Chapter 4
Claire had known her father only briefly before he left the house with another woman. Her real mother had died giving birth to Claire and so she was brought up by her step-mother.
Claire, however, often thought of him when her loneliness crowded in on her to the point where she grew mad with grief and remorse. He was a kind gentle man who had taken her to the circus, the carnival, the zoo, who had told her stories of the faraway places he had traveled to, wonderful tales of strange people and thrilling adventures. He was always the hero for her and she, the beautiful maiden who he saved from dire perils and swept away to an exotic kingdom where all was peace and tranquility.
She never really understood why he had left her, alone with a foreign woman who was as weak and repulsive as he was noble and strong, she had retired into herself hidden beneath the blossoming shell of womanhood which had evolved into a lovely outer form, but which belied the twisted haunted soul of a deserted child.
She learned quickly how to exact the price from those around her for her delicious fruits. She was at one and the same time amazed to see her flat chest overnight almost develop into firm majestic breasts, and delighted to urge the adolescent boys to chase her for just a brief caress, under her starched blouse after school.
She teased them and tempted them and defied them to violate her yielding flesh, driving them wild with lust but she never submitted to their ultimate desires.
When she was merely sixteen the fell madly in love with her history teacher, a tall bronze man who reminded her so much of her departed father. All ready by that time her hips had widened forming a soft wide curve about her maiden's cunt, her breasts were small succulent mounds that penetrated through her blouse, the young nipples indenting the cloth with the shamelessness of the innocent. She was too young to wear a bra her step mother would say when she'd come home crying from the boy's pinches and the unabashed glances filled with lust that emanated from strange men on the street.
The history teacher, Mr. Brewer, was kind to her. He took her to his house to meet his wife, a plain mousey woman, and their two boys. They were like the family she'd never had, a father and a mother who loved each other and didn't leave their babies unprotected.
One day she went to visit them as she often did after supper to escape the torments of her demanding step mother. Mr. Brewer greeted her at the door, but for some reason he didn't seem pleased that she had come.
"I have to speak to you Claire," he'd said uneasily about your coming here."
"Have I done something wrong?" she asked. "Are you angry with me? I've done all my homework and I've done the dishes for my mother. She doesn't mind, really."
"It's not that Claire. I don't think it's a good idea for you to see us so much."
Tears rose in Claire's pure blue eyes. Mr. Brewer avoided looking at her as he spoke.
"Don't you like me any more?" she asked. "I know I'm not always good, but I will be from now on....really I swear."
"No, dear it's not that....I...we love having you here....but you're a big girl now, almost a woman and this is a small town. People are talking...."
Claire didn't understand him for an instant. No, Mr. Brewer was strong and good, what could people say that would make any difference. Suddenly she became painfully aware of her woman's body which seemed to burst uncontrollably from her pale tee-shirt and faded jeans and she hated it. Once again she was rejected by her father, her stomach tightened into a hard iron ball choking her, but the energy inside slowly turned into fury at the weak male standing there so prone to his neighbors that he would take away his affection.
"And you taught us how it didn't matter what other people thought just as long as we did right," she sneered. "All those heroes we read about you said didn't listen to silly gossip. They were courageous and sure that they were doing good and that was what mattered." She laughed in his face which now disgusted her...he was weak and pitiful like all men. She'd get even.
A few days later he called her at her house and tried to apologize. Calmly, she agreed to talk it over with him that night. "Please, come over here for dinner," he said. "Let's just forget what happened the other day for now."
Claire heard a new note of urgency in his voice and she sensed its meaning.
She smiled to herself.
"Of course," she answered. "I acted like a baby....I'm not a child anymore, Mr. Brewer. I know you have to keep up your reputation. I've heard people myself say the most awful things around here about what goes on and even though I'm sure it's not true, everybody believes them."
Claire spent the longest time dressing before leaving the house, paying no attention to her step-mother's constant complaining downstairs.
She gazed at her emerging figure in the mirror, stroking her neck and the faint line between her pure white tits wishing that it was more pronounced.
After trying on all sorts of clothing she finally chose a tight fitting black sweater that exposed clearly her curved adolescent body and a matching black skirt that went down just past her plump white thighs.
Underneath her flesh lay bare unhindered by any underwear so that when she lifted her knees even slightly as she sat, one couldn't help but notice her pretty ass naked and free leading to her virgin cunt, covered by a fine layer of black mossy hair.
With her finger she probed for the first time inside her tight hole until she grew excited by her own touch and her pussy grew damp. She might have played with herself and forgotten Mr. Brewer completely but her step-mother's yell managed to penetrate the thin walls of her room making it possible to enjoy her new found game.
She smeared a tiny bit of dark red lipstick on, and powdered her cheeks.
Her step-mother, a prudish woman, looked shocked when she saw her. "What are you so dressed up for?" she asked disdainfully. "You look like a dirty little slut."
"I'm going to Mr. Brewer's," Claire said. "They invited me to dinner tonight."
"You're not going looking like that," my step-mother screamed. "Like a tramp with your face covered with lipstick and almost nothing on. You're staying here with me."
Claire saw her step-mother's eyes melt looking at her young tender body. "You're jealous, aren't you mother?" she asked quietly. "Mr. Brewer's very handsome. You wish you were going there instead of me don't you?"
"Don't you talk that way to me or I'll send you up to Mr. John's Community House for some proper training."
"Come here mother. I don't have to go for a few minutes. I know you're lonely here and you need me. Come up stairs with me. I have something I want to show you."
Claire's step-mother was a big fleshy woman in her late forties. Her face was broad and slightly paunchy, but one could still tell that she had been beautiful in her youth. Now it was lined with years of loneliness and regret, and seemed almost noble. The freshness and vibrancy faded away with the inexorable time had been replaced by the loveliness of grief and of unrequited longing.
Her enormous breasts sagged in front, barely hidden by the loose bathrobe that she wore constantly it seemed. Claire had often watched her pinching them and rubbing her stiff brown nipples, moaning with pleasure, and as she was to tell Mr. Thomas, when she was very little she had helped her mother quell the pain of age and of being without a man.
Claire led her upstairs to her bedroom, her pretty swaying temptingly under the short black skirt.
"Lie on the bed mother," Claire said.
Her mother sighed heavily but she did what she was told. Her eyes never left Claire's firm young body.
Careful not to mess herself up Claire spread her step mother's thick huge legs wide apart opening the bathrobe and exposing the immense field of dark hair that covered her stomach and her long gaping slit all ready wet in anticipation.
"You were such a good little girl, Claire," her step-mother murmured, her heavy body tensing as Claire ran her dry tongue over heaving breasts sending shivers through her body.
"Lie still," Claire whispered, "you'll feel better in a minute."
She grasped the mounds of wet flesh on either side of her step-mother's juicy cunt and opened them apart. Gradually she tightened her grip and pulled them farther and farther apart, as her mother's moans increased and her soft ass lifted off the bed toward her daughter urging her to massage her hole.
"Oh Claire it feels so good," she sighed feverishly. "I've loved you so much....given so much for you'" her voice choked with excitement. "Let me suck you off too," she begged breathlessly. "Let me feel your young pussy. You're almost a woman now....you're going to be so beautiful, you know...like your father..."
"No," Claire answered and playfully nipped the edge of her step-mother's slit. "I have to save myself tonight for Mr. Brewer. He's an evil man. I'm going to show him!"
Sweat dripped from her step-mother's forehead. Her panting was loud and sensual, her leathery hands cupped the swaying breasts which were no longer held by the loosened robe.
"Look in my drawer, Claire," she wailed. "There's a bottle there I use. You're old enough now."
Claire anxiously got up to retrieve it, she'd never seen her step-mother masturbate that way before and she almost regretted her decision to wait to see Mr. Brewer.
Her mother immediately plunged her fingers into her slit and rapidly rubbed the inside of her cunt preparing it for the entrance of the big glass object.
When Claire returned with it in a few seconds her step-mother was all ready jerking frantically on the bed her magnificent body twisting urgently making the bed squeak and groan beneath her.
Around the edge o f the bottle was pasted a strip of soft brown fur which Claire couldn't resist briefly running up her naked legs, imagining how good it would feel inside of her.
Containing herself, however, she watched compassionately her step-mother's writhing movements.
Slowly she inserted the bottle into the wet mass of hair until she felt it slip into the crack.
"Oh...yes...yes...." her step mother cried as she forced it farther and farther in rotating it all the while so that the fur tickled the skin.
Dreaming that it was Mr. Brewer's erect cock she jerked the bottle wildly plunging it deeper and deeper as her step-mother screamed with ecstasy the cold glass throbbing and stretching her hole to its limit, and with a final rush tears streaming down her worn face, her step-mother's greasy cunt fluttered around the hard object and she came, smearing the long neck of the bottle so that the liquid dripped all the way to Claire's white hands which gripped it tight.
When Claire arrived at Mr. Brewer's house her face was still flushed hot with excitement.
His wife met her with her customary warm smile which not long ago Claire had loved. "My, you look pretty tonight Claire," she said in her high breathless voice. "Please come in, you're just in time for dessert."
Mr. Brewer sat at the long kitchen table with the two children drinking his coffee and eating a dish of ice cream. "Ah, there you are, Claire," he said lightly, "what took you so long, we'd almost given up on you."
"Oh, I had to help my mother with a few things, you know." Claire shrugged her shoulders casually. "I'm sorry I'm late."
"Yes...well sit down. Would you like some ice cream?"
"No thank you. I can't stay long. I don't want to disturb you," she said politely but with an obvious trace of sarcasm. She couldn't help but notice that Mr. Brewer was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. Taking advantage of his distress, she sat down and crossed her legs where he couldn't help but see her dress hiked up revealing her white tender calves smooth and unblemished which tapered down to form slender innocent legs, his wife seemed worn and old in comparison.
"I would like some coffee though, if you don't mind." She leaned forward so that her firm little breasts pushed tantalizingly through her sweater and played with Mr. Brewer's baby daughter. "Oh she's so adorable," she cried, tickling it underneath its pudgy chin so that it cooed joyously.
"Well its time for her to go to bed," Mrs. Brewer remarked. "You'll have to excuse me for a minute. I have to tell them both a bedtime story or they'll never go to sleep. Come on Johnny you too."
"Aw it's too early," the boy complained, but after much insisting he finally allowed himself to be led upstairs.
As soon as they were alone Mr. Brewer laid his hand on Claire's. "I'm sorry for what I said to you, you have to believe that," he whispered. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world, you know that."
"I told you," Claire answered petulantly, "I understand your position, Mr. Brewer. I only came tonight so that I could say good-bye and to promise you that I won't visit you again."
She was pleased to see an unmistakable look of disappointment cross his face, his hand, as if acting on its own, rubbed gently against hers. For a moment she almost felt sorry for him. He was so handsome and commanding and his wife, well, she was nice enough but she could hardly satisfy him. But her plans for vengeance soon overtook all her feelings of sympathy.
"Come with me to my den," he said, "we'll be able to talk more easily there. I don't want to explain this to you. You're still very young, Claire. Why, you're no more than a child. When you're a little older this will all seem very funny to you, but I'm not so young. I do care about you and I am responsible for helping you to deal with any problems that you have when you're so impressionable."
As they were walking out the kitchen, he put his arm around her. She put her hands to her eyes and began to quietly sob. "I thought you liked me and wanted me," she cried burying her face in his strong shoulder.
"Now, now," h e sighed paternally, "you know I like you very much Claire," he patted her gently and soothingly rubbed the small of her back, his hand lingering for an extra instant at the point where the strap of her brassiere should have been edged closer toward her arm nearer to her young breasts.
The den was surprisingly well furnished, a marked contrast to the rest of the house which was generally rather bare looking. Claire had never been in this room before. It was here that Mr. Brewer did his research for a book that he was planning on some phase of American history. The walls were covered with books all the way up to the ceiling. The floor was thickly carpeted in a subtle weave of black and gold. In one corner was a huge Victorian desk, the kind that rolled down, and facing it on the far end of the room was a beautiful leather couch where Claire went to sit. Mr. Brewer automatically went to his desk which was open and was almost hidden by a mad disarray of papers and pencils and Random Books.
"I may as well tell you," Mr. Brewer began with an air of sincerity, that I lied to you before. It had nothing to do with our neighbors, really, that I asked you not to come here in the future. Oh, they gossip about everyone I suppose, but I've learned to accept such things. I've come to the conclusion, however, to tell you the truth at this point. You see, I didn't think you'd be old enough to understand, but I can tell that you're grown up now." His eyes examined her body carefully with unmasked longing. "My wife is rather jealous, you see, and it was actually she who thought...well you know. It's ridiculous of course. I'm old enough to be your father." He glanced at her with uncertainty. Claire tried not to show any expression on her sweet young face, urging him silently to continue to where she was sure he was heading.
"I got into a little trouble once when I first started teaching, and my wife has, unfortunately, never forgiven me. But that was some time ago when I first started teaching. I was a professor then, and had a rather bright future if I might say so myself," he seemed pleased to be recalling his past.
"There was a young girl in one of my classes, The History of the Civil War, I think it was. She was very beautiful, somewhat like you Claire, and my wife was pregnant with Johnny."
One day she asked me to come to her apartment to discuss a paper she was working on at the time for me. When I got there she offered me a glass of wine with something mixed in it. A white powder which was folded in a tiny piece of white paper. She said it added to the flavor and would make the liquor taste much better. I was very innocent in those days. I'd led a rather sheltered life, always engrossed in books. The first woman I slept with was Martha, my wife, and when she became pregnant I didn't think twice before marrying her."
"The powder was a drug, Claire, believe me. Soon I didn't know what I was doing. It was wonderful. The girl seemed to melt in front of my eyes, her skin glowed, her eyes seemed to beckon me further against my will. Oh, I knew better even then, but I couldn't resist. She began touching herself, all over, you know, begging me to satisfy her. I could hardly unbutton her blouse, which appeared to be some lovely liquid flowing in my hands. She forced me to do things I'd never even dreamed of before. All my inhibitions disappeared like magic.
"I undressed her until all that she had on was her underwear, but when I tried to take them off she stopped me, momentarily. 'Give me your hands" she commanded. I was like a slave. She had a kind of medieval torture rack on her wall supposedly for decoration, but I soon learned better. She tied my hands and legs to knobs which were connected by a metal rod that could automatically stretch them apart, sliding along a wooden groove that ran up the length of the wall. When she had done tying me up, she gazed at her handiwork, scrutinizing it to see if she was thoroughly satisfied. Her eyes gleamed with such cruel sensuality that I grew terrified and tried to break free, but the rope held me fast. Unable to move, I was forced to watch her impotently as she slowly slipped out of her underpants, and rubbed her bush against my cock.
"Because of the drug, you know, it felt like an electric charge was coursing through my body."
At this point Claire noticed that Mr. Brewer's hand lightly stroked his penis underneath the desk and she squirmed in anticipation.
"Of course, I got an erection. I was helpless, you see. But she w is merciless. There was a lever which was hooked up to that informal machine. She pressed it lightly and the knobs moved ever so slightly along the wall, one toward the floor, the other toward the ceiling, stretching me out until I felt a ripping pain in my arms and legs which were pressed together crushing my stiff penis. At the same time she played with herself tantalizing me cruelly. I moaned in pain and begged her to release me, but she only laughed.
"Then she unbuttoned my pants and let them fall to the floor. I had nothing on underneath and that seemed to amuse her even more. 'Now Mr. Brewer,' she sneered, 'we don't want to come too soon, do we?' She was chiding me as if I were a child. She took a small piece of rubber tubing and tied it tightly around my cock so that the sperm could not escape even though I felt it rushing up my rod. 'That's very cute, I think,' she laughed. 'Don't you think so, too?' When I didn't respond, I was blushing with shame. She pressed the lever again until I thought my body would be literally ripped apart. 'Don't you agree?" she repeated. I would have said or done anything to rid myself of the pain. I nodded my head, limply. 'That's better,' she said and playfully pinched the tip of my penis and delicately massaged the hole with her thumb nail, so that I involuntarily sighed with delight."
Claire shifted on the couch and lay on her back. Her skirt was raised up so that Mr. Brewer could easily view her naked cunt underneath, which she was pleased to see he was eyeing as he told his story. Claire, herself, imagining the scene he was describing, was growing hot and wanted to at least masturbate to the lovely sound of Mr. Brewer's deep, honest voice as he told her his story, but she didn't dare.
Suddenly, Mr. Brewer seemed to be conscious of what he was saying to her, and looked about the room hesitantly. "Perhaps I shouldn't go on" he said questioningly. "You're very young. I shouldn't take advantage."
"No, please don't stop." Claire replied sweetly and with just a trace of urgency in her girlish voice.
"Well, before I continue, why don't we take these," Mr. Brewer said eagerly. "It will make it easier," he handed her a dark purple tablet and filled up two glasses of water. "Swallow it down and then I'll continue" he said smiling as if he realized all too well her own excitement.
Claire had never taken drugs before. She didn't know what to do, but urged on by Mr. Brewer, she abandoned all caution and took the pill. Not feeling anything right away, she calmed down, deciding that there really wasn't much to it.
"She was a very pretty girl, like you Claire." Mr. Brewer continued after a slight pause, "But she was evil. My cock, turned red and seemed to be about to burst with pressure, but the tubing held everything in. She wanted to humiliate me because she knew I'd wanted her. I guess I'd felt guilty, you know, about my wife, and I'd given the girl a bad grade the previous semester to ease my conscience and she wanted to get back at me. She let the straps of her brassiere fall over her shoulder, but she wouldn't undress completely. She was soft and lightly tan. She caressed her whole body temptingly until she grew wet and eager. "You're going to fuck me, Mr. Brewer," she declared, and if you're good at it and make me come at least once, then maybe I'll untie your pretty cock and let it spend itself.
She stood up on a stool facing away from me so that her gorgeous rear stood directly in front of my face and reaching behind her she separated the firm white cheeks exposing her anus. She leaned forward still and gripped the lever so that I knew she could still stretch me farther apart; my body was already taut and helpless.
"First you have to lubricate my hole, Mr. Brewer" she taunted; "You like big words like that, now don't you? And I'm sure you'll oblige me" she pressed her rear against my mouth and at the same time nudged the lever. My cock fluttered underneath her between her legs, dangling helplessly. Bending down, she playfully slid her tongue up and down its length, until I found myself straining to make her suck it; but she wouldn't."
"Now don't be a naughty boy, Mr. Brewer," she chuckled, realizing my desire. We may have time for that later, if you're a good boy. I knew what she wanted. Eagerly, I plunged my tongue into her dark brown crack which smelled sweetly of some perfume. Perhaps it was the drugs, I don't know, but it tasted wonderful. She wriggled delightfully spreading her cheeks wider and wider apart as I explored every crevice of her lovely little anus."
At that very moment, Claire's perceptions seemed to suddenly become strange, her head felt like it spinning ever so slowly, or else the room was, she wasn't sure. The room became a series of different abstract shapes shimmering in various hues of blue and amber and green. Nothing seemed solid. The ceiling which she happened to be gazing at, seemed to disintegrate into different microscopic sections, and to undulate, like a huge wave approaching the shore and then retreating back into the crystal ocean from which it came.
She looked over at Mr. Brewer. He no longer appeared the same. His brown eyes peered at her with fierce intensity like a blinding flash of light from a god, while the rest of his face took on a black menacing color. Terrified, she got up hurriedly and stealthfully began to creep toward the door. His voice was filling the whole room, ringing frightfully in her ear.
At that very moment, Claire's perceptions seemed to suddenly become strange, her head felt like it was spinning ever so slowly, or else the room was, she wasn't sure. The room became a series of different abstract shapes, shimmering in various hues of blue and amber. Nothing seemed solid. The ceiling which she happened to be gazing at, seemed to disintegrate into different microscopic sections, and to undulate like a huge wave approaching the shore and then retreating back into the crystal ocean from which it came.
She looked over at Mr. Brewer. He no longer appeared the same. His brown eyes peered at her with fierce intensity like a blinding flash of light from a god, while the rest of his face took on a black menacing color. Terrified, she got up hurriedly and began to creep toward the door. His voice was filling the room, ringing faithfully in her ear.
"Where are you going, Claire?" he said sarcastically. "I haven't finished my story yet." It was like a nightmare. She lunged toward the door, but he grabbed her hard by the shoulders, gripping them like a vise. She started to scream out when without warning the door was flung open and standing in front of her, bristling with anger, Mrs. Brewer stood, towering over both of them like an avenging angel.
"Well, Henry. I can see you're up to your old tricks again," she scolded. "I hope he hasn't hurt you, my dear," she said addressing Claire. She shook her head. "No, that isn't this way, is it darling?"
Mr. Brewer's visage was considerably altered. He looked at his wife with fear, his hold on Claire's shoulders trembling with fright.
For the first time, Claire became very aware of the drug, which she assumed was LSD, and it had taken its effect on him, too. Claire was somewhat surprised to find that Mrs. Brewer didn't appear as mousey looking and plain as usual. In fact, she thought her body was magnificent. She wanted to reach out and touch her thighs and squeeze her ripe bosom which heaved up and down furiously.
"It's not the way it seems," Mrs. Brewer. "She tried to excuse herself, fumbling for words. Mrs. Brewer snorted self-righteously.
"You're a tempting bit of meat, my dear," she said knowingly peering at Claire as if she were a stranger whom she'd just met. "I'm sure Henry was telling you about his first extra-marital experience. That's the way he always does it."
Claire didn't understand, but there were such a flock of hallucinations just then that she made no effort to follow the course of Mrs. Brewer's words very carefully. More and more she was seized with the idea of making love to Mrs. Brewer, who just kept talking.
Claire's legs grew hot and clammy.
"Henry has those fantasies quite often, but you mustn't take him seriously. He's not a bad fellow. He just likes young girls like yourself, but you must not let him ruin you like he did to me. I'm here to prevent that."
Without warning, Mr. Brewer jumped up. "Don't listen to her Claire," he hollered. For an instant Claire was shocked into reality. What were they talking about she wondered, before going back into her drugged state, her whole attention concentrating on Mrs. Brewer.
Not knowing what she was doing, Claire immediately darted forward and she squeezed Mrs. Brewer's nipples. "My," she laughed, "you certainly are worked up, aren't you?" She smiled, shrewdly. "Come and suck my husband's cock before he jerks himself off at the sight of you and makes a mess."
"No," Claire said petulantly. "I want you!" she implored.
Mrs. Brewer seemed very pleased with this. "Did you hear that Henry?" she asked proudly.
Mr. Brewer was behind Claire so that she couldn't quite tell what he was doing, but she felt her skirt being lifted up and a stiff fleshy object rubbing against her rear. Without thinking she clutched his cock between her legs and, as if offering it as a present, pulled it toward Mrs. Brewer. Mr. Brewer yelped weakly in pain.
Naively, Claire bent his tool and pulled the grayish hair that was like fleece covering his balls. Like a puppy, she looked up at Mrs. Brewer for some sign of approval. The cries from Mr. Brewer seemed to egg her on, for they obviously pleased his wife greatly.
"Now, now Claire," Mrs. Brewer chided. "Don't hurt him too much. We must teach you how to give a man pleasure, not pain. Stroke him lightly, like this." Her plump white hand, reached out lightly, pulling on her husband's rod. His screams quickly turned to sounds of joy. Claire cupped his balls in her palm and fingered his scrotum. Claire watched as suddenly he grew rigid and as his wife snickered the white cream spurted out.
Mr. Brewer slumped onto the floor lying on his back trying to catch his breath. Claire looked up at Mrs. Brewer, deep longing still reflected from her child's eyes.
"How old are you?" the older woman asked.
Claire imagined that Mrs. Brewer's clothing was swirling like liquid over her curvaceous body clinging to it and dripping in multi-colored dots onto the floor, which itself seemed to be undulating beneath her.
Mrs. Brewer knelt down in front of her urgently kneading her husband's thighs.
"No, please! No more," he begged her wearily, but before he could escape, Claire clenched his bare ankles tightly holding him down.
"Thank you, my dear," said Mrs. Brewer. "Now come, Mr. Brewer doesn't want me, but you do, don't you? You want him to make me happy, don't you?"
Like a slave Claire dumbly nodded her head.
At that point the Brewer's German Shephard, a strong healthy animal wandered into the room and as if sensing the mood of the people began sniffing at Claire's black stockings. His nose snuggling between her legs and pressing against her damp underpants.
Unconsciously, Claire felt herself growing aroused. Embarrassed, she tried to shove the dog away. The dog accidentally nudging Mr. Brewer's limp cock, squealed and went to Mrs. Brewer.
"There, King! We'll satisfy you as well." Mrs. Brewer shuddered. "Get up, Henry, I have a show planned for you. Let him up Claire, like a good girl."
"Henry," she whispered when he came to her. "What did you give that girl, even the dog turns her on."
"Just some acid," he confessed, "and just a touch of cocaine."
"King is horny, none of the bitches have been in heat for a while," Mrs. Brewer said.
"No you can't," Mr. Brewer cried. "There are limits, Martha. She's no more than a baby. As old as our children."
"And how do you know how experienced our children are?" she fired back, raging! "It gets very lonely here all alone while you chase every teenage girl in sight. And speaking of your sex life and my morals, who the hell brought her here and drugged her half out of her mind in the first place?"
The argument might have continued further, but their attention was abruptly averted by King, who suddenly began whining.
Claire, unnoticed by either of them had managed to get the dog on its back, its legs wriggling helplessly as she patted and scratched his stomach. Then she had started pinching the tip of its cock and had stared in wonder as it stiffened in her grasp.
"Mr. Brewer was the first to react. "Claire!" he hollered. "You'll sleep here tonight, and right now. I'll fix up the bed in the guest room and tomorrow I'll explain to your mother that you were tired and couldn't get home."
"Henry, be quiet," Mrs. Brewer said.
She went up to Claire and huddled with her over King. "Come on, boy," she whispered. "We'll fix you up tonight," she said, unbuttoning her blouse and undoing her bra straps. Playfully King's tongue lapped at her dark, brown nipple, and explored the contours of her breast.
Mr. Brewer watched, disgusted but fascinated.
Claire jerked the dog's cock wildly. Mr. Brewer went behind his wife, and pulling her panties down to her knees, plunged his cock into her cave from the back. She howled with the hurt and delectation. The dog writhed on the floor below them and as Mrs. Brewer sighed, feeling her husband's sperm coursing through her body, it yelped and came in Claire's ever tightening grip.
When Claire woke in the morning, with a terrible headache, the night before seemed like some kind of nightmare.
As she dragged herself wearily homeward, she swore to herself that never again would she get herself into the clutches of any man-ever!