
He grinned at her, a burly man with black eyes and hair curling up from the open collar of his sports shirt. "Hi, Sunny. Is your mom home?"
She shook her head. "No, and she won't be back for a couple of hours, maybe even longer. She's over at her sister's house across town, and my aunt always talks an arm and leg off."
"Two hours, huh?" He looked up at her where she stood two steps higher than him, and she felt the hotness of his eyes. Judd Lorimer lived next door with his wife and two kids, and was old – about forty or so. But he'd always made her think of the bad guy, all hairy and husky, even if he'd never done anything to appear evil.
"I guess," she said, looking beyond the man to where George was waiting impatiently for her, whining a little and sitting erect now.
"That's fine," Judd Lorimer said. "You can help me, then. How about if I use your phone, Sunny? Ours is out of order, and I have a pretty important call to make."
She supposed she was going to have to be polite; with another look at her dog, Sunny backed up the steps and said, "Sure, Mr. Lorimer, come on in."
The telephone was in the living room, on the little table against the wall, and she led him to it. "Just take your time. You don't care if I don't hang around to let you out, do you? I mean, you know the way and all…"
He didn't reach for the phone, but for her; his big, powerful paw closed over her wrist. "You real anxious to get back to that dog, baby?"
Stunned, she stared wide-eyed at him. "W-What do you mean?"
His other hand came out, and Sunny's robe was flipped open by it, the belt popped loose by the casual pressure of his great strength. Sunny couldn't believe this was happening to her.
Judd said, "I mean if you're so eager to fuck that dog again, he'll just have to wait. Because you're going to fuck me first."
Sunny gasped. "I-I – what do you… Oh, no!" Suddenly she knew what he meant, and knew with a sharp clarity that she hadn't been mistaken about seeing someone in the hedges a while back.