Gus Stevens - Love Me, Love My Dog

Trudy stood at my left and Mary Ellen at my right, like bookends. Trudy rolled back my waistband and loosened the drawstring that held my trunks snugly about my hips. Then they pulled in unison, each at a hip, and my trunks began their slide toward the bottom of the thermometer.

They went over my hips, across my lower stomach and my crop of pubic hair was showing up like a brush forest. Their lips were shining and I could have sworn Mary Ellen was drooling as my suit passed my loins and cleared my once private areas.

My cock shot into view, freed at last, the head whipping out to an erect position as the staff stood horizontally to my body. It had been hard for a long time, aching and perhaps giving itself a bit of a sprain in its cramped position inside my jock. Now new life coursed through it as the surging blood was free to flow its entire length.

“Not bad,” Buddy said, coming forward. “Come on, Johnny, I'll let you help with Mrs. Brady. She's a groovy one.”

“I can see that,” the gangling youth agreed. My wife shot a look at me, moistening her lips, her fingers rolling and unrolling into fists. I tried to smile, to encourage her, telling her it wouldn't last much longer and we'd be free. After this was over we'd lay down the law and go our own way, with people our own age. Mate swapping with the Champions sounded like a completely sane course of action after these bizarre experiences.

The boys untied Amy's bra at the center of her back, lifting it away. Her breasts hung proudly, high and hard, not as large as Mary Ellen's, of course, but every bit as pointed and youthful as Trudy's. They stood back to admire them, clucking to themselves.

“Not bad, considering her age,” Buddy remarked to his pal. “Not bad at all.”

Johnny nodded. “Golly, she's ten years older than Mary Ellen and they're still right up there like headlights.”

Amy made a face. “Thank you, gentlemen, it's good to know I have a little life left in this old body.”

They laughed and stepped back in, working at her hips to untie the red straps that held the bottom of my wife's bikini in place. They made short work of it, pulling it away so that the front and back barely clung to her loins. Then they peeled it from her crotch, holding it up like a scalp trophy.

Amy surprised everybody by blushing and trying to cover herself, which made me feel better. Holding her hands over her crotch, she finally bowed to their entreaties and removed her hands, straightened her legs and planted her feet several inches apart. Her hands went to her hips and she took a deep breath, lifting her chin.

Amy Brady looked wonderful at that moment, like a proud goddess, an untouchable vestal virgin. Her body was magnificent, tanned, except for the white bands at breasts and loins, her breasts high and tipped with pink, her belly flat, her hips flaring in mature fashion, her vagina only partly hidden by the coat of shining brown fur. Her legs were long, straight and tanned to a golden brown.

If my wife were over the hill at twenty-five, as these kids had believed, then it was a damned good-looking hill that I'd just as soon go over myself.

“Hail the queen,” somebody quipped and the others laughed, self-conscious about the lengths to which their admiration had gone.

“Well,” Trudy chirped, rubbing her hands together, “what's on the agenda now?”

Mary Ellen stood before me, her eyes hungry, her lips working. “As far as I'm concerned, he is.” She was looking me right in the eye.

“I appear to be available,” I sighed, letting her take my hand. God, these girls were aggressive.

She led me around the pool, and when Alexander tried to follow, she paused to shake her finger at him. The German shepherd responded as though he'd been carefully trained, tucking his tail between his legs and returning to the others, who were for the moment content to have another drink and another bite of food.

Behind the diving board there was a small enclosed area, partially hidden from the remainder of the yard by a collection of broad-leafed plants so that it could serve as a place to change one's clothing in reasonable privacy. Set into the concrete was a short wooden bench and here Mary Ellen paused, pushing me down on it. She stood over me, looming like an Amazon out of the past, her breasts paraded across her chest like battlefield honors. She was a striking, strong, beautiful and incredibly young woman, yet mature enough to know what she wanted and to know how to get it.

After posing for a moment, she sat at my side and we looked through the foliage. The yard was pretty well shielded from our view, although we could see movement here and there as the others went about their merry-making.

Mary Ellen half turned her body toward me. “All right, I'm ready.” I merely sat and stared, saying nothing.

“Nurse me, please.”

I frowned. “What did you say?”

“Look. Mr. Brady. I'll do whatever you want, but you've got to be nice to me. Now nurse me, right away.”

“What the hell for?”

She shook her head. “Don't you understand? I'm a fully developed woman, even though I'm barely sixteen. Every woman wants to be a mother, I suppose, although my drive seems kind of funny. To me being a mother means having somebody nurse on me. It doesn't matter who they are. Baby or man, it's all the same.” She giggled. “Besides, it makes me hotter than hell, even while I'm playing big mama.”

I swallowed and she turned even more toward me, throwing one leg up on the bench so that her knee shoved into my hip. “I'm ready, little boy.” She said this last in the cooing voice of a loving mother.

I turned, trying to get at her, and found that the best position was to straddle the bench, which I did. This exposed my genitals fully, of course, and her knee was right in there, jiggling me until my balls began to tingle and my cock resumed its fully hard position, sticking out like a foot-long hot dog.

“Very nice,” she mused, “but I still want to be nursed. We'll think of other things later, if you want.”

I smiled. “All right, little mother.”

“There's a good baby,” she cooed, taking my head and pulling it forward until my mouth was rammed into a nipple.

I opened my lips and the huge red thing popped inside, its tip like a lead pencil, stiff with her erotic desire, aching to be serviced like a milk cow. I sucked at the thing for several minutes, while she made small sounds and stroked my head. All through her mother act, however, she continued to move her knee against my groin so that my cock and balls were humming like tuning forks, anxious to be released for active duty.

Then I was moved to the other breast and its nipple quickly assumed the hardness of its twin. Tentatively, I licked at the nipple and my tongue's touch sent a fresh shudder quaking over her so that I could even feel her probing knee tremble.

“You're a sweet baby,” she whispered, kissing the top of my head, as my mouth shifted back to the first breast, where my tongue worked more of its magic.

As I lapped my hands went to her belly, which, for her size, was surprisingly hard and flat, but certainly larger than Trudy's spare little tummy. I explored the folds and presently found myself in the land of plenty, down in the forest of hair, walking through the moist brush that guarded the gates of her treasure house.

“Oh, I like that,” she purred.

“Children don't do that to their mothers,” I chided, my voice as quiet as hers.

“Mine do, baby, mine do. Proceed and keep your lips where they belong. Skip the talking.”

I kept quiet for a while, sucking on, making small moist sounds as the murmuring from the others in the party drifted in to us. I dropped my busy hands into her crotch, shoving my way into the lips and peeling them back like the shells of an oyster. Inside it was moist and hot, of course, and growing more moist by the second as she turned on her spigots to make entry easier.