Conrad Sloan - The family pet

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It took a while for the dog to slide off her. George kind of hung there on her back, his hairy chest expanding and constricting with his harried breathing. She didn't move, because the swollen end of his prick felt big as a softball inside her pussy, and again she knew the fear of getting hung up with the big dog.

It would be pretty good, she thought; she could probably come a few more times if George couldn't get his overgrown cockhead out of her cunt. But suppose he tried to walk off, and she couldn't pull off him? That would hurt like hell, she figured, recalling that time she'd heard a male dog yelping when the bitch tried to run off with his cock still imprisoned in her snatch.

Maybe it only hurt the men, the males. But Sunny didn't want to take that kind of chance, so she went to work getting his slippery prick out of her hole. It came out easily when she made a grinding turn with her ass, and added a fillip to it. The dog's cockhead plopped out in a spray of cum, and she felt some of it showering down on her back.

"George," she hissed, "damn it! Did you have to spring a leak just then?"

Climbing up on the bed, Sunny rolled over and stretched out on her back, trying to decide which way she liked being fucked, dog-fashion or man-fashion. They were both very good. Could Judd Lorimer screw her from the back like George had just done? She couldn't think of any reason why he couldn't.

Sunny let George put his big head on her knee, and smiled softly in the warmth of complete relaxation as the big dog began once more to lick gently at her pussy. Luxuriating in the sensitive pressures, in the slidy, bitchy feeling, Sunny thought about Judd Lorimer eating her cunt. Before or after he fucked it? she wondered. It would be a lot juicier afterward.

Did a man enjoy the taste of his own jism the way she had loved the flavor of her pussy oils left on the prick he had forced into her mouth? Probably, she thought. She would ask him when she had time and they were making it again.

Of course, they'd make it again. No way for them to miss that, because she wanted to know everything about sex he could teach her, and that was probably a lot. Funny, she thought; forty had seemed ancient, but now she wasn't so sure. He had shot off twice in a matter of minutes, and wasn't that pretty good?

There was a knock at her door.

Sunny shoved the dog's head roughly aside, sat up and grabbed desperately for her pants, dropped them, and said: "Yeah, Mom?"

"Are you sure you aren't sick, dear?"

Sunny got the pants this time, slipped into them, pawed for her blouse and somehow it skidded under the bed. She bounded to the dresser, yanked open a drawer and crammed herself into a fresh shirt.

George barked, thinking this was part of a new game.

"Sunny! You have that dog with you again."

She went to the door, scooping up a book on the way. Opening the door and displaying the paperback prominently, she said, "Aw, Mom – he's not hurting anything. George is just keeping me company while I read."

Her mother frowned. "You know I don't like him spending all night up here. He should be down where he can be a watchdog. Come on, George."

Sunny said, "Aw, Mom," again, but she didn't mean it. George had brought it on himself, the dummy. Nobody had told him to bark. And she wanted both of them gone before her mother's sharp eye caught the wet stain spreading around the crotch of her jeans. The dog's tongue had wet her twat down mare than she figured, and the wetness was coming right on through her pants.

Funny how George just galumphed out after her mom, though. Sunny thought he should at least look back, or wave a new hard-on good-bye at her, or something. Fuck and leave was George's motto. Okay for him, she thought, but actually she glad to be rid of him for now. She was just a little tired, and had to take a shower before bed.

Sunny wanted to be fresh for tomorrow's new adventures, for she was certain they would surround her. Brightening, she skipped into the bathroom and stood shivering in a cold shower, washing into her pussy to scrub out the dog's sperm. Maybe she should start taking douches now that she didn't have a cherry to worry about.

Tomorrow, she thought – tomorrow she would get her pussy eaten, and she was looking forward to the far-out sensation.

CHAPTER FOUR

Judd Lorimer didn't seem surprised to see Sunny when she crossed over into his yard the next morning.

"Your mother out?"

She looked around and didn't see anyone. "Yes. Your family out, too?"

He shook his head. "The kids are here, but I don't know for how long."

"Well," she said, thrusting out a hip and standing like the models she saw in magazines. "Well – I guess I'll have to go home and talk to George. You remember George, my dog."

Big and bulky, he frowned at her, and she caught the hot look in his eyes as they passed over her belly and legs. Judd had been sitting on a lawn chair, reading his newspaper. He folded the paper and dropped it, taking a long step towards her. Sunny stood her ground, knowing he wouldn't dare to get tough there, right out in the open.

"You little bitch – teasing me like this."

She smiled and poked out her tits more. "Why don't you take me into your living room and show me how not to be bitchy? Hey, you're swelling up in the front of your pants."

"Damn it!" he said. "I can't right now. Once the kids are gone, I'll come over to your place."

She rolled her crotch suggestively at him. "Oh? I may be busy by then."

Over his shoulder she saw Betsy, saw his daughter come out of their house and stand on the back porch, looking down at them with a strange expression.

Sunny called out: "Hi, Betsy! I was just asking your dad where you were. I've got the greatest new album, absolutely far-out, and I wanted you to hear it."

Betsy showed how bored she was, slouching down the steps and coming over slowly. "Okay, I don't have anything else to do."

Judd looked relieved, and flashed his thanks at Sunny. She took it as her due and led the way back to her own house, yakking all the way, and wondering what the hell she was going to do with Betsy Lorimer when she got the girl there. She didn't have a new album, or any that the other girl hadn't heard a hundred times. But she'd had to say something when Betsy caught her talking with her father.

Inside, approaching the living room, Betsy said, "Well?" in that one-year-older superior attitude, and something clicked in Sunny. Betsy was always putting her down, being the smart-ass. She was a beautiful girl, all right taking her father's dark coloring and her mother's height. She always looked sleek and tanned, and kind of lean.

But Betsy didn't know as much as Sunny did, and Sunny thought she just might let her find out a little.

Sunny said, "Here, George!" and the huge Dane lumbered from the dark comer under the stairs.

Betsy backed up. "That monster scares me. Send him away."

"He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to."

"I'm going home," Betsy said.

Quickly, Sunny asked: "You still a cherry?"

Betsy stopped backing up, and her eyes swung from the dog up to Sunny's face. "What? Look, if you're trying to…"

"I'm not a cherry," Sunny interrupted proudly. "Not anymore. I've been fucked three times already, and I did something else I bet you never even heard of."

Eyes wide, Betsy said, "You're only thirteen years old, and I don't believe you. You don't even have a guy at school."

Feeling very superior, Sunny said, "You are a virgin – and so much older than me, too."

"I'm no such thing!" Betsy flared. "Johnny Stanford and I…"

Sunny made a face and reached down to pat George's wide head. "Wow – little Johnny Stanford, no bigger than me. How did he manage to break your cherry with his little dingus?"

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