Gus Stevens - Love Me, Love My Dog

“There we are,” I breathed.

From over her shoulder she cooed, “Thank you.”

Her shimmy began then and after a minute they barely clung to her loins. She stopped, waiting, looking back at me in invitation. “Want to do the honors, Mr. B.?”

“May I?”

“Certainly you may.”

I plucked at her hips and the shorts dropped to Trudy's feet. Kicking like a placement expert, she lofted them to a point atop a bush. Lifting her chin to Mary Ellen, she cooed, “That, my dear, is show business, not an amateur act such as you put on.”. Mary Ellen was a fighter and she came right back, bumping against Trudy, her breasts like battering rams. “Why don't we have it out right now, Miss Flat Chest? I'll knock your brains out and then Mr. Brady and I can do what we both know we want to do.”

Trudy lips curled on one side and she didn't retreat an inch, instead thrusting her own chest against Mary Ellen's booming charge. “Come on, moose. I'll out-maneuver you until you won't know which end's up.”

They began their struggle and, from the pool, the others paused to watch. Slowly, as the contest developed, they emerged from the pool, dripping, the water spattering quietly on the concrete. Stealing a quick glance at the others, I saw that Amy hadn't been idle. Buddy and Johnny were rid of their shorts, their long dongs half hard and waving as they arced before their bodies.

Johnny was hung almost as well as the gigantic Buddy but, even though his frame was taller and larger, he couldn't quite match the over-all size of the king. They stood, side by side, apparently as friendly as ever, even though their girl friends were launching a battle filled with hate. This I was thankful for, because a fight between these two youngsters could mean real bloodshed. The girls, I believed, would provide action enough.

And so it turned out. As we watched Trudy leaped forward, her fists like pistons, and she caught Mary Ellen on the corner of the mouth. An instant later a trickle of blood appeared on her chin, just like in the movies.

Mary Ellen paused, her hand going to her chin and coming away red. She stared at the blood for a moment and then, turning to Alexander, who hovered nearby, the fur standing high on the back of his neck, she offered him her hand. He came forward at once and licked away the red, smacking his chops when he was finished.

Amy and I looked at one another and my wife hugged her breasts, a shudder ripping through her body. What had we started here, I wondered. Whatever it was, I knew it would be wise to put it to rest. I wanted the young people to quarrel, but I didn't want any eyes gouged out.

Trying to step between them, I put my hands out like a fight referee, but they wouldn't break. Mary Ellen thudded her hands down on my forearms, shoving them aside like they were jackstraws.

“Out of my way, Mr. Brady,” she warned. “No use your getting hurt.”

“Come on,” Trudy hissed, “stop the lecture and fight.”

Mary Ellen swung hard, but her aim was wild and she missed the target completely, whirling about until her back was to the agile Trudy. The little but strong blonde was on her like a cat, catching her from behind.

Her arms shot out and under Mary Ellen's armpits, snaking around her ribs to fasten on her ponderous breasts. Trudy's hands seemed like crickets on a pair of basketballs, so generous were Mary Ellen's knockers. Yet Trudy was able to get a firm grip, her hands covering each nipple as she hit right on target.

Mary Ellen's face contorted and she wanted to cry out, I knew, but she refused to make a sound. Instead she shoved her buttocks back hard, knocking Trudy off balance and the grip on the heavier girl's breasts was lost.

Again they faced each other and this time Mary Ellen jumped first, her knee shooting forward to catch Trudy in the pit of the stomach. She doubled over, gasping, her hands clutching her belly, and Mary Ellen moved closer, reaching under the bent form to attach her nails to Trudy's crotch. Her hands sank into the soft fur and she squeezed until tears filled Trudy's eyes.

That was enough for me and I got behind Mary Ellen wrapping my arm around her throat and straightening her. It was easy to lift her feet from the concrete and she lost her grip, coming away with me as I backed up several feet. Recovering, Trudy tried to rush forward, but the two boys each took an arm, restraining her.

Mary Ellen began to cool off, her tremendous breasts heaving less, their nipples losing some of their pointed look as her aroused blood coursed less vigorously. I let go of her and Amy joined me between the two girls.

“Let's quit this nonsense,” I demanded, “or the party will be off right now. You'll all be sent out of here never to return.” I looked both directions. “The decision is yours. Shake hands and be friends or go do your fighting somewhere else.”

They stood for perhaps three minutes before Trudy came forward, her hands out until Mary Ellen took them. “I'm sorry I'm such a bitch,” Trudy murmured.

Tears filled Mary Ellen's eyes and she seemed to shrink to even less than her five-foot height under Trudy's tenderness. Cooing softly, she allowed Trudy to take her in her arms, hold her closely and then kiss her on the mouth. The kiss was held for some time before it broke and my wife and I exchanged new glances of alarm.

Their lips parted and they smiled into one another's face. Their mouths opened before they touched them together again. Now Trudy was clinging to the heavier frame of Mary Ellen, forcing those ponderous breasts against her own until the white hills of flesh were flattened.

I could hear their breathing begin to whistle through their nostrils and I turned to the boys. They were grinning at the show all over again, winking at me.

“Don't worry, Mr. Brady,” Buddy exclaimed. “They do this a lot. It doesn't mean a thing.”

I glanced at Amy and then down at Alexander, who was taking in the entire bizarre drama, from first act to last.

Under his belly the long red pencil had slid back into view.

I don't know whether it was my concentration or the fact that Amy stepped forward, touching each young girl on the shoulder, but they finally broke it up, parting more than good friends, and the party began to return to normal. At least as normal as a party like that one could be.

We ate and drank, smacking our lips over the food as the young people wolfed it down by the pound, and enjoying the liquor. Gin and tonics were popular in the warm afternoon and we killed one bottle, then two, and were well into the third bottle of gin and loving it.

At last Trudy turned to Amy and me, waving her hand for the benefit of the others. “Don't you think it's time the host and hostess got down to the basics?” She looked at her own naked body. “After all, why should they go formal while we're in our birthday suits?”

Amy and I, meeting earlier inside the house, had decided that we could go ahead and cooperate with them. Our earlier plan would hold up all right. That is, we would make ourselves as desirable as possible and in that way hook these kids on us, so that they wouldn't want to be cut off from our pleasures. It was better, we decided, than letting them fight among each other right here.

In other words, we would kill them with kindness and sex, so they'd think very hard before attempting to blackmail us by reporting our parties to the law.

Therefore, when Trudy made her suggestion, I got up at once, extending my hand to Amy. She joined me and, side by side, we prepared to strip away our bathing suits.

“Hey, wait.” This time it was Mary Ellen. “We'll do you. That's part of the game.”

We waited and the girls came to me first. They seemed to dominate the boys in every way, making the decisions, acting first, serving as spokesmen. The boys didn't mind a bit, saving all their strength, apparently, for their sexual adventures. They certainly had the equipment for it and for the past hour their penises had been at least half-hardened at all times. They were carrying guns that were cocked, ready to fire at any targets that presented themselves.