In the beginning, there was no thought of the Levitt's German shepherd Rex in Jan's pretty blonde head as she went grumpily about her early morning housework. She was by far too preoccupied with other things – in particular with the peculiar frustration she was continually feeling with being married.
Not that she hadn't frequently noticed the sleek dog that lived next door. Indeed, she had often puzzled over Rex's peculiar attraction when he was tied up at the local supermarket, for it always seemed as if every housewife in the neighborhood paused in her shopping duties to give him a friendly pat and whisper some friendly words to the long-tongued dog, which was usually sitting obediently on his haunches as he waited for his mistress to finish her shopping.
"Hello, Rex, how's that nice doggy today?" they would ask. Or, "My, that's a sweet little dog, aren't you?" And this puzzled Jan from time to time. After all, it was true that Rex had a sleek, shining coat and that he was the epitome of form in what one thought of as the German shepherd physique, but after all there were usually a half dozen pedigreed dogs parked outside the supermarket, all of them equally handsome in their own way. Yet there was not a one among them that seemed to inspire the response Rex did. He was truly unique in that respect. Women couldn't seem to pass him up.
Yet so far as Jan could tell, there was not anything especially unique about the dog. True, he had a handsome, intelligent face – very masculine, too, of course – but that was scarcely enough to justify such unusual attentions as he invariably commanded.
So this was just a part of Jan's ordinary curiosity with respect to the Levitt's dog. But another part of it was Marge Levitt's seeming preoccupation and possessiveness with respect to Rex. Jan had frequently noticed Marge's usually cheerful face changing rapidly to a sullen scowl if she came out of the supermarket and found someone talking to or petting Rex. Occasionally she tried to remember if this similar change of personality took place when Marge encountered a man being friendly to the handsome German shepherd. But this line of thought was usually futile, as Jan could not recall any such instance. It was almost always some housewife who could be seen being friendly to the sturdy, sleek dog.
Not that she pondered this overmuch. It was simply something she occasionally gave a modicum of thought.
Marge's possessiveness also seemed to continue at home, for she kept the dog chained securely and confined to the Levitt grounds. It was never allowed to roam free like other dogs in the neighborhood, and occasionally even Steve remarked that such a house dog should be more savage, instead of so friendly as Rex obviously was. Jan didn't know much about dogs, but she knew enough to know that this observation of Steve's was fundamentally correct. Logically speaking, a house German shepherd like Rex should be more vicious. But it was obvious that the dog's nature was sunny and affectionate.
Not that one ever got much chance to find out. Marge didn't even like to bring Rex next door when she stopped by for coffee on the odd morning. At least not since that morning when the dog had nuzzled Jan's leg in an over friendly fashion.
Marge had an unusual excuse to justify her possessiveness, though, and she self-consciously brought this up on every possible occasion. To Jan it seemed like a bad case of 'protesting over much', but Marge's justification usually went roughly as follows: namely, that ever since Rex had sired the Boardman pups down the road by that German shepherd she-bitch Carla, the Levitts didn't want to take any chance of having any lawsuits due to Rex's cavorting.
Which seemed reasonable on the face of it – but then on the other hand Jan had never heard of anyone being sued for letting their dog out and having it sire unintentionally some other dog. That was, after all, the way of the world, wasn't it? You couldn't legislate animal biology very well.
But then she was no expert on the law, so maybe she didn't understand the situation. Barrington Hills was a small community with very wealthy families, and there was no dearth of money around to support lawsuits if people became indignant over one thing or another. With people this wealthy it paid to be careful.
Still, nothing seemed to explain adequately Marge's continual nervousness, anxiety and possessiveness with respect to that dog.
Not that she hadn't been angry when she first learned of Carla's pups – and it seemed to Jan unreasonably so. Those pups had really altered her personality.
Those pups. Several women in the neighborhood had tried to buy them, but the Boardmans were interested in selling only to their friends, and the price for such pedigreed German shepherds was high. The Boardmans didn't know many people in Barrington Hills; so far as Jan knew, she and Steve were the only persons they had offered one.
But what did she need a dog about the house for? Just one more worry and someone to clean up after. And she would have to go through a breaking-in period with it and so on. It scarcely seemed worth the trouble.
And so it went – on most mornings, a sample of her daydreaming thoughts, idle and useless.
But this morning she was altogether too furious and uncomfortable to give any thought to Rex at all.
And it was all Steve's fault, that rat. She was too refined to use any term more rough than that. Last night had been absolutely the last straw. She didn't see how she could put up with the situation any longer. Maybe she would be able to discuss it with her parents when they arrived – Sarah and Arnold Talbott were scheduled to arrive for two weeks vacation this afternoon – she had always been able to discuss things with her mother, although of course she was suitably more reticent with her attractive, distinguished father, who, after all, was a man.
Jan sat down at the kitchen table with a weary sigh and lit a nervous cigarette. She fluffed out her long blonde hair and drew strongly on the cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke out through her luscious young mouth, which she felt was more refined for a woman than blowing smoke out through her nostrils. She had been brought up to behave like a lady, and she knew what was ladylike and what was not.
That rat. She couldn't forgive him. Although she had been brought up to be respectable, reserved and refined, and she knew better than to let her husband even guess that she might be capable of enjoying something like sex, she still nonetheless could not escape the torrential, merciless feeling of passion that arose in her loins whenever she encountered his heavy desire-hardened penis. And last night it had been worse than usual. And he had been worse than usual. She was beside herself. He had gotten her worked up to such a crazed pitch of desire with his foreplay, then disappointed her as usual with his early, too quickly arrived at, ejaculation.
Only this time she hadn't been able to calm herself down with a cold shower. After last night's big let-down she was still smoldering without let-up. She could still feel a slight twinge of ever present need within the sensitive walls of her vagina everytime she moved and scraped her thighs together.
As usual, he'd been terribly inconsiderate in bed, just satisfying himself and leaving her in the middle of her passionate escalation. He had fallen asleep almost immediately afterwards, while she'd lain beside him in passionate frenzy for almost two hours before she fitfully dozed off.
So it was little wonder that the twenty-one year old, curvaceous blonde wife had awakened in no less an erotic state than the sizzling fire that sleep had temporarily banked for the night.
And then to endure a similar sexual episode with him in the morning had been almost unbearable! Only the utmost effort on her part had kept her from bursting out into tears of frustration. Like a jet propelled athlete trying to set some sort of speed record, he'd raced his lengthy, lust-swollen young cock in and out of the overheated liquid sanctuary between her hotly steaming young legs, quickly settling his own needs, then hopping from the bed while she lay there still squirming and panting in unfulfilled desire.
"Gosh, baby, I'm sorry – but I really got to hustle to work!" he apologized, wiping off his deflating cock with a soiled T-shirt as he hurried to the bathroom. Then at the doorway he'd turned and promised: "Look, baby, I'm going to make it up to you tonight – after your folks have gone to sleep! Okay?"
"Oh – whatever you say, darling…" she replied weakly, rubbing her thighs together and hoping that he wouldn't see how wildly, dreadfully turned on she was. She feebly managed a smile for him before he turned and stepped into his bath. Then the bathroom door had swung mercifully shut on her tears.
In reality she had no such hopes that he would satisfy her that night. That was an old promise of his that he usually forgot; she had no confidence in it whatever. Ever since her honeymoon night it had been like this, just a fast in-and-out for him, and smoldering resentment and frustration for her until her frustrated young pussy had a chance to cool back to normal, whatever that was.
But she wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to stand it. She knew that her nerves were in a bad way, and she smoked more than ever and had taken to nipping short drinks of whiskey straight during the day. She needed a vacation somehow, from the terrible tension in her aching young loins.
Jan sighed and looked around the kitchen before her eyes became glazed over again, reliving the events of the morning once more.
With Steve in the bath, the temptation had been almost overwhelming to finish the job with her fingers. She had played with herself up between her legs for awhile, groaned mindlessly, and then finally managed to control her unrequited passion.
She hadn't masturbated since she was thirteen, and she dreaded the temptation to start now. Reverend Johnson had been very strict about that when she confided in him. Girls that played with themselves got pimples on their faces and could never go to heaven, because they were sinners. Sex was only decent when carried on in the normal fashion between man and wife.
No, she didn't want to fall into that pit of degradation. That wasn't for her at all. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to work things out between them.
Jan sighed and put out her cigarette, which she had inadvertently smoked down to a nub. It didn't do at all to dwell on their problem overmuch. One shouldn't take sex all that seriously, of course. It wasn't nice.
Still, she couldn't ignore the smoldering ardor still glowing so warmly in her soft white belly and simmering urgently in her young loins. But was that so important? Not always. After all, they did love each other, didn't they? Steve's real estate job was very promising, and they were literally coining money. What young bride could ask for more than the beautiful home they were buying in swank Barrington Hills? Even their nice new car was paid for, and the furniture would soon be theirs. What more could any girl ask for?
It was these thoughts spinning idly through her pretty blonde head that she almost ignored the banging on the screen door.
Until a voice cried out sharply: "Jan – oh, Jan!"
Jan looked up dreamily. There was a scratching at the kitchen screen door as well. Why – it was Marge Levitt! With Rex!
She got up carefully, smoothing her skirt and putting the ashtray up on the kitchen table.
"What – what is it, Marge?" she asked, unlocking the door.
"Don't you remember, dear?" Marge asked hurriedly, opening the door. Rex scooted in quickly through the open door, the handsome German shepherd's longish tongue lolling out all wet and pinkish looking. He moved quickly around Jan's pretty long, tanned legs, the soft fur of his coat brushing evanescently against her sleek hairless young flesh.
"Remember? Why…?"
"You said you'd look after Rex while we were on vacation," said Marge almost tearfully, and suddenly, abruptly, she flung her arms about Jan and hugged her tight. "Oh, dear – you will be good to him, won't you? Feed him regular and take him for walks? Please, Jan! Say you'll be good to him!"
Jan pushed her away and looked into the teary face of the older woman. Why, Marge was actually crying over leaving Rex behind! "But – Marge, if you feel like this why don't you take him on your vacation with you?"
"Ben says no," she sniffled into her hanky. Jan took her tearful face into her shoulder and ran her fingers into Marge's long black hair. The two women's breasts met beneath their shifts. "Two whole weeks without him!" Marge bawled.
"There, there, Marge, don't cry. It's not so long," Jan said gently as she knew how, patting Marge's back like a handler gentling an upset horse. The whole thing was strangely peculiar. It was not normal for a woman to get so upset over leaving a dog behind for two weeks. Jan looked down at where Rex had slid down onto the kitchen floor, his handsome big head resting on his forepaws. The dog's eyes seemed to be studying her very intently – but why on ever for?
Or was she merely imagining it? She was so upset herself of late that her mind might conceive anything.
Marge did dry her tears. "Yes, it is long," she said, glancing at Rex, then at Jan and back again. "Longer than you think I wouldn't be able to bear it, Jan, if I didn't know that someone as nice as you – and as innocent and trustable – was looking after my little darling."
She had never heard a grown woman use such endearing terms before. But what did innocent and trustable have to do with it? She was beginning to wonder if Marge was losing her mind.
"There, there," Jan led her back to the door. "I'm sure that once you get yourself together you'll see the wisdom of taking everything in your stride, Marge."
Marge stepped outside the screen door and blew a kiss at Rex through it. The dog promptly got up on its haunches, panting. It's long pink tongue was genuinely slavering through his pointy canine teeth. "Bye darling," Marge said to him. "Aunty Jan will look after you now, lover. Be a good doggy for Mama. Okay?"
Rex seemed to nod, adding considerably to Jan's mystification and confusion, and then Marge ran, with a sob, back to her own house.
Jam looked down at her beautifully physiqued guest, who had now settled down on his forepaws again. Goodness, she thought, this is impossible, Mother and Dad coming, and this dog, too. I'm going to lose my mind, I swear it.
Rex looked up at her as if he understood, inclined his ears, then lay jowl down on his forepaws. Jan sighed and fluffed out her long blonde hair, self-consciously sticking out the full young breasts on her chest. There was something about her neighbor's German shepherd that definitely bothered her. She was convinced that Rex had the most unusual eyes – although it was difficult for her to put her finger on just exactly what it was that troubled her about them.
It was as if there was an almost human perception about them, a kind of understanding that was more than one expected from a dog…
She shrugged this off. Another funny thought to take her mind off her work, that was all. She really had to get to the housework.
The handsome German shepherd stretched his long sinewy body beneath his shining coat on the cool of the Winslow's kitchen floor, watching his new mistress, who had long blonde hair instead of the long black hair of Marge Levitt. It interested him to watch the sleek young housewife moving about her household duties with an air of feminine efficiency. He had often watched his older mistress with the same intenseness, and he wondered why she had gone and left him with this pretty, young, yellow-haired girl. He missed her terribly, but then he didn't presume. One always did as one's mistress directed.
Nor was he entirely unpleased with his new owner. Jan had tied her bright, copper-shining hair into a longish pony tail and generally fixed herself up. As was her usual habit when by herself, she wore just a very short miniskirt with thin filmy panties and no stockings, so that she could feel the coolness on her legs. She also wore a bright red sweater and no bra at all, so that her firm, heavy-set breasts shook and bobbled slightly as she walked. She had always been self-conscious about her breasts, because they were so abnormally large, and she didn't like to walk very fast, because of the way they shook and drew the attention of strange men's eyes. But with her neighbor's pet the only other creature in the house, she could relax and be herself.
Not that it escaped Rex that there was something not quite right about his new mistress. He sensed a certain indefinable dissatisfaction. Dogs are so sensitive to human psychology that Rex could not help but notice the indecision and general restlessness that seemed to characterize Jan's most inner thoughts, even when she appeared to be working at her greatest efficiency.
To Rex this usually meant only one thing: that his mistress would want to do it later. He often caught the same wave-lengths and sensual odor from Marge Levitt his older mistress, before they did things together, and previous to that he had sensed similar feelings in women around the neighborhood – before they had become too friendly and his absent mistress had tied him up and refused any longer to let him roam. Consequently the handsome dog knew what to expect, roughly.
And now he sensed certain familiar feelings emanating from this pretty blonde young woman, feelings that set his own heart to beating faster. His former mistress had been so busy this morning, and in such a peculiar state of upset emotion, that they hadn't done anything, which gave Rex a vague feeling of slighted uneasiness. But now there was this new pretty woman. He watched her with unflinching, devoted eyes, instinctively knowing that she had a problem that he could help solve…
But Jan had managed to calm down somewhat, and her state was not near as frenetic as it had been. Now, as she wiped off the kitchen sink, it occurred to her that she really had been too hard on Steve. He was a good husband, after all, and it really wasn't necessary for decent girls to have orgasms the way men did. She couldn't very well blame him. He was probably normal for all that.
Not that she had any standards to judge by, as her husband had been the first and only man for her to experience sexual intercourse with…
A soft whine from Rex behind her interrupted the pony tailed blonde from pursuing this stream of thought. She turned, smiling now, and looked down at the big handsome animal Marge Levitt had parked with her. He was such a lovely beast that her former disgruntlement at being saddled with him abruptly evaporated, and she got down on her haunches and took his warm, soft muzzle into her hands, looking deeply into the animal's big eyes.
"What is it, Rex? Getting hungry? Or thirsty?"
That was it, she thought. Had to set some food out for him. And she needed another small drink of whiskey to calm her down some more, as well. She wanted to be cheery when her folks arrived.
Rex made a little sound and panted, his long, slavering tongue stroking her knees, one forepaw coming up to rest on her bared thigh.
For just a moment Jan was startled. The look in the dog's eyes was so sexually warm… for a moment she imagined that – but no, that was impossible. She must be imagining it.
But did she imagine the sharp tremor of excitement as his hot, wet tongue licked teasingly at her skin?
Silly girl, she thought.
"What's the matter, precious?" she softly cooed, scratching his ears in the back. "Hungry? Thirsty? Jan will fix it for you." She affectionately stroked the mighty dog's big, sleek-furred head. He had such a lovely gloss on his fur she could almost see her face in it. "Goodness, you have a wicked gleam in those big brown, lovable eyes. You ought to behave yourself. One would think you were a young man instead of a young dog," Jan laughed to herself.
Jan's soft, crooning voice was so silkily pleasant that, coupled with the gentle pressure of her slender, stroking hand, Rex was filled with a warm-hearted relish that was pleasantly musical. Instinctively he raised his head, licking at the smooth back of her hand, to show her that he liked her. Whatever had troubled her was of relative unimportance, he knew, because her soft hand moved on his furry neck, and then she hugged him against her cream-white outer thigh.
"It's easy to see how Marge gets attached to you," Jan smiled, tugging at his collar. "By God, you are a lovable beast," the doting, voluptuous young blonde wife teased. She got up abruptly and smoothed her skirt. "Well, let's look in the refrigerator and see if we can find something for you, handsome. There might even be a nice big bone in there for you."
Rex made a liquid sound, almost as if he understood what she was saying. Jan embraced him against her leg once more and stroked his soft, sleek head. She lightly laughed. There was something about Rex that made one feel funny, but she couldn't put her finger on just what it was. She hoped she was doing right by letting him go untied. She knew that Marge never did that.
But Rex seemed to be friendly. Indeed, she couldn't even remember him barking. So he had to be safe. Generally he was quiet even when the postman came by. This was probably what led the wives in Barrington Hills to make such a fuss over him; he had a very sweet nature.
"No, I'm not going to be strict with you, Rex," she said in a sweet, sad voice, giving the handsome dog one last affectionate pat. "You've had too much of being tied up all the time. You're going to have a vacation with Aunt Jan."
Rex basked in the warm, melodious gentility of her voice. It was so full of kindness and love, he thought. His new mistress was wonderful. And beyond her voice, he sensed in his closeness against her a poignant scent not unfamiliar to him, a musky aroma which immediately inspired the trained responses inside his large, muscular body. It was the human mating odor… he had been so skillfully educated to recognize it, first in his early training, and then later on with his mistress it had come naturally. His tongue slavered wetly and he waited for the proper moment, especially eager to lavish his attention on his beloved new mistress who had his doggy heart beat so rapidly when she petted him, and his animal penis throb and tingle so sensuously in its furry sheath between his legs.
Jan's head was still a mixture of confused thoughts, partly sexual frustration, partly hausfraus-wifery that was all efficiency. She opened the refrigerator, saw the big lamb bone she was looking for – it was only left over from the roast anyway – and bent down to pick it up from its place in the dish…
Only to suddenly feel something cold and wet behind her insinuating itself up under her miniskirt and between her young tanned legs!
"Rex!" she gasped.
Though it gave her a terrific jolt, the gorgeous young blonde felt as if she had been turned to stone! She stayed bent over but frozen and immobile at the unconscionable cool moisture of Rex's nose pressed high up into the soft insides of her nakedly exposed thighs. She had no idea why she didn't jerk upright in shock, fear, or at least for a smattering of decorum. But suddenly it seemed as if the prurient excitement that had been so stringently banked was raging out of control beneath that cool, moist pressure of Rex's nose.
She felt frozen and unable to speak. For one terrible, heart-stopping moment she wondered if she had lost her mind. But try as she might, she couldn't seem to break from her insidious position of bending over. She continued to stoop there, waiting for something she knew not what, unable to breathe, feeling the big dog's head shifting farther up inside her miniskirt – where the soft nylon crotch band of her panties ran between her thighs – and then, then – the hot pressured lap of Rex's wetly working tongue snaking up under the nylon leg band of her panties and stroking along the blonde curling pussy hair all the way back and up into her anal crevice!
"Oooohhhh…" Jan felt as if she was gargling deep in her belly, although the sound was actually coming only from her throat. With the first evanescent, fiery flick of Rex's tongue along her cuntal lips, a twinge of pleasure so great it couldn't be borne for longer than a single instant inflamed her loins and licked out like a raging forest fire throughout her thighs, belly and quickly then through the rest of her entire sex-starved body. She moved softly and almost fell against the refrigerator, holding onto it for dear life.
Good God! Rex had sensed her erotic need! What more did he sense? No – no, he couldn't…
"Aaaaahhhhh…" His burning, long thick tongue still moving teasingly under her panties felt like a firebrand at the thin vertical lips of her hotly flaming pussy. The caress of that tongue against her helplessly upturned vaginal slit was like nothing else she had ever experienced in her entire life.
There! He did it again! Jan groaned and hung onto the open door of the refrigerator, the blast of cold air from inside combining with the fiercely lascivious sensation of Rex's tongue sweeping so hotly along her cuntal crevice. She hung there in space, stooped over helplessly, as he drew his feverishly singeing tongue upward once more, through her open and vulnerable thighs along the entire murderous length of her hotly flushed vaginal slit.
"Oooohhhhhh," Jan struggled to raise herself up, to resist this irresistible titillation… and finally she managed to straighten, her entire forehead streaked with passionate perspiration, her buttocks cheeks closing tightly together to press out that insidious pleasure-giving nose that was so much what she needed at that particular moment.
She gasped and turned around, her hot young breasts heaving with emotion, her eyes shining. Oh God! Was this the answer to her prayer? A dog was neither masturbation nor, technically, an illicit lover. The wonderful in-between land of animalism!
But wasn't it dirty nonetheless?
She held the lamb bone in her hand as she gazed down with gleaming, heat-drenched eyes at the dog-paramour who was staring up at her with almost twinkling brown eyes, erect ears, open mouth and wagging furry tail.
"So…" Jan breathed hotly, almost unable to get her voice. "That's why Marge and all the other housewives are so in love with you, you devil…" Her voice came out in a tremulous, nervous whisper, all the sensations she had struggled against for the last several hours rushing over her in an implacable wave almost uncontrollable desire.
But she kept her thighs clutched tightly together nonetheless, even though this terrible, passionate intensity threatened to overwhelm her voluptuous, blonde young curves.
"You… you… so that's why… why every housewife in the neighborhood stops to say hello to you, and pet you – when their husbands aren't looking… they knew… and I didn't… oh God! That handsome face… and this is how Marge trained you… oh God… oh God…"
The large German shepherd made a small, whimpering sound as he gazed up at the sexually intoxicated young bride. She was confused, he sensed, but he was content to wait. It was often this way the first time with human women. They needed time and patience.
But was he whimpering for the bone in her hands or for her? Jan wondered. Or was it both he needed?
She clutched her breast, her eyes wide with breathless indecision. Surely she couldn't be thinking… feeling… that… Her pussy twinged and she made a hoarse little cry. Did this animal sense what sort of obscene desire was tormenting her? She shivered and suddenly rushed to the bathroom as if Satan himself were on her heels.
But there was no avoiding the need for some sort of decision. Her loins fairly boiled as she whirled at Rex, who had come leaping after her. Her breasts heaved irregularly with volcanic, unfulfilled desire. She had to resist… had to…
"Oooooooh God…" Then suddenly it was too late. The furry length of Rex's soft warm nose pressed heatedly against the side of her nakedly trembling leg and she felt faint. She closed her eyes and suddenly she was carried away on a wave of desire so sudden and pure that she totally forgot who or what or where she was.
Because now all she could know or sense was the fiery feeling glowing so fiercely up between her heatedly aroused young vaginal lips…