David Crane: The wife_s doggy position

She gulped and swallowed. Jism kept pouring out of the Doberman's ramrod prick, lacing her gullet, flooding down her throat. And now the boxer was starting to fuck her with energetic thrusts, his prick slamming in and out. Drinking a bellyful of cum, Molly found herself longing for a cuntful to go with it, to be filled with jism from both ends, to have her innards awash in the thick stuff.

She began to whip her ass around and to drive her hips back to meet the boxer's lunges, slamming her cunt onto his prick as he plowed savagely up her fuckhole.

The Doberman's cock and balls were emptied now.

Molly continued to nurse on his cockhead for a moment, milking out the last frothy drops, but now her interest was centered on the brute behind her. Her concentration shifted from sucking to fucking, and her tight pussy began to pull and drag on the boxer's hammering cock as if her pussy was a hungry mouth.

The Doberman's cock slipped from her lips with a popping sound, like a cork from a bottle.

It swayed and began to sag.

Molly automatically gave the knob a few parting tongue-strokes, polishing the shrinking dog meat. Then the Doberman had hopped down from her shoulders, and she was able to turn her full attention on the fact that her cunt was being stuffed by the boxer.

His cock felt like a heated crowbar as it wedged and fucked into the very depths of her loins. His prick knob was a lump of smoldering iron buried far up her belly, and his fuckshaft was spreading her cunthole out around it as it expanded.

Molly twisted, working her cunt around as he filled it, winding her pussy onto his prick. Her cunt muscles sucked on him, tightening in a series of circular squeezes that ran up his prick from root to knob, as if she were jacking him off with some internal hand, as if there were a mysterious mouth blowing him deep inside her churning pussy.

The boxer's furious fucking was driving her up and down. Her ass lowered as he withdrew, then tilted up as his massive cock surged up her cunt again. Her head was lowered to the floor, one cheek pressed to the carpet now, her face a mask of pure animal lust. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were parted. A trickle of cum ran out from the corner of her mouth. It formed a glistening pool, like quicksilver, on the rug. Molly was shuddering and trembling, her whole soft; lush body vibrant with the thrill of it.

The boxer's heavy balls looped in like a weighted blackjack, whacking against her ass as his cock went in. His fat shaft and cockhead filled her to the brim, causing cuntjuice to pour out steadily as he pumped into her.

The thrill started to run up her thighs.

A wave rippled across her belly, followed by another, then yet a third, each wave crashing faster and reaching higher, then blending into one long, sustained peak. Molly was coming. She was dazed by the sensation. She didn't know if she was coming again and again, in a multiple orgasm, or if she was experiencing a single crest, prolonged at those ecstatic heights.

Then the dog, too, was at the crest.

He whimpered and his haunches flashed in, blurring, shoveling his frenzied prick into her.

Molly felt his hot jism rush into her cunt.

She gurgled with the joy of it, and her own lingering climax surged to a new peak as she creamed on the dog's spurting cock. He poured load after load up her cunt, and each time he spilled another dose, her pussy melted again.

At long last, he slowed down. He was still pumping into her, but his thrusts came with less power, less speed. Cum was still pouring out, but it was no longer spurting, he was emptying the last drops of his abundant load in a mere trickle.

Molly sank down on the floor.

As her crotch went down, she dragged the dog's prick down with her, forcing him to hunker down. He stood there, still stuck up her, his tongue lolling out and his jaw hanging open in a human-like grin as he panted with his exertions.

She crawled forward, trying to disengage.

She merely pulled the dog along with her, still coupled.

A terrible thought came to the girl! What if the dog was stuck up her, as often happened with dogs and bitches? What if she could not pluck his prick out of her pussy, if she was stuck on that fat cock, unable to disengage? Oh dear! What if the dog was still stuck up her cunt when her husband got home from work?

That, to say the least, would be embarrassing.

Jake would have to throw a bucket of cold water over them before they could uncouple!

Horrified at that prospect, Molly began to really squirm as she tried to haul her cunt off his cock, dragging him with her. But then she felt his prickmeat soften inside her. After a moment, as she pulled away, the long shaft came sliding slowly from her cunthole. As it slipped all the way out, Molly turned to look at the dog. He was sitting up on his haunches. His cock, semi-stiff now, hung down on the floor. His prick knob was lathered with cum and cuntjuice, and his piss slit was still oozing a slippery line of jism onto the carpet.

His cockhead, Molly thought, could use a polish.

And it was a shame not to swallow the residue of his climax, to taste his cock after it had been soaking in her cunt.

She slid toward him, belly down on the floor, her chin resting on the carpet, her tits dragging under her. The boxer didn't move as she approached, head down and ass up, like a playful puppy. She pushed her tongue out and lapped at his cockhead, then slurped it into her mouth and began nursing lovingly. It was soft and rubbery but, as she sucked, it twitched with a sign of new vitality. It was nice to take an animal's cock into her mouth, then feel it swell and harden as she sucked on it, thought the horny woman. And his prick tasted even better than it had before, now that it had been in her pussy. Blended with her cuntjuice, the dog's cum and his hot prickmeat had acquired a brand-new flavor.

Swallowing her own cuntjuice off his knob, Molly couldn't help but remember how Carla had admitted to being a cuntsucker… and she admitted to herself just how delicious pussy juice was.

Molly would have liked to suck a cunt.

She never would, of course.

The blonde would have liked to suck a cock that had been in another girl's cunt, too, she thought.

A big collie's cock, for instance?

But no, she mustn't do that. It was just a fantasy; she was just carried away by this perverted situation. Molly decided she must never lap a cunt, and she must never again suck and fuck with dogs. The horny woman had slipped up this once, but never again. The only prick she would ever have again would be human, and attached to her husband.

Then the telephone rang.

The boxer's cock was still in Molly's mouth when she heard the telephone ring. For a moment, she was tempted not to answer it, to keep sucking on that tasty slab of dog meat until it got big and hard again, and fed her another lovely drink of cum. But it was hard to concentrate on cocksucking when the telephone was ringing persistently. And maybe it was all for the best. If she hadn't been distracted, she might well have wound up sucking and fucking both dogs again, despite her vow.

Reluctantly, she pulled her lips off his cockhead, giving it a last slurp and a parting lap. The fat wedge was swelling again and her mouth had polished it to a gloss.

Molly got to her feet a bit unsteadily.

Both well-emptied dogs looked at her. She gave them a shy smile, still slightly embarrassed by what she had done, even though she had done it with them, and they were, after all, no more than dumb animals.

She went over to answer the telephone.

"Hello?" she said, trying to keep her voice normal, to hide the fact that she was still panting.

"That you, honey?" her husband asked.