Again, she lewdly twisted her head to look back at him, and the Doberman pinscher witnessed her mouth suddenly gasping open, but the scream was half-choked in her slender young throat. Instead, she began to toss her head wildly from side to side, her raven hair flailing like a billowing black cloud of ember about her naked shoulders. She had reached the beginning of a female orgasm, he perceived, when she began to savagely swivel her rounded white buttocks back against him like all rutting bitches. His tongue hung loosely from his panting mouth as he fucked with heavy buttock flattening humps up between her furiously undulating mounds of female-flesh. Once more, she moaned, this time, her cry piercing the lonely darkness while she rammed deliriously back onto his huge thrusting hardness as he drove it mercilessly forward to begin spitting its hot wet semen in bullet-like spurts deep up into her hungrily clasping cuntal passage!
The big dog felt her buttocks begin to contract and jerk back against him. He felt the thick heated combination of their orgasmic release seeping wetly out around the flushed lips of her rhythmically throbbing pussy lips as her vaginal opening squeezed and pulled at his ejaculating penis.
The dark-haired female fell forward then, away from him, tier legs still spread wide apart, and in the light of the half-moon her rounded white buttocks glistened wetly from his expended semen. He could see her opened pink flesh and the soaked black hair of her ravished young loins as silo panted in her obscenely spread position. Exultantly, he stepped over her outstretched nakedness, raised his head, and howled victoriously.
For long moments the satiated young wife lay sprawled face-down on her own bed, breathing spasmodically as the ebb of her cumming washed over her.
But, before long, the euphoria dissipated, and the full realization of what had just happened filled her mind with self-loathing and abject shame. Oh God, what had come over her? Was she… no better than those night creatures you were always reading about in the newspapers? What, all of a sudden, had caused her to submit to gratification in this evil manner? Wasn't the love-making of her husband, Kirk, enough to satisfy her need any longer? Had some alchemy suddenly transformed her into a… well, some kind of nymphomaniac who wasn't able to control her desires?
All of these questions had no immediate answers for the bewildered young wife, and she moaned piteously in degradation on her lovely bed. Her stomach was queasy now, a result of humiliation, and she felt debilitated as hot tears began to flow from her eyes. After a few moments she sprang off the bed and ran nakedly into the bathroom, refusing to look at the now docile figure of Fello curled comfortably at the foot of the bed.
What had come over him? He looked so natural, so harmless lying there. Where had he learned such… such degrading practices! Had Mrs. Hatton trained him for just that purpose? These, and a thousand other questions burned in the young wife's brain, as the shame of the lewd act she had performed washed over her. Abruptly, she resolved to banish the entire thing from her mind. Forever! She would never mention it! She would forbid herself to think of it, to remember it. It was sick! She was sick! She must seek help! And Kirk must never know. Never! And to these ends the young wife applied herself.
She spent the better part of an hour under a hot shower spray in a vain attempt to cleanse her body of imaginary impurities which seemed to coat her skin like some malignant fungus.
And when Kirk Young arrived home, he found a very strange wife indeed; a wife who was one minute loving and considerate, and the next preoccupied and withdrawn. And he later encountered Fello and a knowingly smirking Mrs. Hatton, and heard the explanation for the former's presence and the latter's departure.
And finally, he experienced a growing apprehension about their appearance that evening at the Kaye's party…
CHAPTER THREE
Kirk Young adjusted his tie and smoothed a hand along the side of his carefully combed red hair, both gestures for the twentieth time since he and Vicki had left their small bungalow to drive to the Kaye's Glenview Hills home shortly before nine that night. He felt nervous excitement at the prospect of this evening with the eminent faculty member. He had come into close contact with Dr. Kaye only once, briefly, when he had picked Vicki up at work one night, and had been impressed by the man's bearing; one of these days, and in the not too distant future, he would have that kind of stature – both physical and professional.
Kirk looked at the lovely, raven-haired figure of his young wife as they prepared to traverse the ribbon of concrete leading to the Kaye's expansive home. She wore a simple black shift which clung to her full, ripened breasts and perfectly rounded buttocks; it ended just above her knees – not too long, not too short; it accentuated the long litheness of her beautiful legs. She had her hair down tonight, as he liked her to wear it, strands of the long dark tresses curling around to frame her face and rest on the upswell of her lush young bosom. She was a vision in radiant beauty, Kirk thought. Yet, there was something troubling her he could see it reflected in her soft, dark-brown eyes!
The young husband had sensed her inner unrest the moment he had come home from the basketball tournament a little past six. She had seemed withdrawn, ashamed about something. When he had asked her if anything was wrong, she had told him it was nothing at all and averted her eyes. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what could have upset her that way she wasn't normally given to moods and periods of depression; but then, one never knew what it was that was bothering women most of the time, anyway. Probably some inconsequential matter that would, if she relented to explain, seem patently silly as a basis for such anguish.
He had thought for awhile after he'd come home that she was going to remain moody and uncommunicative, but she had responded to his joking, light banter and seemed to snap out of it somewhat. She was smiling now as they approached the huge, multi-level home, but he could still discern that indefinite troubled air about her. Well, at least she wasn't completely undemonstrative; a few drinks, and she'd come out of it once and for all, become giggly the way she always did after the second drink of any kind of liquor.
Kirk whistled softly under his breath as he escorted his voluptuous young wife to the Kaye's door. In the structure's subtly lit alcove, he spotted an ebony black door with polished gold knob and knocker. "Man, this is what is vulgarly known as the creme de la creme," he whispered to Vicki. "We are consorting with members of the upper echelon tonight, sweetheart; our future peers, if I may be so modest."
"You may say so, sir," Vicki said with an effort at a frivolous tone to match that of Kirk's. "It's going to be a fun evening, isn't it, honey?" There was an almost plaintive hunger on that last sentence.
"That it is," Kirk assured her. He put his arm around her shoulder affectionately, then lifted the gold knocker. He let it fall, and the sound echoed like a temple gong in the small alcove.
Almost immediately, the door was opened and the sanding face of Dr. Eric Kaye looked out at them. He wore a gold lounging jacket with a matching silk cravat, knife-creased black slacks, and doeskin loafers; his salt and pepper hair was immaculately combed in a hair-do that obviously had just been barbered. His smile widened as his bright gray eyes roamed approvingly over his female assistant. "You look absolutely the image of Aphrodite tonight, Vicki my dear," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "Positively gorgeous."