David Crane: The wife_s doggy position

Carla thought she was going to get a long, lovely fuck out of a man who seemed so aroused.

He drew his prick slowly out until only the big, flaring head was still in her pussy.

He paused, shuddering.

Carla waited eagerly for that furious fucking to begin, her loins yearning for friction, her clit throbbing with the desire to have his fat cock rub over it as it sped in and out. He was still poised there on the first stroke. Her cunt muscles were working like a velvet vise, clamping closed around his cockhead.

"Fuck me!" she wailed. "Pour the prick up me, honey! Fuck the ass off me!"

Then Sam plunged in.

He buried his cock to the root.

And shot his wad on that very first stroke!

Carla felt his hot jism rush into her cunt, and she ground her pelvis wildly against him, adoring the sensation of being filled with a man's jism, her pussy milking him.

But he had stopped fucking.

Sam had never started, really. He had just given her that one fast stroke and emptied his balls.

Now, to Carla's horror, his cock was starting to soften and diminish inside her. She made her cunt pull on it, but to no avail. His prick got smaller and softer. It had collapsed completely. She still had his balls in her hand and they, too, had gone down like a punctured balloon. She gazed up at him in surprise.

Sam looked sheepish.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"Afraid so," he mumbled.

"You're a premature ejaculator?" she asked, dismayed.

"Always have been," he admitted.

"But… but… won't it get hard again?"

"Naw… not for a couple days," he told her. "Sorry."

He pulled out. His prick was reduced to a mere nubbin, retracted back into his loins, hardly a prick at all. Carla was desperate for more action. Leaning down, she began to suck and lick his shrunken knob of cockmeat. It was more like sucking on a clit than a prick.

And it did no good.

Suck as she would, it refused to grow.

She raised her head and gave him an accusing look.

Sam gave a little apologetic shrug.

"Well, look, how about going down on me?" she asked. Surely he owed her an orgasm! Surely he would be willing to eat her out?

"Naw, I don't like to do that," he said.

Carla was trembling with anger now, as well as need. "Well, how about finger-fucking me, at least?"

Sam grimaced.

"To tell you the truth," he said. "I lose interest in pussy, once I get my rocks off."

"You bastard!" she cried.

Sam blinked, then shrugged again and moved off the bed. Carla's pussy was burning. She had to get her cunt milked. She began to play with her clit and to push three fingers up her fuck hole. The brunette figured that it might turn Sam on to see her doing that to herself. But Sam had obviously spoken the truth. He looked at her for a moment, then turned away and began to put his clothing back on.

Carla sighed with frustration.

She closed her eyes and leaned back on the bed, arching her supple body. She began to use both hands on her pussy, fingerfucking herself with one and rubbing her clit with the other. Sam ignored her. After a few minutes, she began to moan and pant, and then her cunt melted, creaming over her hands.

But it didn't make her feel much better.

Imagine getting fucked with one stroke!

Imagine going to bed with a man, and still having to resort to her own fucking hands!

Carla, furious and frustrated, got up and began to dress. She glared at Sam. He didn't seem to give a damn. He had poured himself another drink now and was obviously waiting for her to go.

She called him a bastard again, on her way out.

Carla sure hoped that the neighbor's collie was available when she got home.

With the very first lick, Molly had realized that she simply adored a mouthful of dog cock. She loved to make the brutes whimper and whine and feel their pricks swell up in her mouth, then milk the juice out of their swollen balls. She loved the taste and the texture and the temperature. It was true that the blonde felt ashamed of herself and had vowed never to blow a dog again… after the day was over… but at the moment, she felt obligated to give the black Doberman the same treatment she had given the boxer. It was only fair, she convinced herself. And having justified and reasoned the necessity of it, she approached the act eagerly.

The Doberman stood stiff-legged, his prick looming out under his panting belly, his head cocked to one side.

Molly began to crawl toward the Doberman on her hands and knees, licking her lips, gazing at his pulsing cockhead in happy expectation. It was, she promised herself, the last dog prick that she would ever suck, but she intended to enjoy it.

It didn't occur to the horny girl that, by crawling across the floor away from the boxer, on her hands and knees, she had assumed the pose of a bitch in heat.

The boxer's cock had softened somewhat after she had emptied his balls for him, but it hadn't gone down completely. And now, as he saw the woman in such a familiar position, his stout prick began to harden and rise into a brand-new erection. The boxer had been satisfied by the blowjob. He had adored it, certainly, but such sexual deviations were alien to his canine nature. It had felt wonderful, but it couldn't really be compared with true sex. A mouth was not a cunt. He hadn't been able to really grind the full length of his fat prick into her head, plunging in balls-deep as he always did when he was putting the prick to a bitch in heat. Thus, the dog had considered the blowjob more as a form of foreplay than a real sexual conclusion… just as when he tongued a bitch's cunt before he fucked her.

Now the boxer found himself looking right at Molly's cunt as she crawled away. Her hot fuckslot was foaming, the pink lips unfurled like the petals of a fleshy blossom, streaked with dew and oozing with sweet nectar. She crawled away from him. It aroused his hunting instincts. She even seemed to be wagging her tail as her sexy haunches squirmed in sexual arousal.

But a woman couldn't run as fast as a bitch, let alone crawl, and there was no low fence under which she might make her escape.

The boxer considered the situation.

His prick got bigger and harder and hotter, starting to pound like a jackhammer under his belly.

Molly didn't notice this.

Her attention was on that delicious-looking hunk of Doberman prick, and the other erection was rising behind her back as, in the doggy position, she crawled forwards.

Molly lowered her head and came in under the Doberman like a shark rising to attack a swimmer from below.

Her tongue pushed out, fluttering.

The blonde began lapping the glossy knob of the Doberman's prick, running her nimble tongue all over the meaty slab. It was every bit as tasty as the boxer's cock. She murmured and purred as she lapped his cockmeat. Then, taking the fat head into her lips, she began to pull and suck gently on his meaty mouthful. She held his cock with one hand and cupped his balls with theother, her elbows braced on the floor. But she didn't jack him. Since this was to be her last mouthful of dog cum, Molly was in no hurry to get it. She wanted to do it all with her mouth, and to make it last as long as possible. The best part of a blowjob was drinking the jism, of course, but Molly wanted to enjoy a lingering feast on the prickmeat course before she swallowed the creamy dessert.

The Doberman tensed and bounded up.

He wrapped his forelegs around her shoulders.

He had mounted her from the front just as he would have mounted her from behind, in the doggy position, clinging to her shoulders as if they were her haunches and fucking into her mouth just as if it were a cunt. His spine bowed, then arched. He poured the prick into her face, and Molly gave a little gasp. With the boxer, she had only mouthed his smooth cockhead and jacked the hairy stalk, but now she was getting the boxer's cock shoved right back into her throat.