THE DOG BALLERS by Don Russell - sex story

THE DOG BALLERS by Don Russell

Myra, her mysterious urge to fuck becoming almost uncontrollable, needed a time to be alone. She needed these quiet moments for thinking and hanging on and making her spinning universe settle into something she could recognize. This wild point of land seemed not only to defy the shape of reality, but to twist feelings and behavior among whatever humans dared invade it.

Surf curled onto the beach before her, its gray-green wall toppling in slow motion so that she caught herself holding her breath while she waited for the thud that seemed to shake the balcony floor beneath her feet. The dying hiss of each breaker drew itself out like the prolonged sigh that follows orgasm, amplified a thousand-thousand times.

And that was the whole problem, she thought. The whole scene throbbed with sex. The harder she tried to escape its erotic message, the more tightly it seemed to enclose her. The pulse of the surf felt like a majestic beat of the climactic waves of contraction. A lone seagull, soaring with motionless wings, reminded her of the full-curved silhouette of her own proud-standing breasts. The spray-laden breeze played over her body with the intimate caresses of a lover.

Where else, she asked herself, would she ever have considered such a weird notion as this: to come out onto the observation deck naked and stare at the scenery? More than anything else about Pulsegate, this behavior of hers was a symbol of the way the place was warping her impulses.

She loved the other two couples; she and Rocky had spent happy hours wondering lazily how many people were lucky enough to enjoy the kind of friendship they had with Leanne and Jim Stokes and Bonnie and Ward Ramos. She had concluded long before that the feeling was love -- that mere "liking" could never be as deep and satisfying as the feeling they shared with their friends. But loving could be a nonphysical thing. At least, its physical components could consist of pleasant warmth in the harmless embraces they shared upon meeting or leaving each other and the occasional quick hugs that came spontaneously when delight bubbled over.

What was happening here was not like that innocent fairy tale she and Rocky had been living. Something -- maybe it was the isolation from civilization, or the primitive savagery of the landscape, or the chemistry of pure, human nature -- was reaching through the social fabric to awaken instincts and desires that must have belonged to prehistoric ancestors of man.

A flicker of movement in the undergrowth beyond the corner of the house to her right snapped the spell. She tensed in momentary panic, cringing inwardly and ready to scramble back into hers and Rocky's bedroom. But she relaxed when she made out the head and shoulders of wolflike Soldier, the strange, surly brute who had survived his master's death and continued to course the wild point in search of intruders.

Bonnie and Ward Ramos had been as surprised as anyone else to find themselves heirs to Pulsegate. Bonnie had known nothing about any recluse uncle, and she had clearly been stunned to learn about the lonely way he had spent the last twenty years of his life.

"A retreat!" Bonnie had exclaimed to the others when the facts had begun to sink in. "We can all use it for a retreat!"

And that idea had sprouted and taken hold until all six felt as if there had been no other alternative. So they were all here, airing the two-story lodge and turning it into a livable place to spend long weekends or vacations.

Bonnie's mother had confessed the family's conspiracy against Uncle Walt. They had excluded him when he had married the wild, sensuous Carlita; as if he had never existed, they had shut him out of their memories and away from mention. Until his death, thirty-six years later, they had known nothing of his whereabouts. They had been unaware of Carlita's death in the sixteenth year of the marriage, unaware of the decay of the Pulsegate land -- not knowing Pulsegate existed and never hinting to the younger members of the clan that the haunting, abandoned works of the mysterious poet, Walt Mason were those of a relative.

"Cruel!" exclaimed Myra softly. "How could Bonnie be part of a family like that? Ugh!"

Soldier was the only moving creature in her field of vision, except for the solitary gull, and she found her attention drawn to the ghostly, gray beast as he wove his way among the huge boulders. His nose was close to the ground, and his tail was tucked close to his hind legs while he worked whatever old trail he had uncovered.

She shivered and ran her hands slowly over her naked hips and thighs. The silken warmth of her skin sent thrills of pleasure through her fingertips and a brief giddiness to her head.

"Good God, Myra!" she scolded herself. "What the hell's wrong? Pretty bad when you're so horny even the sight of a dog makes you think about screwing!"

They had arranged their vacations together all three couples -- the way they had been doing for the past six or seven years. Only this time they had come here to Pulsegate with a purpose. The strange thing was that now, by the middle of the third day, the spell of the place had them all on edge. She knew the others were feeling it as acutely as she; they gave themselves away by the way they kept glancing furtively at each other out of the corers of their eyes and the way they had begun avoiding the normal little physical contacts that were so likely to occur among close friends.

"Everybody's afraid one of those accidental touches is going to explode into an orgy," she murmured to the seagull. "It's like threads connecting all of us, carrying currents between us all the time!"

Bonnie and Ward had mumbled something about inspecting the spring, and had left the house right after lunch. Leanne and Jim had used the excuse of exploring the surf cave on the north side of the point. Rocky had said something about the fence and asked her to go, but she had recognized her need for thinking time.

"Just to let the pressure off," she remarked now in a musing tone. "All of us know we've got to find a way to bleed it off. Christ! What did we have for lunch? I can't even remember; I had to concentrate too hard on not saying anything sexy! What kind of Goddamn black magic did Bonnie's uncle weave around this place?"

But she knew it had nothing to do with magic or the supernatural. It had to do merely with the fact that they were three females and three males, all healthy and vigorous and damned attractive, who loved each other well enough that the isolation and forced intimacy were breaking down conventional barriers. She had difficulty believing that the network of civilized rules could be that superficial. Surely, she kept insisting to herself, morality went deeper than this! But there was no way to deny the thrills that raced over her now, and the vivid immediacy of her recurrent fantasies about Ward and Jim.

Soldier paused beside a rotted post, sniffed, and cocked a hind leg at it.

"Marking his territory," she noted. A finger of the wind probed at her and she flinched at the sudden, hot flush that swept her skin. "Jesus! Territory!"

The notion of territorial privileges had slipped into her consciousness. Dogs in the wild -- the wolves, for example -- were like so many other animals in their territorial habits. Each male powerful enough to defend his territory established exclusive breeding rights with whatever females chose to live with him within his range. For an instant, Myra had allowed herself to imagine the feelings of such a female in Soldier's domain. She had deliberately, she decided, pretended for a moment to be that female and to thrill to the knowledge that Soldier's cocked leg had been a symbolic demonstration of his exclusive sex rights to the bitch who watched unseen.

She backed silently away from the railing and tiptoed to the open door of her room. "Damn fool," she muttered to herself. "Daydreams about Jim and Ward aren't enough! You would have to come up with a dumb idea like that! Now I'll be having daydreams about being a Goddamn bitch-wolf!"

She fingered her clothes with distaste. Being alone had done nothing toward quieting the hunger that was eating at her. It had merely served to focus her attention and make her more sharply aware of the dangerous state they had all gotten into. She was vibrant with desire right now, she realized; she would get through the rest of the day only partly aware of what was being said, waiting to be alone with Rocky, legs clasping him and cunt beating against him. And in the morning, after all the fucking Rocky could survive, she would still be quivering with need.

This morning had been that way. Yesterday morning had been that way. "God!" she whispered. "It's going to be like that all the time we're here! Maybe we'd better bug out while we can!"

She studied her panties and bra with growing irritation, thinking of the deadening restriction they would subject her skin to. Finally she grabbed them and stuffed them into the hamper, hung her tight dress in the closet, and got out a soft, loose smock. Shrugging into it, she squirmed before the mirror and watched the soft folds slide against her tits. The friction delivered the kind of sensations she wanted. She conceded to herself that she was inviting trouble; pampering her appetite was the least likely way to gain control over herself. She would be feeding the flames, in a manner of speaking. But she was beyond caution.

The afternoon had gotten away from her. She heard voices from outside and hurried downstairs to the big room that made up the entire ground floor. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, the color of ripe wheat and gleaming from the hundreds of thousands of brush strokes she had given it over the years. It seemed half to float, half to bounce, as she deliberately exaggerated the movement of dropping to each succeeding step. Her breasts, firm and ripe and taut-nippled, bounced also; that was what she was trying to make happen. She liked the abrupt surge of pressure at the bottom of each bounce and the dry, rustling stroke of her nipples over the inside of the smock.

Now engrossed in her body, she emphasized the sensuous sway of her hips and tuned her awareness to the complicated grind of her buttocks. Slim-waisted, long-legged and big-chested, she knew how well she made out in the "sexy" department. She liked that always had and knew no temporary tension was going to enable her to hide her sexiness on a moment's notice. She was five feet two of appetizing female -- a hundred and five pounds of it -- and she was stuck with the fact.

To her surprise, Rocky was already in the house. He was pacing with the light-footed springiness that was so characteristic of him, his expression as troubled as she had felt.

"Rocky! I didn't know you were back! How long?"

"Oh... half-hour, maybe."

"Damn it! Why didn't you holler? Or come on up?"

"Huh?" He eyed her ruefully. "For a quickie, you mean?"

"Honey, I don't know what's come over me! Yes, a quickie! Anyhow, a half-hour would have been time enough to make it pretty good."

Rocky laughed uncomfortably. "Guess so. Figured you'd gone for a walk. Didn't hear a sound."

Bonnie came in, kicking her feet against the doorstep to knock the dust off, and Ward followed her.

"How's the spring?" asked Rocky.

Ward snorted. "Plugged. Take a whole day to get it cleaned out, I'll bet."

"That bad?"

"Yeah. Seeping some, but that's about all. Hey, Jim and Leanne still out?"

Myra nodded.

"Hope to hell they know what they're doing." Ward looked worried. "I hate a Goddamn cave with a passion. Never know when it's going to cave in or something."

"But that bluff's solid rock!" Rocky protested.

"It's got cracks. And it's not real hard rock -- more like sandstone or something."

Myra heard Leanne's voice outside, bubbling with laughter. The moment Leanne and Jim came in, she noticed their satisfied expressions and semi-exhaustion. They didn't waste the afternoon, she reflected. They knew what ought to come first!

Bonnie seemed to have caught the same symptoms. "You guys find the cave interesting?" she asked, a note of skepticism evident in her voice.

Leanne looked embarrassed, but Jim chuckled comfortably.

"Sure!" replied the lanky man. "Interesting as hell! Big pile of seaweed like grass at the back. Been there so long there weren't even any bugs around it. Like a haystack, if you like tumbling in hay."

Ward began to laugh. "You two never could get near a haystack without trying to make out!"

"WARD!" Leanne blushed furiously. "For God's sake!"

Jim grabbed his wife's hand. "Come on, babe. Maybe we've got time for a shower before supper." He grinned broadly. "Itchy as hell, after wallowing in that seaweed."

Myra helped Bonnie prepare supper. She heard only half of what the other chattered about, her imagination trapped in fantasies about stacks of seaweed in the backs of caves, and of Jim's long, slender body pressing her own into the salt-scented masses.

Supper was somewhat confused; all six showed the strain that Myra had been concerned about. Again and again, someone would start to say something, then choke it off self-consciously. Myra herself bit her tongue barely in time to stifle a remark that would have been inexcusably suggestive. When that happened a second time, she trembled and felt perspiration dampening her smock. She bolted the remainder of her food and excused herself from the table.

It seemed to her to be a tense, nervous group that gathered at the bar after the dishes had been washed and put away. Ward played host, pouring drinks to order, then took his own to the corner where his guitar was stored. He plucked quietly at the strings, listening and twisting tuning keys, then began to strum a weirdly discordant rhythm. He hummed, the melody a strange one to Myra, but one that made her flesh prickle.

"What was that?" she asked when he fell silent.

"Damned if I know," he said musingly. He turned toward Bonnie. "Didn't we hear something like that down in Mexico last year?"

She frowned briefly. "It was in that temple, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. That's it. Some kind of fertility thing."

Before she quite realized what she was saying, Myra blurted her protest. "Hell of a thing to play hen we're all so damn horny!" She gasped and jerked her hand to her mouth. "Omigod! What am I saying?"

Bonnie broke the uncomfortable silence, her hostess instinct apparently working. "Look, Myra's right. What's wrong with us? We're good enough friends to get it into the open."

"I don't know if I want to run around with mine out in the open or not!" Jim snickered.

Leanne shot her husband a poisonous glance. "Leave it to you to make it as bad as you can!"

But Bonnie interceded. "Don't let's fight," she pleaded. "Not now." She stepped onto a small, circular hooked rug. "Come on... magic circle! Everybody on!"

They converged on her, hesitantly but with grins. Myra felt a surge of apprehension. The magic-circle routine had been fun when things had been normal. It had furnished moments of delicious groping and anonymous appreciation. But nothing was quite normal this time. She joined Bonnie on the rug. The six of them crowded together, bodies pressed into a tight, warm mass, knees working and hands slipping around waists and over hips.

For a time, the only sounds were those of increasingly heavy breathing. Myra thrilled to the sensations of body contact and writhed as one hand and then another found sensitive spots. Her smock was so loose that it seemed the same as having nothing on at all. The hands she couldn't see molded themselves to her contours and sought out the privacy of her cunt. If Bonnie's intention had been to use the magic circle as a safety valve, she had seriously miscalculated. Nobody was going to come out of this bout with the tension lowered, Myra decided. But it was a kind of relief to express her growing affection in a way that offered at least some concealment.

A person didn't know who was doing the feeling, she thought wryly, but it wasn't hard to tell who one's own hands had found. She managed to rub Ward's stiffened cock through the front of his trousers, almost giggling at his muttered exclamation. But her left hand, groping for Jim's crotch, encountered another female hand and had to battle past it to reach the bulging cylinder.

She squirmed happily as someone kneaded her ass and held her breath when fingers pressed deeply into the heat of her cunt. The smock detracted little from the sensation the touch produced.

One of the magic circle rules was that everyone had to keep moving. It was like being in an electric mixer, Bonnie had explained the first time. Keep churning so the group couldn't become static. That brought friction far more potent than the groping hands did. Myra panted as she scrubbed hard against first one, then another, of her companions.

The pressure in the group suddenly began to decrease. Myra found herself pressed tightly against Jim, her belly rubbing on the hardness of his cock, without anyone pushing her from behind. Her arms seemed no longer to be hemmed in, and she slipped them around his neck hungrily, feeling his hands at the small of her back. For the moment, she ignored the rest of the group and turned her face up to meet his. The warmth of his mouth settled on her lips. She ground into his kiss, belly crushing his hard-on and breasts flattened on his chest. Unconsciously, she worked her hips from side to side and tightened her buttocks to force her cunt against the swell of his thigh.

She heard heavy panting around her and closed her eyes to shut out the sight of the other couple's grappling. Jim rubbed her back, and his hands worked their way downward onto her ass, squeezing and mauling her asscheeks.

"Mmmmmm!" she moaned throatily into the kiss. Her tongue pressed between parted lips to touch the firm male flesh beyond them.

Jim responded, driving his own tongue into her mouth where she sucked greedily at its wetness.

She heard Bonnie's strangled voice.

"Oh, dear God!" exclaimed Bonnie in little more than a whisper.

Dragged forcibly back to reality, Myra eased the desperate clutching of her fingers at the back of Jim's head and let him break the kiss.

"Dear God!" repeated Bonnie. "Do we want to?"

Myra knew what Bonnie was asking; she knew everyone else did, too. She lay back in Jim's arms and gazed thoughtfully at her own husband, who held Bonnie tightly, then at Leanne and Ward, crushed tightly together. As if they were awakening from a trance, the three couples slowly released each other. They separated and stared at each other, expressions sober.

Myra tingled fiercely. I'm scared! she thought with surprise. I think I know what I want to do, and it scares me! She thought the others looked a little scared, as well.

Rocky mumbled, "We've shared just about every other way. Maybe..." his voice trailed off.

"That's what it is!" remarked Ward abruptly. He sounded relieved, as if Rocky had found the key to a puzzling situation. "Sharing! Why the hell not!"

The color had left Leanne's face. Her eyes were round, their blue darker and startled-looking, and her delicately outlined mouth was drawn into a doubtful circle. "I... I don't know..." she said in a whisper. "Do you think..."

"Gain more than we'd lose," suggested Jim.

We could lose a lot, thought Myra. If somebody got jealous, we could lose the whole thing. She said nothing. Imagining Rocky fucking either Bonnie or Leanne made her belly tighten, but it brought no painful wave of jealousy. What seemed more to the point, it jolted her with a new charge of excitement. She squirmed at the hot writhing in her cunt.

Bonnie still acted as if she felt the obligation of a hostess. "Maybe we ought to let the idea sink in," she suggested. "I mean, do something sort of halfway while we decide if we really want to do some swapping."

"Halfway?" Ward studied his wife with a puzzled expression, then grinned. "I never was much good at that halfway shit."

Bonnie giggled. "I'll say not! But what you called halfway was all but the..."

"Hold it! Hold it, for Christ's sake!" Ward interrupted her. "You gotta tell everybody?"

His wife shrugged good-naturedly. "Why not?"

"Awww, come on!"

"Oh, all right. Anyhow, maybe we could just dance for a while -- or play some kind of strip game -- or something..." she finished lamely.

The notion of taking off her smock in front of the others sent a knife of hot excitement stabbing upward from Myra's cunt. If she got that far, she realized, there would be no stopping.

Jim objected thoughtfully. "Hell, we've seen each other in the raw. Wouldn't be the first time. And what's dancing going to prove?"

No one commented. It was obvious that Jim was going to propose an alternative.

He did. "Halfway? Let's take turns letting everybody work on us. I mean, no screwing, but work off some of the pressure by group-grope."

"On one person at a time?" asked Bonnie doubtfully. "Everybody on one person at a time?"

"Right! Why not? Each one take a turn at being tied down while the rest of us make that one come by feeling him or her up!"

Myra's gasp was lost in a flurry of grunts and groans. Jim's scheme had obviously hit all of them hard.

"Oh, no!" she murmured in a panicky tone. "Good God, no!"

But Rocky appeared to have recovered from his initial shock. "Jesus! Why not? Come on, think about it!"

She was startled at the eagerness in her husband's expression. She realized abruptly that he had stopped considering the other two women. He was thinking only of how his wife would look and how she would react. He wanted her to agree!

She drew a long, tremulous breath. "All right," she whispered. "If you think it would be fun, honey."

Leanne made a faint whimpering sound.

Bonnie cringed. "You'd really do it, Myra?"

Myra nodded slowly. She felt giddy. There seemed to be an enormous pressure in her head and chest, and a ringing in her ears. She was terrified, but she would submit, because Rocky wanted her to.

"Well, okay," Bonnie swallowed hard. "If you can, I guess I can too."

Leanne struggled to speak. No sound got past her lips. At last she nodded silently.


Myra struggled to fill her lungs. The hunger that had kept her mouth dry and her body tingling had overpowered her common sense, she reflected. Now, when it was too late, she thought she knew what had produced that air of tension among them. Pulsegate perched at the tip of a headland that projected into the Pacific on a wild, lonely section of the coast. Bonnie's uncle had bought his land at a time when railroads and highways into the area had been nonexistent; without transportation, and with the heavy forests and deep brush choking the valleys, people had probably felt there were easier places to farm and build towns.

This stretch of the coast had remained unchanged. There were hardly more than a handful of inhabitants within a forty-mile radius of the secluded retreat, and Walter had apparently done nothing to encourage the interest of his distant neighbors. Now, the three couples were reacting to their insulated privacy. But they must have been ready, she thought; they must have been awfully close to breaking the restraints, if they could throw them off so easily.

Just as she'd been ready to jump at Jim's unthinkable suggestion. Her throat ached with fear and anticipation. She was going to take part in something totally foreign to her whole concept of right and wrong. Somehow, that merely added intensity to the excitement. She had learned as a child that nothing is as thrilling when it is accepted as when it is a violation of the rules. And some of the most deeply ingrained rules were to be broken tonight.

There was a brief flurry of preparation. Bonnie sent Ward upstairs to get some of her nylons. She even laughed a little, her voice taut.

"Wondered when I packed them why I should," she admitted. "Nothing to wear them for out here." She took a deck of cards from one of the drawers in the kitchen cabinet. "Rocky, how about shuffling? We can cut for who goes first."

Rocky riffled the deck. Ward returned with the nylons and dumped them in a heap on the table. His eyes gleamed and he glanced wolfishly from one of the women to another. Myra shivered at the way he ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. She approached the table, where Rocky was spreading the cards face down.

"Low card's it," muttered Rocky.

The four of spades gave Myra a sharp sense of relief. She wouldn't be the first one, anyhow; somebody was sure to get a lower card than that.

Leanne squealed with delight. "An ace! Look, everybody, I drew an ace!" She waved the ace of hearts excitedly in the air.

Rocky simply tipped one card face up on the table -- the ten of diamonds. Jim exposed the ten of spades.

"Go ahead, babe," Ward said to Bonnie.

Bonnie shook her head in a tight, jerky motion. "You first," she insisted to her husband.

Ward shrugged. He seemed tense as he flipped over a card. It was a six, and Myra became aware of beads of perspiration that glistened on his forehead.

Ward looked steadily at Bonnie. "All yours, baby."

As if she were in a trance, Bonnie extended her hand. She kept the face of her card concealed, shielding it with both hands while she peaked. Then she glanced at Myra.

"You... we..." Bonnie gulped. "Everybody else's cards are out," she whispered. "What's yours, Myra?"

Poor thing, thought Myra. So scared. It's a cinch yours is lower than my four. "Four of spades," she murmured, showing Bonnie the card.

Bonnie gasped, then shrieked. She began to gyrate wildly around the room, waving her own card above her head. "A five!" she shrieked. "I got a five!"

"Oh, noooo..." Myra felt chilled. The safe four had proved itself a traitor. "My God, that means I'm it!" She darted panic-stricken glances at the others.

Rocky sidled closer. "It's okay, puss!" he whispered. "It'll be like that first dive into the surf. The minute you're in, the water feels great."

"Oh, Rocky! I'm so scared!"

"Nawww! You're going to have fun!"

"Rocky... you really want me to? Is it going to be fun for you? I mean, with me being... being..." The words seemed to stick in her throat.

He nodded, enthusiasm obvious in his expression. "You bet! Christ, puss!" He winced, and she realized he was squirming. "Christ, yes! Already got an ache in my balls!"

"Oh, Rocky! Shhh!"

"Let's start out with clothes on!" said Jim eagerly. "Hey, Myra, can you get your arms out of the sleeves without taking that thing off?"

"No! I mean, I don't know!" she heard herself wailing. Things were happening too fast.

"Sure you can," Rocky insisted. "Come on; I'll help."

She turned numbly away from the others and unbuttoned the top three buttons of the smock. With Rocky's help, she twisted to free her arms from the sleeves, then fastened the buttons again. The smock cut tightly under her arms, and there was no way to fasten the top button.

"Oh, dear! Is it all right this way, Rocky?" she asked.

He grinned hungrily. "Great! Just great! You're okay, puss!"

Jim and Ward had taken advantage of the pause to place sofa cushions down the middle of the table. They stood back, now, and gazed expectantly at Rocky and Myra.

"You ready, baby?" asked Ward.

Myra felt a flush of dry heat spreading over her skin. She licked her lips, trying vainly to moisten them.

"All ready!" exclaimed Rocky. "Right, puss?"

"Oh, Rocky! Rocky!" she hated herself for the way her voice croaked.

Rocky swept her into his arms and crossed to the table. She trembled violently when he laid her on the cushions. Her lower legs were unsupported, letting her feet dangle. She clutched desperately at the edges of the cushions and felt her nails bite into the coarse fabric.

"Oh, no!" she whispered, shutting her eyes. "Oh, God, no!"

Horror seeped through her at the sensation of nylon being looped around her ankles and wrists. She moaned softly and turned her head from side to side. Like her wilder fantasies and dreams, this would end with her recovering awareness, but it seemed so terribly real at the moment. But the writhing of her guts and the pressure in her lungs served as unceasing reminders that she was experiencing something real.

"Oh!" she gasped explosively as firm hands parted her legs. "Eee! Mph!" She refused to open her eyes.

Someone seized her waist and pulled her closer to the end of the table while others continued to spread her legs. Her heels were pressed against the table legs and she felt the nylon bite into her ankles as quick fingers tied each stocking. Even while she tried to squirm into a less strained position, hands caught at her arms and extended them sideways and back past her head. In moments, the loops tugged at her wrists and she knew they had finished tying her.

Spread-eagled, she was thrust upward by the cushions while the backs of her knees pressed the edge of the table and the backs of her hands rested on the smooth table top. Tension seemed to arch her body upward, making her breasts protrude and forcing her lower abdomen indecently out.

"Omigod!" she whispered. "Not like this! Oh, not this way!" She jerked hopelessly at her bonds, realizing instantly that they were secure and unyielding. "Oh, pleeease!" She imagined momentarily she was the sacrificial victim at the peak of one of the Mayan pyramids, then forcibly rejected the fantasy as too terrifying.

Hands began to stroke her upper arms and thighs. She finally opened her eyes, unable to resist curiosity. All three men bent over the table as they caressed her, and she saw Bonnie and Leanne join them. The two women appeared to be struggling with themselves; they were clearly excited, but both seemed uneasy, as if wondering what it was going to be like when their turns came.

Fear and embarrassment welled in Myra, but the sensations produced by gentle hands were firing her suppressed excitement. Tendrils of pleasure were wriggling through her like barbed threads of fire. Delicious pulses of excitement made her belly jerk and snapped her thighs taut. Her breath hissed between her parted lips in soft sighs that expressed enjoyment of the bizarre situation.

She noted in vague awareness that no one was feeling under the smock. Their hands reached the material and rubbed her through it, instead. The textured cotton whispered against her flesh, arousing hungry response from her tightly stretched muscles.

Rocky rubbed in small circles on her lower belly. Jim used both hands, stroking unhurriedly over the fronts of her upper thighs. Ward leaned in from the side, one arm across her, and kneaded her hips, his fingers driving under her to squeeze her asscheeks. Leanne lovingly caressed Myra's upper arms, again and again letting her fingers trail over the sensitive contours of her armpits and onto her ribs. And Bonnie used her fingertips to trace the lines of Myra's jaw and throat.

Myra found that she could separate the competing sensations only part of the time. For the most part, they seemed to blend into a throbbing, irresistible pleasure that raced unchecked over her entire body.

Her embarrassment was fading and the fear was gone. The gentleness of the caresses reminded her constantly that everyone at the table loved her and wanted to make her feel good. Reassurance relaxed her and pushed her into deeper awareness of her reactions.

"Ooo! Ahhhh!" The exclamations seemed to be wrenched from her as Bonnie's hands slipped onto Myra's breasts. "Good God, Bonnie!"

The slender brunette worked her long, slim fingers over the rounded slopes and across Myra's compressed nipples. Then she unfastened one button, then another.

Myra squirmed at the sudden release of pressure. She felt her breasts expand and glanced down at the smooth fullness of their inner curves. She looked at Bonnie and noted the other's continued dissatisfaction.

"Not enough," Bonnie commented. "Honey, you've got really good boobs!" She reached for the next button.

"Don't!" whispered Myra. "Not yet. Please?"

Bonnie grinned. She seemed to have worked off her own apprehension and uncertainty. She was obviously enjoying the game thoroughly. "You're just too damn good to keep covered up like this, honey." She ignored Myra's weakening protests and loosened two more buttons.

The upper part of the smock separated at the front and settled to the sides. It fell free of Myra's breasts and ribs to leave the soft mounds naked. Peach-tinted nipples projected above pale flesh. Her position made the mounds flatten and spread under their own weight, and they bulged at the other sides. Their awkward form heightened Myra's consciousness of her position and the gleaming highlights focused her attention on the lighting. The brilliance of the overhead chandelier, centered over the table, forced itself into prominence. She felt suddenly as brightly illuminated as if she were in surgery.

"God, Bonnie! Can't you turn off the chandelier? It's so damn bright!"

Bonnie laughed softly. "On you, that looks good, honey. You got nothing to hide!"

"Oh, dear," Myra subsided. Pleading would do nothing for her, and she was determined not to draw attention to her renewed embarrassment.

Bonnie leaned forward to clutch Myra's left breast with both hands. "You take the other one."

Leanne giggled self-consciously and glanced into Myra's eyes as if to reassure herself Myra would not be angry. With an apologetic, embarrassed expression, she touched Myra's right breast. "Ooh, you're warm!" she exclaimed. Her fingers probed experimentally at the soft, yielding flesh.

Myra rolled her eyes back and gasped. The sensation of two pairs of hands manipulating her boobs was a novel one. The intensity of the resulting surge of pleasure caught her unprepared and made her arch her back sharply.

"Mmmmmm... oooo, that feels good!" she moaned softly, then bit her lip.

"Ooo, it feels so funny!" Leanne kneaded carefully, as if afraid she was going to hurt Myra. But even in her uncertainty, her fingers seemed to possess an instinctive skill at finding the most sensitive, pleasurable locations and pressures.

Bonnie appeared to be as uncertain as Leanne but less fearful of hurting their captive. She massaged firmly and confidently, pressing inward on the bulges and letting her thumbs imprison the hardening nipple.

Myra jerked first at one wrist, then the other, her shoulders twisting and her head swinging from side to side. The delicious heat that was building in her boobs seemed to race through her and collect in her cunt, and the inner tendons in her thighs worked with convulsive, irregular spasms.

The men's hands grew more insistent. Blunt fingertips probed and squeezed at her belly and sides, and somebody seemed to be kneading her thighs vigorously. She became dimly aware that someone was unfastening the button over her navel, and she squirmed helplessly while one button after another came undone. Her smock slid gradually further open; she felt its treacherous friction at her sides, then at her hips, and suddenly the hem, which had cut deeply into the outer sides of her thighs, let go and fell away. In a mixture of terror and fierce lust, she struggled to raise her head. She stared open-mouthed past the hands that caressed her boobs. Her belly gleamed palely, drum taut from the stretched position of her arms and thighs. Her lower abdomen formed a gently rounded dome, and the wheat tones of her pubic hair glimmered. She was horrified at the way her thighs sloped outward and down away from her hips; she realized her cunt was distended and jutting -- an open invitation to the searching fingers of the men.

The picture her naked body presented overpowered her with its suggestion of lewd eagerness, and she let her head sink back. "Omigod!" she whispered. A groan bubbled on her lips.

She had gazed long enough to know Jim had positioned himself between her knees, and she was certain it was he who was now working his thumbs upward along the inner depression along her thighs toward her cunt. Her husband had been on her left and Ward on her right, but she found it impossible to distinguish between their hands as they fondled her belly and worked their fingers into the tangled mass of her pubic hair.

She cried out with pleasure when she felt Jim's thumbs press at her labia. "Eeyaghhh! Mmmm, yes! Gooood!" Her asscheeks winked, and her hips jerked upward. She pushed the backs of her thighs hard against the edge of the table and elevated her pelvis.

Jim stroked the outer surfaces of her cunt, his rough skin catching on fine hair and sliding back and forth in a regular rhythm that drew moans of happiness from her.

"Don't look, Jim. Please don't look!" she whispered. Somehow it seemed all right for him to play with her cunt if he refrained from looking at it. But another quick peek destroyed her hopeful optimism; he was obviously intent on the appearance of the flesh he was caressing. She dropped back with a shudder. "Oh, Jim! Ohhh, Jim!"

His caresses worked gradually inward. She felt a growing tension in her labia and knew they were swelling and opening under her increasing excitement. A sensation of heat, deep inside her cunt and spreading to her cunt-mouth, warned her that she had begun to ooze wetness in response to the delight she felt. She twisted, hot and eager.

Bonnie bent to put her mouth to Myra's breast. She lipped the rigid nipple, her lips feeling soft and moist to Myra as they closed on the puckering sides of the stiff little lump. Myra inhaled sharply and felt a rush of giddiness. Too many things were happening at once for her to brace herself. Bonnie licked at the top of the nipple and chewed gently, her teeth hard and smooth on the quivering tit.

Leanne's fingers stopped massaging, and Myra saw the black-haired beauty eyeing Bonnie's actions.

"Feels good, doesn't it, dear?" Leanne gazed thoughtfully into Myra's contorted face.

"Yes!" whispered Myra. "Oh, God, yes!"

"Doesn't it make you feel funny to have women playing with you?"

"Unhhh! Ooh, yes! But you're both awful good! As if you knew exactly what would feel best!" Myra was startled to realize how deeply she had resented having the women taking part. There was something right and natural in having the men paw at her. In a way, it had seemed inevitable. Give a gang of men a helpless female, and they were bound to start grabbing. But to be fondled by other women had seemed humiliating. The fact she was no longer irritated by the feminine attention puzzled her. Still, she was too inflamed now to make any effort to sort out her confused emotions. "It feels strange, but I can't help the way it makes my body feel."

Leanne smiled tenderly and imitated Bonnie. She caught Myra's other nipple in her mouth and sucked, her tongue playing over the tingling button while Myra tilted her head back and moaned with delight.

Jim's thumbs parted the swelling labia and began to glide through the thick wetness that coated their inner slopes. Myra jerked her hips eagerly. She was no longer able to sort her feelings; if she was embarrassed, her embarrassment merely intensified her excitement. If she was conscious of the violation of convention, the consciousness added a delicious sense of wickedness. If her modesty was being shredded, her lewd position and movements spiced the welter of pleasurable sensations. She abandoned herself to her excitement and writhed furiously.

Ward's face appeared abruptly above hers. He bent over her and gazed hungrily. "Jesus, what a woman!" he exclaimed softly. "Why the hell didn't we ever try this before?"

"You're saying that to make me feel good," she mumbled through clenched teeth. "Ward? Aren't you disgusted with me, the way I'm acting?"

"Disgusted! For Christ's sake! Why should I be?"

"But I'm just like a whore! I mean..."

"Bullshit! Wouldn't find a whore squirming around like you are!"

"Really, Ward? You don't..."

"Most exciting kind of sex I ever got tangled up in."

He pressed his mouth to hers. With a gulp, she caught at his lips. They were wet and thick, and their warmth sent a glow racing over her. She sucked greedily at them while her body leaped and twisted. His tongue came out; she drew it deep into her mouth and opened her jaws widely. Ward probed at the inside of her mouth and the tip of his tongue thrust into the arch of her throat. It was the next thing to getting fucked, she reflected. It was mouth-fucking, and it ought to be called that instead of all the other things they called it. His tongue was an oral cock poking deep into her oral cunt. The mixing of their saliva was the copious eruption of jism, and when she swallowed it, desperately, it was inconceivable that she wasn't swallowing gobs of semen.

The erratic, fluttering stabs of pleasure that had made her squirm changed to hard, driving jolts. Her excitement had suddenly become an all-consuming passion, and she felt her muscles jerking powerfully. At the small of her back, convulsive twisting pulled fiercely at her frame and raised her. Her asscheeks hardened and relaxed spasmodically, bouncing on the cushion. Her widespread thighs swung vigorously inward and outward while Jim's thumbs worked their way continuously deeper into her slit.

She stared fixedly at the strong, male jaw that blocked her vision and gulped feverishly at the thrusting male tongue. In her passion, she regretted suddenly that she was sucking at Ward's tongue instead of mouthing his cock. Powerful waves of affection overwhelmed her with desire to make everybody feel as good as she felt.

A persistent throbbing above her pussy captured her attention. Distractedly, she tried to identify the feeling. At last, she realized Rocky was rubbing the soft layers of flesh that surrounded her clitoris. Even as she isolated the delicious rush of sensation, she felt Jim's fingers groping at the rim of her cuntmouth.

She wondered fleetingly if a woman could be overstimulated -- if the separate waves of pleasure could reinforce each other so intently as to overload her nervous system and destroy her. The thought died almost as soon as it arose; she felt too terribly good to waste effort on doubts. She had lost the power to respond to distractions, but could only react to the surging flood of excitement.

Jim's thumb drove suddenly and brutally into her cunt, his knuckle stretching her cuntmouth and the webbing between thumb and forefinger pressing hard on her anus as his fingers clutched at her ass.

"YEEEAAGHHHHH!" she shrieked, the sound bubbling around Ward's deeply thrust tongue.

With new ferocity, she sucked at the thick tongue and tensed her thighs to drive her cunt harder onto the harsh intruder. Rocky stripped back the hood of her clitoris with the fingers of one hand and stroked the side of the throbbing organ with those of the other. The waves of pleasure that had washed her turned to violent, hot walls of sensation so intense she could no longer tell whether she felt excitement or agony. Her body was completely out of control; she thrashed mindlessly on the cushions, wrenching at the nylons as she rocked from side to side...

A great tension gathered abruptly in her belly, its heat a buzzing vibrancy that erupted into tremors she couldn't quiet. She felt as if she were vainly trying to engulf teasing organs at both ends; she was trying to swallow Ward's tongue, her own tongue dragging wildly at it, and to pull Jim's whole hand into her aching cuntmouth.

Hard, fierce contractions seized her vagina and she rocked to the savage rhythm of orgasm. After a bare moment's reluctance to the idea of reaching a climax, she flung herself into it in a paroxysm of delight.

"Mmm-mm-mmmm!" she grunted heavily into Ward's mouth with each contraction. Her body caught the tempo and jerked in a great spasm each time a new contraction caught at her cuntmouth. She was vaguely conscious that Bonnie and Leanne were timing their greedy sucking to her spasms. And the terrible intensity of the clitoral massage continued to drive the force of her orgasm higher.

After what seemed an eternity of tossing in the grip of her pleasure, her responses collapsed. The rubbing at her clitoris became sheer torture, and Ward's tongue seemed to choke her. She struggled frantically to free herself from the intolerable sensations, panic gathering as her helplessness overshadowed everything else.

As if sensing her growing terror, Ward drew back and Rocky took his hand away from her clitoris. She sagged, thankful and spent.


"Omigod!" she whispered. "Omigod, I came so hard!"

Bonnie released her nipple and straightened. Leanne sucked for a moment longer, then she, too, backed away. Jim's thumb stayed in Myra's cunt, and she startled herself by squirming gently on the embedded digit.

"Unh! I didn't mean to do that!" she exclaimed with a sense of wonder. "What the hell's wrong with me?"

Rocky came around where she could see him. "Puss, you're grade A!" he told her feelingly. "Christ! We've never done anything as exciting as this!"

"Brrr!" she shivered. "I'm scared as hell, honey! You guys are making a savage out of me!"

"Huh?" He looked pleasantly curious. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, honey! I feel awful!"

"Hurt? Mad?"

"No! All sex! Oh, God, I must be a nymphomaniac! I'm almost as excited as I was before I came!"

"Want to go again!" Rocky beamed, obviously understanding what it was that was troubling her.

"Yes! Oh, honey, I'm awful!"

He laughed. His voice shook, and she stared wonderingly at him as realization dawned that he was having difficulty controlling himself.

"Honey!" she exclaimed. "You're..."

He nodded and grinned self-consciously. "I'm damn near ready to explode!" he admitted. "Look, let's not be a bunch of chickens! We've got a good thing going!"

Myra tensed. She knew what her husband was getting at, and she had a sinking certainty she would jump at his suggestion. "Honey?" she whispered.

"Why not all the way?" he asked, words tumbling eagerly. "How much more intimate can it get?"

"Oh, please, honey!" she protested weakly, fighting the urge to scream out in support of Rocky's proposal.

"Why not, puss?" Rocky stared into her eyes.

She was certain he could see her longing behind them. With a low moan of desire, she let her lips tremble and returned his stare with sick hope. He seemed to shake off what little doubt he'd had.

"Come on!" he said sharply. "What the hell are we doing standing around with our clothes on!"

In a sudden flurry of motion, the three men and both women jerked their clothes off. Myra stared, wild excitement tearing at her. To her surprise, Rocky's cock looked shorter than either of the other two. It was thick and powerful-looking, and she trembled at the memory of the way it filled her, but Ward's was longer, even though not quite so fat. Jim's frightened her. He was slender to the point of boniness, he should have had a skinny hard-on. Instead, he reminded her of a horse. His cock was easily an inch longer than Ward's, and she was positive it must be as thick as her wrist. Perversely, she had a sudden hunger to be impaled on the grotesque instrument.

She gulped. Such a desire must be a kind of disloyalty to her husband, she thought. With a deep groan, she turned her head and shut her eyes. The need for Jim's cock was a horrifying kind of sickness. But she heard Rocky's voice, tight and hoarse.

"Myra? Puss? Come on, puss, let's really share! How about it?"

She opened her eyes and studied him. "You really do want to, don't you?"

He nodded. His jaw bulged.

"Oh, honey! All right, honey," she whispered, then writhed with shame.

"Jim? You game?" asked Rocky of their friend.

"Okay with you, babe?" Jim asked Leanne.

Leanne's eyes were wide and her expression seemed scared to Myra.

"Would that mean... I mean, would I be..." Leanne swallowed and cringed. "Who..."

Bonnie stirred. "Oh, God!" she said in a low tone. "An orgy! You got the guts, Leanne?"

Leanne nodded wordlessly.

Bonnie laughed, a shrill, nervous explosion of sound. "Ward, you'd like that, wouldn't you!"

Ward growled deep in his throat and stared at Leanne, his eyes narrow and greedy. "Christ, yes!"

Bonnie glanced at Rocky. Myra felt a twinge of jealousy at the way their gazes locked. But consciousness of what she was to get from Jim swept the momentary resentment away.

Without further discussion, everyone seemed to focus on her. Jim loosened and retied the stockings that held her wrists, giving her considerable slack in her arms. She had thought he was releasing her, and when she realized her mistake she objected.

"How come?" she demanded. "How come, Jim?"

He flushed. "Hate to admit it, but there's something about having you helpless that really turns me on! You don't mind that much do you?"

"I... I guess not," she whispered. She knew he would be gentle with her. It would be a little bit like her fantasies of being raped. Maybe she'd like it better than simply making love. "No!" she said, correcting herself. "No! I don't mind!"

Jim returned to her legs. Leaning over her and seizing her waist, he pulled her toward him. By the time her arms were taut again, her butt was at the end of the table. She could feel the hard edge through the compressed cushion. He disappeared from her field of vision and untied her ankles. The weight of her legs arched her back deeply, and she cried out.

But Jim lifted her legs and laid her ankles on his shoulders. She winced as she stared at the huge cockhead that protruded above her pubic hair.

"Dear God, Jim! Will it go in?"

He grinned broadly. "Shall we find out?"

"Yes! Omigod, yes! Please!"

He seized the bulky shaft in his hand and pushed down to force his cockhead to the level of her cunt. She felt the bulging dome settle into the depression around her cuntmouth, the thick wetness of her cunt making the contact slippery and fiercely exciting.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Jim! Push gently!"

He leaned against the rigid cock. Pressure mounted at her cuntmouth and she felt her rim stretching as it slid outward before the wedging action of his cockhead.

"Oh! Ah! Push, honey, push!" she pleaded.

The pressure continued to increase. The rounder cockhead settled deeper and deeper into the gulping embrace of her cuntmouth. She opened her mouth wide, as if that would somehow help her cunt to stretch. As the huge cockhead continued to open her, she began to be afraid she couldn't hold its full diameter. But there was an abrupt relaxing of the taut rim and she knew she had taken him.


He swung his hips forward smoothly. His shaft plunged into her. The massive cockhead plowed the length of the spongy barrel of her vagina. She felt gloriously full. Her throat seemed to swell sympathetically, and she thrust onto the plunging shaft as if to engulf it even faster.

"AGHHH!" she cried out in ecstasy. "UMMMMM! OOOOO!"

His pelvic pad slammed against her distended cunt to flatten soft tissues and impale her on wiry strands of his pubic hair. He bent forward, forcing her legs back over her, and grabbed her tits in strong hands.


Jim laughed. He dug his fingertips into her boobs and crushed the base of his cock into the elastic pad of her cuntmouth. "Right on, babe!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Let's fuck!"

But Myra held her hips motionless. The initial shock of fullness had faded, leaving a delicious, stuffed feeling, and she allowed herself to wallow in pleasure. The pressure at her cuntmouth seemed to spread in ripples across her pussy and along her thighs. She was conscious of the prickly contact between her asscheeks and the fronts of his bristling thighs, and of the sweaty pressure of his shoulders against the backs of her ankles. Her boobs throbbed, and her gut churned around the deeply buried cockhead.

Giddy with pleasure, she twisted to see what her husband was doing to Bonnie. To her horror, she discovered that the tall blonde had sunk to her knees and clasped her arms around Rocky's thighs. Her mouth was over the end of his cock; there was nothing to be seen of the enormous cockhead, but Bonnie's lips encircled the shaft behind the awesome rim and her cheeks caved in rhythmically as she sucked.

A great tremor shook Myra; only in her wildest fantasies had she let herself imagine doing such a thing. But excitement hardened her belly and puckered the inside of her mouth. When she had sucked Ward's tongue, she had wished it were a cock. Perhaps she had reached a point where she could thrill someone that way. She was struck at her husband's expression of bliss.

She noticed that Ward had dropped onto one of the straight chairs, sprawled with his legs extended and one ankle crossed over the other. Leanne straddled him, her boobs jouncing and her hair a shimmering, blue-black cloud around her head as she pumped herself up and down on his long cock.

Her own cunt tightened involuntarily, and Myra gasped. "Jim! Oh, Jim! Don't wait any longer! Let's fuck, honey!"

His hips began to stroke back and forth. She felt the brutal cockhead pumping the length of her vagina, her organs jostling around it, and the heavy, slick shaft washboarding her cuntmouth. Great shivers of pleasure caught at her, and she jerked fiercely at the loops that held her wrists. Gulping and sobbing with excitement, she used the leverage of her legs to add a pumping motion of her own. Her pussy battered against the root of Jim's cock and huge waves of pleasure washed over her.

"Jim... Jim, darling... harder! FASTER, JIM! HARDER!"

"UNH! UNH!" Jim grunted as he smashed against her. He released her boobs and gripped her thighs.

She surged back and forth on the cushions before his blows. Her boobs swayed drunkenly, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Fiery sensations flooded her pussy, and the core of her gut seemed to be melting around the continuously stroking cockhead.

"HONEY!" she cried out. "Honey, I'm going to come! I'M GOING TO COME!"

The first contraction clamped her cuntmouth fiercely on his shaft before she had finished warning him. Staring wide-eyed into his sweat-covered face, she saw a fleeting expression of surprise, then a swift, savage flare of intense joy.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed under his breath. "Oh, shit! What a squeeze!" He jerked her to him, flattening the swollen membranes of her cunt on the steely bristles of his pubic hair. His cock pulsed with jerky twitchings. Suddenly, she felt a sharp blow against the inner end of her vaginal passage and a hot pool began to grow inside her. She felt pressure waves as her vaginal walls milked the jerking cock. Her orgasm shook her like a rag doll, and she mumbled incoherently. The room seemed to spin around her, growing brighter and dimmer with her spasms.

The intensity of her orgasm increased with a rush, until she was ready to panic. Then, without warning, the tension began to subside and her faintness passed. She ground her hips, rubbing her pussy on his straining groin. The distinct boundaries of his orgasm faded; maybe the early heat had dropped to her own internal temperature. She became aware of the inevitable softening of the giant prick, and sighed regretfully.

"Happens every time," he murmured wearily, as if he could read her mind.

"Why not?" she asked. "After a workout like that, why not?"

"Glad we fucked?" he asked gently.

"Mmm-hmmm!" She felt herself glow. "Oh, my, yes! Jim, Rocky was right! How come it took us so long to get around to it?"

"Damned if I know. All I can say is, we're lucky as hell we ever did break the block!"

She nodded slowly and gazed at him. "That's right! We might have gone on forever without knowing how dumb we were!"

She heard Bonnie's voice in wildly excited, strangled exclamations. The tall blonde hung upside down against Rocky's belly. Her butt was against him, and he had her thighs locked under his arms so she straddled him, her feet thrust behind him and up. He was bent, his mouth pressed to the writhing woman's pussy. Myra peered closely; his cock looked limp and slack.

"Jim!" Myra whispered. "She sucked him until he came!"

"Sure did," Jim replied. "But she's getting her turn now!"

Bonnie clutched at Rocky's ankles. Her hair tumbled past her arms and dragged on the floor. Rocky's head bobbed as he chewed at the glistening, pink pussy. Bonnie's hips jerked erratically, and she groaned and gasped continuously.

Myra watched with fascination as the other's belly tightened and began to leap.

"AHHH-AHHH-AGHHHHH!" Bonnie yelled, a low, undulating cry of satiated desire. "ROCKY-ROCKY-ROCKY!"

Rocky drove his face deeper into the churning, steaming mounds of flesh and savaged her with his mouth. Her legs sawed frantically and her toes splayed. She quivered in the grip of a vicious tremor. Her mouth was distended and her eyes bulged. Then she quieted.

"Oh, Rocky!" she said in a muffled voice. "Oh, Rocky, we really showed each other, didn't we!" Rocky grunted and eased her to the floor. She extended one arm to him and he raised her to her feet. Sagging against him, she stared thoughtfully toward Ward. Rocky glanced at Ward and Leanne and grinned.

"Looks like they made it before we finished," he remarked.

Leanne lay against Ward, his arms tightly clasped around her. As if she were asleep, she had her cheek pressed to his chest and her eyes closed. Her legs dangled limply on either side of the chair, and it appeared that she was still impaled on his cock.

Jim pushed Myra further onto the table. His cock slipped out of the enveloping heat of her cunt as he did so, and she grunted in disappointment. She was dismayed at the realization that she had secretly hoped he would remain as he was until he recovered his hard on. While he fumbled at the knotted stockings, she puzzled over the implications of her continuing lust. She had known for a long time that she had a greater capacity for sex than Rocky; one or two orgasms in a night seemed to do him in, while she could absorb all the stimulation he could give her and still long for more. But she had believed the weird game they had played this time would drain her.

Instead, she was already a bundle of raw nerves begging for further satisfaction. She let Jim help her off the table and stood quietly while he massaged feeling back into her arms. The skilled touch inflamed her, and an occasional brushing contact with his body drove daggers of need through her. The intensity of her reactions alarmed her; when Jim released her tingling arm, she bolted through the door into the night.

The breeze of the afternoon had died. The air was still and mild, and the landscape had a ghostly appearance under the slanting rays of the nearly full moon. The brush was black, except on the side facing the moon, where it was a soft, silvery hue. The shadows had no halftones, and the moonlight washed out the texture of the ground, hiding depressions unless they were deep enough to fill with shadow.

She heard Jim's startled shout and Rocky's gentle urging.

Without pausing, she called over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a little bit. I'm all right."

She fled along the path to the beach, slowing when the footing grew rough, then sighing contentedly when she felt the coarse sand against the soles of her feet. She crossed the sparkling beach to a low, flat table of rock. As she had expected, the sandstone still held the heat of the day, and she flung herself onto it and turned over to lie staring at the moon.

"What is it with me?" she asked uneasily, as if expecting a reply from the silent moon. "Is it something about you? Does a full moon really make people get primitive?" She knew that was ridiculous. "Hell, you're full once every month! I don't get this way every time. So why now? How come I don't feel like I had enough?"

She gazed along the soft contours of her body. Her pubic hair created a jumble of fine shadows; instead of looking nearly blonde, it looked like a lacework of silver filigree over a pool of black. She caressed the sides of her clitoris tenderly and moaned.

"What difference does a reason make?" she asked herself. "I'm still hot, and that's all there is to it."

She heard a scuffing sound and sat halfway up. Soldier padded across the sand toward her, sniffing as he came. She laughed throatily.

"Oh, it's you! Why the hell didn't you knock?"

The great dog stopped and raised his head. He appeared to study her, and she tensed as she recalled how little desire he had shown to accept their friendship. As if secure in his prior interest in Pulsegate, he had seemed barely to tolerate them.

Her momentary concern faded, however, when Soldier simply continued to observe her. She decided he was unlikely to attack, since he had neither growled nor barked.

"Besides," she remarked, "why should you get mad at me?" She sat up and stretched deliberately, twisting herself as if performing for Rocky. "After all, now that you're here, I can pretend, can't I?"

Half in fantasy, half in defiant mockery, she dropped back to the warm, gritty surface and posed. The dog was only a dog, she reflected. Posturing meant nothing to him. But he was a male animal, and she could pretend. Safe in the knowledge he wouldn't respond, she could fantasize to her heart's content. Maybe she could work off some of the excess erotic drive by imagining.

She rested her ass on the edge of the rock and sprawled on her back, arms outflung. The sandy surface had a pleasingly harsh feel to her back. She squirmed sensuously and pampered herself by permitting low moans of enjoyment to slip past her throat.

She felt the fur at the side of Soldier's head brush the inner side of her knee.

"Well!" she exclaimed, glancing along her belly at him. "Curious about the pussy smell? Go ahead! Sniff!" She giggled. "It isn't exactly the same, but if a male wants to nuzzle my pussy, it's fine with me."

He sniffed. Her butt flinched at the first contact of the wet nose with her labia, but she chortled and steadied herself, straining her knees apart. It wasn't the sort of thing she'd ordinarily submit to, she assured herself. A woman just didn't let dogs go around sniffing like that. But tonight was different. Let him sniff.

To her startled delight, he licked tentatively.

"Oooh! You going to give it a bath?"

The tongue stroked along the rounded surfaces of her labia in slow, measured caresses. She could feel the barbed surface straightening and cleaning the hairs of her cunt and stripping dried residue from the underlying skin. The sensations were amazingly pleasant; thrills of excitement pierced her with each stroke.

"Hey, all right!" she exclaimed softly. "Mmmm! That's pretty good!"

He seemed to be intent on collecting the remnants of her earlier sexual encounter. Having apparently removed the traces from one location, he tongued another and another. The outer surfaces of her vulva were soon exhausted of whatever he was interested in, and his tongue wedged its way along her slit, gently stroking the tender inner membranes.

"Good God, Soldier! You don't know it, but you're giving me a bonus! You don't need to think you're going to get another chance to do this, though."

She let her hands rest at the edges of her pubic hair, her fingers aimlessly picking at the fur on Soldier's face. The dog seemed composed and sure of himself. He lapped with unhurried thoroughness, his tongue gentle, rather than rough or brutal. But he displayed a degree of insistence that gave Myra the idea he would persist until he had found the last, hidden trace of moisture.

She knew what was happening to her. She recognized the surging waves of pleasure and understood that they were building on each other that the intimate scouring was raising the level of her excitement and arousing desire. Knowing, she hoped that her own pace would carry her through an orgasm before Soldier lost interest in licking. If he continued with the same deliberation he was now showing, he would make her come with time to spare. And the novelty -- wickedness, she decided -- of the situation would produce a degree of enjoyment in the climax that fantasy and inducing her own orgasm wouldn't have been able to match.

She tried to hold still; if she began moving in response to his touch she might drive him off. But the higher her excitement rose, the more difficult it was to keep control. She knew from experience that her body had involuntary reactions to strong stimuli. It was no surprise to her when she realized her hips had begun a slow, rhythmic undulation. And when Soldier ignored the gentle rise and fall of the playground before his muzzle, she grew less apprehensive about losing his attention.

He worked his tongue continually deeper into her slit. The tension and heat of her labia were clear signs of their swelling; she was well aware that they were spreading apart opening the inner recesses of her vulva and inviting even more intimate penetration of the seeking tongue. She felt as if her entire body had begun to pulse. Waves of heat surged through her, and thrills of pleasure raced over her flesh from toes to scalp. Her nipples stood erect and hard, dark pillars above the silvery, flattened mounds that were her breasts. By raising her head, she could see the flutter of her belly and the nervous jouncing of her widespread knees.

Following the trail of residue, Soldier's tong

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