J. Bradley: The hog wives

He kept fucking into her with desperate humps, and Phyllis felt as though she might pass out at any moment, so lightheaded had she become from the effects of her orgasm and the continued fucking.

Then Victor released his last barrage. He grunted and whined as the fluid spurted into her, and Phyllis felt another climax grabbing at her cunt. She began to stiffen and jerk all over, and her breath came out in sobs of ecstasy.

Darkness closed in on her, and when she revived from her blissful state, she was lying on her side on the rug. Mary Margaret was kneeling beside her, and Victor sat across the room, licking his well-used prick.

"My God, what a wild fuck!" Phyllis gasped. "I don't know how often I'd be able to take it, though. How often do you let him in you?"

"Whenever I need it," Mary Margaret replied; she did not feel constrained to tell everything.

"Well, it was quite an experience!" Phyllis confessed. "I'm grateful. If I can do anything for you…"

"As a matter of fact, you might," said her hostess. "Men seem to know more about dogs than women, and I'd like your husband's advice about something… an operation I read about, for dogs. Could you have him drop over when he has time to read the information in my book and tell me what he thinks?"

"Of course, Mary Margaret," Phyllis agreed. "I don't know that Dean's any authority on dogs, but I do know he's had several in his life before we got Laddie. And he'd be glad to do anything he could to help you, I'm sure."

Dean put off his duty call at the Siebenthaler farm for two days, scheduling it so he could stop on his way back from a trip to Spencer, saving himself the trouble of cleaning up for two separate occasions.

It was almost 4PM when he parked his pickup in back of the house and went up to the porch. Mary Margaret met him at the door, then Invited Dean inside.

He was startled to see that his hostess was wearing makeup for the first time to his knowledge. True, it was only a light application of lipstick and an expert accenting of her eyes, but it made her look fifteen years younger. It came to him with a shock, as he thought back, that she could really not be more than eight or ten years older than Phyllis. Her severely plain dress and lack of makeup had made him think of her as being much older.

She served him sherry and took her own glass to her favorite chair. Victor barked, then stretched out at her feet, and she looked over at Dean with a cautious expression on her face.

"That book on the end table," she said. "It's the reason I needed your advice. If you'll open it to where I have the bookmark and read the page on the right…"

Dean picked up the book, glancing at the cover as he prepared to open it. It was a treatise on the training of sex dogs. He wondered where Mary Margaret had latched onto it; certainly not in Gatesville.

He read the page twice before he was satisfied that he knew all the text had to say on the subject. It described the surgical operation that separated the animal's prepuce or foreskin from the body, which would let it hang free to serve as am effective "tickler" for the human female during Intercourse.

He looked up to see his hostess studying him intently over the rim of her glass. She was blushing slightly, but her expression was quite calm and serious.

"I wouldn't want to do anything that would hurt Victor," she told him. "But if the operation's harmless, and if it does what it's supposed to do, according to the book, I'd like to have it done." She seemed to be asking his opinion on the decision; wanting him to confirm or dispute the book.

"As far as its hurting the dog," he said, "I shouldn't think it would be as uncomfortable as tail docking; there's no bone involved. All they do, apparently, is separate the upper edge of the sheath from the skin of his belly and let it all hang down, so to speak. A few stitches will make the cut heal up in no time. But as far as the effectiveness of the operation… well, I have no idea about that. It sounds feasible enough."

"That's not my only problem," Mary Margaret said. "Where could I take him to have it done? I surely can't go to a local vet; the scandal would be out in no time at all."

Dean had to grin in spite of himself. If she weren't such a gossip, she wouldn't expect it from everyone else. He decided that the least he could get from the inconvenience of this visit would be a hell of a show. He figured that she owed him that, and he was just impish enough to demand it.

"I think perhaps I can take him to someone reliable," he told her. "But if you really want my considered opinion, I'd have to see the dog in action at close range so I can tell just how much difference the operation might make." He smiled at her deceptively. "It was a little dim and distant watching through the screen door."

Her blush, which had been faint but constant until then, darkened slightly as she realized that he was asking for a demonstration. She bit her lip, tried to stare him down in case he was putting her on, then gave it up as his innocent expression remained undisturbed.

She stood up and calmly began to undress, facing him directly, as if determined not to show him that she was embarrassed. Dean was fascinated as the frock fell to the floor around her feet. He barely restrained a gasp of amazement as he saw her hourglass-shaped body in bra and panties.

To Dean, as to most of the community, she was simply one of those unexplainable spinsters who dressed in conservative style and color and remained apart from the rest of the town-folk. No romantic tale of a lost love or anything; just an apparent loner.

When her shapeless frock dropped away, he wet his lips and groaned softly at the wasted loveliness that had been hidden by the sack-like garment. And he saw that, whatever front she chose to present to the outside world, Mary Margaret kept herself very feminine and desirable beneath the somber disguise.

The dainty design of her expensive lingerie was more than compensated for in its brilliant red color. The gossamer bra was cradling her superbly full, firm tits that jiggled excitingly as she stepped out of the frock. Her brief panties were padded by the lush growth of her pubic bush, and the tight crack of her gash was outlined down its center.

Her figure was breathtakingly perfect, and Dean, sat there with his mouth open and his cock swelling stiffly in his slacks. There was no way he could have remained silent, thinking about all that beauty being reserved for a dog who could not appreciate it.

"My God, Mary Margaret!" he managed to say after he closed his mouth and swallowed a time or two. "You have all that loveliness hidden away, and you're only going to offer me sherry?" He wet his lips and swallowed again, still partly in shock.

"I… I don't know," she said in a quiet voice. Her eyes flicked down to focus on the bulge in his crotch. Then they swerved to regard the dog; Victor was still lying quietly on the rug, seemingly asleep. "Do you want me very much?" It was not coyness; she wanted to reassure herself that she was desired for herself before she would answer.

"More than anything else in the world at this moment," he told her truthfully. As if he had stumbled onto a magic phrase, he saw her hand reach out to him. He got to his feet, and she led him into her bedroom, closing the door to keep Victor outside.

Their bodies melted together as their mouths met in a hot, smeary kiss. While their tongues jousted, and they sucked at each other's lips and tongues frantically, Dean unfastened her bra and felt the slight impact of her tits springing free against his chest.

He eased her onto the bed, and she lay back, letting him do as he wished with her. He fastened his mouth on one of the gorgeous tits. He began to attack it with little sucks and nibblings. She whimpered happily, and he continued his feast while his hands worked at the waistband of her panties.