David Crane - The wife_s doggy position

She drove home.

Her husband, Jake, would not be home from work for several hours. Molly wandered around the house, feeling dazed by her carnal need. She wished that Jake would come home early. She just had to get fucked soon. The blonde felt so hot that she thought her pussy might suddenly ignite, bursting into flames. When she moved, it squished juicily between her thighs. After awhile, she decided to give herself a handjob.

The thought embarrassed her.

Molly didn't think that it was the sort of thing a happily married woman should do. But she had no choice, really. She didn't think she had ever been so horny before, even in her virgin days when some boy felt her up and she'd pant and moan, and her clit would go off like a stick of dynamite.

Molly went up to the bedroom, took all of her clothing off and lay down on the bed. She began kneading her tits, pulling at the taut tips. She slipped a hand down between her legs, shuddering at the first touch. Her fingers traced along her open cuntlips and across her clit. Tilting her wrist, she slowly pushed two fingers up into her creamy pussy.

She tried to pretend that her fingers were her husband's prick. It didn't seem quite as bad to be fingerfucking herself when she thought about Jake. But it wasn't as thrilling, either. Molly's mind began to jump around in wild fantasy. She pretended that it was Carla's hand between her legs, then that it was her own hand between Carla's legs. She whimpered and moaned at the idea.

Molly brought her hand up to her mouth and lapped hot cuntjuice from her fingers, wanting to see what the stuff tasted like. It was delicious! If cuntjuice was that good, even by hand, just imagine how great it would taste if she were sucking it right out of Carla's soaking snatch! She began alternating hands, fingerfucking herself with one while she lapped her juices from the other. The thrill was building up, waves of sensation racing across her belly and running in electric currents up her trembling thighs.

And as the thrill built towards the peak, Molly could not control her erotic imagination.

She thought about getting fucked by a dog.

Then her cunt melted in an orgasm.

Afterwards, she felt deeply ashamed of herself for having had such perverted fantasies. But still, it was only in the mind, she reasoned. She would never, ever, really fuck an animal.

Would she?

Molly felt a bit better after masturbating… but not much. She had been too hot to be satisfied with a mere handjob. Still, her orgasm had taken some of the pressure off, and now she would be able to wait until her husband got home from work. She sure hoped that he was in the mood for it. He was a good lover, thoughtful and attentive. She had always been rather shy about making love, until they got started, and now the blonde smiled wryly as she thought about how surprised Jake was going to be when he came home and found her eager for sex.

She was thinking that maybe she would ask him to put it to her from the back, doggy style.

She didn't bother to get dressed again, but put a bathrobe on and went downstairs to make a pot of coffee.

Then fate took a hand.

Molly was standing at the sink, filling the kettle, when she heard a furious barking and yelping from the backyard. She looked out the window and was surprised to see a small mongrel dog dashing across the yard, tail between its legs, looking frightened. A moment later, two other dogs came bounding into sight in determined pursuit of the mongrel. One was a black Doberman, the other a boxer. Molly realized that the small mongrel must be a bitch in heat. She couldn't blame the small bitch for being terrified of those two big animals chasing her. The Doberman was in the lead, and it looked as if he was going to catch the bitch. But then the female was across the yard, and she had darted under the lower rail of the fence.

The pursuers were both much too large to fit under the fence. They stopped, whining in frustration, running up and down the fence looking for a way through, while the bitch scampered off.

Molly saw that both dogs had hard-ons.

She felt sorry for them. Their whining was pitiful, their frustration obvious.

And both of them had big pricks.

Molly blushed as she realized where her thoughts were leading.

Oh, no, she told herself, and she turned away from the window… then turned right back again. Not having hands, the poor dogs had no way of relieving their frustrations. They would have to suffer until their erections went away in the course of time.

Unless…

Molly felt herself trembling all over.

I could throw a bucket of cold water on them, she thought.

Molly was wondering if she should do those dogs a favor. She had no intention of fucking them – she still thought of that as no more than a wild fantasy – but she thought that it would do no harm if she were to jack them off. The poor brutes needed to come so badly that it would be an act of mercy, an act of charity, she reasoned. It wouldn't be as if she were having sex with them, nothing like that, she would just be relieving the poor, dumb brutes out of kindness to animals.

And the thought of having those fat canine cocks in her hand was sort of exciting, too.

She had to admit that she would probably enjoy doing it… especially when they started to whimper and whine and hump, then squirted their hot jism all over the place!

Molly felt a hot flush of dark desire.

She looked at her watch. There was plenty of time to do it before her husband got home, she decided. As horny as the dogs were, she didn't think it would take long to milk them off. Just a few quick strokes, and they'd be shooting off like fire hoses.

Molly had actually convinced herself that she was going to do it out of kindness, rather than lust.

She went to the kitchen door and opened it.

The two dogs were still trotting up and down along the barrier of the fence, both beasts whimpering and rumbling. Their tails were standing out stiff, their movements were disjointed and awkward. Holly gazed at their big, swollen pricks.

Oh! I am terrible, she thought.

Molly knew that she was going to get hornier than ever while she jacked the brutes off.

Her husband was going to be in for a surprise, she figured.

Then she called to the dogs.

Neither dog responded, at first, because they were still concerned with the mongrel bitch. But after awhile, seeing that pursuit was hopeless, the Doberman cocked an ear. When Molly called again, he began to trot over to the house.

The boxer followed.

Molly held the kitchen door open, and both dogs entered without hesitation. Molly stroked the Doberman behind the ear, then petted the boxer. Both dogs sniffed at her in a faintly puzzled why. They sensed that something unusual was afoot, that this woman was like a bitch in heat, herself. But neither of the brutes had ever had such a relationship with a woman before, and now they whined nervously, not understanding the situation.

Molly walked into the front room.

The dogs trotted in after her.

Now that she had them in the house, Molly hesitated, her inhibitions rising again, not at all sure that she should do a thing like this. But the poor brutes really did need relief. She kept telling herself that, excusing her act even before she had done it.

She got down on the floor.

The dogs stood on either side of her, heads cocked, tongues lolling out over their panting jaws. Molly began to stroke the black Doberman's flank. She looked at his prick as she did. The blonde had never really taken much notice of a dog's cock before. The meaty slab of his cockhead was flaring out from the hairy sheath, a wedge of red heat that was throbbing and pulsating. His long prickshaft was taut, and his balls were swollen with his urgent load.