Bestiality in the desert

Scenes from “the hills have eyes” were flashing through
my mind as I considered my situation. I was stranded in
the middle of the desert, my car was out of commission
and the surrounding foothills were rather unnerving.

Like a typical horror-movie-fool I had taken a rarely
used road across central Nevada, thinking I could save
some time and that breaking down only happens in the
movies. In the movies they are always, conveniently,
driving a beat-up, old clunker that you know will cause
the main character trouble as soon as it rolls into
view before the end of the opening credits. My car,
however, was only a year old. A Toyota. Aren’t Toyota’s
supposed to run forever? Don’t the Japanese make better
cars than the U.S.? How could I possibly break down?

Well, that’s what I thought anyway.

As rarely used as this road was, it was actually paved.
But that was of no possible advantage when there were
no homes, businesses or any other signs of civilization
other than the blacktop itself for a good hundred miles
in any direction. I wasn’t panicking yet, though.

Someone who has such a new car, with its six CD
changer, dual-zone climate controls, keyless entry and
professionally installed, after market, remote control
engine starter, sure enough has a cell-phone.

But, this was Nevada after all. So I wasn’t getting a
signal where I was. All I figured I needed to do,
though, was walk to where I would get one. I still
wasn’t panicking.

Until I dropped the phone as I was getting out of the
freakin’ car! The freakin’ car that, with all of its
other fancy ass, technologically advanced gizmos didn’t
have any kind of on-star service!

Panic was now present.

The phone completely cracked. It blinked once, then
died. Cheap made piece of shit!

I didn’t know what the fuck to do. The lord only knows
when a car might’ve come by, and no one direction was
any better than another to start walking in. So, after
cursing and kicking every tire on the damned Toyota at
least three times over, I grabbed my last bottle of
water from my little cooler that I always took on long
road trips and headed in the same direction I had been
driving in for the last three hours.

After less than three minutes of walking I stopped and
paced in a circle, cursing and spitting. This was not
what I wanted to be doing, walking down a hot Nevada
road in the middle of July on a day when a five foot,
one inch, taught-as-a-drum, little blonde bobcat-of-a-
girl was waiting for me in Reno.

I could hear her purring from here.

I kicked at a small rock on the side of the road and
called my boss every name I could think of. It had been
his idea to send me to Vegas to meet with some
potential buyers instead of going himself. That son-of-
a-bitch!

Then, I thought of the girls in the shows I took in
while in sin city for the last two days and the one I
took back to my hotel room and decided my boss was an
okay guy. I was the one who decided to drive instead of
flying after all. Oh, yes, I cheat on my girlfriend.
Sue me.

After letting my mind relive for a few moments the
things that show girl and I did, I tried to steel
myself for the task at hand. I started walking again
but only made another few steps when I noticed
something in the distance. Something silvery was
shining in the sun on top of a small hill, or, more
accurately, a gentle rise in the desert floor that was
set against a large, snow-capped mountain range a good
hundred miles behind. It reflected the sun so brightly
that it was hard to determine just what it could be.

My sunglasses helped a bit but it took walking a ways
out into the sage brush to get the right angle, to
counter the reflection, to realize what I was seeing.
It was one of those silver Airstream travel trailers.
Now images from the REMAKE of “the hills have eyes” was
were flashing through my mind.

It couldn’t be someone camping, I thought. It had to be
someone doing some sort of research or project. I
didn’t really care. The only thing that mattered was
the possibility of them having a phone. Or a car that
worked.

I spied a narrow road that took an awfully round-about
way of reaching the trailer and figured a straight line
was better. I’m a terrible judge of distance but I
estimated that the trek to the Airstream would be at
least a mile. A mile of sand and sage and searing sun.
still, this was all a less daunting prospect than
following the highway for what could end up being fifty
miles or more. So off I went.

The heat of the Nevada sun had me sweating within
minutes of navigating the knee-high sage brush.
Fortunately I had forgone my suit that morning for a t-
shirt and cargo shorts,(I know, I am way out of style,
I always have been)so I figured I could take my t-shirt
off and work on my tan. I tucked the shirt into my back
pocket, letting it hang out like a Bruce Springstien
hankie, (don’t ask how someone my age knows that
cultural reference) and poured some of my water over my
head. This was already a rougher journey than I ever
wanted, and I had only been walking for about five
minutes.

I kept trudging on, though, and eventually I was at the
door to the trailer. I knocked on the little door as I
poured the rest of my bottle of water over my head. I
waited a minute or so and knocked again.

“Please, God, let there be someone around here,” I
thought aloud.

But the door never opened. I tried the handle, hoping I
could at least steal some more water, but it was
locked. I was totally deflated. I sat down on the
little retractable steps and held my face in my hands.

“Shit!” I said through clenched teeth. I spat between
my feet and looked up. I could see my car glinting in
the sun down on the highway. It looked twice as far
away as the trailer had looked from the other
direction. I looked up at the sky; not a cloud to be
seen. The heat was really depressing me.

But, I had to get going. I couldn’t sit there forever.
I stood up and dropped my bottle. It rolled a few feet
and I scurried after it. I don’t know why, it was empty
and there wasn’t anywhere to refill it. But just as my
hand gripped the stupid thing my eyes caught sight of
something about ten feet away. My mind instantly
abandoned the task at hand, causing me to stumble and
drop the bottle again and nearly bite the dust. I
managed to keep from belly flopping across the sand and
sage, and a few rogue tumbleweeds, but I ended up
stepping on the end of the water bottle before I could
steady myself. Fortunately, the damage was minor. I
could pop it back into shape easily. This, though
amazing in itself, was an ordinary occurrence compared
to the miraculous sight before me.

There, sprouting out of the desert floor, like a
submarine’s periscope rising out of the ocean, was a
faucet.

Yes, a faucet.

Yes, one of those things that releases water from an
underground well.

It quickly occurred to me that whoever lived here must
be planning to build a more permanent structure. They
were surely living in the silver trailer till they got
their house, or whatever, completed. It was a rather
lonely place to live, I thought. They must really want
to get away from it all. Or maybe they had just gotten
it real cheap. Either way, I was just glad that
drilling a well had been their first order of business.

I manipulated the plastic till my bottle once again
resembled a bottle and eased over to the faucet. I
pulled up on the pump-style handle and let the water
gush for several seconds. Then I eased the handle down
till the water was flowing at an appropriate rate so as
to get it into the small opening of the bottle.

I refilled the bottle several times, drinking some and
pouring some over my head and face and down my chest. I
filled it one last time and screwed the cap down tight.
I shut the faucet off and ran my fingers through my
wet, crew cut hair and wiped the water that was
dripping down over my eyes with my upper arm. I finally
focused on my surroundings again and found my self
facing away from the highway at what lay behind the
little trailer. I stood there staring at more
surprises.

First: starting about fifty yards from the silver
AirStream there was a barn-like building and a pen. The
pen was essentially an extension of the building,
closing in the immediate area in front of the large,
double-doors. This created an enclosure of about twenty
by forty feet and was constructed of a six-foot chain-
link fence. The building was a rustic barn-style
structure, though much shorter than a typical barn.
There was obviously no hay loft. I realized that the
subtle rise in the desert floor that the little trailer
sat atop began to descend almost immediately, dropping
enough to hide the barn from view from the highway.

The second surprise was right in front of me. It was a
dog. A large, huffing, wringing-wet rottweiler stood
staring up at me from just beyond the length of my
shadow. Water drained off of the stocky k-9 as though
it had just crawled out of a swimming pool. It suddenly
started shaking, its whole body rocking back and forth
violently, flinging beads of water across the sagebrush
and darkening the arid ground for several feet in two
directions. Then, with a look of complete disinterest
it simply stared at me and continued to pant.

“How in the world did you get so wet?” I wondered
aloud. Then I got the third surprise when saw that the
trail of water the dog had left across the sand led to
an awning attached to the back of the silver trailer.
It was a cloth awning that ran the length of the
AirStream and extended out about eight feet. It looked
homemade and was supported by posts on the outer
corners. It was closed in on the sides by blue plastic
tarps that were fastened by ropes and grommets. It
seemed very illogical to me that whoever lived here had
parked the trailer with the door facing the highway and
put the awning on the other side. It made more sense to
have the door open to the shade of the covering. But
what do I know?

The dog suddenly turned and headed back to the solace
of shade beneath the awning. I didn’t blame him. I
wouldn’t want to stand out in the direct sun either,
especially if I were covered in black fur. I wanted to
follow him, to see what was behind those blue tarps.
But, I knew I should just get going. I was lucky that
that dog hadn’t been mean, considering the reputation
of rottweilers. So I should be thankful that I had a
full bottle of water and no flesh wounds and be on my
merry way.

But then I heard a splash. In the middle of the
friggin’ desert I heard a splash! Like a splash of
water! This intrigued me too much. I had to see what
was back there. So I eased up to the corner post and
craned my neck around. In the middle of the shaded
recess, on a cement patio, was a kiddie-pool, and right
in the middle of the pool was the rottweiler. I guess
it did just climb out of a swimming pool, go figure. It
lay with its head draped over the side, panting and
drooling.

I glanced around at the rest of the patio. There were
several lawn chairs that were glommed together in one
of the back corners. There was an ice chest along the
opposite side from where I stood, and on a small table
against the trailer was yet another surprise. Along
with a towel and some random household junk, were both
sections of a two-piece woman’s bathing suit dangling
over the edge. The sight of this little white bikini
was as welcome as the faucet had been. That is until
the thought came to me that it could possibly belong to
some big fat woman, or worse, a cross-dressing man.
Ugh!

I was just about to step away when I heard a noise. Or
at least I thought I did. I wasn’t sure. The dog hadn’t
moved from the pool and I couldn’t see anything else
that could have generated sound. But then I heard it
again. I realized that there was more panting coming
from somewhere. Then one of the lawn chairs in the
jumbled congregation scooted. It was only about an inch
of movement, but it was movement.

“What in the hot ass hell?” I whispered aloud.

As I said a quick prayer that the rottweiler was still
in an agreeable mood I took a step onto the cement. I
slowly moved further into the cloth-covered cove. I
looked at the dog in the pool; it didn’t seem to care
what I was doing. I took another couple of steps toward
the chairs. As soon as I was close enough to see over
them I got the biggest surprise yet. In fact, it was
the biggest surprise of my life!

Behind the convergence of lawn chairs and against the
side of the trailer was a stark naked girl!

She was on her hands and knees with her face against
the plastic tarp. Another rottweiler was behind her,
standing ass to ass with her. I immediately realized
that he wasn’t just standing there, he was in her!
Fucking her! They were mated!

His tail lay across her smooth back as he panted and
drooled. If I didn’t know better I’d have sworn the dog
was grinning and that the drool wasn’t from the heavy
panting and the heat but from blissful oblivion.

The girl appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen and
nothing short of sexy. She may not have been the
classic knockout with long legs, ample breasts and
pouty lips and the air of a ditz, but in her own way
she would never fail to make a man whimper. Though it
was hard to tell with her being on her hands and knees
I estimated her height at a petite five foot. She was
slender and firm and had a great tan. The suntan wasn’t
overly dark but enough to create a pleasing contrast to
the milky white skin around her ass and over her tits.
She obviously wore that white bikini around the desert
but refused to go completely nude. I guess even if you
are someone who fucks dogs you have to preserve some
modesty. Oh well, it didn’t matter. I have always loved
tan lines.

Her hair was blonde and silky and a little more than
shoulder length. Those milky white tits were only of
modest size but so firm that even in this position they
didn’t flop around like those of an old lady.

The dog she was hooked up with began to get restless.
It tried to move away from her and she gasped. She
reached back and grabbed its hind leg and spoke firmly:
“No, Gomer… Still!”

“Gomer?” I thought to myself. Well, a name for a dog is
just a name for a dog, I decided.

As the dog fidgeted I could hear the squelching of
their coupling. I actually found it to be an erotic
sound and realized that I was enjoying what I was
witnessing.

I quickly shook those thoughts from my head. I stared
for another minute or so then it suddenly occurred to
me that maybe she hadn’t planned this and needed some
help. I had never been faced with a more difficult task
than trying to decide how to let her know I was there.
How do you address someone who’s being bred by a
rottweiler? I mean, “excuse me, I don’t mean to bother
you.” just didn’t seem right.

I finally decided on a way to go and went with it. It
took a few restarts but it finally succeeded in
breaking out of my throat.

“Uh are you okay, miss?” it not only sounded totally
ridiculous, but it startled the holy heck out of her.

Her gasp was nearly a full-throttle scream. Then she
let loose with the profanities. “Shit! Who the fuck are
you? Get the fuck out here! Now! Now! Get! Get the fuck
out of here!”

“I’m sorry… I was just… I –”

“Just get the fuck out of here, now! Go on, get out of
here! Fuck! Just get! Go!” She was near panic mode, and
this was agitating the dog. He started pulling, trying
to disengage. “Owe, shit! Gomer stop!” She had a hold
of his leg but this wasn’t deterring him. She had to
crawl backward to keep up with him and they ended up
turning about one hundred and eighty degrees and
knocking into the chairs. “Dammit Gomer! Shit! Ahhh!”

At this near scream I charged forward. “No, get the
fuck back!” she commanded, her voice not nearly as
forceful as her words. Her breathing was short and
rapid. I couldn’t tell whether it was due to pain or
ecstasy. Either way, I still felt compelled to do
something.

“Can I do something for you, miss?” I croaked. Geez, I
was sounding so lame.

“Grab his head,” she said.

“Huh?” I responded, caught off guard. I wasn’t really
expecting her to have any requests.

“Just grab his head, for fuck’s sake! Shit! Just hold
him, don’t let him pull away!”

I quickly obeyed, kneeling down in front of the dog and
gripping his collar. His breath as he panted in my face
was gawd-awful. Being so close to the drooling pooch
made me realize just how big his head and mouth was.
That’s when it dawned on me that I should have been a
little more cautious about getting right down in the
dog’s face, especially while he was breeding. He could
have bitten my own face clean off. I gently scratched
behind his ears and called him a good dog. Any dog that
doesn’t mutilate me is a good dog in my book. A damn
good dog.

As I continued to pet the big brute I also continued to
steal glances at the girl, lustfully admiring the skin
on her thighs. Suddenly her body started to shudder
while soft moans and sighs began flowing from her
mouth. I could see juices streaming down the insides of
her legs as the squelching became even more audible.

She finally relaxed and her arms collapsed down to her
elbows. She lowered her head to the floor. Her back
arched severely in its effort to keep her ass as high
as the dog’s. I tried to grab a glimpse of her breasts
and saw her looking back at me. Her eyes went from my
face to my crotch.

“I see you are enjoying this,” she snipped, “blew your
load already, shit!”

I looked down and my pants. Though my cock had tingled
a bit at the sound of her moans and the squelching, I
hadn’t developed an erection yet. But the water I had
poured over my head had darkened the front of my kaki-
colored cargo-shorts.

“Oh, uh no, I was just using your hose to –”

“Oh, please,” she sighed.

“No, really!” I defended myself. “I broke down on the
highway and was just –”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever So you didn’t get off yet, you
will. You’ll go home and beat off or something.”

“No I won’t… I mean… I wouldn’t –”

“Don’t give me that shit!”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t blame her for being
snotty. I don’t think I could have found it in myself
to be friendly in that situation either.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to embarrass you… I’ll just
go,” I said and started to stand.

“Wait!” she hissed. I paused. “Not till he’s done. Wait
till he’s done, please?”

“Sure,” I said. I slowly squatted back down and resumed
the task of petting Gomer. A few minutes passed when a
question arose in my head. “Did you ” My voice
faltered.

“Did I what?”

“Did you… you know, uh… do this… uh –”

“On purpose? Of course I did, shit!”

“Well I didn’t know sorry.”

“Oh don’t act so innocent.”

“I’m not, I mean, that is I’m not innocent. Or trying
to act like I am.”

“Whatever, just shut up would ya? Just be quiet, shit!”

I complied and shut my mouth. I stroked the dog’s head
and tried to concentrate on something else. Anything
else. A few minutes passed when, as I was looking over
my shoulder at the other dog, the two that were mating
began moving. It was the girl who was initiating
things. She was pulling forward, slow and easy.
Finally, after several seconds of hissing through
clinched teeth, she was able to dislodge Gomer’s cock.
It came out with a liquid-laden “splat.” A waterfall
I’d once seen on a trip to Yosemite national park came
to mind as I watched the k-9 cum cascade down the
girl’s legs, creating a puddle on the cement.

I released Gomer’s head and stood up. I watched him as
he walked away to the other side of the patio and began
cleaning himself. I was stunned at the size of his
equipment. It had to be at least eight inches long and
as thick as a cucumber and there was a bulbous
expansion at its base the size of a tomato. I couldn’t
believe she’d had that thing in her pussy. Not many
men, I thought to myself, were ever going to be able to
satisfy this girl after experiencing that.

I looked back at the girl; she was sitting back on her
haunches but still hadn’t stood up. I finally got a
look at her face. It was not the face you’d expect from
someone who’s into something so twisted as dog-sex. It
wasn’t the face of a toothless hag or awkward, anti-
social geek. It was, plain and simple, angelic. Eyes of
amber, a button nose, round, dimpled cheeks and all of
it covered in the smoothest, most flawless sun-kissed
skin. It was the face I pictured for her body, but not
for her behavior.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she sighed.

“Can I help you up?” I reached out a hand but she waved
me off. I pulled my t-shirt from my back pocket and
offered it to her, thinking that she might want to
cover up. But she waved me off again. I used the shirt
to wipe the sweat from my forehead and chest and turned
to leave.

“Well, I’ll go… Again, I’m sorry I, uh… you know
interrupted –”

“Wait!” she said, urgently but not loudly. I turned
back. “Could you do me a favor?” she asked.

“Uh… I don’t –”

“Please!”

She was just a stranger in a strange place doing a
strange thing and I didn’t feel I had any obligation to
stick around and do anything for her. But, I’ve never
been able to say no to a naked girl.

“What do you need?” I said, relenting to her.

“Can you stay? I need some help.”

This was strange. “Help with what?” I asked, uneasy.

“With Sampson,” she said and called the other dog over
to her with kissing noises.

Sampson? Well, it certainly wasn’t as lame as Gomer,
but I would’ve bet money that its name was Goober.
Gomer and Goober? Oh, well, I guess that comes from
watching too much TV Land. Yes, a guy with a sexy girl
friend, and who cheats on her with Vegas show-girls,
goes home and watches TV Land. And Nick and Nite. Hey,
there are worse things to judge me on.

The big galoot-of-a-dog stumbled its way out of the
pool and lumbered over to the girl. She scratched his
ears and looked at me. “If I don’t let him get his now,
he’ll get aggressive. He’ll try to fight Gomer He’ll
even try to bite my dad when he comes home The scent is
in the air, basically So I need you to help me like you
did with Gomer You know, hold his head? Don’t let him
try to pull away too quick.”

I was speechless and motionless as I took it all in. If
I was still able to put two and two together (and maybe
I wasn’t anymore after all this, who knows?), then I
had just concluded that she not only had done this
before, enough times that it had a routine element for
the dogs, but she was about to do it again, right in
front of me!

I also understood that she had a father who could be
coming home any minute. I really wasn’t sure about
this. Getting out of there was certainly the wisest
thing to do.

“Sure,” I said. Of course that’s what I said. I’m a
young horny guy with the opportunity to see a sexy
young girl have sex in front of me. Now matter how
taboo the sex may be it’s hard for a guy to pass it up,
to even pass up the chance to watch it.

The girl then reached beneath Sampson’s belly and
started pushing the sheath around his soft cock back
and forth. Once she got the dog’s red meat to grow she
suddenly resumed an all-fours position. Sampson sniffed
at her cunt and began licking. I could see him becoming
more excited by the second. He licked his fellow
rottweiler’s cum from the inside of her thighs, the
sight of which, along with her now less inhibited
sighs, spoke directly to my cock. I felt my member
begin to stiffen. I wanted to push that dog out of the
way and clean that cum off of her smooth inner legs
with my own tongue.

Dear, lord! Where did that thought come from? I mean,
cum is something I’ve never had any desire to taste, I
am straight after all, and dog cum really wasn’t my cup
of tea. But I had the thought. And it didn’t leave.

The dog lapped eagerly at the coupling cream, drooling
away more than he was swallowing. Every time he slid
his large pink tongue across the girl’s pussy she would
hiss and shudder. She neared orgasm when the dog paused
over her cunt and tried, repeatedly, to drive his nose
into her, his tongue lashing out and penetrating her,
further and further. But just before she was treated to
the body-rocking sensations of an orgasm, the dog
pulled away and circled her. Sampson strutted around
her, the two of them panting just as loudly as the
other. Each time he passed her pussy, he would lap at
it with that big flopping tongue, drawing breathy moans
from the girl from deep within her libido.

I had been falsely accused of sporting wood a few
minutes earlier, but was now as guilty as hell. My rod
throbbed inside my shorts. My heart was hitting the
inside of my chest the way one of my junior high
buddies used to slap my shoulder during the money shot
of a porn video we’d once gotten a hold of.

Finally, as he made another trip around, he reared up
from along side of her and clasped his front legs
around her narrow little waist, swinging his rear into
position behind her in the same motion. His ass was
hunching away even before he completed this
surprisingly quick maneuver. The girls head lowered
some as she reached back with one hand to help guide
Sampson’s prick into her already ravaged cunt. As soon
as their combined efforts were successful, and his cock
had breached the threshold, Sampson cinched himself up
tight against her ass with the powerful grip of his
front legs. His humping was hurried and uncontrolled.
There was certainly no subtlety to his method. It was
simply rapid-fire short-range thrusts with no rhythm or
finesse, just brute strength and the basic, primordial
instinct to procreate by the bluntest of means.

The staccato drumming of the dog’s loins was driving
the girl across the cement and sending visible ripples
through the flesh of her torso. Sampson forced her up
against the wooden skirting of the trailer where she
braced herself with her shoulder and did her best to
push back against the force of the dog’s frantic
ramming. Her moaning was escalating into an endless
series of short, high-pitched squeals. Drool from
Sampson’s mouth pooled in the middle of her back, then
over flowed and streamed down her sides where, by the
drop, it repelled down to the floor on long glimmering
strings that fluttered with the jiggling of her body.
Saliva from her own mouth was spotting the concrete as
well beneath her face as she lost herself in the
blissful ecstasy of their coitus.

Suddenly her lustful squeals turned to cries of pain.
She lowered her self to her elbows and clutched her own
hair with her hands, pulling on her roots to override
the pain in her pussy. I stepped forward, wanting to do
something.

“Are you okay, uh Miss?” I asked, knowing it was a dumb
thing to say.

“yeeeeessss!” she screamed. It sounded like a
profession of pleasure more than an answer to my
question.

If she was just voicing her passion, she seemed to
reconsider when another cry of pain burst from her
throat. It didn’t occur to me at that moment that one
of those same bulbous knobs I had seen on Gomer’s dark
red cock was trying to violently drill its way into her
vaginal cavity. I simply figured that the roughness of
Sampson’s fucking technique was provoking this display
of distress. With another yelp she reached beneath
herself with one hand to try to somehow ease the
assault on her cunt. It appeared to work for her agony-
addled wails softened and even the dog began to slowly
decrease his onslaught. His thrusting slowed until it
completely ceased. They both panted exhaustedly with
Sampson resting across her back. More drool drained
from their mouths. Beneath the dog’s stubby tail I
could see the ring of his ass expanding and closing
furiously as his cock blasted away at the girl’s pussy
like a cum-shooting Tommy gun.

I heard it before I saw it. Cum bubbled out from around
Sampson’s massive member once again coating the girl’s
thighs with reproductive fluids. As the watery semen
rolled down her thighs the dog suddenly began to heave
himself around. His front paws reached for the floor
beside the girl and his left rear leg stepped over her
back. He jockeyed till he was ass to ass with her as
Gomer had been when I first arrived. As soon as he was
facing away from the girl, Sampson made a strong effort
to pull away, unceremoniously dragging her about a foot
across the concrete.

“Ahhhh! Grab him!” she screamed. “Grab him, shit!”

I snapped out of the trance I’d slipped into while
watching the obscene proceeding and charged forward and
grabbed Sampson’s head.

“Sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, shit! Would you quit asking me that?”

“S-sorry, I –”

“Fuck, would you quit being sorry! Just shut up!”

I lowered down to my knees and sat back on my haunches
as I stroked Sampson’s head and neck. He huffed away in
my face, his breath even more repulsive than Gomer’s as
it carried the odor of his buddy’s sperm he’d licked
from the girl.

My own cock was still straining against my shorts. If
not for the wetness of the water I’d poured over
myself, a pre-cum stain surely would’ve been visible. I
couldn’t believe I was turned on by something like
this. I mean, I had viewed some rather bizarre and
taboo things on the internet in my day but I had never
really gotten off on it. But, here I was, hard as a
fucking rock over the sight of a young woman being bred
by a dog. I tried to tell myself that it was just the
sight of a gorgeous girl in her birthday suit and the
sounds she was making. After all, when ever I’m fucking
a woman, I don’t blow my load until, and usually right
as, she begins moaning and screaming. These same noises
coming from this girl’s mouth were sure to trigger
subconscious reflexes.

Along with this reassurance I tried to focus on
something other than Sampson and the girl. The girl.
The girl? I suddenly occurred to me that I knew the
names of the dogs but not the girl. I wanted to ask her
name, to introduce myself, but she had asked me to shut
up. Still…

“I didn’t catch your name,” I said, immediately
cringing. What was wrong with me? I was usually rather
smooth around women. Downright suave. But now, with
this girl, I was like an awkward teenager on the first
day of high school.

“I didn’t tell you my name, dumbshit!” she spat.

“Sorry, I was just –”

“Penny it’s Penny, for fuck’s sake Shit, I got Mr.
Sorry over here.”

Again, I would be as snotty hell, too, if I was her. So
I didn’t take it too harshly.

“I see you are getting into it now,” she said, and I
could see her once again looking at my crotch.

I guiltily looked down to see the very noticeable bulge
between my legs. “S-sorry,” I started to say. “I
mean… yeah… Well… this is all a bit… uh…” I
didn’t know how to describe it.

“Hot?” she asked. That would be the word.

“Well, yeah But not just that it’s –”

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice was serious, almost
ashamed.

“How long I mean, when did uh you know, when did you
first –”

“Ever since the first time I felt horny.”

“Oh,” I said, shocked. “How uh how old are you now?”

“Nineteen.”

Hey, I finally got something right!

“I see,” I said, trying to continue the awkward
conversation for the sake of conversation. “Does your
you know your dad uh Does he –”

“No, of course not!” she snapped. It was a stupid
question. I decided to just remain silent.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” she said after a
few moments, her voice struggling for steadiness as her
body tensed again, seemingly building to another
crescendo of pain or pleasure or both.

“Davey, uh, David, Dave! I’m Dave,” I answered. Shit,
my mind was flipping out. No one had called me Davey
since I was ten years old and I hadn’t thought of
myself as Davey since long before that.

“Are you sure, or do you need more time to decide?” she
asked and actually giggled. It was a strange sound, a
giggle that was book ended with soft grunts.

“I’m sure,” I said with a smile.

After a few more speechless moments I remembered that
there was something else I wanted to know. Needed to
know.

“Your… uh… you know… you said your dad is
coming.”

“Don’t worry about it… It’ll be a while.”

I was just about to ask how much longer this was going
to take when Penny started doing something that was in
no way a remedy for my raging hard-on. She began
fucking herself back on Sampson’s cock, grinding on it
and calling out to the sexual heavens.

“Yeeeesss! Oh, gawd yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh! Ahh! Ahh!
Yes! Gawd, yes! Oh, gawd yes!”

Man, I wanted to yank that dog out of the way and ram
my own dripping, pulsating prick into that pleading
pussy. I was actually getting close to climaxing in my
cargos just listening to her and looking at this once-
in-a-lifetime sight. After a good minute and a half,
Penny suddenly halted her lustful actions. She panted
and huffed and gasped for air. My own breathing was
elevated and I was sweating from more than just the
heat of the Nevada desert.

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, fuck!” she babbled
breathlessly.

Through it all, Sampson merely panted and stared
through me with a glazed look on his droopy face. It
took a few minutes for everything to settle back down
to what passed as normal beneath this homemade awning.
I assumed that she would be disengaging from the
contented rottweiler any minute but the minutes kept
ticking by with the two of them locked together.

“Uh how uh long uh does this usually –”

“Up to a half an hour.”

“Really?” I asked in genuine disbelief. “So I take it
then that… uh… Gomer… has an… uh… you know…
a quicker release?”

“Not really.”

“Then how come he… uh… you… you know… pulled
apart so quick?”

“Are you kidding? We were tied for twenty minutes or
more before you showed up,” she said, her tone the most
civil it had been since I found her.

“Oh So we have a ways to go here, then?” I mumbled.

“Uh huh You know, speaking of you showing up, you
haven’t told me what you are doing here,” she said. Her
voice was as steady as could be, altogether
conversational, all things considered.

“Oh… I… Uh… I broke down on the highway and
thought hoped you had a phone or something.” I had all
but forgotten why I had come here or that I’d come here
for a reason.

“Well then it’s my turn to be sorry,” she said, all the
time looking straight ahead.

“There’s no phone here. Cost too much to have lines put
in way out here.”

“What about a cell phone?”

“No service for several miles in any direction, so
what’s the use?”

“You could always get a satellite phone,” I said.

“Does it look like we can afford such things?” she
said. Her tone seemed to be tightening again.

“Uh, sorr… I mean, I was just making conversation.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed.

“I don’t suppose you… Uh… have a way to give me a
ride to the nearest Uh… town or phone?” I asked.

“Not till my dad gets home.”

“When will –”

“Late this evening,” she said, looking over her
shoulder at me. There was a tinge of apprehension in
her voice.

I let out a sigh of my own, one of defeat. Several
quiet moments passed. I finally unfolded my legs out in
front of me and rested my ass directly on the cement.
My cock was still tenting the front of my cargo shorts
and made no effort to hide it. I continued to pet
Sampson, stroking his broad, muscular chest, and stared
at the growing puddle of dog cum beneath his and
Penny’s union. Every now and again one of them would
make a slight motion that would result in more
squelching or a soft moan from Penny.

I don’t know how much time passed as I sat there, bare-
chested, erection throbbing, sweat dripping, staring
out across the sagebrush. All I know is, my pants dried
from the water I’d poured on myself, leaving only the
spot near the tip of my prick as the only darkened
fabric. Gomer had finally finished cleaning himself and
took his turn in the pool. He lay in the water with his
chin on the edge, watching his buddy get his rocks off.
Penny had offered me a refreshment from the little ice
chest along the side of the little covered cove. I was
able to reach it with out letting go of the dog and
snatched myself a Pepsi. Penny didn’t want anything
just yet and we resorted back to silence.

At last, I heard the hissing. I looked over and saw
Penny pulling gently away from Sampson. It was slow and
easy going but, eventually, the distended dog dick
dissevered itself. The same kind of “splat” that
signaled Gomer’s separation told me that penny was once
again freed. I allowed Sampsom to lumber away and rose
to my feet. Penny remained on her knees. She asked me
to hand her the towel from the little table, which I
did obediently. She wiped the fuck juices from her legs
and her crotch. Watching this was as erotic as hell in
its own right.

When she was done she tossed the towel aside and stared
up at me from her knees. Her eyes alternated between my
face and the large protrusion in the front of my
shorts.

“I can take care of that for you if you want?” she said
more as though she was a maid obligated to remind me of
one of the included services of the hotel than in the
vein of a come on.

“Uh, no. That’s okay. You don’t have to do –”

“It’s the least I can do,” she winked.

It wasn’t right. I didn’t really believe she wanted to
do it. She certainly had no duty to, or obligation. I
didn’t want to feel as though I had taken advantage of
someone who was simply feeling guilty and embarrassed
and looking for a way to dilute the negative image she
figured I held of her. Maybe even looking for a way to
punish herself.

It was just plain wrong.

But, I was tempted.

I was very tempted.

To be continued?

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