Chapter 2

They knew Edwards was a 65-year old retired doctor, avid hunter, and reputable dog breeder, in retirement relocated to central Washington from Oklahoma. His wife was on a rare visit out of town for two consecutive nights to visit an old college friend in Seattle. Her absence presented a window of opportunity for Jack to meet Jim in person—and, if all went according to plan, for Jack’s girls to meet Jim’s dogs. Jim swore his bloodhound studs were the horniest dogs in the state—folks with females came from throughout the western states, and paid handsomely, for their stud service.

In turn, Jack had sworn his bitches could not only show the dogs the best time of their lives, but wear them out. Edwards’ interest was piqued when during an online chat, Jack mentioned that his daughter and stepdaughter had hooked more dogs than he could count on blow jobs. Later he told Edwards that his daughter Keryl had always loved the look and personality of bloodhounds—since she was young she had kept an old photo on her bulletin board of the Clampett’s bloodhound nuzzling young Ellie Mae’s face in the back of the Beverly Hilbillies’ car. Keryl had confided in her dad that she had always though of Ellie May as the original animal lover, and even though she knew not to take the character too seriously, still an inspiration to her when her feelings for intimacy with animals, especially dogs, first stirred in her as a preteen. But Keryl, despite being an active dog fucker for some years now, had never found the chance to have sex with a bloodhound. Labs of all colors, and the cousins that Katy referred to as “labromutts,” it seemed, were a dime a dozen in Washington—some days it seemed there was one free at every fire hydrant. But she’d never seen a stray bloodhound, or even a hint of one that might have been available “by arrangement” with the owner.

Since their initial contact in a bestiality chatroom, followed by sharing some of their favorite pornography of women with dogs, Jack and Dr. Edwards had been communicating online for several weeks, them later by phone, and later still, with Katy’s technical help, by Skype. It had been three months now. They knew that Edwards not only raised bloodhounds, but had a sweet tooth for bestiality porn, especially depicting dogsex, so Jack had decided to see where it might lead. It was the sort of thing he always felt he owed his girls. Women, he knew, risked getting into trouble trying to do this sort of thing without some support, and someone looking out for them.

After a final late-night Skype session in their dining room where, in Jack’s company, both the girls and Dr. Edwards had the chance to glimpse of each other and talk openly, if a bit shyly and vaguely, about sex with dogs, the men had cautiously and carefully negotiated an in–person meet, with clear sideboards and conditions. While Edwards had argued that Jack and his girls had the advantage of knowing his real name and address, while he didn’t know theirs, seeing Keryl and Katy online softened his concerns and helped him appreciate their vulnerability. They were the ones most at risk here—not him. After their chat, in which the two reserved but obviously vivacious, articulate, intelligent, and focused redheads charmed him, he felt a good measure of trust (no doubt salted by lust) quickly agreed to a visit. The girls in turn trusted Jack’s lifelong commitment to protecting them. And they agreed him that they could possibly come to like the man they had just briefly met online.

Among the conditions they had agreed to was no photo or video on Edwards’ part. That was tough for the breeder to agree to, especially because Jack reserved the right to shoot photos of the dogs and girls. He kept a very private scrapbook of their family escapades, and he wasn’t about to leave this one out of it. It was a carefully managed risk he and the girls agreed to take, because they all appreciated the family time they shared. It was make-up time for Jack, who until just the past couple of years had not been privy to the somewhat unconventional and prodigious sexual activities of his daughter and granddaughter. Jack argued for him it was a family matter, and Edwards just didn’t have a right to take advantage of the girls that way, against their will.

Although they each had cum at least twice on their fingers during the drive, Jack had discouraged the girls from their voiced desire to eat each other out in the tent after they had it pitched. And the father, cognizant at his age of the need to meter out his orgasms with care, had refrained from any overt sex himself. He planned to orgasm tonight, at least twice if not more, and he wanted his girls hair-trigger horny for dick when it came time to meet Edwards’ studs.

Dinner in town was modest in portions, but fairly tasty. One had to measure one’s expectations when ordering Mexican food in a town famed for its faux Germanic aesthetic. They joked about sausages, Katy pointing out with feigned disappointment that German sausages didn’t seem to have any knots, before settling on the Mexican place. Not that it mattered much--Keryl and Katy were too nervous with anticipation to much more than pick at their food. They had both been sexually worked up by the mutual teasing and dirty talk during the long drive, coupled with the lewd promise of dog fucking.

Dr. Edwards was pleasant host. He greeted them in the driveway, asked about their trip, and hearing they’d just eaten, offered them wine and iced tea on his expansive back patio. His house was spacious, situated along the river with trees and a privacy fence sheltering the view of the back yard from the adjacent properties. The man himself was of medium build, clean shaven, not as tall as Keryl had been expecting, slightly on the squat side compared to her father, and with a typical potbelly for his age, sandy-gray hair and a clean-shaven face with a pleasant, smile. If he was nervous, he was too polite a host to show it.

The kennels were compact, mostly indoors in a clean, gambrel-roofed, white-trimmed, heated outbuilding, but with several cyclone-fenced outdoor runs. Dr. Edwards led them on a quick tour of the kennels where they met several bloodhounds, all females-- two with puppies that both women fawned over and cuddled delightedly. Jack and Jim eyed the pair of redheads, both dressed at Jack’s suggestion in skimpy Daisy Mae cutoff shorts. Katy wore a gauzy sleeveless blouse, and Keryl a sheer floral print soft cotton bikini top that barely contained her ample boobs, and both sported back leather heeled sandals. The men looked at each other, grinned at their fortune, and shook their heads. ‘Bitches,” Jack said. “Just gotta love ‘em.”

Jim Edwards laughed agreeably and moved to adjust a stiffening prick in his khakis. “The studs are in the main house,” he said. “I fed them early today and have been spoiling them some. So they know something’s up. It’s the same routine they usually go through when a breeding visit is scheduled.”

Then he blushed. “Ahhh, I mean a bitch breeding. I mean, er ... well they haven’t done it with a woman before. At least, never when I was looking ... and when there are hot women like you girls around, I’m usually looking.

It was the girls’ turn to blush, as they released the last of the puppies back to their mothers and the kennel gates were closed. Edwards’ heart melted, seeing the nurturing feminine innocence emerge in the midst of a bestial date they all knew had intentions that were not just unconventional, but most would consider sordid—and certainly taboo.

Jack, seeing the softened look on Edwards’ face, felt a need comment. “Yeahhhh,” he ventured, “Keryl and her daughter are both natural born dog fuckers. But they have great hearts.”

The blushes only deepened as Katy took her mother’s hand and they nervously followed the men back to the patio. Jack and Jim had suggested the patio was the ideal place for them to meet and greet the studs, private as it was, but partly shady and cooled by a river breeze on what was still a warm evening. The girls, outdoor lovers at heart, readily agreed, and Jim fetched two tattered grey moving blankets from the garage and laid them out on the patio stones for comfort. Keryl and Katy got down on them, still clothed, such as they were, assuming the proper low-down position for a bitch meeting a new dog, showing interest, putting him at ease—and ultimately, if circumstances proved favorable, signaling receptivity. They both looked nervous, but anticipation and intense arousal were thick in the air. Jack couldn’t imagine how the two weren’t already broadcasting receptivity, to any animal with a nose at least.

The two mature male hounds, Derby and Zack, stormed quickly out of the house as soon as Jim opened the patio doors. A third dog, a younger female, was with them, but Edwards called her into the kennel. The dogs were bullish, lanky, deep red-brown, big-pawed, drop-eared, jowly, and lovably hound-eyed. They were eager and enthusiastic to meet and greet the visitors. Noses were pressed to crotches all round, but Jack and Jim appreciated that the dogs kept their noses in the crotches of the girls’ shorts quite a bit longer than in theirs.

Jim chuckled when both dogs lifted their heads, and then nosed around the patio, leaving the two women with parted legs, big dollops of drool on their shorts, and breathing a bit harder. Jack commented with approval on the dogs’ prominent, low-hanging ballsacs, prompting both girls to blush, nod in agreement. They looked robust and gorgeous, boobs swinging loose in their blouses as they leaned forward to peer around their dates’ backsides for a closer look, just as Jack had anticipated. He licked his lips, enjoying the girls’ hungry-eyed looks at the dogs’ big swinging testicles.

Jim Edwards chuckled. “They’re looking for the bitches,” he explained. “The four-legged kind.” Then he made a skritch-skritching sound and with his tongue at the back of his mouth, and motioned the dog back to the women. “Bitches,” he informed the dogs. “They’re in heat boys. You know the drill.” The dogs glanced at him uncertainly for a moment, then stared back at the two women. The girls felt four deep brown hound eyes sizing them up.

“Derby, Zack,” Jack added encouragingly, “Fuck them, boys!” Both men were heating up at the promise of the scene, their dirty talk escalating in keeping with their growing erections. Jack knew this kind of talk only whipped up the libido of his girls.