Mark Williams - Dog-style wives

"What a sweet sensation!" he murmured. "It's as if your cunt were kissing my cock all over at the same time!"

She bottomed just in time! As her ass plopped down onto his thighs, she felt the swollen head of his cock spreading against her innermost limits.

Denise began a studied rise and fall with her ass, springing with the muscle tension of her lovely legs, and making her box milk the hard teat of his cock with a measured rhythm. Sweat began to stand out on Tom's forehead and chest as he, too, felt the strain of desire heating his blood.

It got to him, quickly and potently. The flavors in his mouth cried out, Denise! The woman scent still lingering in his nostrils shouted, Denise! The excitingly female loveliness in his range of vision spelled out her name in burning letter. And the sweet, wet warmth surrounding his pulsing cock whispered through his glands and arteries, Denise! He felt his gun begin to fire.

"DENISE!" he cried, ashamed that he had not been able to wait for her. He shot up into her milking tunnel, splashing her twat with his hot cum. She whimpered as she sensed her loss, and would have climbed off him when he was through. But he seized her arms.

"Stay on me! Please, Denise!" he begged, anxious to redeem himself in her eyes. He concentrated on the very things which had been his undoing. The smell and taste of her; the sight of her; the feel of her wrapped around his cock, her cunt a living, breathing symbol of her delicious womanliness!

His prick stiffened as he stared at the quivering mounds of her tits. Her swollen nipples shivered as he watched, and his cock jerked inside her, its head swelling against her walls. He began to fuck into her slowly, and a radiant smile spread over her face.

"Rest, Tom!" she cried excitedly. "Let me do the work. Just keep that… marvelous prick steady and let me make love to it!"

She resumed her bouncing, now adding a spiral twist frequently as she grew more confident that he could now outlast her needs. She was almost sobbing with joy as she rode him recklessly.

"Lovely Denise!" he said in low, penetrating tones. "Wonderful Denise cunt! Sweet, warm, wet Denise cunt!"

Just as her words had encouraged him earlier, his adoring and lustful words now triggered her over the edge. She began to shake as she screwed down onto his impaling cock. Ripples ran over her, weakening her until she could only sit there, feeling the head of his prick pressing at her passage end.

"Dear God!" she cried, and shivered as she would die. Tom shot another load into her, and as the hot splashes geysered against her cunt walls, she felt the ultimate joys of ecstasy – and passed out cold!

Tom caught her and eased her down onto the bed, slipping out of her snatch on the way. Cum poured from her hole, but he ignored it and lay there, watching her with concern.

When her eyes fluttered open, she stared blankly at him for a second. Then she smiled as if she had seen the gates of heaven. She put an affectionate hand on his thigh and squeezed it gently.

"If I were a witch," she told him, laughing with her mouth but dead serious with her eyes. "I'd put a spell on you and make you fall in love with Sandy, just to make sure you'd always be around." She sighed and shook her head in bewilderment.

"I'm more than a little in love with that bewitching cunt of yours, Denise!" he told her sincerely. "I'll always be around for you!"

"Thanks a lot, Sandy," Ross said as he put the sack on the kitchen counter. "Say, could you stick around for a while? I think there's something you're supposed to take back with you. How about a drink or something?"

"Well… I am sort of dry. I'll try whatever you're drinking."

Ross went to the bar in the living room, set down his half-finished Scotch and water, and made Sandy one that was slightly weaker. She took it, sat on a stool, and faced him across the bar. In the mirror on the opposite wall, Ross saw by the reflection of her back that she kept her knees primly together, even though the bar was between them.

He thought about what Jack told him, and concluded that she was either keeping her legs together because her pussy was sore from unaccustomed use, or because of habit. He had to find out which it was before he tried to seduce her.

Picking up his drink, he walked from behind the bar to take a chair across the room. Sandy had to swing around to face him or find a seat from which she would be less vulnerably exposed.

"Does your drink taste all right?" he asked.

At first, he thought she was going to maneuver herself off the stool with her back to him and look for another seat. But when she had wiggled around to extricate her legs from between the bar and the stool, she repositioned herself to face him.

Her knees were not pressed tightly together, but neither were they or her thighs widely enough separated to provide him a peek at her snatch. Her expression was innocent enough, but there was an awareness in her eyes that convinced him she knew what he was up to.

"I guess so," she replied. "I'm no connoisseur of Scotch… it is Scotch, isn't it?"

"Yes, one of the best. But then, it's an acquired taste for those who really like it. Unlike sex, one's first experience with Scotch can easily be the last."

"You're speaking as a male," she told him, with a perception he had not thought her capable of at her age. "With a lot of females – perhaps even some males – the first taste of sex can have the same effect!"

"What about the second taste?" he inquired, seeing his chance to advise her subtly that he knew of her session with Jack. She was obviously startled, but recovered fast while she gained time by sipping at her drink.

"I thought it was Rhoda who had the binoculars," she said.

"It wasn't necessary to spy," he explained. "We saw you and Tom go into the Cartwrights' cottage, and we saw you come out. It doesn't take a lot of thinking to conclude why you were in there so long." He conveniently omitted the fact that he had confronted Jack with the same evidence and obtained confirmation.

"I'll have to admit that perhaps the second taste of sex and Scotch can be similar," she told him. There was mischief in her eyes. "Again… I'm speaking mainly from the female point of view."

"Are you saying that if a woman discovers she can enjoy sex with less discomfort than she had during her defloration, she could learn to like it?"

"Something like that," Sandy agreed. "Assuming that Scotch has advantages over other liquors, you first have to get past the medicinal taste, and if you like the plus factors it offers, you'll try it at least the second time, to see if the advantages outweigh the disadvantages."

"Well, Sandy, ignoring the Scotch and concentrating on the sex, have you any observations to make on the third time?"

"I'm not qualified to discuss the third time… yet," she said. Ross caught the hesitation before the qualifying word. He also saw the slight relaxation of her knees which gave him just the barest glimpse of her twat hair, but the lips of her cunt were so snug that no pinkness appeared to split the wealth of mahogany curls.

"I don't set myself up as a credentialed instructor," he said. "But I'd be deliriously happy to help you qualify, if you happen to be in the mood."

Sandy saw the twitch of his semierect cock, and the way it jerked in his lap made tingling sensations ripple over her. She let her knees separate a little more, then leaned back and rested her elbows on the bar behind her.

The action pulled her lovely tits outward and upward, and the nipples quivered enticingly as the mounds jiggled and bounced. Ross felt his cock stiffen still more and twitch with a stronger pulsation than before.

"I'm in the mood to be put in the mood," she said coyly.