"I was hoping you could do me a favor, Cole," she said. "I went to the Palmers first, but… as you know, they're away."
"Of course," he said. "Anything I can do for you will be my pleasure." His normal tendency to be helpful would have been enough to guarantee his sincerity, but he sensed something different in his guest… she was not like the Mary Margaret he had seen at Grange meetings. For one thing, she was not dressed in her usual drab, formless clothing; she had on a dress that actually made her look rather desirable – and years younger. Perhaps her appearance was helped, too, by the makeup – first he had ever seen her wear!
"Dean took my dog, Victor, to the vet for surgery," she said. "And I really need a dog in the house… living alone and all… and I'd hoped I could borrow Laddie for a few days, just until Victor is well enough to carry on. Is there a chance that… maybe you could spare McDog for a day or so?"
Cole had fast reflexes, or he would not have been able to cover his initial reaction to her first statement. Dean had mentioned the sex dog he took to George's clinic, but not the owner's name. Now Cole knew who it had to be! He also knew her real reason for asking to borrow McDog. Yes, she certainly must feel that she needed a "dog in the house" after the fun Victor gave her!
His first impulse was to let her borrow McDog, at least for overnight. If she could get him to cooperate, more power to her. And McDog might enjoy the change of pace; he had been chasing around a lot lately to find enough tail-bitches in heat weren't too plentiful in the area.
But the more he studied her, the more he thought he might be able to do better for Mary Margaret than she had asked. And it would give him some fun, too!
"If Grace says it's all right, I'm agreeable," he told her. "McDog really belongs to her." He saw the disappointment in her face and hurried to relieve it.
"I have a better idea, though," he told her. "Why not stay here with us until Victor's well enough to get back on the job? I know Grace would be tickled to have you; she sees too few women as it is, confined here on a busy dairy farm. And I'm always pleased to have another beautiful woman around!"
Mary Margaret protested, explaining that she had to be with Victor to take care of him. Cole waived that argument aside.
"Victor can stay here; I've yet to see the dog that our McDog can't make friends with."
She thought about it. It wasn't the way she had planned it, but the invitation voided her excuses and left her no out. But it seemed that she ought to be able to get at McDog somewhere on the big McDonald farm there were plenty of outbuildings…
"Or maybe Grace would lend me quicker than she would McDog," Cole teased when she hesitated to accept the invitation. "I'm not as handsome as Victor, maybe, but I could bite if anyone tried to break in your house."
She looked at him sharply when he used the word "handsome". She was sure that Dean would not betray a confidence. But yet, there was something in Cole's eyes… She gulped down her wine and Cole rose, taking her glass out to the kitchen and refilling it. When he brought it back, she looked at him shyly.
"Cole McDonald, if I didn't know you had a beautiful wife, I'd think you were making a pass – flattering me, inviting me to stay here, offering to stay at my place… even trying to get me drunk, perhaps?" She smiled as if she had turned the tables on him, teasing him more successfully than he had teased her.
"The day I stop making passes at beautiful, desirable women, Mary Margaret, will be the day they throw the dirt in on me. And Grace is not only beautiful… she's broadminded… modem, I think they call it." Cole moved to sit beside her as he finished speaking, but made no attempt to touch her; he sipped his wine and looked into her startled eyes.
"You… you're modem… sort of like… the Palmers?" she asked, using the only reference she knew.
"Very much like the Palmers," he admitted, wondering how much she knew about Dean and Phyllis.
"Then… you were… making a pass." Her tone was uncertain, but it was not a question. She wet her lips nervously, and Cole saw that they were very nice lips – ripely full and moistly pouting. Her tits were jiggling under her dress with the rise and fall of her heavy breathing. "I… I don't… oh, Cole! I'm so desperate!" She was trembling, and Cole set down his wine and took her in his arms.
Her mouth darted up to meet his as if her head had been released from a spring. He kissed her hotly, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and tasting her as his hands began to caress her shoulders and back.
She sucked at his tongue greedily; her hands went to his lap and fumbled at the opening of his fly, announcing the frank surrender of all her modesty as her need became too great to be ignored.
Cole's hands unfastened the back of her dress and slid it off her shoulders as she got her hand inside his pants. He unhooked her bra, then made her sit back as he peeled the dress and bra straps off her shoulders and arms.
She stood up and shed the garments as Cole stripped himself for action. When she had removed her panties, he stared at the dark bush of her crotch, admired the perfection of her legs, thighs, and rounded belly, and the gorgeous fullness of her firm tits.
"You're absolutely lovely!" he said hoarsely as he took her in his arms again. She felt the hardened shaft of his cock press into her lower belly and gasped, then she whimpered as her need grew greater with the contact.
He knew she was impatient, so he eased her onto the sofa, then lifted one of her legs and placed her heel on the back of the sofa. Her other leg was stretched out, her heel resting on the carpet.
Cole knelt and kissed the wetness of her oozing bush, sucked at the swelling lips of her gash, then licked into the warm, red furrow with an excited hunger. Her sweet, musky scent was a warm vapor rising to fin his nostrils as he tasted her puce.
"Oh-h-h! Cole!" she moaned, her legs trembling and her ass beginning to rock gently on the sofa cushion. "I'm sopping wet!"
"I know," he said joyfully, lifting his face from her excitingly steamy twat. "Your cunt's a delicious pot of honey!"
He licked her again, slurping up the dew, then he thrust the tip of his tongue into her hole deeply and began to fuck her with rapid little strokes.
"Oh, Cole… that's wonderful!" she cried. Her hands covered his head and her fingers ran through his hair and caressed his ears as she pulled his mouth into her snatch, eager to get his tongue as far inside her as possible.
He sucked powerfully at the hot entrance of her cave, and she let go of his head to grab her tits and squeeze them while she gave out a squeal of ecstasy. Cole slipped his lips over the warm bud of her slit and darted his tongue at it in rapid feather-light contacts. She whimpered joyfully and wiggled her ass as he kept up the teasing for several seconds.
Cole sucked at the fleshy bud, drawing it out of its cloak and into his lips, then he let it go. She gasped loudly, and he did it again, then again, repeating it as she began to moan and wiggle with an unbearable pleasure.
"My thing!" she cried loudly. "Oh, Cole… the way you're… sucking my thing!"
He felt her body tensing, and he knew that she was ready to come, so he left the bud and sucked again at the wet hole of her tunnel, gathering the last of her honey. Then he clamped onto her clit once more and sucked at it powerfully.
"Argh-h-h-h!" Her throaty scream, as she started to come, was a sound that rattled the windows. Her body leaped as if it had received a jolt of electricity, and she arched her back tautly for a second, then she fell back and shuddered several times, moaning and gasping as her orgasm ran its course.
Cole gave her a good three minutes, his cock throbbing every second of waiting, and then he grabbed his stiff whang and leaned into her crotch, guiding it into the sloppy maw of her twitching cunt. Her spasming flesh closed around the throbbing knob, and she jerked as she gasped at the contact.
Then he thrust into her body, fucking into the slippery clutchings of her convulsing tunnel, soaking his prick in her sheath for several seconds, enjoying the hot, quivering wetness of her grasp on him.