Mark Williams - Dog-style wives

He made a clean dive from the bank, came up, and saw Denise shedding her robe. She went in feet-first, then swam to where he was treading water. As the moon struck her face, he saw a strange expression; the water around her was being agitated by her moving arms.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Skinny douching," she said, giggling at the blank look on his face. "It's something I learned at summer camp when I was a few years younger. You tread water, then use your hands like a plumber's friend to suction the water and push it into your cunt."

"I most certainly do not!" Jack quipped.

"I mean, if you have a cunt, that's how you douche it while you're skinny-dipping. It's primitive, but effective."

"Come with me," Jack said, starting for the bank. "I'll show you how to apply suction to a cunt!"

They crawled onto the bank and lay on the soft grass. Jack caught his breath, then rolled over onto his belly and grabbed Denise's legs, lifting them high. He nosed into her wet, brown curls, thumbed the cuntlips apart, and began to lick hotly into her gash.

She squealed as his tongue snaked all over her box, gathering drops of lake water and teasing her sensitive flesh. He nibbled her clit and she moaned softly; her ass quivered in the soft grass and her belly rippled with muscular activity as her excitement grew.

He got her clit in his lips and sucked at it, working the tiny cloak over its stiff glans between sucks. Denise jerked and twisted in the grass, moaning and whimpering as sensations tore through her belly, bowels and cunt.

"Jack!" she cried. "Let me have your cock. Please!" He gave a grunt, reluctant to leave his advantageous position, but he hated to be a spoil-sport. He jockeyed around until he was straddling her head with his crotch. He attacked her clit from this more difficult angle, got a good grip on it, and resumed his sucking and milking.

Denise sucked his stiffened cock into her mouth. What he was doing to her cunt made her starved for a flood of hot jizz. She wasted no time, but immediately began to milk its bulk with her lips, sucking to hurry the flow she was so eager to taste.

Cool blades of grass tickled her asshole, lower edges of her swollen box, and inner thighs. Jack's lips and tongue were stirring up her very soul and sucking it out through her cunt. She retaliated by sucking and milking his cock voraciously.

They came together, exploding wildly as they groaned and grunted and struggled, each trying to feast as long as possible. Then they were both fighting to free themselves from the delicious pain of continued stimulation.

As they lay in the grass, resting before their return to the cottage, Denise glanced up at the cliffside. She stared at a spot of white, barely visible in the shadowy recess of what looked like a cave.

"Is that your wild white dog up there?" she asked. Jack had told the story again, by request, and the refreshed memory now made him think for a brief moment that it was the dog he was seeing.

"Noooo… I don't think so," he said finally, convinced that the white patch was too small, even for the head of the beast. "He isn't a Pueblo Indian, you know, Denise. He'd have to have a ladder to get into a hole or ledge halfway up that cliff. Come on. Let's go back to that bed. For some reason, I'm suddenly pooped!"

The hunt had been good tonight, and the rabbit warmed the lean belly from the inside while the glossy white fur kept it warm from without. Bounding over the boulders, all four of the huge paws found familiar spots, carrying the big white beast into the cave.

He padded to the mouth that opened onto the cliffside, sniffed again at the thing he had found in his nest, far in the back corner of the cave, earlier in the evening. It had the strong male scent of man, but there was also the man-bitch scent.

He whined softly as he remembered the man-bitch he had fucked; it had been good, that unexpected mating. Did this thing in his cave have to do with one of the man-bitches that came to stay in the caves-that-smelled-like-trees, down by the lake?

There was the smell of blood, too. Had the man-bitch been hurt? Or was it the kind of bleeding he knew from his coupling with that young coyote bitch?

What was more important, was there a chance that the man-bitch would return here? He would like to slide his cock into another roomy, warm thing like he had found in that other man-bitch!

He whined more loudly now; his prick extended readily from its white-furred covering, and a drop of his seed oozed out to fall onto the stone floor. He growled deep in his throat, then padded into the rear corner of the cave, sniffed cautiously as he turned around several times, and lay down in his rocky bed.

All evening, Ross Ordwell had been eyeing Coral McNally with just a little more lust than he expended in his gazes at the other females. He found himself developing the galloping hots for the luscious strawberry blonde, and he thought that she had given him several unusually sultry and meaningful looks in return.

There was something about the insolent curvature of her wide hips, and the appetizing color contrasts of her skin and hair that fairly challenged him to attack her. So he stayed alert at all times, and was prepared when the spontaneous mating moment arrived.

When he eased her out the doorway of the Cartwright cottage, his hand warmly caressing the small of her back, his prick was so hard and erect that it jabbed her in the left cheek of her ass.

"Anxious brute, isn't he?" Coral giggled as she ran across the porch and onto the beach. Ross hurried to catch up with her. They walked from that point on – a fast walk, but still a walk, rather than a run. They realized that they wanted to conserve their energies for more important exercise.

"Wanting you makes me anxious all over," Ross told her as they rounded the southeast corner of the lake and crossed the beach in front of the McNally cottage. "If there was a way to duplicate myself, I'd do it… just so several of me could molest the hell out of you at once – some eating you, some screwing you, some fucking you in that lovely mouth – Christ! I almost go out of my gourd just thinking about it!"

"I think I prefer one Ross at a time," she told him. "You should, too. If there were several of you gang-banging me, each one would get a share of the fun. We can give you all their shares by taking one step at a time. Besides… I don't know if I could take on so many Rosses at once. I seem to remember being pretty sore and tender after our last session!"

They entered the McNally cottage quietly until Coral saw that the door to Tom's soundproof room was closed; then she went to the bar, turned on the stereo tape player, and waved a hand at the back bar.

"Make me something sexy to drink," she told him. "I'll be right back."

"I've been making it all evening," he quipped. "And keeping it hot for you." Her liquid laughter trailed behind her as she disappeared into the bathroom. Ross built her a time bomb: Green Chartreuse, vodka, Angostura and water. He buzzed it in the mixer and poured it over the rocks. Then he poured himself a Scotch and water.

Coral collected Ross and the drinks and steered the party to the bedroom. She tasted her Seducers Special, rolled her eyes at him, and set it on her nightstand with a respectful caution.

"That has an air of potency about it," she said.

"To be sipped slowly and often," Ross told her, taking a big swallow of his own drink before setting it down. He took her in his arms and thrilled to the hot feel of her nipples as they stabbed him in the chest.

His hands explored her from shoulders to butt, then rounded her very female hips and pulled her to him. His cock rammed her in the lower belly and she hummed pleasurably as she felt its virile hard-on against her skin.