Chapter 4

Angela held out the tiny ball of raw hamburger to the cocker spaniel. "Come on, Zero ... good doggie!" The animal, wagging its tail, strolled casually up the bank of the stream, not particularly anxious to be fooled again. Angela sat on the ground, leaning back against a small tree, almost completely concealed by the bushes that lined both sides of the stream for miles. Her geography book lay beside her un opened. Sitting with her knees up and her legs spread, the tiny skirt she wore bunched around the tops of her thighs. She wore no panties; the light young fuzz of her pubic mound could hardly be seen at all above the rosy-red lips of her vulva. "That's a good doggie, Zero ... come and get it."

As the dog reached her, sniffing at her fingers, her hand dropped to her crotch, poking the fresh raw meat into her vagina, smearing the meaty scent on her fingers through the crease, over her clitoris, and down in the crack between the cheeks of her slender ass. Her hips scuttled forward, moving lower, her legs spreading wider, giving her pet more room to eat. "Nice doggie, Zero!"

The cold nose touched the flaming vaginal lips and Angela whimpered through her tightly pursed lips. The tongue flicked out, licking over the clitoris, and she almost swooned with the feeling. "Eat it, Zero ... that's it, eat it, girl!" The dog rooted its snout into the soft meaty flesh, its tongue thrusting deep into her vagina, scooping at the meat she'd placed there for it to eat out. Her voice a throaty whisper, she talked to the dog. "Lick it, Zero, eat it all ... lick it clean!"

Her head propped against the tree forced her chin down against her chest above and between the small budding breasts that protruded under her sweater. Her hands went up under the fabric, squeezing the buds through the bra she wore for youthful vanity, not practicality-feeling the strange new feeling in the nipples as she rubbed them. "Sweet Zero, good doggie!" The dog lapped at her red pussy until her knees quivered and jerked with the ferocity of the sensation, her legs wanting to clamp shut to contain the beauty of the feeling within her vagina. Ooh, so pitifully, she was going off, feeling it coming, feeling it deep in her pussy!

Then she sat up suddenly, her eyes wide! A sound in the bushes! Somebody, something there! Angela pushed the dog away, her skin flushing, still tingling beneath the skirt as she pulled it down, scrambling to her feet. It wasn't fair, not at that moment!

A pony broke through the brush on the other side of the stream. At the water's edge it lowered its head to drink. Only then was Angela aware of the way her heart had been hammering in her breast. She eased out a buxom sigh of relief. Only a pony. Zero snarled and barked, yapping away at the animal across the stream. One glance from the pony, and then it ignored the dog. Raised in a land of fierce canine monsters, this one seemed a puppy to the pony. It continued to drink its fill.

"Shut up, Zero!" Angela commanded. "It's only a pony!" She watched the animal as it drank. The dog wandered curious, back and forth at the edge of the water, glancing timidly first at the pony, then at Angela. The pony's coat was matted with dirt; a frayed rope hung loosely about its neck, but it was obvious even to Angela that the pony had gone a long while without care. "Haven't you got a home, little pony?"

Angela kicked of her shoes and, talking softly, waded across the stream. "Easy, pony, I won't hurt you." The pony continued to drink until she was almost on it, then raised its head and examined her curiously, not in the least afraid of her. The girl first caught the rope-in the event it changed its mind about stayingand then she petted its snout lovingly. The pony's head dipped to her bosom, found little of interest, and dipped lower. It sniffed between her legs, its snout rising under her skirt. Its cold nose and lips quivering, riding up the young girl's thighs to her naked crotch, sent shivers crawling all over her body. She stepped back, pulling its head out quickly, afraid of being seen out in the open like this.

She rubbed her hands along the pony's sides. "Are you a girl pony or a-" she was too startled by what she saw to finish the sentence. She had seen boys' penises, even played with a couple of them, all of them no bigger than her little finger, and she had seen her daddy's-not all of it, but the bulge, with the tip of it sticking out from under the leg of his shorts-but this! Her eyes grew very round.

The pony had smelled the woman smell, the scent of sex. When he'd first dipped his head between her legs his prick had swelled to an anxious erection, and now it arched hard and stiff and ready.

Angela reached out her hand and touched it with the ends of her fingers. The massive cylinder of meat throbbed as if it had a life apart from the animal that bore it. Her fingers closed around it. Her head bent to examine it. She moved it first one way and then another, looking at it from every angle, her eyes, her jaw, in awe of it.

Suddenly she straightened, remembering where she was, and flushed, checked around her to see that nobody was watching. Pausing only a moment she took the end of the rope and led the pony across the stream. "Come on, boy. You're coming home with me."

"Are you serious?" Vera dropped another ice cube in the glass and handed it to Lon, her husband.

Paul laughed embarrassedly. "It's really weird! I'm not exaggerating. Ask Shirl. Every time she or Angela gets close to it, it gets a hard-on."

Shirl crossed her legs,.aware and excited by the way Lon's eyes always seemed to be darting between her thighs. "Not only that, but he sticks his nose in here"-Shirl indicated the deep tanned cleft between her breasts in the dress' low-cut square bodice-"and apparently tries to undress me."

"Well he's got the right idea," Lon muttered, grinning. "Lucky pony! I should've been a pony."

Vera refilled a glass for one of the other guests. "Well you got part of it licked, you're already a jackass."

All four of the couples laughed.

"Really, it used to scare us at first," Paul continued, "Angela spending so much time with it, when the damned thing acts like a fourlegged sex maniac."

"It's the two-legged kind you have to worry about," somebody added.

"And she's out with it somewhere from the time she gets out of school until dark. She rides it everywhere."

"You haven't been able to find out where it came from? Who it belongs to?"

Paul took a last drag off his cigarette and stabbed it out in the ashtray. "I've had a classified in the San Diego paper lost and found for a week, for anybody who's lost a pony to call me at my office. No answer yet. Thirty miles of desert between where we live in El Cajon and the Mexican border-hundreds of square miles that way, hundreds of range and groveland the other. It could have come from anywhere. Obviously, from the rope around his neck, he belongs to somebody. Anyway, Angela loves it, of course, so until somebody claims it, it'll go right on eating us out of house and home."

Angela turned on the water in the tub, took off her robe, and climbed in. She lay down on her back, raising her legs and sliding her body down until the hot stream of gushing water splashed over the sensitive red lips of her pussy. Her feet high, her legs doubled back at the thighs, her ass raised meeting the cascading waters, she lay there, dreaming, feeling the splayed pleasures rising inside her, her hair wafting in the rising waters around her head, watching the pink nipples of her peached-size breasts, watching idly as the water level rose.

Zero lay in his usual spot, waiting for her to bathe, aware that when she was finished she would go to the refrigerator and they would play games again. Though she'd been playing with him less and less recently.

Angela thought about her pony. She loved to ride him, her body swaying back and forth with his steps, her pussy, her clitoris rubbing against the ridge of his spine sending shivers of joy through, her. She liked to let the pony eat her pussy, too, and it was exciting, but he wasn't as good at it as Zero. His tongue didn't come way out of his mouth like Zero's, to lap inside her pussy.

She wished instead of a pony she'd found an anteater. The one at the zoo had a tongue as long as her arm, as long as the pony's dick. She licked the pony's dick, she liked to play with it, but what good was it? Yes, he should have been an anteater.

She began to manipulate her clitoris with the fingers of one hand, her other imitating an anteater, inside her pussy fingering it, exploring the hole, while under the thrusting spray of hot water her asshole tingled with sensation. She stopped thinking about the pony then, or the dog, or the anteater, and concentrated wholly on the ecstasy that rippled throughout her young slender body.

Later, a towel wrapped around her wet hair, she went to the refrigerator and pinched off a small bite of raw hamburger. "Here, girl," she called, "here, Zero." She let the dog get a whiff of the meat. "Time to go to bed."

Saying good-bye to the last of their guests, Lon let Vera see them out; he rushed to the phone and called a couple in nearby San Diego. "Hello, David? Get Betty on the extension. This is gonna kill you."

Vera returned to the living room grinning wryly. "Are you calling our local canine corps?"

Lon grinned back at her. "Yeah." And into the phone, "Hi, Betty. Listen, you're always talking about Brainy, that fucking Doberman pincher of yours, getting a hard-on around you and you taking it on dog fashion? Have I got a story for you!"

Lon rang the bell of apartment 5D, giving Vera a reassuring squeeze around her waist. His erection in his pants was stifling. He hadn't gotten rid of it hardly since Betty called the day before and invited them over. "Kitty and Matt are coming down from L.A. Kitty likes Brainy too, so this time I'll let you watch," Betty had told Lon. Vera was such a goddamned sorehead about the stupid goddamn dog, Betty wouldn't do it with the thing unless Vera would and Vera wouldn't. She said it was for the dogs. She'd fucked every swinging male-and a few females-from Tucson to Catalina, but she "drew the line on dogs" adding, "although I don't know why-I ball David, and he's built as skinny as one."

"If you expect me to let that fucking mutt climb my ass, Lonnie, you're out of your goddamn gourd." Vera shook her head disgustedly, the flip of her hairstyle bouncing jauntily.

Lon kissed her on the end of her nose. "You don't have to. Forget it." He punched at the buzzer again. "Wonder what's keeping them?"

"Maybe they got mugged by a couple of tough fleas."

From inside the apartment a muffled voice asked, "Who is it?"

Vera called out before Lon had a chance to say anything, "The SPCA!"

The sound of a chain dropping and a tumbler falling. Dave opened the door, hiding himself behind it. His hair was mussed, his face sweaty. "Hope you don't mind, kids, we sort of started without you."

Vera replied dryly, "Well, we could always go to a kennel."

Closing the door, Dave, nude and sporting a half hard bouncing with his steps, kissed Vera on the cheek and led them inside, "Doesn't anybody ever fuck anymore?" Vera asked Dave after smelling the scent on his face.

A nude trio sat in the living room on an open sofabed. Betty stood up to greet the couple, smiling a greeting. Her heavy pendulous breasts swayed over rolls of fat laying like bicycle tubes around her hips. "Vera!" she said, her eyes not leaving Lon, her mouth stretching to kiss him warmly, teasingly on the lips. "So glad you could make it!" Running her arm through Lon's, she introduced Matt and Kitty.

Matt's features were boyish, but deeply etched lines placed him at over forty. He was tall and slender, well tanned except for a white band around his middle where his trunks had kept away the sun.

Kitty was big.. Extraordinarily well proportioned, for the most part, but big. And round.

Her face was round, her blondish hair cut short and pouffed out with the tips curling into her cheeks; her shoulders were round, her hips ballooned out lazily; her buttocks were two perfect half globes; her breasts were like two supersize cantalopes, the nipples cherries. She was like an artist's exercise in pneumatic concentrics, covered with thick bouyant layers of foam rubber. Nothing sagged. She looked warmly soft, but firm and floatable, like a life raft to somebody drowning. Her complexion was light rose, like an infant's. "Hello, there!" she exclaimed in a high squeaky baby-doll voice. Her expression seemed to be suggesting, "Why don't you come up and see me sometime!"

Lon dropped his jacket on a chair and allowed Betty to seat him beside Kitty, who leaned forward for a lingering hello kiss on the lips, her big globulous breasts rubbing against his arm. "Do you"-in the middle of the sentence her big round blue eyes shifted from Lon to Vera-"believe in sex at first sight?"

Vera picked up an idle drink from the coffee table and took a sip. "Yes, unless you're a switch-hitter. It's nice to be able to tell which is which." She smiled at Kitty to take the edge off her words. Damn, she hated the first little while at swinging gatherings, and coming in cold when the others were already undressed. And she hated people who fancied they believed in the "direct approach. "Well, hell, she thought, she might as well get her feet wet-or other more appropriate parts of her anatomy. She moved to Matt's side of the bed and sat down. She'd hardly moved a step in that direction before Matt's penis, lying lazily limp across his thigh, began a spiralling shift across his belly swelling to ... comfortable proportions, were the words Vera used in her mind.

Dave asked the new arrivals what they'd like to drink, and still sporting his half hard, sauntered over to the bar.

Matt sat forward, smiling, and slowly lowered the zipper at the back of Vera's dress. "Can I help you with this?" It was halfway down before the words came out.

For a long moment Vera looked at the lines in his face, beleaguered lines in his forehead, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and lips. His face was inches from hers. She closed the distance, her mouth moving leisurely to his. His hands drew the top of the dress over her shoulders and off her arms to lay in her lap. She turned, his arms cradling her, his fingers fumbling with the hooks of her bra, and then it too was off. His hands explored the soft caress able flesh as his mouth explored her mouth, their tongues meeting, merging, their arms and hands and fingers, gentle, caressing but insistent, wanting.

Betty groaned. "Goddamn it! And I know better, too! Every goddamn time three couples get together, somebody ends up with their own lousy, no-good husband!"

Kitty sighed, Tossing a "that's life" glance at Lon, continuing to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, she took care of a solution. "If you'll take over here, Betts, Dave and me are going to pick up where we left off."

"Hear hear!" Dave yelled from the corner.

Kitty responded baby-dollishly. "Not 'there there,' silly-here here!" She lay back, spreading her legs, and pointed with her thumb between her big round thighs.

To Vera the arrangement was perfect. She raised her hips off the bed and slipped her dress and panties down her legs and off in one easy motion, feeling Matt's tongue tracing her spine, sending shivers up and down it. She knew she looked good. A long slender body, as deeply tanned as her partner, except for her there were no white suit marks, she'd gotten hers in a nudist club. She also knew how Long deplored fat women. Betty was fat. Some satisfaction in that.

Giggling, Vera threw herself on top of the man beside her, smothering her giggles with his mouth, feeling his body crushing into the length of her own, feeling his hard prick pressing against her belly from her crotch to her navel. Nice, she thought, his lean body, his fat prick, his hot lush mouthand hot hands, going immediately to the cheeks of her ass, cupping, squeezing, kneading, crushing her tighter against him. Her tits against his chest were beginning to glow; in seconds they'd be on fire. Already she could feel the heat inside her vagina thawing it out, melting, the wet molten juices wetting the lips of her cunt. "Hmmmm!" she said into his mouth, her thighs clenching together in sensual reflexes.

She broke away from his mouth and his arms, rising on her knees to straddle him, reaching for his prick. She sank back, resting her ass on his legs, and bent low, swooping her head down to take the prick between her lips, wetting it with her mouth-not that she really needed to help it along-and straightened again, moving the head of it to the crevice between her thighs, rubbing it through her vulval lips, back and forth over the hole, her eyes closing, her lips smiling wide as she stopped it at the hole and slowly settled her body on it, savoring every fraction of an inch of travel into her vagina, feeling the sensations at the lower front of the orifice steady as the prick moved by it and along each fiber of the roof muscles, gliding, her thighs pulsing with emotions of their own. Hands moved up her thighs as she straddled him, moved up her waist, caressed her small but perfectly formed breasts, his fingertips teasing the taut nipples. His prick, she felt it all the way in, her pelvis locked against his, the head of the prick pushing strong against the back of her vagina.

His arms pulling her down, she fell into them, locking her arms around his shoulders as he rolled over on top of her, the warm filling prick inside her animate to its power, driving as his pelvis directed, slowly, firmly, powerfully, his thrusts deep in her cunt lulling her sensibilities into abandonment and yet building, creating the fiercest needs simultaneously, supercharged by the snap-glide past her clitoris and the collision of his pelvis against it. "Yessss!" she hissed. "Oh, Matt, yesss!" Her hips went wild, swinging, rotating, grinding, bringing the sought response in feeling from the prick inside her singing cunt.

Beside them, Betty on her hands and knees, Lon bending over her fat ass, his hands under her filled (and overflowing) with soft, flabby, abundantly fat tits, his pelvis slap-slapping rhythmically against her soft, flabby, abundantly fat ass. David knelt on the floor between two rounded thighs as Kitty sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on one elbow, her other hand cupping and hefting her own globulous breast, occasionally wetting her finger in her mouth and returning It to speed furiously round and round the nipple. She leered crazily at the hot eyes peering at her from above the muff of her mons. Little girl noises, baby-dollish words-"You like to suckum big hot fucking mommy, wittle David?"-poured out of her mouth in gusts of maniacally frantic gasps for breaths. In what seemed only seconds the words grew less and less intelligible and higher and higher in pitch. Tears rolled in her eyes as she went rigid all over, and in the tiniest voice imaginable a tightly constricted, "Ooohhhhh," dragging it out interminably, until her whole body began to relax, her voice reducing its level of pitch, the words becoming somewhat intelligible again.

David's head pulled away from her drenching wet cunt-her hands grabbed his head and pulled it right back into her cunt again. As he started sucking again resignedly, her hand went back to the fury at her tits. "Oh, that was terwific, David. Won't you do it for big fucking hot mommy again, sweetums?" wiggling her ass harder into his face. It was six or eight orgasms later that David collapsed panting to the floor, pleading for a rest. "Oh kiwi joy!" Kitty accused.

Lon was flat on his back as Betty bounced delightedly up and down on his dick, her breasts-and everything else attached, from her thighs to her ass, her hips, even her cheeks and her jaws-flopped and danced and jounced and jousled like some fantastic new dribbling superrubber plastic for use in making basketballs, with an expression on her face of total unadulterated bliss. Crying, biting her lip, flopping spastically now, convulsively, she brought on the heat of an orgasm, seeming to melt completely with it into a large mound of molten silly putty.

Kitty, on her knees, moved up in the bed to Lon. She kissed him savagely, and, lifting his head up, thrust one oversize cantaloupe-shaped tit in his mouth, then the other. With a "Do you mind, honey?" to Betty, not Lon, she straddled his head with her thighs and lowered her cunt to his mouth, dollish noises sucking between her teeth as she spread the lips of her cunt with her fingers and talked Lon into the target.

Betty's hands came up under Kitty's arms, grabbing her firm rounded tits as she would the handlebars of a bike as her climbing ride on Lon began again, Kitty squealing and relaxing against her.

Vera lay dreamily dazed beside Matt, her head resting on his arm, which reached over her shoulder, toying almost absentmindedly with the nipple of her breast. She held in her hand his half flaccid penis, still wet from their juices, not wanting to let go of it.

"You mind, love?" Dave crawled up on the bed between Vera's legs, his prick in his hand as if he were looking for a place to put it. "I'd like to get a little myself for a change."

Vera laughed and spread her legs for him. Still holding tight to the dick in her hand, her other hand went to Dave's, to guide it in the hole, raising her legs to accommodate him, raising them high and locking them around his ass, her heels riding in the crease of his buttocks. Matt started to draw his arm from beneath her head, but she held it, reinforcing his hand on her breast even as Dave's mouth went to hers. When Dave's skinny prick began to careen through her cunt, she squeezed Matt's hand onto her breast, squeezed his prick in her hand, feeling it grow harder and harder again.

Feeling her body responding to his carnal assault on it, Dave's mouth turned away from hers, his breath heavy in her ear. She turned to Matt, kissing his mouth, taking his tongue between her lips and sucking on it as she would his prick if it were in range. Her hand pulled on it gently, indicating she wanted it, her tongue rolling around her lips. Matt moved up in the bed, leaning against the back of it, turning his body slightly and guiding his prick into her mouth. "Yessss!" she said around it, and then her ass and her mouth began to take and bestow rewards on the two pricks that were the bearers of her pleasures, proclaiming with the abandoned vigorousness of her body, of her mouth, the look on her face, that as far as she was concerned, she was getting far better than it was possible for her to give. But she would try.

At some point during the proceedings Vera heard Lon ask Kitty, "Don't you ever ... just fuck?" And Kitty squealed with delight, "I thought nobody would ever ask me to!" She plopped herself backwards and raised her round bouyant thighs. Lon looked into them with a delighted but concerned expression, as if he'd love all that cotton-candy goodness but was just a little afraid of being smothered.

Then Betty's voice: "Shit! I'm gonna get the goddamn dog!"

The Doberman's coat was a shiny blue-black, his tongue hanging out as he panted as if it were two times too big for its mouth. He frisked around, his legs prancing, jumping up first on Betty as she brought him out, and then on Kitty, sitting on the end of the bed, wagging her tail as friskily as the dog. Brainy's long skinny dick stuck out of its foreskin like a pointed bright-orange lipstick from its case.

Betty dropped down on the floor, roughhousing with it, talking to it, and all the while the dog would sniff around her, especially between her legs, jump up on her and begin haunching with his hips, anxious to put his penis into something, knowing that it was there for him if he hit it, but not knowing where to aim. Kitty and Betty both laughed and squealed with delight, Kitty clapping her hands, "Let me, let me!" Lon sat up higher in the sofabed, his face fascinated.

"You ready?" Betty asked. Giggling and squealing the affirmative, Kitty dropped down to the floor on her hands and knees, her big round breasts swaying under her like two freaky cows standing side by side; her head turned bo vinely back behind her, watching the dog as Betty pushed its nose toward the rounded ass.

The dog sniffed tentatively, Kitty squealing delight every time the dog's nose touched the sensitive flesh between the cheeks of her ass. After only a couple of seconds sniffing around, the dog reared up on his hind legs and dropped his front ones across Kitty's back, his hips haunching at her steadily, his back legs taking one jerky step after another to get closer to her with his thrusting penis. Betty helped, moving him forward, guiding his wiry prick into Kitty's hole as she squealed. Twice it came out as the dog haunched, with Kitty squealing an entirely different sound on those occasions, Betty rushing to get it back in, her own eyes living the same feeling vicariously that Kitty was experiencing. The dog whimpered, its huffing, puffing, panting mouth blowing around its dangling flopping tongue; Kitty making almost the same sounds, except that by now they were coming a full octave higher and still rising.

The dog's whimpers rose higher, with an underlying gurgling that suggested something was happening, and then his rear legs flapping, hips jiggling, the thrusts slowed to a stop.

"Noooo!" Kitty yelled, her ass starting to wave like a battle pennant in a raging charge, bouncing, wriggling, writhing, squirming onto the dog's penis. Then something happened. Her ass went perfectly still, her jaw dropping open, her eyes getting wide enough for the balls to drop out of the sockets-and the shrill "Oohhh!" shrieked out of her, her ass really beginning to writhe.

The dog turned and dropped its forelegs over the side. "See, see! I told you!" Betty bellowed triumphantly.

Kitty's face was ecstatic as the dog moved, his prick hung up in the slot. Her ass swayed like the branches of a weeping willow, moving laggardly as the dog tugged, trying to get his prick free again. Throwing its hind leg over, turning ass to ass with Kitty, his trim, slender, glossy-haired flanks against the rosy hue of her pneumatic flesh, its legs pitching its body forward, putting weight on the prick, trying to get it out, but not trying so hard as to cause pain. And Kitty still going "Oohhh," coming from the now-balled up prick inside her, the prick that had entered her cunt like a ballpoint pen but had now swollen in the head inside her hole to the size of an oversize golf ball.

The pony had been almost forgotten during the evening. Lon had mentioned it briefly once or twice-the pony that got a hard-on every time it got near a woman. It was only after Kitty had fucked the dog, however, that anyone got really interested. Kitty, fresh from one memorable beastly experience, was hungry for another. "Why don't we claim it?" she asked Matt. They had friends who lived on a one-acre "ranch" in a small canyon above Woodland Hills outside L.A.; they could keep it there. Swinging friends would get a kick out of it. Obviously the couple who found it, Paul and-what was her name-Shirl, they couldn't use it, being non-swingers and all. She and Matt could pay them a hundred or so for keeping it, food and such, another hundred or two as a reward-they'd never be the wiser, and they'd have benefited from it too. Who'd be hurt?

Vera said nothing during the entire exchange. She didn't like it, it was sneaky. But she would keep her mouth shut. She listened as the five discussed it, deciding the best thing to do would be to rent a trailer, and Matt and Kitty just drive over and claim it-they could tell Shirl they saw the ad in the paper, go while Paul was at work. Not give them a chance to think about it, and maybe they wouldn't even ask for owner's papers or anything.

Slowly Vera drew her panties up her long slender legs, letting the elastic slide off her thumbs with a snap. She reached for her dress. Shirl and Paul: She was a hot-ass ready-toball little bitch; he was jealous as a high school sophomore. She wondered how Paul would be in bed.

"Time to go, baby?" Lon asked, obviously disappointed to see her dressing.

Vera sighed. She was too tired for wise-cracking a reply. "Time to go," she said simply.

At the first sound of the alarm Paul was awake, awakening with an erection as usual. He pushed the button to stop the buzzer and rolled sleepily over against his wife. Shirl lay on her side, facing away from him. He snuggled up against her backside, feeling the warm touch of her flesh against his, his prick wedging into the crack of her ass. His hand traced down her body, over her side, along her waist, leaping up the wide flagrant hips, curving deliciously across the gradual descent of her thighs. His hand reached further around her and returned across her belly to her lazily full-blown breasts, cupping the nearest one gently, squeezing, kneading, his finger toying with the nipple.

Shirl mumbled in her sleep and turned over on her back toward him, but her arm pushed him away.

Silently he eased down the covers. His fingers wandered, following the lines between the exquisite contrast of whiteness and tan, where her bikini had blocked the sun. They traced across the small depression between her breasts to her navel, his fingertips barely touching her skin. His eyes explored the tiny white hairs on her belly beneath her navel and the matty triangular patch of darker hair on her mons veneris. Down in between her thighs his fingers moved, reaching in, coming up in her crotch, forcing her thighs slightly farther apart for room, then touching the warm clammy lips of her pussy, touching her lovingly.

She stirred, and then was instantly awake. "Don't, Paul." She pushed his hand away. Swinging her legs over the side she got up.

Paul's eyes followed her body as it moved. She was gaining a little weight: a couple of inches too much around her hips, her breasts, dimples forming in her thighs, sagging a little, a bit of bulge in her belly. She needed some exercise or something. But she was still the sexiest woman Paul had ever seen, sexy as hell. "What's the matter, baby? Lately you've been-"

She reached for her robe. "I'm sorry, Paul, I

... can't explain it, I just don't feel like it. Okay?"

He sighed. "I feel like a celibate monk."

Shirl closed the door to the bathroom; moments later Paul heard the commode flushing. He looked down at his stiff dick, grabbed hold of it in his fist and squeezed. His eyes closed for an instant. He sighed, released his erection, and bounded out of bed.

What the fuck was the matter with her, he wondered. Shirl was a sensuous goddamned woman. She dug sex, and she dug it morning, noon, and night. She dug it maybe too goddamned much. His skin flushed with anger, the same old anger as he remembered catching her with that son of a bitch. He fought the thought out of his head, he couldn't think about that. Could there be somebody else now? Shit, that never stopped her before. She had balled that son of a bitch, fucked some other bastard and turned right around and balled him, why would it be any different this time?

He shaved, showered, and dressed, then had breakfast, watching her, thinking about her, trying to read her thoughts. He was still thinking about her, seeing her in his mind, on the freeway, on his way to work.

His mind on Shirl, he didn't see it coming.

The other car cut into the entrance lane. Paul, blinded by his thoughts, delayed too long in braking. He slammed on the brakes, skidding, twisting the wheel to avoid the car in front of him! Nosing into the adjacent lane, another car, horn blaring, brakes screeching, swerved, and suddenly a crash, metal scraping, ripping, more tires squealing! Paul straightened the wheel in the lane and stepped on the accelerator, resuming speed. In the rear-view mirror he saw cars stopping, a man getting out of one car, pushing open a smashed door. Hands shaking on the wheel, his pulse thumping like a tympani in his head, in his chest, his stomach queasy, he pulled to the right lane and slowed down, pulling off the freeway at the next exit. Nobody followed him off. He'd caused it, he knew it, he wasn't stupid-and at least two motorists had banged-up fenders. He couldn't face it, not stopping. All he could do now was wonder whether or not they got his license number. Shirl. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog out. He pulled into a coffee-shop parking space and stopped. He had to get control of himself. He went inside the restaurant and had coffee, and more coffee. He called his office and told them he would be out for the day. He was decidedly ill.

Precisely at that moment, Carmela was placing a call from Tijuana to the number in the San Diego newspaper ad which said a pony had been found. She'd remained in the hospital for four days-suffering from exposure, the doctors said, and Carmela had laughed weakly. Her vision stayed distorted by tears. She'd lost Querido. It was more than losing her act, her moneymaker, she had lost Querido. She'd never find him again, she knew it. She'd checked the San Diego papers for a week after she'd returned to the house. Rico had found the item about a pony escaping over the border into the United States. After the second week of searching the papers they'd both given up. Rico decided to look for another pony; they'd train it to take Querido's place. But Carmela knew no pony could ever replace the one she'd lost. She didn't go out of the house; Juana did the shopping for groceries and other necessities. Laying in the bed, she recalled that night when she'd lost him-and other nights. She wanted him back, her querido, her amante. She wanted him.

Almost a month later, on an off chance, she looked in the lost and found section of the San Diego papers. Unable to contain herself she bellowed the news to Juana, dressing quickly. Her senses were enthralled-it could be Que rido, there was no description in the ad, but it could be. So sure was she even her vagina began to glow, as it often did when she thought of the pony, the warmth streaming through her belly, down her thighs. She ran from the house to find a phone.

At last getting the call through, she was told that the man who placed the ad would not be in that day; no, they could not give her his home phone number, she'd have to call back tomorrow.

Calling a cab to take her to the zocolo, Carmela waited impatiently. She had to arrange for her passport and visa.

Shirl stabbed at an ashtray with the end of her cigarette. She crossed and uncrossed her legs under her robe; the touch of thigh against thigh, the feeling in her clitoris, in the lips of her pussy, cried out hotly demanding. She'd gotten Paul off to work, Angela off to school. She didn't want to do it, but-why the hell not!

She stood up and opened the door from the kitchen leading into the garage. The pony was standing on the island of sand Paul had shoveled in for him, depending on the pony to kick sand on his own plopping mounds of excrement.

Her bedroom slippers clacked against the cement until she reached the sand. Her eyes were fixed on the dangling oversize sausage-looking instrument at the pony's belly. The animal turned his head toward her, his nostrils taking in her scent. His back legs shifted, a slight neigh sounded in his throat, the penis began to straighten and grow, the head sliding slowly out of the foreskin, rolling the skin down on the shaft to bunch beneath the head.

Shirl licked her lips and pursed them in a soft whistling wheeze. She patted his neck and spoke to him gently, her other hand reaching for the giant phallus. She turned her head slightly to the side, marveling at the size. Still it grew, even as she took it in her hand.

As if it belonged to somebody else, the hand that lay at the pony's neck moved down and between the folds of her robe. Her middle finger went between her thighs and up into the juicily wet lips. The hand on the penis gripped tighter, compulsively, as her hand between her thighs, the finger, moved into the cunt folds, massaging, soothing, her fingertip gliding over the opening of her vagina and still up until it came to the wet clitoris, beginning to stroke it, slowly, gently, her knees bending a little spreading wider, her feet transplanting themselves another foot apart.

Her face contorted with passion. God, pony, she wished she could take that prick, take it in her aching cunt! But how? She didn't know how. She couldn't very well just bend over. The pony's head wheeled in closer to her. Her stroke on her clitoris stopped as her finger jammed down the crease, diving for the hole, into her pussy, gouging back, gripping hard. Still hanging onto her pussy, her hand left the prick, opening her robe, moving around to the pony's head, grabbing a tit in her hand and guiding it to his mouth, to the quivering, nibbling lips, the sucking mouth that seemed to wrap itself around her nipple and then draw her whole fucking goddamn tit into its snout.

Jacking her clitoris, building to a point just before coming, then dropping her finger down into her cunt, holding off the climax, then back to the clitoris, until she could stand it no longer. In shuddering waves of sprinting emotions, she gave herself over to it. Teeth gritting, knees quivering, her body shaking with the feeling, she came, and came.

Opening her eyes, a wide smile smoothed over her face. The pony gazed at her questioningly. Shirl laughed out loud, nervously and happily, feeling a little embarrassed-but that was foolish, nobody saw her. She forced the pony away from her tit, and brought a lawn chair over close to the pony. She had to sit; her knees were weak. But there was no reason why she couldn't still feel that mouth on her tits. Sitting now, she spread the robe again and guided the pony's nuzzling mouth back to the swelling globs of her breasts, her teeth flashing in a broad smile as the mouth again began to suck her tits, and then wandered down, down to her spreading thighs, her gaping, twinging pussylips, and sucked.

She had no idea what happened, what she did. She'd been sitting there, laughing at the way the mouth roved her body, the lips nibbling excitedly at her cunt, her belly, her tits, going back to nuzzle in between her thighs to reach her pussy. She'd stretched lower in the chair, spreading her legs, holding them straight out, turning a little to the side of the pony. She had done no more she was sure than touch the pony's knee with her foot.

Amazed, she watched him raise his head with a sound almost human, almost like a laugh itself, and drop to his knees, then his belly, and roll over on his back! With that huge prick of his standing up like an antenna, throbbing, almost bucking with the power of it, as though it were being hit spasmodically with a high-voltage electric charge. Shirl felt as if she'd found the button for a secret panel, or-like Ali Baba-whispered the magic words. "Open sesame," and the massive gates to hidden treasures had rolled aside to permit her to enter.

As she arose from the chair and moved to the side of the pony, except for the throbbing phallus the pony stayed completely still. Even his breathing seemed to have stopped for the moment, waiting. She reached out with both hands and touched the vein-laden prick, grabbed it, squeezed it, her palms twitching around it, her eyes big on it, turning her head to watch the pony's, the eye on the side of his face toward her watching, his lips drawn back tightly against his gums.

Drawn like a sleepwalker, aware of nothing except the itching need in her pussy and the fantastic dream-proportioned monster prick in her two hands, long enough to take two other hands along its length and still have part of the head sticking out the end, the circumference too big around by more than an inch for her thumb and middle finger to close around. A thick droplet of fluid oozed from the cleft in the tip of it.

Shirl let go of it only long enough to shrug her robe off her shoulders and toss it toward the chair, then her hands were on it again. Her leg lifted to straddle the pony's flanks, her hands aiming that cock, her thumbs smoothing the oozing lube over the head, her cunt drawing nearer to it as if pulled by a magnet toward it. It touched her, cold against her own hot-meated cunt, the broad flat end of it pushing against her labia, so wide it reached from one leg joint in her crotch to the other, across her entire vulva-the thought made her even more excited.

Holding it in place by her body's pressure on it, her fingers fumbled with her labia, pulling them aside, pushing her body onto the head of the prick, her hips writhing, her face a mixture of contorted grimacing effort and determination and anticipation, her head bent down, eyes wide, watching as her body pushed on it, wanting to see it as it passed into her cunt, feel it, smell it, see it.

Sweat broke out on her upper lip and forehead. She felt it, saw it, going, going-then the head of it breached itself into the hole! She thrust her torso on it, pushed at it, feeling it stretching her in an eerie reverse of the birth process, spiriting jabbing sensations of delight through her body, flashing through her mind. Her larynx gave a little cry of coming glory. Filling, splitting, stretching her cunt, so vo luptuous it was as five, a half-dozen fucking pricks sticking in her at the same time, ready to fuck, fuck her as she'd never been fucked before.

She laughed out loud, so good was the feeling. Her torso sinking until she could take no more and then rising, her feet almost coming off the floor she pitched herself on it again, with another laugh, rising again on it, throwing herself, impaling her hungry cunt on it again.

Laughing, fucking, crying, coming, Shirl went compulsively, convulsively hysterical, as she came, screamingly came! And only moments before the cannon shot off inside her, flooding her with its arsenal, splashing and spurting and drenching, running in streams down the insides of her thighs, leaving her laughing and sobbing and grateful for what she'd been able to feel.

And only moments before the wide heavy garage doors opened to reveal Paul standing in front of the car. Shirl could do nothing. She couldn't move, she could say nothing. She just looked, returning her husband's gaze as his expression went from incredulity to shock to an almost horror-like fear, and to disgust and to the finally daze., drunken look he still wore when-a few hours later-Kitty and Matt drove up, wrote out a generous check, and drove away with the pony.