Chapter 2: The Invitation – Part I

Note: If your idea of animal sex is a Rex or Rover’s nose between the legs of a horny young girl or a neglected housewife, this chapter of our story is not for you.

− Paul (“James”)

As I said, after Lauren returned home and Georgia went back home to Houston, I didn’t think much about that afternoon with Georgia, and of her account of engaging in sex with dogs (well, really, only one dog, but still... ). I mean, I thought about it – often − but everything was exclusively in the realm of great, sexy memories.

What I had almost – almost – managed to repress was the memory of her confession – that she could easily have let herself become addicted to dogs – and possibly other animals – to the point of leaving her home and her husband to do animal sex films and perform live animal shows.

Then Lauren’s company needed her on a project, in Seattle − for twelve months. There was a lot of angst, and a lot of tears, but we agreed that it would be important – critically important – to her future with the company; and we resolved to visit each other – a lot. But then, to top it off, her company sent her on another assignment – to Taiwan, of all places! And that pretty much put our plans to be with each other into the dumpster.

So, I found myself “widowed” once again – not as tragically as the first time, of course, but the emptiness was almost as powerful. We tried to keep our promises to visit each other, but her work and my work always seemed to interfere, and I kept finding myself home, alone – and lonely – most evenings. Matt and Jane were here, of course, and in addition to their company – and their companionship – around the condo, they would invite me to join them in bed; and Janey and I still had our “reunions.” But the absence of Lauren from my daily life was constantly with me.

... until that afternoon when I got home from work and found a Priority Mail envelope waiting for me in the letter box. I saw that it was from Houston, with no name, but with a return address that I immediately recognized as being Georgia’s. Thinking it might be urgent, I opened the Priority Mailer immediately, and inside was another, slim envelope, on the outside of which was written, “Please don’t open until we’ve talked. G.“

Of course I was curious! Why would Georgia be sending me anything, at least without mentioning it first? And why the cryptic instructions to not open “until we’ve talked?” And what could we possibly have to “talk” about that just couldn’t have been addressed with a simple phone call.

But I’ve known Georgia for almost three decades, and I knew that if she says something should be done in a certain way, then it probably needs to be done that way. So, I’ll follow her instructions.

I took the Priority envelope and the other stuff from the mailbox, took the elevator up to our condo, and set about what has become for me a typical workday evening. However, after Matt, Jane, and I shared a simple, utilitarian worknight dinner, I decided I ought to phone Georgia and find out what the letter – and the mystery instructions – were about.

I only heard her phone ring once before she picked up. I spoke immediately.

“Georgia, it’s Paul – James. Is everything OK?”

“Hello, James. It’s really good to hear your voice. I was wondering whether I should call you, but now that you’ve called...”

I was kind of puzzled. Why should Georgia ever have to “wonder” whether she should call me or not?

Anyhow, we talked, we exchanged pleasantries, we caught up on what had been going on in each other’s lives, and, yes, how hard it was with Lauren being so far away and us not being able to be with each other.

But then Georgia took over the conversation.

“James, remember, toward the end of my ... my visit, we talked about Lauren’s and Jane’s ... experience at that club in Kiev, and how there was a period in my life when a dog was a big part ... and ... well, you remember ... my explaining to you how it made me feel, and how I actually considered ... leaving everything and ... and going into ... making films ... with dogs ... and maybe ... other animals, too?”

Yes, I remembered. Her accounts of how she (and her late husband, Arthur) had attended – parties, I guess you’d call them – that featured one of the couples’ dog, and how much Georgia had liked having sex with the dog, and how much she liked having other people watch her while she was doing it. And, yes, I remember her explaining how she actually started to crave that kind of sex – well not so much the sex, exactly, but the “experience” of it − to the point where it almost became an obsession.

And, yes, I remember the sex we had after she told me all this, ending up with me brutally fisting her while she imagined that it was a dog’s knot that was filling her cunt and then pulling out of her with a gush of juices.

“Yes, I...”

“Please, don’t stop me – let me finish, James.” She paused to take a breath – and, maybe, to take a drink. Then she continued. “Well, after I returned home, Ann Rinehart approached me one afternoon, and she told me that she and Bill had found a couple who had a trained dog. As it turned out, there were actually two couples, and they had three dogs. And there were several more couples who got together with them regularly.” She paused again, maybe for another drink. “And Ann said that I was invited.” And she waited.

I took a breath. “And, ... did you?” And I tried to steady myself in anticipation of the answer that I knew was coming.

There was a pause. “Yes...” I could barely hear her. “Yes. I did – I have. And I’m going to keep going.”

I was afraid to ask. “And ... are the old feelings coming back?” I was dreading the answer.

Another pause. “Yes ... they are ... they have.”

So there was my answer. The woman I had admired – intellectually and physically – since I was 15, the mother of my wife, the grandmother of my own daughter, and the beautiful, sexual creature who was my lover – and my love – during the five-plus weeks that Lauren had been away in Rome – has decided to be a sex toy for dogs and a spectacle for the entertainment of a throng of degenerates. The thought was sickening – and exciting. I felt my cock thickening in my trousers.

“I...”

“Please, don’t stop me, James.”

But I had to interrupt. I had to ask the one question. “So, ... is it good? Is the experience as good as you remembered?” And I waited. I waited because ... because ... I wasn’t sure what I wanted her answer to be.

Now she paused, perhaps because she wasn’t sure what the answer to that question was.

“I think – yes – it is.” My gut and my heart sank together when she said those words. “But also ... no ... because ... when I’m doing it...”, the definition of “it” remaining unspoken, “ ... when I’m doing it ... I’m also thinking of something else.” She stopped.

“Yes?”

“Because when I’m doing it, I’m also thinking of ... you.” Another pause. “Are you surprised, James?”

Hell, yes, I was surprised. “But I thought the dog would...” I didn’t know what to say next.

From the phone, I could hear a glass being refilled. “What I realized was, I wanted you to be there.” Another pause, another drink. “What I realized was that I want you there – want you here – with me, watching me, seeing me.” A pause again. “Can you understand what I’m saying, James?”

“So you’re saying ... you can’t enjoy things ... totally ... unless I’m there to ... I guess, share the experience with you?”

“Yes, I guess that’s it.” Another drink, then a pause, then ... a deep breath. “I love you, James, and I love ... okay, let’s call it what it is – dog cock.” She paused, maybe to let the crudity of her words penetrate. “I want both, James.”

And then she popped the question.

“James, do you think ... do you think you could be with me ... while I’m with a dog ... or maybe... ?”

Well, as the expression goes, I did not see that one coming. And I thought. And I thought. And I wasn’t sure what the answer was. But what was surprising was ... that I thought about it. I didn’t reject it – my mind didn’t automatically revolt or rebel at the idea. So, ... could I? Maybe I could.

I stammered. “I ... I...”

“I know this is hard, James. I’m sure you weren’t expecting anything like this, and you’ve got no idea how you can possibly know the answer to this. And ... that’s where the envelope I sent ... I checked the tracking number with the Post Office, so I know it got delivered today. Did you get it?”

Of course, I answered, “Yes – in fact, I have it right here. I was wondering what it was all about, especially with your mysterious instructions that I shouldn’t open it until we’ve talked.” Here, I paused. “Does it have something to do with the conversation we’ve been having?”

“Why don’t you open it now, and then we can talk about it?”

So I slipped my finger in under the flap of the envelope and peeled it open, and inside was a tiny SD computer-video memory card, taped loosely to a single sheet of paper. And on the paper were written just four words: “Please don’t hate me.” My gut fell out of me. My heart seemed to stop, and a sense of nausea started to come over me.

“Is this... ?”

“Yes ... it is.”

“Does it show you... ?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to prepare myself for whatever what might be coming.

““What does it show... ?”

“If you watch all of it, almost everything.”

I just waited, trying to gather my thoughts.

One word. “Why?”

She had already prepared her answer to this one. “Because I wanted you to see ... I wanted you to see what you would be ... getting into ... if you’re willing to be with me when ... when...”

I didn’t say anything, so she went on, “James, I want you – I want you so badly ... I don’t think you can know how much. But I know that this is a strange request, to say the least, and if you’re even considering this, then there’s no way you can possibly answer without ... without knowing all that’s involved ... what you’d be saying yes to. So, please ... watch the video, and then call me when you’re ready to talk more.

“Oh, one more thing that I need to warn you about. One of the dogs is a female, so in the video there are several parts where some men are fucking the bitch. I’d never seen this before, and it’s quite exciting.” She paused a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say the next part. “In fact, it’s so exciting that some – actually, most – of the women want to take the men in their mouths after they’ve come in the dog.” And she waited for the question...

Heart in my throat, I asked, “Are you... ?

She answered, “Yes – I’m one of them.”

I didn’t know what to say. What I finally said was, “Of course – I’ll watch the video. From what you say, I may not be able to take it all at once, but I promise...”

“Thank you, James. I don’t know if you know how important this is to me.”

“I know, Georgia, and I know you’d never do this – tell me this − unless it was truly important. You can trust me.” And we hung up.

*****

Well, I was certainly right about one thing: I wasn’t able to watch it all at once, the reason being that every five minutes or so I had to pause the video and “relieve myself.” With the exceptions of some of the things that the four of us have done together, and the night with the girls at the club in Kiev (any maybe the remainder of that night Paul and I spent with our sensuous Ukrainian guide, Lana), this was the hottest, most exciting sex I had ever seen.

What about Matt and Janey – did I watch any of it with them?

While we had started down this path when we all watched animal sex porn, together, on that two-week vacation to New Mexico, this wasn’t like that. There, we were watching “professionals” or, at least, people that we didn’t know and would never meet.

This was different. This involved someone who we knew – knew well – and who was very special – to all of us. I wasn’t ready to ... I guess, violate her privacy – at least, not without consulting her.

The result was that I watched the video – all of it – on my own.

I decided not to watch it that night. It was a work night, and I didn’t want to take the chance that I might see something that would keep inserting itself into my thoughts while I had work to do. So I waited until the next night, Friday night, before I slipped the memory card into my computer.

And I just sat there. Thinking. Did I really want to do this? Am I prepared for ... for the kinds of things that I might see? And by “things I might see,” of course, I meant seeing Georgia, the lovely, elegant woman that I’d known and admired since the time her daughter and I were dating in high school, the woman who had loved me − and who I had loved − those long weeks when Lauren was working in Rome – seeing her engaged in sex, with dogs, and maybe other animals, in front of other people. Could I watch that and not ... somehow not have everything ruined ... perhaps forever?

It was too important – too important to Georgia, and too important to me. I had no choice.

But first, I fixed myself a scotch-on-rocks – which I don’t really like – and sat down in front of my monitor and clicked on the icon for the memory card.

The video ultimately turned out to have scenes from three, or maybe four, “occasions.” The first one appeared to be of a group of people in a large home room, like a rec room, perhaps in an addition or a finished basement. There didn’t seem to be any sense of “production” – whoever was holding the video camera just walked around, aiming the recorder at one thing or another, exchanging greetings and remarks with other people.

I think I counted nine people, I’m guessing from mid-twenties or early thirties to a couple who looked to be in their sixties. Most were reasonably attractive, although what appeared to be the youngest couple were kind of cute – he looked like he might have been a swimmer or lifeguard, and she was petite, with long curly blond hair and a bubbly manner – and a nice − okay, hot − body, kind of reminiscent of Janey’s. And my mind immediately wandered to, “Am I going to get to see her suck or fuck a dog?”

But in general, this portion of the video was very much like the home videos we’d seen of swingers’ parties – people talking, drinking – no one was smoking (although one time I noticed three people huddled in a corner, and they appeared to be passing something back and forth between them). Some were dressed, others were wearing robes or gowns (one woman was wearing something like a sarong). As the person with the camera moved through the room, Georgia came into view. When she saw it, she turned toward the camera and smiled and made a little wave with her fingers.

Then one of the women brought a dog into the room. It looked like some kind of police dog, a German shepherd or something. The dog appeared to be full-grown, but also young. And it seemed to get excited when it got into the room and got a look around – and when he got a whiff of the aromas that floated around him.

The woman led the dog to a large cushion – it might have been an inflatable mattress – near the center of the room. A man spread out some sort of covering over the cushion or mattress, and the woman and the dog went to the center.

It looked like the show was about to begin. The woman shed the gown she had been wearing, leaving her in a black garter belt and nylon stockings, and the others formed a circle around her and the dog.

She knelt down and stroked the dog’s head and scratched him behind the ears, and it looked like she was talking affectionately to him. She rubbed her nose against his muzzle, and he licked her nose and face affectionately.

And while she was doing this, she reached under the dog with one hand and began to stroke his sheath. Back and forth, just a little, and then longer strokes, and in a few moments the red pointy tip of his cock began to protrude. You could hear some sounds of approval from the people watching.

She stopped nuzzling the dog and moved her head down to his loins. She tried to lick the tip of his cock, but the position was not quite right, and the young dog was a bit rambunctious and skittery, so she pressured him down and maneuvered him around so now he was lying mostly on his back, with his legs spread, and with a good five inches of his pointy red cock sticking out.

You could hear the “aahs” of the people, and many of them had shed or opened the garments they’d been wearing. The woman, still on her knees, stroked the dog’s cock between her thumb and forefinger a few times, then bent down and flicked her tongue over the pointy tip, then took the tip between her lips, and you could see that her tongue was moving, too.

At his point, the camera swung around to the “audience.” Most of them were now stroking their partners or themselves as the woman worked her way farther and farther down the dog’s prick. The camera happened to catch Georgia. You could see that the index finger of one hand was inside her dressing gown, lazily stroking between the lips of her pussy, while at the same time, she was licking her lips, perhaps unconsciously. (I wondered – was her mouth watering over what she was seeing?)

The woman pulled her mouth and her head away from the dog to look up at the others, and you could just hear her saying, “Who wants to be next?” A blond woman, maybe in her late 40’s, in a purple bustier, looked at the man standing next to her, smiled broadly, and hurried over to the mat. She got down on her knees, and the first woman “turned over” the dog’s cock to her. Unlike the first woman, who was apparently the “hostess” and whose role it was to get the dog – and everybody else – ready, this woman got down to some serious dog sucking.