Unreal, but highly exciting for me.
Mrs. Patterson was taking her time with the very fat dog dick she was attending to, her perfect pink tongue wetly licking at it, up and down the entire length, as Rockford stood over her.
“Amber, come around to the other side and suck Rockford's cock with me,” she suggested, breaking my reverie. “He's been a exceptionally good boy and I think he deserves it.”
“I'll say. He helped me come four times before you caught us.”
So I moved around and stretched out on the other side of the big Labrador, bringing my mouth up to his dangling cock as soon as my gorgeous employer moved her own mouth away to give me room.
Rockford jerked at my first touch, but a moment later I could feel his thick dog-penis throbbing away as I licked it wetly up and down the way Mrs. Patterson had done.
“I can't believe I'm doing this!” I marveled. “Really, I'm actually licking a big dog's cock!”
Mrs. Patterson watched me for several more fun minutes, her breathing growing slowly more ragged as her own excitement mounted, her free hand (I noticed!) soon beginning to masturbate herself slowly.
I continued sucking Rockford, my lips wrapped around that big dog-cock, feeling the pulsing aliveness coursing through his thick shaft. I truly loved it, the wrongness of it, the indecent sickness of it, the utter depravity of it, for I knew that's what it was: pure depravity.
“Let me make him come really fast,” Mrs. Patterson said.
She reached up and again began masturbating him as I sucked him, but her graceful hand moved much faster this time, her slim fingers obscenely encircling the thick shaft of his big pink dog cock.
“He'll go off really fast like this. Keep sucking him.”
And she wasn't kidding.
With my mouth still glued to the tip of Rockford's twitchy cock, he suddenly whimpered and came, a river of warm dog cum rushing into my mouth so quickly I almost choked on it.
I coughed, pulling my mouth away so I could catch my breath, and the remaining semen he ejaculated spurted into my face.
Actually, all over my face.
“I'm drowning!” I had to laugh, coughing again. “It was like trying to swallow a gallon of cum!”
“That's the fun of it,” the older woman laughed, too. “At least, to start. Now…do you want to watch him fuck me? That's even more fun…”
And I could only stare.
My God, was she serious?
I finally nodded, dying to see this svelte young professional woman fucking her dog, a sight I'd never imagined seeing in my wildest fantasies.
When Mrs. Patterson got onto her hands and knees, her shapely bare ass in the air, Rockford didn't hesitate in mounting her. His paws went easily around her slender waist, his dangling cock still astonishingly hard and lining up with her sopping-wet cunt.
“Fuck me, boy,” she crooned to him. “Sweet little Amber wants to see us do it. So she knows what to expect one day when she's ready to do it herself. Oh, yeah, there you go…!”
And, of course, before I even had my 11th birthday a month later that summer, that big gorgeous yellow dog was fucking me, too.
Virginia K.G. Ryder
Taboo Times Ten
The Fucking Machine by
Augustine Saintly
Gorgeous and wealthy young Kendra Wilson had a very real problem-she had a pussy that just wouldn't quit.
At 22-years-old, she was a genuinely beautiful tall blonde with a slim super-model figure, yet coupled with large, solidly firm breasts that could stop a freight train at a hundred yards.
Her face was flawless, a work of high-cheekbone and full-lipped art that'd been breaking hearts since she was an oversexed little 9-year-old.
Starting at that young age, she'd handed over her excessively-stimulated body to many of her young schoolmates, several of her teachers, two uncles, and as a stunningly sexy 12-year-old cheerleader, to an entire 7th-grade soccer team, complete with their adult coach, that disappeared under the radar for a so-called 'lost' Saturday night.
Finally 'found' late Sunday morning, the soccer coach claimed they'd all gotten a weird and rare case of almost fatal food poisoning at the local pizza place, which not only gave him and all the kids temporary amnesia but somehow killed the reception on all of their cell phones.
Not a particularly believable story, but no one had ever proven otherwise. And it demonstrated to what near-insane lengths the opposite sex was willing to go, seriously, to get their hands on the sexually captivating young girl.
In any case, oversexed was not a strong enough word to accurately describe Kendra Wilson.
At least, according to her therapist, a Ms. Jocelyn James, who'd been closely (perhaps too closely) working with her since she was a gorgeous teenager.
Kendra learned early on that the ever-evolving psychiatric world no longer believed that nymphomania was a real disease, preferring to call females with unnatural, always-in-full-gear sex drives 'hypersexuals.'
It basically meant having a clitoris that was always fully engorged, pulsing with anticipation and highly alert (or hyper — alert) for never-ending sexual relief.
“No matter how many times I come,” she'd told the older woman, stretched out on the therapist's couch, “I want to come again. One orgasm leads to the need for another, building as it were, to more and more of them, until I'm finally so exhausted I literally pass out.”
Of course, as appealing as Kendra was to men, she was as equally appealing to certain types of women.
“Do you often feel the need to masturbate?” Ms. James asked, taking many notes. “In inappropriate places, I mean?”
“I always feel the need to masturbate,” Kendra told her. “In every place.”
“Do you feel the need right now?”
“Yes,” Kendra admitted, suddenly ashamed. “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be sorry,” Ms. James told her, clearing her throat. “It's normally a very natural urge. Please do it right now, and tell me what you're thinking. Exactly what you're thinking, as you do it.”
“Really?”
“Go right ahead, Kendra. It's therapy, after all.”
And as soon as the gorgeous young blonde was panting through her first of nine straight orgasms on the couch, her jeans and delicate panties down around her slim ankles, her therapist wasted no time putting her experienced hands (and eventually her mouth) on the hapless young girl's pussy.
Applying a clinical approach, as it were.
For the insurance company's money, from then on, Kendra got her sweet pussy licked and fingered and vibrated, her naked perfect body put through one panting orgasm after another, all of this within two 55-minute sessions each week with only a few words of actual therapy thrown in.
“I'm still so horny I could hoot,” Kendra announced each time, leaving the office somewhat satisfied sexually, but always needing far more. “Ms. James, I'm going to start doing gangbangs. I haven't done one in years, not since that soccer team when I was a naive little 12-year-old.”
Which instantly got Ms. James' full attention.
“That's a great idea,” her therapist advised. “A few gangbangs should take the edge off your unquenchable sex drive. If you let me know when and where, I might even join you.” She coughed politely into her hand. “Strictly for purposes of, uh, legitimate observation, you understand.”
Kendra looked to the woman.
She might have been a nymphomaniac, or a hypersexual or just a giant slut or whatever, and a natural blonde besides, but she wasn't an idiot.
“But you won't participate?” the young patient wanted to know. “You'll just observe? No fucking?”
“Well…”
And that's when Kendra decided further therapy was not for her.
So she joined the local swingers' world, finding a nice-sounding club online within driving distance, and on her 18th birthday she took on 14 young and older men at a rundown motel.