Janet McCoy - Angie_s dog orgy

Sid could feel the redhead's body vibrating in hot response to his cock's steady fuck-motion. He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment on the smooth, liquid feel of her tight young pussy, that fit his cock as snugly as a kid glove.

Man, what a cunt! Sid congratulated himself, surprised that he hadn't detected the potential in this little piece of ass before. But then Sid had trouble getting into sex a lot of the time. He was too nervous, too busy making deals. His thing was normally to throw a big orgy bash and turn on to watching other people making it. Today was the first time he'd actually fucked a woman in a month, and it was feeling damned good. So good he figured he was going to blow his load soon.

"Like honey, just like honey," he whispered loud enough for the kneeling redhead to hear, his mind awhirl with visions of fucking this up-tight little chick into new life while she turned on to the dog-fucking down below. Man, what a way to start the day!

All reservations about participating fully in this obscene little scenario had fled Sharon's mind now as she avidly thrust her hips back to meet the steady thrusting of the TV producer's filling cock. She watched the pointed red tip of the dog's enormous prick disappear with stunning regularity up into the receptive darkness of Angie's cunt. She began to feel lewd little stirrings in her own belly that told her perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to get fucked by a dog. After all, fucking felt good. It felt sooooo good!

For a moment the sensually aroused teenager closed her eyes and concentrated on the exciting little tingles shooting out from her hotly responding cunt. She felt the storm building deep, deep in her belly.

Oh, yes, I want to come! I want to come so bad! she told herself, driving her cunt back more and more energetically to meet Sid's furious humping.

"Oh, God, I'm coming!" she heard the older man moan, and Sharon felt her own heart sink with the bitter realization that she was not going to get to come, that he had made it before her.

Sid's weight as he collapsed forward in the energyless afterglow of orgasm forced Sharon to lie down flat on her belly. Chin resting on her hands, she watched enviously for a few moments as the big golden dog continued to fuck into the kneeling, crooning woman below. There was little doubt that Angie was going to get her orgasm… and soon.

"Was it good, baby? How did you like it?" she heard Sid ask in a strained whisper.

She bit her lower lip for a moment to hold back the fury of her frustration. At last she was able to speak. "Oh, yes, Mr. Bailey," she replied demurely, turning around as best she could to give the producer the benefit of her big green, innocent-looking eyes. "It was just wonderful… but I was so embarrassed, Mr. Bailey. I just didn't know what you'd think of me…"

"Don't you worry about what I think of you, baby," he told her as he knelt back on his heels and pulled up his fly. "I think you're prime cut, sweetheart."

For another moment it was an effort for Sharon to swallow her pride. "Thank you, sir," she said at last. "I'm glad you like me."

"Sure, I like you, kid. Now what say you and me go back to the house and get a little breakfast? Leave the lion-tamer alone to do her work in peace," he added as they both listened to Angie's mewls still floating through the stillness of the barn.

Sharon giggled, then pulled on her panties and shorts and followed her host down the ladder. Angie's satisfied moans had faded from her attention now, her frustration forgotten in the renewed hope that her career might right at this very moment be in the making. She thanked her lucky stars that she decided to get up early this morning.

Angie was doing one of her favorite things – she was dancing. The Saturday-night party had begun slowly at about two or three in the afternoon when the first guests who weren't already staying at the ranch had begun to arrive and congregate around the pool for gossip and sun. It was now nearly eight, and she and Tim were grooving together to the raucous sounds of a very heavy rock group that Bailey had hired for the entire weekend.

This was undoubtedly the most sumptuous party Angie had ever been to. Out on the patio were long tables decorated with huge ornate ice sculptures and endless trays of crab, shrimp, lobster, oysters, and salmon. Pretty young waitresses in Playboy-bunny-type costumes pranced around with bottles of superb French champagne, seeing that no glass stayed empty for more than a moment. Angie was enjoying the champagne and the music and the powerful joint she and Tim had shared a short while ago behind an ivy-shrouded pillar in the garden.

Most of the people present were not Tim's, or Angie's, type. They were very sleek and modishly dressed, with personalities that came across like chipped ice. But they were pretty, and Angie was enjoying the novelty of dancing among such beautiful people, grooving on the stoned high that was floated around in her head. She felt daring and sexy, and she was enjoying dancing with Tim. He could really go, and it was a challenge to try to keep up with her youthful partner.

Angie realized that this party was supposed to be an orgy, but she hadn't seen any sign of it so far, other than the odd familiar pat on the ass between members of the same, or opposite sex. She herself had been giving Jethro lots of training in how to fuck and lick cunt, and she suspected that Sid Bailey planned to use the animal tonight, though she had no idea when or how.

Strange cat, she thought as she watched her host wandering among his guests, chatting and hugging and kissing, dressed in a floor-length toga of crushed purple velvet. She quickly forgot about Sid as Tim grabbed her and led her in a complicated dancing maneuver across the floor, laughing and jostling other couples. After another ten minutes or so, the band came to a halt and Sid Bailey mounted the stage and raised his arms majestically for his guests' attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "If you have gorged on our seafood, I think it is time for your dessert. May I present…" he turned dramatically to his left and extended an arm toward the adjoining room – "Miss Dessert of 1975!"

Angie was captivated and mystified by what Bailey might be planning, but she giggled along with the rest of the guests as all looked expectantly towards the French doors that opened slowly. Into the room, moving with the regal majesty of a queen, came a beautifully made-up young woman that Angie recognized at once as Sharon Moore, the starlet.

Sharon's thick red hair hung in carefully curled ringlets to her shoulders. Her eyes were heavily decorated with mascara and a lustrous green eyeshadow. Her cheeks were very pink and her lips were red. She wore a tightly closed floor-length robe of shimmery silver-threaded cream. Her look and bearing was regal, yet demure.

Despite herself, Angie found something totally captivating and quite titillating about the rather garish appearance of the lovely young woman. She had almost forgotten Bailey's presence when he walked up to the girl and took her grandly by the hand, obviously intending to lead her back through the French doors.

Bailey turned to his guests and said, "If you will follow, please, ladies and gentlemen…"

By now the news that something was happening had lured all the guests onto the dance area, and they eagerly filed out after Bailey through corridors and across courtyards until they came to a large room that was starkly, totally white. In the middle of the room was a white-covered dais that was raised only about a foot off the floor.

Bailey helped Sharon remove her robe, and the rather nervous redhead stood before the crowd dressed only in one large shiny rhinestone that was inset in her navel. Bailey helped the young starlet lie down on the dais, where she lay rigid, her eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling.