Mark and Debbie had been married for two years when the local office of the company for which he worked was closed as a cost-saving measure. Mark was lucky. Instead of being terminated, he had been given the opportunity to become a roving troubleshooter. The position paid slightly more than his old one, but he would have to spend almost three weeks of every month traveling. He tried contacting other companies in the area, in hope of finding something that would allow him to stay near home, but they all had either had hiring freezes or were laying people off. He resigned himself to living on the road, but he knew that this situation would not be popular with his wife.
Debbie was one of those women who had grown up pretty, privileged, and consequently extremely spoiled. As a little girl she had gotten everything she wanted from her parents, even if she had to pitch a fit to get it. In High School, boys fell over themselves trying to please hers because of her looks. She had come to believe that she was entitled to whatever she wanted and if she did not get it, she would become very unpleasant.
When Debbie met Mark, he seemed to be just what she wanted in a husband. He was handsome, he had a good job, and he bought her everything she wanted. After the wedding, he bought her the cutest house in the suburbs, to which he would come home every night and entertain her. He even got her a flashy and very expensive sports-car, so she would look good driving around town. He indulged her every whim and she loved him for it.
At first, Mark was oblivious to Debbie's nature. He was in love with her and wanted to give her everything he could. Whenever she became unhappy, he would end the crisis by giving in to her. As the honeymoon period wore off, he began to have doubts about their chances for long-term happiness, but he loved his wife deeply and was willing to put up with a lot to keep her happy.
The problems began when he told her about the changes at work. She was unhappy about his being away and when he told her there was nothing he could do about it, that he was lucky to still have a job at all, she pitched a screaming fit. Mark slept on the couch that night.
Things had not improved by the time Mark began to prepare for his first extended trip. Debbie had allowed him back in to their bed, but she refused to let him touch her.
"If you loved me, you would stay with me," she said.
"Honeybun, I do love you. But I have to go where they send me if I want to get paid. It's money that pays the mortgage on the house and puts food on the table. Until I can find something else, this is the way it has to be."
"But I need you here!" Debbie cried. Mark's heart broke to see his pretty wife this unhappy, but there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. Then he thought of something he could do that might help. He could get her a dog. Taking care of a dog would keep her occupied while he was gone. It would also give her some companionship, something to focus on besides how unhappy she was.
Rather than bring it up with Debbie and risk another tantrum, Mark kept the dog idea to himself. After a search of local breeders, he found a pedigreed Black Labrador that the owner said would be ideal as companion and security for a lonely wife. Mark paid for the animal and arranged to pick it up the day of his trip.
When Mark walked in with the dog, Debbie was well into one of her fits. Crying and shrieking, she said, "But I don't WANT a dog, I want YOU. Why are you doing this to me?" The dog walked over to Debbie and sniffed at her. He looked up at her with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, expecting to be petted.
"Honeybun, look. He's a very friendly dog. His name is Gus. He's got a pedigree and everything. He's housebroken. He's up-to-date on all his shots. He'll be a good guard dog. He'll keep you safe while I'm gone. I've got all the dog food and bowls and leashes and stuff right here. All you have to do is feed him twice a day and walk him when he needs to go out."
Unmoved by his arguments, Debbie ran to the bedroom and slammed the door, throwing herself on the bed. Her sobs could be heard all the way down the hall.
"I've got to go now," Mark called through the closed door. "I'll leave Gus here. His bed and the rest of his stuff is in the kitchen. I'll call you when I get there. Bye, honey."
After Mark had gone, Debbie sat up and dried her tears. Without an audience, there was no point to crying. "A dog," she said to herself, "why would he think I wanted a dog? Nasty old thing. Be underfoot all the time. When he gets back he can take this dog back to where he got it, that's all!"
When Debbie opened the bedroom door, Gus was lying in the hall, waiting for her to come out and play with him. He sat up and wagged his tail when she stepped out of the bedroom.
"Get away from me!" she shouted, shaking her finger at the dog.
Alarmed and confused by her tone, Gus backed away down the hall toward the kitchen. Debbie followed him, making shooing motions with her hands. His bed, bowls and a large bag of food were where Mark said they would be.
"I guess you need to be fed," Debbie said, putting her hands on her hips. With a kitchen knife, she cut open the top of the bag of dog food and scooped some into Gus' dish. Then she poured him some water and went back to the living room to stew some more about how Mark had gone off and left her all alone. She was reading one of her romance novels when she noticed that the dog had come into the room and was watching her from the corner. She sniffed, and went back to her book. She ignored the dog for the rest of the afternoon, except to let him out when he needed to go outside to do his doggy business in the yard. She refused to use the leash. If he ran away, she would be rid of him. Apparently just to spite her, Gus came back every time.
Debbie continued to feed, water, and open the back door for the dog, but otherwise ignored him for the rest of the week. Whenever he would try to sit next to her or ask to be petted, she would shout at him and shoo him away. When that happened, he would go lie down across the room, but he still stayed near her all the time.
On Friday, Debbie made plans to go clubbing with a couple of her girlfriends. She thought that getting out with her friends and getting a little wild at a club would be just the thing to take her mind off of her thoughtless husband and also to get her away from that awful animal that refused to let her out of his sight. She had showered, done her hair, and laid out her favorite club dress, a short, strapless spandex sheath that had elastic laces all the way down both sides. It showed off her youthful 110 lb. figure very well, clinging to every curve like paint in front and back, and left her sides essentially bare. Wearing underwear with it was impossible, but 22-year-old Debbie thought that her D-cup breasts were firm enough not to need support.
She was standing in the bathroom, primping before putting on her dress, when she dropped one of her pearl earrings. She saw it fall between the pedestal sink and the bathtub and she got down on her knees to look for it with her bare ass wiggling in the air. She had just spotted it in the corner under the sink, and was reaching to pick it up when she suddenly felt something wet slide between her exposed butt-cheeks. She was so startled that she jerked her head up and smashed it into the underside of the sink, briefly knocking herself unconscious. When she slowly began to regain her senses, Debbie thought she was dreaming. It was a wonderful dream. She was lying on a private beach in Cozumel and Enrique, the handsome poolboy, was between her legs, licking her tenderly, making her wet before he entered her. His five-o'clock shadow was tickling her most sensitive parts, and his insistent licking was making her boiling-hot pussy gush juice all over his mouth.
Debbie moaned, "Oooo, Enrique. Stop that or you'll make me cum too soon." Her eyelids fluttered open and reality crept back into her consciousness. Something was very wrong. She wasn't on the beach. She was face-down on a tile floor. And that wasn't Enrique between her legs. Debbie raised her head and looked back, careful not to bang her head again. The dog! It was the damn dog! The nasty filthy beast had his head between her legs and was licking her pussy!
Debbie tried to clamp her knees together to force the animal away from her sex. She took a deep breath to scream at the top of her lungs, but before she could make a sound Gus pulled his furry head out of her crotch and growled at her. It was a deep rumbling noise, terrifyingly feral. Debbie swallowed her scream. "The dog has gone mad," she thought, "he's reverted to his true nature. He's as big as me and certainly much stronger. He's going to kill me. He's going to tear me apart." Gus growled again, his black lips sliding back from his gleaming white fangs. Almost without conscious thought, Debbie spread her knees open, again exposing her inflamed sex.
Gus quit growling and put his head back under her ass. He resumed licking Debbie. Her entire groin was quickly drenched with his saliva. His long tongue could easily reach her clit from his position behind her. He licked Debbie from front to back, without pause.
Debbie hung her head and rested it on the bath mat. From this position she could see the dog's tongue raking her sex over and over. Her heart was still pounding, but her terror had faded enough for her senses to return. She watched, fascinated, as the animal licked her. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself at her expense. It was the most humiliating experience she had ever had.
"Please stop, doggie. Please don't do this," Debbie pleaded.
As Gus worked away at her, Debbie's pussy began to respond on its own. Her juices started to flow more freely and her labia became engorged with her blood, slowly spreading apart, as if to give the dog greater access.
Debbie felt the heat build inside her. She felt herself open to the animal. She felt his tongue going deeper, seeking the source of the flow of nectar that had started to run from her. As the warmth spread through her, she felt herself responding physically to the dog's tongue. She grit her teeth and told herself that this was dirty and perverted, that she could not allow herself to receive pleasure from what was happening to her. Even as she made the resolution, her body betrayed her. Her hips tilted back, moving her pussy closer to the source of the sensations that were causing her arousal.
"Please don't... lick... me... like... that. Please stop. I'm sorry I was mean to yoooooooou."
A low moan escaped from Debbie's lips. She was finding it more difficult to concentrate, to focus her resolve on denying the pleasure that was radiating from her loins. She closed her eyes. Her breathing became more rapid. Her nipples, pressed against the cool tile, hardened with the wave of arousal that swept over her.
"Please," she whispered. But "please" what? "Please stop?" "Please don't?" "Please go faster?" Debbie was no longer sure. She floated on a sea of sensation, riding the continuous waves from crest to crest like a limp piece of seaweed, completely at the mercy of a force beyond her control.
Then Gus stopped. Without thinking, Debbie spread her knees farther apart, trying to entice the dog to continue. "So close," she thought. She felt the dog's coat rub against her ass. She felt his powerful chest on her back. She felt his hot breath on the back of her neck. Puzzled, she opened her eyes. She could see something moving between her legs. It was very large and bright red. It reached almost to her navel. Then it withdrew back between her legs and rose out of sight. She felt a sensation of pressure at the opening to her pussy. "He's going to rape me!" she realized. The dog was going to rape her, right here on the bathroom floor. Instantly, her head cleared. She started to push herself up on her arms, to try to get the dog off of her. This was very wrong. This was unthinkable. She could not let this happen!
"NOOOOO! No, you mustn't. No. No. Nooooo!"
Gus growled right in her ear. She froze where she was. She desperately tried to decide if she had a chance to fight the dog. She had a vision of lying on the bathroom tiles with her throat torn out. While she was trying to decide, Gus took the initiative. The dog drove his erect cock halfway into her pussy with one shove of his hips.
Debbie tried to scream, but the sound choked in her throat. Feeling herself start to slip on the tiles from the force of the dog pushing behind her, she grabbed the edge of the bathtub and pushed back to keep her head from being banged into the porcelain. Gus pushed again and the rest of his thick 10" cock slid home. Debbie's mouth dropped open and her eyes rolled back at the sensation of the dog's cock slamming into her well-lubricated vagina. It felt incredibly hot and it seemed to fill every crevice, stretching her out more than she had ever been before. She knew immediately that Gus' equipment was bigger than Mark's. She could feel the hot flesh touching her cervix, forcing it out of the way as it thrust all the way into the deepest part of her.
The feeling of having the dog's cock buried so deep inside her was overwhelming. Debbie felt arousal explode within her, driving her instantly to the brink of orgasm. "NO!" she thought, "I can't! I mustn't! Not with a DOG!" But it was too late. Debbie felt her climax wash over her; searing waves of intense pleasure that began at her pulsing clit and rolled out to all parts of her body.
No sooner had Debbie's climax reached its peak, than Gus started stroking his cock in and out of her. The feeling in her hypersensitive clit was indescribable.
"Oh God! Oh, God. Ohgodohgodogoddddddd!" she squealed. Her vagina was so tight around his cock that it felt like she was being turned inside out on every stroke. His cock was bigger than any man she had ever been with. It was stimulating places in her that no one had ever touched before. She had never felt pleasure this intense before in her life.
Gus fucked her like a machine, ramming his cock home with rapid-fire strokes. He seemed not to tire, but went on and on at the same fast pace for several minutes. Debbie melted under his continuous assault. Her pussy was burning with the heat of his cock in her and the heat of the friction it was causing. She felt another climax rising from deep inside her, as overpowering in its impact as the first.
As her second orgasm took her, she gripped the side of the bathtub with both hands and felt herself vibrate. Muscles all over her body quivered. She moaned loudly, a deep, almost animal-like sound. She felt her vaginal muscles pulsing on the huge cock, pulling it further into her hot pussy. Gus increased his pace as he felt her squeezing his cock.
"Oooooooooo," she moaned, "Fuck me! Fuck meeeeeee! Oh, that feels sooooo gooood!" Debbie tossed her head back and forth, ruining her hairdo. She could feel his balls slapping her swollen clit on every stroke. She bucked her hips, trying to get more cock into her pussy. She could feel the tip of it bumping into her cervix on every stroke. This was an entirely new sensation for her and it raised her arousal to a new level.
Gus kept on pounding his cock into her, pouring it to her as fast as he could. With all four feet on the floor he arched his back and rocked his hips back and forth, moving six inches of his cock in and out of her pussy on each powerful stroke.
Debbie's world had dwindled down to the massive cock plunging into the innermost reaches of her vagina. She held no thought in her head, only experiencing the powerful sensations that crashed over her. Time seemed to stand still, as she was frozen in a matrix of arousal, stuck like a fly in amber.
She almost did not notice when Gus slowed to a stop. He stood perfectly still for a few seconds, then he thrust into Debbie so hard that his cock brutally banged her cervix, almost pushing its way into her womb. Then he started to unload his balls into her.
To Debbie, the spray of hot dog cum deep inside her felt like molten lava searing the depths of her pussy. She came instantly, her climax flashing in her brain like a Roman candle, firing exploding balls of colored fire again and again behind her eyes as Gus' huge cock pumped stream after stream into her. Just when it seemed like he would never stop, his cock fired one last bolt and he backed away from Debbie, slowly pulling his still-hard cock out of her. The dog walked out of the bathroom and disappeared around the corner.
Debbie collapsed, exhausted, onto the cool bathroom tiles, shivering from an orgasm that seemed to go on forever. She wondered if she would ever stop cumming. Even after her orgasm finally subsided, she lay still, unable to move and totally drained.
Long minutes later, she stirred. She raised her head and pushed herself up on her hands. She tried to get her legs under her but they would not cooperate, so she sat on the floor and put her back against the bathtub. After resting for a while in this position, she tried her legs again. This time they worked well enough for her to get up on the toilet.
Debbie ran her hands across her abdomen. Her abdominal and vaginal muscles were threatening to cramp from the sustained workout they had been through. She spread her legs and bent over to look at her sore, swollen pussy. It was still engorged with blood and her labia were still hanging open. She watched as a sticky glob of white slid from her and dropped in to the toilet bowl with a plop. Another followed the first. Then a stream, and finally a flood of dog cum poured out of her. She'd never seen so much cum before. She thought there must have been a pint of it.
Taking a hand-mirror from the vanity, she held it up between her legs to get a better look at her pussy. She saw that she had been thoroughly reamed by the dog's large organ. Where before, her opening had been small, now her poor pussy gaped wide open.
"I'm ruined," Debbie said under her breath. "My poor pussy. He ruined my poor pussy with his great big prick." She stared as the last of the cum slowly oozed out.
"He filled me. He filled me up with doggie cum. I'm not on the pill. I wonder if I'll have puppies?" Debbie giggled, teetering on the verge of hysteria.
She sat the mirror down and used some toilet paper to wipe herself clean. Then she struggled unsteadily to her feet and, holding on to anything handy, she staggered into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
Without sitting up, she reached for the telephone on the bedside table. Picking it up, she put her fingers on the buttons. Who to call? What to say?
"My dog raped me." Right. Who did she want to say that to?
"He fucked me brutally and wrecked my pussy. I came hard three times on his big cock." No one could ever know that.
"It was the best sex I've ever had." Admitting that to herself left her stunned and bewildered.
She picked a number from the speed-dial list and hit 'call'. It was answered almost immediately.
"Cerise? Hi, it's Debbie. Look, I'm sorry for standing you up. I've been in the bathroom for the last hour. No, I think I'm OK now. But we'll have to get together some other time, OK? Sure. Me too. Bye, now." She put the phone back in the cradle, pulled the bedspread over her, rolled over and fell asleep.
When she woke up in the morning, it all seemed like a bad dream. Then she felt the soreness in her groin and felt the dried sweat and other fluids on her body. Groaning, she swung her legs off the bed and sat up. Gus lay next to the bedroom door, looking at her.