Carlotta Graham - The animal urge

Then, at last, the dam of her passion spilled over the edge, the hot female juices rushing out of her wide-stretched vaginal lips and around her rhythmically fucking fingers and running down between her hotly quivering thighs onto the sheets beneath her. Her mind whirled crazily and blacked out as the storm of her cumming shocked her system for an endless moment, her throbbing cunt clasping spastically around the fingers inside her that she was using as a pitiful substitute for a hardened male penis.

"Oooooh, God, moooorrrre," she gasped deliriously, her voice crying out and bouncing off the walls of the bedroom, signaling the intense moment of sensuality she was feeling throughout her whole naked being. But gradually the waves of pleasure dwindled, becoming weaker and weaker, until finally she was afraid they were over altogether. The passion-crazed girl wanted more, the real thing, and she stayed glued to the edge of the mattress, her long, sensuously shaped legs bent back crab-like up against her huge billowing breasts. She could not bring herself to withdraw her submerged fingers from the hot wet passage between her upraised thighs until the last dying spasms of orgasm had almost completely stopped in her still-unfulfilled body.

Finally, when the frenzy of the half-satisfying sexual bliss had died away completely, she felt a brief flurry of anger and removed her hand from between her moist thighs, her fingers slithering wetly from her partially-satiated cunt. She lowered herself back until she lay stretched full-length on the rumpled bed and felt her own cum stain cooling where her buttocks pressed against it.

When she had regained her breath a little, she rolled limply over on her side and thought about what she had just done. Every time she had fingered herself since her marriage to Bill, she had always felt a nagging sense of guilt, for she realized that it was shameful and unfair to him to give in to her self-indulgent desires this way. She chastised herself now, feeling guilty and ashamed, until suddenly she remembered the true reason that she had allowed herself to behave so disgracefully this morning. After all, she decided, it was just as much his fault as hers that she had to resort to such humiliating acts to quell the sex drives that sometimes overwhelmed even her normally proper conduct as a decent and respectable young lady. It was not as though she were some kind of sex freak but only that, just like anyone else, she needed to feel loved and desired as a person.

After a few minutes, she raised herself a bit unsteadily from the bed and pulled at the cum-moistened sheets to remove them. When they came free, she dropped them in a heap on the floor, pausing then to notice again the now-dry white crust of the great dog, Wolf's, sperm on the lower part of her leg. She felt her earlier revulsion return for a moment but defiantly shrugged it away. Actually the huge dog had done nothing more immoral than she had done herself right here on the bed, the very bed that she shared with her inconsiderate husband. And Wolf, lusty dumb animal that he was, had every bit as much right to a periodic lack of self-control as she did.

The next morning promised a pleasant warmth later in the day. As she stood peering out the kitchen window, Diane could see that, although it was still slightly overcast, the sun already shone cautiously through the light blanket of mist over the trees. The woods were a silvery shade of green and she was able to make out several patches of new violet-blue flowers that had blossomed open on the outer fringes of the garden at the side of the house. To add to the peaceful scene, there were perhaps a dozen or so black and yellow songbirds flitting here and there among the branches of the scrub pines just beyond the clearing, warbling like feathered sopranos in the overall symphony of color and sound outside. The young blonde wife could not help but feel buoyant and high-spirited, despite her distress of the day before, and she actually looked forward to going outside to feed and water the dogs.

After draining off the last of the lukewarm coffee still in her cup, she started off toward the main bedroom to change from her heavy yellow bathrobe into a pair of jeans and a warm flannel shirt, but just then the piercing howl of one of the German Shepherds set off the rest of them. Within a minute, the lot of them were barking and whining like a small army of banshees and Diane became so rattled that she decided to attend to them right away, without even bothering to dress first. She knew that they were complaining because it was almost a half hour past their regular feeding time. She had slept a little later than usual, as she sometimes did when Bill was away on business, and the dogs always let her know when she failed to conform to the established schedule.

She hurriedly donned the pair of slippers she had kicked off under the breakfast table while having her first cup of black coffee and headed for the door at the rear of the house. As she descended the steps outside the living room, she was surprised to find that the robe was warm enough to protect her against the mild morning air, even though she wore nothing at all under the garment. A few moments later, she had fetched the weighty sack of dog meal and was within twenty yards of the kennel when the dogs heard her and renewed their ear-splitting din. Even Wolf was awake and pacing back and forth in his run, his louder barking seeming to lead the others on to greater noisy impatience.

"All right, all right, I'm coming," the young flaxen-haired woman muttered irritably under her breath as she lugged the heavy sack across the yard toward the kennels. In the clearing behind the house she saw the dogs bounding about and prancing anxiously in their exercise runs, pawing impatiently at the wire fences as they watched her approach. They were behaving as though they had not been fed in a week, she thought crossly, as at the same time she struggled to keep her robe closed and the dog meal from spilling out of her arms. God, if they only knew about all the dinners that she had prepared, ones that had waited for hours on the table until they were cold, while Bill was out here doctoring one of their running noses – or whatever it was he did for so long in the kennels – maybe they would not be so loud and demanding.

"Hush up, Daisy. Quiet now, Gypsy," Diane sternly admonished two gangly half-grown bitches as she approached their pen and unlatched the gate. They were two of the ones who were in heat, two of the females who had indirectly caused her distressing ordeal with Wolf the day before. The flaxen-haired girl scowled grouchily as she slipped through the barely-opened screen-gate and quickly kicked it shut behind her. Ignoring their enthusiastic lickings and jostlings, she filled their trays with meal and walked back to the gate. The two fledgling dogs were virtual balls of energy but they soon forgot her presence as they went to work on their breakfast. Watching them for a moment, she felt her heart soften toward them in spite of the rumbles of hunger in her own stomach. She knew that these magnificent purebreds were altogether dependent upon her while Bill was away and, ironically enough, it made her feel rather maternal to realize it. She moved hastily to let herself out and go on to the next enclosure full of hungry animals.

Kennel by kennel, she filled the feed troughs and the dogs quieted then as they heartily gulped down their slightly tardy breakfast. Finally, only Wolf was left to attend to. The irritation that she had felt a few moments ago faded with the diminishing racket from the other dogs as she stood watching Wolf's antics, smiling to herself as he whined and scratched at the fence enclosing his run.

"Don't worry, boy," she consoled in a light mocking tone as she set the open feed bag to one side so that she could pull open the latch to his pen. "Your royal majesty's breakfast has arrived."