Chapter 5
Trooper, the massive Alsatian dog, paced uneasily through the Haviland house the remainder of the day. Several times his young master allowed him outside within the fenced aid, but the big animal found little solace from the unreleased ruttish turbulance churning in his powerful loins. He remembered this same torment from the times before with the woman led Toni and could not understand why it had to be. Pleadingly, he had looked up at his young Blaster's grinning face and whimpered, only to fcear him laugh and playfully maul his ears, but instinctively, the mighty dog sensed that the boy understood, and, although he did not know the meaning of the sounds his master spoke softly down at him, Trooper began to feel that somehow Luther would help.
Luther Robbins, in fact, was nervous himself, loth tension and lewd anticipation constantly pawing at him throughout the remainder of the Ay. He found it difficult to occupy himself with anything except ogling after his Ireath-taking young aunt's seductive curves so provocatively outlined beneath the white fritted short shorts and halter ensemble enviously hugging them. Finally, he had taken up a central position in the living room with a book from which he could readily fill his hungering teenage eyes without her knowing, although several times she had caught him staring but had merely smiled, unaware, he hoped, of the lusting thoughts continually racing through his mind.
He could still hardly believe the salacious orgy he'd watched through his telescope, especially as he sat there stealing glances at the shapely, fawn-haired young woman going about her housekeeping duties. But, whenever doubt cropped up to make him wonder if he was losing his buttons, something would happen, such as the way he caught her numerous times looking down at where Troop lay at his feet, a partially hidden smile lighting her beautiful face and those round blue eyes glimmering like secret planets millions of miles off. No, there wasn't any goddamned question but what he'd actually witnessed the wildest frigging sex show of his life ... luscious Aunt Gayle first going out of her skull to Trooper's tonguing up between her gorgeous legs before she obscenely used his nose to fuck her hot little pussy! Christ, every time he thought of it, his loony cock began to jerk and throb all over again. The bastardly thing hadn't really gone down all day, and his sperm-bloated balls felt as tight and swollen as a basketball, say nothing of the constant tormenting ache deep in his groin.
The nervously roused sixteen year old didn't have any set plan of offense, even though he'd formed a half-dozen or more in his shrewd calculating brain. But, in lieu of that, he was wildly strong in another department .- determination! He knew full well he'd probably never get another chance if he passed this one up, and that he'd never forgive himself for the rest of his life if he didn't take advantage of it. Christ, he was actually coming apart inside just thinking about it... though he hardly knew what the hell he was going to do to her once and if, he got there! It was obvious that she was a real hot doll, and that his Uncle Ted evidently couldn't keep her happy with his man-cock. That was one of the big things frightening, him. If Uncle Ted couldn't do it, what the hell could fee ever expect to do for her? And he didn't want to look like some goddamned pantywaist. Oh shit! He didn't give a damn; someway it was going to happen ... had to ... just had to or he was going to blow his tube!
Her nephew's uneasiness had caught Gayle's I ye several times as she moved about the house running through daily chores, even though her still sensually steeped young mind was hardly on what she was doing. Tiny tingles of erotic satisfaction continued to tranquilize her soft belly and susceptible girlish loins far into the day, yet at the same time she had only to glance down at her animal-lover lying at Luther's feet o sense new excitement come alive inside her.
God, she wasn't sorry in the least for her beastial act, and she supposed that made her some sort of animal herself, but she knew she would do it again if she had the opportunity ... and what else was her conniving visionary brain trying to do but make that opportunity! But damn, she had to be so careful with Luther right there in the house; he was so unpredictable, and as uneasy as a cat looking for a place to potty as she'd already discovered.
On further thought as she began to prepare dinner, the scheming young housewife concluded that Luther's edginess was probably due to his coming chess match the next afternoon, which was quite understandable. After all, he was only a boy, and he'd said he was to play a man named Zentor from Europe. She remembered then that she was to take him into Portland for the contest and mentally decided what she would wear. The poor boy, it must be a strain on him, and he looked so awkwardly unsettled ... had ever since he'd been there, now that she had come to know him and his mannerisms a little better. After dinner, she would spend time with him and try to calm him a bit. They were supposed to play some chess anyway ... but God, what would he ever think if he knew what she and his handsome pet had done that morning on the bed ... and hopefully might repeat, if she could only conjure up a way.
Slipping a small roast into the oven, Gayle then poured Coke over ice, made herself a meager pitcher of martinis and joined her young guest in the living room.
"Oh thanks, Aunt Gayle," Luther said as she set the soft drink beside him, then curled into a chair across the room, folding her smooth naked legs partially beneath her and holding the thin-stemmed cocktail glass in salute.
"Cheers, darling," she proposed and he nodded, sipping with her. "I'm only going to spend a minute with you, then I must shower and change for dinner."
The thought of her shedding her short shorts and halter for something more concealing disappointed Luther, but he couldn't see as there was much he could do about it. Then, she fastened her attention onto Trooper at his feet, speaking to the eager-eared pussy-licker and that gave him his chance to feast on the white satiny flesh of her full thighs. The way she was sitting with both legs drawn up snugly together beneath her enabled the excited teenager to see where the fleshy cleft of her buttocks began, even the white band of her nylon panties. Her lushly rounded ass-cheeks strained against the knitted material of her shorts, stretching the tight crotch strip disappearing between her thighs. As a matter of fact, the crotchband hugged her so tightly there that he could plainly see the indentation of her fleshy cunt lips.
He sensed his face flushing and when she suddenly asked him in a concerned tone if he was feeling all right, he said : "Yeah ... sure, I feel fine. I-I was just wondering if I should change for dinner, too?"
"Heavens no, darling. It's just that I've been working around all day and well, you know even girls get a bit sweaty." Gayle laughed, sipped at her drink and swung to her feet. "I'll only be a few minutes and be back to join you. By that time my roast'll need attention."
She started away and the teenager glued his greedy eyes on the voluptuous rolling sway to her full rounded hips and buttocks, his mouth dry as he gaped after her. Suddenly, she stopped and turned. "There's lots of Coke in the fridge if you want it, dear."
"Th-thanks," he replied, her smile damned near melting him. And then Trooper was on his feet and whimpering as he stood there watching her.
"What's wrong with him, Luther? D-does he want to come with me?" There was undeniable hope in her voice.
"No. He wants out again," the boy quickly answered, his lie meant to end any sudden ideas she might have gotten. Sonovabitch, he had no goddamned intentions of letting them in there alone together!
"Oh ... all right," she seemed to almost pout before disappearing into her room, the door closing behind her.
Jesus, Luther thought, she had ideas all right. Why the hell else would she've let Troop in there with her? She wanted another go with him ... wanted him to lick her hot little pussy some more! Holy Christ, she was the steamiest goddamned chick he'd ever heard of... and he was going to try to get next to her? Horse shit? She'd take you on for the prelims, Robbins! You better stick to your telescope and right hand! In fact, his fuckheaded cock was so aching hard at that very moment that he could cry ... !
Vickie Cramer Haviland sat in the cozy living room of their small Los Angeles apartment in her black negligee, a long twenty-five cent cigar clenched angrily between her even white-teeth, the room clouded with its heavy billows of blue smoke. Her almond-shaped dark eyes stung from the three stages they had passed through in the last hour, and like her little up-tilted nose that was red at the tip, their rims were blood-shot where the whites should be, while their pupils were blazing, enraged black embers at the moment.
He was gone, the bastard! Instead of coming home two days early as she'd joyously thought, le sonovabitch had just dropped by for a fast riece of ass on his way to a meeting in Chicago, or some such shit! God, she couldn't believe it when he'd finally gotten it out after a full ten minutes of stammering around.
"Chicago! B-but you just got here!" she wailed.
"I know, I know, darling, and you never gave me a chance to tell you that I flew in to see you before I had to leave!" he'd flabbered, pickmg up and pulling on his clothes from where he'd thrown them all over the room, while she had sat upright on the davenport to stare at him in her nakedness, never feeling more like one of Black Sara's whores since the day she'd left there.
"W-well... well... well I'll be goddmaned!" she'd uncontrollably gasped, the first stage, that of the love-struck new bride, passing like the results of a cathartic. "Why didn't you tell me, damnit?"
"Vickie, I tried, honest, but ... well, you had other ideas ..."
"And you thought it'd be better to wait until after, right?"
"No! That's not it at all, for Chris' sakes!" he'd blurted, trying to put on a sock in a j standup position and hopping all over the room. "Oh come on, hon. let's not argue like this. Christ, I can't help it if the company ..."
"And all the time I thought you had come home to me early ., .brought all of your things to move in and ..."
"Please Vickie? Don't you understand? I haven't had time, and then this emergency meeting in Chicago came up," he tried to explain. "I could have called you from San
Francisco rather then flying down here you know, but don't you see, I had to be with you pod hold you in my arms before I went away from you for another whole week or more ... " "You forgot about dipping your wick, Mr. Haviland!" she spat at him, nakedly standing bod snatching up her negligee from the floor. "Not that you couldn't find some ready hole in ihat burg and accomplish the same ends, but this one does still hold a certain new intrigue for you I should imagine."
"Vickie ... goddamn it, stop that talk will you please?" he begged, hopping on one foot toward her, then dropping it to the floor with his sock still dangling as he forcefully took her into his arms, and she slipped into stage two ... cried. "Oh baby ... damn, don't carry on like this. It's just for a week. I'm not off to the Crusades or something..." "But you should have told me the very first thing, sweet-face ... not let me get my heart set on your staying," she insisted in her softened, tear-choked voice. "God, I was so happy to see and have you home with me ... " "All right, I'm sorry, baby. I should have told you the first thing. It's all my fault and ... and I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise." "J-just hurry back home to me, teddybear ... that's all I ask ... and ... and keep away from those Chicago girls." "Don't be ridiculous, hon," he'd laughed then kissed her warmly. "You're the only girl I care about."
"You better say that if you know what's good for you, Ted Haviland," she had said with a smile, pressing him back toward the davenport. "Now, sit down there and let me put those damned socks on for you. If you don't hurry you'll miss your plane ..."
And she had ... actually gotten down on her knees at his feet for a second time in a matter of short hours, only this occasion was to put hij goddamned socks and shoes on him! And it was then, while she was searching for his other sock beneath the sofa that she spotted the white envelope with their own address scratched on the back in pencil. She had started to bring it out, but something had told her not to, and instead she had pushed it further back out of sight.
Not until after her darling, sweet-face, teddybear had smothered her in kisses, ran his big hot hands hungrily over her several times then dashed out the door, had she retrieved the envelope. For a long while she had just sat there staring at it, afraid to venture into the privacy enclosed inside, for it was unopened and unpostmarked. It had never been mailed! The addresses was female, an Alice Sturges in Niger Washington, and written in the obvious dainty hand of another female. But more important was the back of the envelope where her address was scrawled in pencil. On the flap and in the same delicate handwriting addressing the envelope was written the name Gayle Haviland, 17360 Arroya Way, Canyon Hills, Oregon!
H-his sister? Mother? An aunt, cousin, or relative of some description? Oh God! She had to know ... had to ... !
Phase three had rapidly followed the reading of that damning letter. She had already been too drained for further tears even though the "shock had brought a limited instant flood, but they were short lived in the pangs of screaming rage ripping at her soft insides. Oh, the lousy bastard! One Gayle Haviland, like herself, was a Mrs. Ted, and the longer she sat there fuming and puffing at the cigar while her mind raced in rampant fury, the heartbroken and incensed young woman couldn't help but wonder if and how many more Mrs. Havilands there might be! One thing for sure, she vowed, her lovely teeth clenching to nearly bite through the rolled leaves of dark tobacco, that bigamist bastard was going to pay right through the nose! He was going to know that Vickie Cramer Haviland was one bitch not to be taken lightly! And with that, the voluptuous brunette showgirl bolted to her feet in search of her bottle of Old Grandad. She needed some brain stimulant to help her keep her cool while she made her plans. No use charging off half-cocked. After all, this proved it for certain; she'd been right in the first place. There never lived a man worth his goddamned salt!