Barry Lassidy - Her barking stud

The thought of Meat's newly acquired talent made her wonder suddenly why her mother had wanted the dog with her tonight. Sharon had never taken the dog before, and in fact had always resented the mutt's presence … until this morning. She'd had Meat with her during the morning, and then she wanted him with her tonight.

«Is my old lady fucking you, Meat?» she asked speculatively.

Meat wagged his stubby tail

«I'll bet, by God, she did,» Jan said. «What a horny old woman.»

Jan started thinking about her mother and the fucking she knew the old woman did. It wasn't that Sharon was really that much older than Jan, but just that the years had created a gulf between them they'd been unable to bridge. They had nothing to talk about, ever, for Jan didn't want to hear about how big a cock that one had, or how that one sucked her pussy. And that what Sharon discussed with her girl friends over the phone, reliving the fucking of the night before almost before she'd finished her first cup of coffee.

And how many nights, Jan wondered, had she been awakened by sounds of her mother getting fucked just on the other side of the wall that separated their bedrooms. When it first happened, when Jan was a little girl, she didn't know what was going on, and sometimes she thought her mother must be having a bad dream.

But after she learned about fucking, even before she indulged herself she realised the fact that Mom was a horny old bitch who took to bed any male with a cock she could make stand.

She grinned wryly at Meat.

«I'm growing up in a rotten environment, Meat,» she said. «If I had a better home, I probably would never have learned to fuck you. But then, I would have been screwed up in the head some other way.»

Meat wagged his tail approvingly. When she didn't pay any further attention to him, he curled around on the floor in such a position that he could lick his balls. It had been his doing that from which Jan had originally conceived the idea of fucking him, and now they were both more delightfully experienced than they had been just a few days before. Jan reflected that since she'd started fucking, she'd probably fucked more people and animals than most women ever manage to do in their lives. She'd started with the fancy-fucking Davis, then the three-balled banjo-player, and at the orgy, she'd been dicked or licked by Tim Bessemer, Benny O'Boyle, the Garbage Lady, Irish Deirdre, and Santa Cruz Shirley, amongst others she couldn't even name. She'd taken so naturally to fucking it was as though she'd been born to it, for there was no guilt, no destructive self-recriminations, that followed her indulgences. She was, on the whole, terribly satisfied with the kind of girl she was.

«The only problem I have,» she said, transforming her thoughts into a remark directed at the dog, «is that Mom and I just don't have anything to talk about. I don't want to hear what she says about the fucks she's gotten, and I sure as hell can't tell her about the fucks I've gotten.»

But she wished there was something they shared together besides the house her father had built before he split for parts unknown. So often, when only the two of them were home, Jan wished she could talk to her mother … about anything. She felt a deep need to communicate, and right then she'd do anything she had to just to establish something with her mother.

«Shit,» she said, repeating Irish Deirdre's favourite word. «That's not going to happen either. She won't, and I don't know how.»

Purposely pushing such thoughts out of her mind, Jan concentrated on the television, where for yet another time Spot was on the screen with his white-hatted master, trying to sell a tan van with a disabled carburettor. She forced herself to watch the movie that followed, for she had fill the time until Dyed Annie came to pick her up and take, her to the orgy. Jan hoped they closed the bar early and started the fucking soon, for she felt a desperate urge to be held and comforted by someone. So the sooner she could get cock into her body the better.

«I wonder why they call it cock and cunt,» she mused. She pulled her skirt up and looked down at her pussy. The pubic hair was mashed by the crotch of her panties so that it resembled a can full of worms, or perhaps a malaria germ. «Hello, cunt,» she said, and for the next couple of minutes she rolled the word around on her tongue, exploring it in its infinite variety. «Cunt,» she said. «Cunt. Cunt. Cunt.»

But they were not cries. She tried different tones of voice, and noted that with some cunt sounded like a dirty word, while with others it sounded sweet, lovely, and juicy.

«How weird,» she said, forgetting then about fucking and all the other good things, and returning her attention once more to the television. The movie caught her interest, and from then until it was time to go, she was caught up in the doings of an actor she didn't know, but whose large ears and moustache made her pussy tingle with absolute delight, just thinking about what fucking with him would be like.

She couldn't know that whole generations of women had come in their panties watching this same man, called in his part Rhett Butler. Nor did she know she was a watching the last great movie made in America.

But her black mood was in the process of returning, and she said, «Shit, Meat. I feel so rotten, I wish could get laid right now. That would have to make me feel better.»

Fucking, she was sure, was the answer to any and every problem. And in a way, she was right.

By the time the orgy was due to get under way, Jan had recovered her spirits somewhat, though she still wondered just what Dyed Annie had meant. She heard the decrepit VW drive up outside, so she took Meat and went outside. This time Dyed Annie was in a different mood.

«Get in, chick,» she said thickly, «and let's go give those fuckers the fuck of their lives.»

Jan nodded, happy now to be treated with this kind of familiarity, for she could understand talking about fucking. Talking about not fucking made her uncomfortable.

«I'm ready for anything,» Jan said, guiding her dog into the back seat once more.

«What's the dog for?» Dyed Annie asked as she clumsily turned the car around and headed for the bar.

«I'm going to fuck it,» Jan said matter-of-factly.

«I'll be damned,» Dyed Annie said softly. «I never would have thought it.»

They didn't say anything else during the short drive to the bar, but when they got there Dyed Annie parked in back, out of sight of the parking lot. They approached the back door together and were quickly admitted, the door opening silently and closing behind them immediately.

The scene was similar to the one Jan had experienced the night before, but there were more people present. A lot of them Jan didn't know, and she knew even if she were introduced to them, she wouldn't remember their names. So she decided to wait until they introduced themselves by sticking their cocks in her body if they were men, or kissed her pussy, if they were women.

She fastened Meat to a table in the back, next to the dart board, and went into the main part of the bar to see what the action was. Dyed Annie had disappeared once they were inside, and as she made her way through the crowd, she nodded to Benny O'Boyle and Tim Bessemer, both of whom she had fucked happily on several occasions before, and Irish Deirdre, whom she hadn't enjoyed fucking the last time.

Davis pinched her ass and told her they were waiting for somebody special, because there was going to be a special kind of show that night. But since the mistress of ceremonies hadn't shown up, the orgy was going to have to wait awhile.

Jan didn't know what to do with herself, so she slipped off into a corner to wait. She didn't want a drink, and there were just so many people there she didn't know she had no one to talk to. She'd have been willing, right then, to talk to Weird Stanley, but he was busy behind the bar, Davis had disappeared, and Robbie Lester was keeping watch at the back door, waiting for the appearance of the mistress of ceremonies … the chick no one in the place knew was darling Jan's mother.