Paul Gable - Mom and her dog

"Huhrr!"

Dropping one hand away from the animal Hilda put her shaky fingers down to her cunt mound. She felt how soaked she was. She felt Rex's tongue lap her fingers and the sensitive places between them. When she dragged her fingers up her belly, feeling them making cooling streaks. The contrast between the evaporating spit against her hot flesh. That sensation increased the heat of her rushing climax. Oh, it would be wonderful!

"No, horrible, horrible…"

Common sense shot through the woman's confused mind like white lightning. Pushing Rex away Hilda folded one leg over the other, gasping as pre orgasmic spasms tore through her cunt, draining her of most of her power and will.

"No, don't, stop…"

Hilda fell to the carpeting, her fingers clutching at the piling. She crawled toward the kitchen doorway, her thighs flexing as alternate hot and cold rushes made them tighten. He was nipping her shivering flesh, lapping his tongue in a frenzy around her slit. The animal yipped and danced around her feet, licking her toes.

"Ohhhuhhh…"

Hilda turned around and kicked back, feeling an sleepy feeling fall over her. Moving was so hard, so difficult for her now. It was as if she were in a dream. And still her clit burned like a glowing jewel, throbbing and pulsing while her cunt tightened, relaxed, and tightened again. Her gown hung open, tangling in her fingers. She tried grabbing it again but her fingers just couldn't hold onto anything. Her tits pulled at her chest, making her more excited. She had to get away from the animal, run away from him before he fucked her. "Uuuhh!"

Rex had shoved his snout into her steamy cunt, triggering her off into orgasm. Hilda collapsed, her elbows bending, then finally folding completely. The woman curled into a fetal position, jerking and twitching while her pussy throbbed and burned as if someone had poured burning gasoline over it. A firestorm swept up to her twitching nipples while spittle oozed from the corners of her mouth. That damned dog! Oh, how she could have killed him!

"Wawhwhgh!"

Hilda gasped, shoving two trembling fingers into her swollen-open cuntlips. Thrilling spasms of lust rocked her body. The mushy heat of her cunt drove Hilda over the brink. She brayed like a jackass, crying out while the dog whimpered, rubbed his cock against her legs, trying to jack off against her.

"No… ohhhh it's so good," she cried, her eyes closed, her fingers caressing her cumming clit.

When she finally opened her eyes Hilda saw she was on the carpeting, the dog curled up beside her. Oh, she was too old for this sort of thing… too old and too respectable.

Getting up quietly Hilda grasped her cum-stained gown and stepped over the snoozing Doberman. How she wanted to shoot him. But why should she blame him. He was only an animal, following instincts. She had the power of reason, the knowledge of right and wrong, and she'd chosen a perverted path. No, if anyone should be shot it should be her.

Climbing the stairs she made her way to the bathroom, shrugging off her gown and turning on the cold spray of the shower. Hilda concentrated the icy spray on her cunt. She felt shame and confusion with herself.

"Ahhh!"

The woman turned the cold water on her tits and belly. This was going to stop now. She'd put an end to it then and there. Working soap over where the Doberman had licked, she washed it off with warmer water, then wrapped a towel around her body. Yes, she'd shoot the dog before she let him that close to her again. After all, she still had a moral responsibility to raise her daughter properly. And God only knows that would be a full-time job now.

"Hey, sweet tits, lookin' for a little action?"

"Yeah, you look like you need a real man to take care of you."

There was loud laughter as Traci shrank away from the bikers. They were part of the same group she, Emily and Don had spotted earlier as they made their way home. Traci had searched the beach for over two hours, looking for Don in hopes of talking with him. She had to be sure he wasn't going to expose her indiscretion. Near the Venice pier the girl had thought she'd seen Don walking near the boulevard. It was, unfortunately, another man. But in running after him she'd dashed into an alley-like street. To her right she'd spotted an opened garage door where several Harleys were parked. Standing around the big black machines were three bikers drinking beer, staring at the lightly clad teen hungrily.

"I… uh, I was looking for someone. I guess… guess he isn't here," she stammered, feeling her flesh crawl. Traci knew what was on their minds. She could read it in their eyes, see it in their bulging crotches. When one of the men started toward her, she backed away, her eyes rounding with fear.

"Ain't we pretty enough for you?" the tallest one asked ironically, scratching his scraggly black beard.

Traci felt sick. Terror knifed through her as she backed farther away. She searched the windows for faces, someone who might be watching her. But this was Venice Beach. There were always fights, always women screaming about one thing or other in the streets and alleys. No one paid attention to them. Her best bet was to try to talk her way out of this.

"No, that's not it. I'm just not… feeling well. My friend was supposed to…"

"You look pretty fuckin' healthy to me, baby… healthy enough to take a hot cock."

A thickly built blond crushed a beer can, then tossed it at her feet. His white t-shirt was stained with grease and sweat, his hair looking like it hadn't been washed for a week. They were all a motley crew, reeking of beer and sweat and stale perspiration.

"I… I don't think I want to talk any more," Traci said, turning around. She kept her chin up high, walking with sure, steady strides. The sounds of her sandals clopping on the pavement seemed somehow reassuring to the frightened girl as she walked toward Speedway Avenue. Even when she realized someone was behind her Traci thought that if only she could reach the main alleyway she'd be fine.

"I said I think you're pretty healthy enough to fuck," the blond said, his voice thick and threatening. He was holding her by the upper arm, his callused fingers bruising her flesh.

Traci winced, turning around and staring wide-eyed at the young man. He looked so awful, as if he were about to kill her. His broad forehead, thin, sneering lips, broad chest and shoulders all terrified her. Once more the girl looked up and down the alleyway hoping someone would come by and see them. Not a soul passed, however.

"Come on."

"No," Traci protested, angling her ass out and pulling back.

"Hey, Ron!"

The big, dark-haired biker sprang out from the garage and ran down the alleyway. Now Traci was really frightened. They were playing for keeps! She let out a scream, tugging frantically at her imprisoned arm, her feet flailing on the ground while the big blond stud reached over and grabbed her other arm. Her head snapped back, her long, blonde hair splashing over her shoulder blades.

"Shut the fuck up," Ron said, getting behind her and looping one arm around her waist while cupping her mouth with the other.

Traci's eyes widened. She jerked one knee up, trying to kick the blond in the crotch. She missed, hitting her toes hard against his shins. He laughed at her, tightening his grip so much the girl squealed in pain. They were pushing and dragging her down the alleyway back to the garage. Her sandals slipped off her feet as they neared the parked motorcycles. The smell of gasoline invaded her flared nostrils. Traci fought more wildly, her ass pumping back and forth, her thin arms jerking as much as they could. Nothing she did, however, could break Ron's powerful grip.

"Good, Joe," Ron said, grinning at his buddy. They had pulled Traci into the garage while the third biker moved the motorcycles inside.