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Warning: This is a VERY taboo, vintage, hard-boiled full length (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel. This is bad stuff. Both bad meaning bad and bad meaning *good*. The story is so crazy, we can't even give a proper description.******She felt the dampened nylon of her crotch panel being stretched away from her body. She felt the rough surface of Sport's tongue graze one exposed cunt-lip. Laura gasped from the unbelievable ticklish sensation, shoving her hands down to cover her bare flesh. The dog began licking her fingers, nuzzling them eagerly while whining through his nose.This was wrong, wrong. Christina would have every reason now to sneer at her mother were she to see her in this state! It was foul, immoral. How could she actually become excited over this ... this dog?Turning suddenly, Laura gathered what little courage and strength she had left and raised one hand. Sport jumped back from the weak blow, his forelegs stretched out in front of him while his tail jerked from side to side. He barked twice playfully, his eyes watery, glazed, reflecting the powerful excitement racing through his body. This was some awful, terrible mistake. Surely she could rectify it without going any further with this beast.
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Table of Contents
Laura sighed, closing her eyes and digging her long fingernails into her bare upper arms. It was getting worse, that awful, pulsing itch that started like an electric shock along her inner thighs and soon shot up to her soft, moist pussy. It was wrong, wrong! Laura had told herself she'd never feel anything like ... this again, not after what she went through with her husband and the following ugly divorce.
Brad! The thought of his name made the pretty woman shiver with loathing. He'd married her when she was only eighteen, told her he'd give her the moon, then sent her to it almost every night after the second year of marriage with that big ham hock fist of his! The blonde remembered how he'd howl drunkenly all night, throwing her against the wall. And in the background were Christina's high-pitched terrified shrieks. How many times had Laura wanted to run to the kitchen, pull out a knife from the drawer and run it into her husband's beer belly?!
As it was, Laura considered herself courageous the day she took her daughter out of that hellhole of an apartment and filed for divorce. For months afterward she lived in terror, waiting for Brad to crash through the door and beat her as he'd done so many times before. But the lawyer's threats had done enough to cow him into submission. That had been many years ago. Now Christina was eighteen, slipping slowly from her control, and Laura didn't know quite how to deal with her.
Her hand was shaking. She'd poured herself a tall vodka tonic some minutes ago and now Laura could hear the ice tinkling against the sides of the glass. The attractive woman pushed herself away from the front room window and stared around the house. It was a large, decent home, something she'd saved up for for years while working at the hospital. Several years of hard training had made Laura Bettingfield a valuable LVN. But the long hours took her away from Christina, she felt, just when she needed a mother to help guide her through those difficult years of puberty. "Ohhhhhhh, God!"
Laura felt her knees shaking, giving way to the sharp heat burning between her thighs. It was bad tonight! Her cunt felt oh so hot and very, very moist. When she moved her hips slightly back and forth, the velvety surfaces rubbed together and hot juice seeped out. Laura could feel the silken crotch panel sticking uncomfortably to her cuntal mound.
This was silly, wrong, sophomoric! She was too old for this sort of thing. Laura was thirty-three and still an attractive, vital young woman. But her sour marriage followed by two bitter affairs had soured her on sex. No, no man would touch her from now on.
And for a while that vow didn't seem all that difficult to keep. There was work, school and Christina to keep up with. But now....
Laura put the glass up to her lips and swallowed more vodka. She moaned again, closing her eyes and enjoying the burning sensation of the liquor as it passed down her throat. Why had Christina decided to go to that party? She knew her mother had maneuvered at the hospital to purposely work days so she might be home evenings with her daughter. And now this party, all those young people, all those young men!
Laura sighed again, putting out any horny thoughts from her head. No, Christina was a good girl. She'd been taught about men and how they could take advantage of a girl if she weren't careful. And that party would be supervised by her friend Tracey Smith's parents.
The woman glanced down at her wristwatch. Supervised or not, Christina should have been home from the party hours ago. This was becoming another problem seeming to hang around her life, seeming to grow worse. Finishing her vodka, Laura put down the glass and slowly paced the dark room. Maybe she should call, find out if Christina was still there, or if she had left, or maybe didn't even bother to show! The thought shot through Laura like a lightning bolt.
But no. That call would only irritate Christina. Laura didn't want more friction between them. They were bickering almost constantly now. No, she'd have to concentrate on her own problem now, her rising sexuality that was making itself known again. Maybe she should see a psychiatrist, a doctor who could help her, prescribe ... orgasms, like prescribing drugs. Laura smiled at the thought, picturing herself walking into the SavOn drugstore and ordering two orgasms.
But even that silly thought didn't blot out the burning itch that kept on throbbing between her legs. Her breathing became shallow and hot through her flared nostrils. The woman steadied herself against the back of the long couch. Why couldn't she break away from the shadow hanging over her? Why can't I shake this fear of men off? Laura said to herself, biting down on her lower lip and fighting back the tears. As much as she distrusted and feared men, Laura wanted one, wanted a real man holding her, kissing her, telling her everything was all right, that she didn't have to work herself to death and worry about how her daughter was going to turn out. A tearing sound told the woman she was actually shredding the soft material of the sofa with her fingernails.
From the far end of the hall she could hear soft padding sounds. Laura tensed, opening her eyes and straightening her back. It was Sport, the twoyear-old male Irish setter she'd purchased some time back for protection and for Christina. At first she loved the animal. But lately he, like her daughter, seemed to be slipping from her control. He was a beautiful dog, really. But there was something almost wolf-like in his bearing lately. He stared at her strangely, at times pressing his cold snout against the soft flesh behind her knee, making Laura cry out with surprise and fear. What was he trying to tell her? During the past few days Laura almost refused to be alone with the animal. Her daughter told her she was silly and dismissed the dog's odd behavior with a shrug.
"He's only teasing, mother," Christina sighed, giving her mother that exasperated sneer Laura had learned to loath in the past few months.
Now the animal had awakened and was trotting down the long hallway. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the woman, his dark eyes glittering in the soft light filtering in from the street. Laura felt her chest tighten and her heart stop. It was almost as if she'd discovered an intruder in the room. She found her fingers tightening around the back of the sofa again. Somehow the woman managed to find her voice.
"Back, Sport, back," she said in a tight whisper.
Why should she be so upset with him? Certainly the animal had done nothing yet to her? In fact all day he'd been out of the way, sensing her displeasure and not knowing yet how to counter it. If only she could throw him out, let him run in the packs she'd seen roaming the neighborhood.
But then Christina would be furious. Her Sport out there helpless. Helpless? Laura smiled. As if anything that huge and well-built could be helpless!
"Back," Laura said, feeling some of her former nervousness dying. She'd go to bed now, try to sleep and fight off that feeling still throbbing deep w in her cunt.
But something was wrong, terribly wrong. The dog wasn't moving from the doorway as she walked around the sofa and headed toward the hall. He was standing there as motionless as a stone statue. Only his soft wheezing breathing told her he was alive. She stopped several feet away from him, feeling her flesh crawl with renewed fear.
"Back, Sport, back," she repeated again, her voice quavering.
But the animal seemed riveted to the spot. He was whistling through his nose, his powerful sides heaving in and out while his eyes studied her. Laura rubbed her icey fingers up and down her arms, wishing she could find something large enough to grab and threaten the beast with. He was staring her down as if she were some bird of prey. A shudder of revulsion shook the woman to her very bones. A dark thought entered her head. She drove it away. No, no, he couldn't ... No, that was impossible!
But the dog started walking toward her. His large bushy tail drooped down slightly while his head tilted up.
"No!" Laura almost screamed, her voice low and hoarse. The woman was backing down. She felt the backs of her legs brush against the coffee table. The room seemed to swim in front of her eyes. Suddenly, she felt that cold damp nose on her ll calf and then again halfway up her thigh. She let out a moaning sound, slapping down at the animal.
But Sport ducked back, his long ears flapping against the sides of his head. She had to get away, run from this large, handsome animal. Her heart was beating wildly. Sweat dampened her forehead and cheeks as she moved quickly around the sofa. The dog made muted growling noises in his throat, ran around the coffee table and stuck his nose up between Laura's legs.
The woman stiffened, jerked back and slapped down at the setter again. She was terrified now. That dark thought had become reality. Laura was sure now Sport was after her, after her the way he'd be after a hot bitch in heat. He'd smelled her, actually smelled her! He'd picked up the scent of her steamy pussy and was pursuing her.
Laura felt tears streaming down her cheeks. How could she have let something like this go so far? The woman was halfway down the hall when she heard that familiar padding sound on the hall floor. He was after her, directly behind her! The pursuit was like something from a nightmare. As hard as she tried to get away, the dog was always behind her, just a few inches from her throat, from her cunt!
Laura screamed again, twisting around and trying to slap down at Sport a third time. She could feel his hot breath on the sensitive inner surfaces of her thighs as he caught up with her and swirled around her moving feet. She felt strangely giddy and weak. What was it about him that made her oh so weak?
"No, get back, get back!"
He was licking her still, lapping his tongue over the soft area behind each knee, wetting her with that wonderful long hot tongue. Wonderful? Laura jerked both hands to her face and covered it, burning with shame. How could she be thinking like this? It must be insanity taking over her mind.
She moaned between her fingers, biting down hard on her lower lip until she could taste blood. Yes, she deserved to be punished for something as vile as she was feeling!
"No, bad dog, ohhh, no, bad...."
This was awful! She had to have another drink, something to blot out the sensations rising fast and furiously in her cunt. She wanted to scream, but feared the condition her neighbors would find her in when they rushed into the living room. When the dog's snout pushed hotly against her wet cuntal mound again the woman stiffened, realizing she had to get away from him if she were to keep some semblance of sanity. The sensation of the sheer wet nylon pressed up between the puffy lips of her cunt was too much for her to stand.
"Stop it, oh, please, stop, stop," Laura whined.
Why were her legs shaking so? Why couldn't she seem to catch her breath? Why was her mouth as dry as cotton? She was panting, actually panting like the dog swirling under her. Laura grasped frantically at the light fixture mounted on the wall. The animal butted her thighs farther apart with his head and started moving his tongue over her asscheeks. Laura felt the soft material of her panties quickly soaked with his saliva. She felt the roughness of the animal's tongue through it. And in spite of all her fine resolves, the woman couldn't fight down the pleasurable feelings she was feeling in her pussy.
"This is awful!" she gasped out loud.
But Laura knew her body was responding powerfully to the dog's caresses. She could smell herself now, smell the pungent cunt-juice that seemed to flood out of her hot little cunt-hole.
"Please, no, Sport, no."
That was stupid, talking to the animal as if he were an over-ardent suitor. But what else could she do? She had to get rid of this animal. What if Christina were to suddenly burst into the living room and find her mother like this? Where would all those fine lectures about morality go? She could imagine the horror ... no, no horror, only a smirk, just like all the other smirks Christina had flashed her lately when Laura began to speak about morality.
"Oh, God, nooooooo!"
She felt the dampened nylon of her crotch panel being stretched away from her body. She felt the rough surface of Sport's tongue graze one exposed cunt-lip. Laura gasped from the unbelievable ticklish sensation, shoving her hands down to cover her bare flesh. The dog began licking her fingers, nuzzling them eagerly while whining through his nose.
This was wrong, wrong. Christina would have every reason now to sneer at her mother were she to see her in this state! It was foul, immoral. How could she actually become excited over this ... this dog?
Turning suddenly, Laura gathered what little courage and strength she had left and raised one hand. Sport jumped back from the weak blow, his forelegs stretched out in front of him while his tail jerked from side to side. He barked twice playfully, his eyes watery, glazed, reflecting the powerful excitement racing through his body. This was some awful, terrible mistake. Surely she could rectify it without going any further with this beast.
Then suddenly Sport moved in for the kill. There was the sudden, scalding pressure of his tongue as he bolted between her legs and went right for her cunt. That feeling of his snout brushing over her pussy-lips almost brought the woman to her knees. She felt the soaked nylon being shoved aside, stretched with the wetness of his spit. Sport growled low in his throat and braced his paws on the floor as he pressed up and in.
Laura couldn't stand it. She closed her eyes and shot both arms out to steady herself. The dog growled low again. Her knees shook. One lick rubbed over her clit. Laura could taste something warm and salty in her mouth and knew she was drawing blood again from her lower lip. No, no, this was mad! She had tp get away, away!
Desperately, she kicked at the lapping dog. Laura felt her toes pushing into the side of the panting animal. Sport barked with surprise, backing away and dropping his tail between his hindquarters. The growling took on a different edge now. There was a warning tone to it, a tone Laura quickly picked up.
"Awful, awful," she repeated, moving behind an end table. She looked around the room. No, nothing had changed. That marine clock still ticked on the fireplace mantel. The portrait of her matron aunt still glared down icily from the wall at her. She had to stare at the familiar objects to reassure herself the world hadn't shot out of its orbit. The same, the same, everything's the same.
That swelling ball of heat in her loins was getting worse. It was just the same feeling she had in the early days of her marriage when Brad mounted her, shoving his long fat dick between her pussylips. Ohhhh, how she'd welcomed him then, sucked his tongue into her mouth while spreading her thighs for his dick. How she never would have guessed the kind of animal he was.
"A dog, a dog," Laura sobbed, covering her face again with both hands. She'd heard sick jokes about women who did this sort of thing. Old women who went down on their poodles. Rich bitches in Beverly Hills who jacked off their cockapoos or sucked doggie dicks. But this, this was real, it was happening to her!
Sport pressed up harder. Laura felt her asscheeks tight against the corner. Somehow she'd moved back, not realizing where she was. Everything moved slowly, with dream-like intensity. If only she could snap herself from this spell. If only....
Laura couldn't pull away from the dog any more than she could fly to the moon. She couldn't make him stop. And yet a part of her didn't want him to. Gathering up some more strength, the woman slapped down, managing to free herself of that cornered position. She staggered awkwardly down the hall toward her room. Sport tried several times to stop her, to shove his nose up between her moving, running legs. But thank God he couldn't do it. If she could make it to her bedroom, even the bathroom, she could close the door to him, and block him out of her life!
Laura stumbled and fell, sliding across the highly polished wood of the hall. She was almost in the bathroom. She could smell the fresh, slightly perfumed odor of the soap. If only she could crawl the next few inches....
But the dog was around her, growling, warning her. He was licking her again, wetting her navel and the bottom of her rib cage. He seemed to be all over her. She felt chilled. Laura propped herself up on her elbows and watched with fear and confusion as the animal raped her with his tongue. Oh, how her pussy ached from the tension of lust she'd been feeling for the past few months. And now she was excited by this animal!
Going to the dogs? Laura laughed wryly as she thought of that cliche. Yes, that's what exactly was happening to her. And for some reason, she didn't care all that much about it.
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