Chapter 1

In the beginning, there was no thought of the Levitt's German shepherd Rex in Jan's pretty blonde head as she went grumpily about her early morning housework. She was by far too preoccupied with other things -- in particular with the peculiar frustration she was continually feeling with being married.

Not that she hadn't frequently noticed the sleek dog that lived next door. Indeed, she had often puzzled over Rex' peculiar attraction when he was tied up at the local supermarket, for it always seemed as if every housewife in the neighborhood paused in her shopping duties to give him a friendly pat and whisper some friendly words to the long-tongued dog, which was usually sitting obediently on his haunches as he waited for his mistress to finish her shopping.

"Hello, Rex, how's that nice doggy today?" they would ask. Or, "My, that's a sweet little dog, aren't you?" And this puzzled Jan from time to time. After all, it was true that Rex had a sleek, shining coat and that he was the epitome of form in what one thought of as the German shepherd physique, but after all there were usually a half dozen pedigreed dogs parked outside the supermarket, all of them equally handsome in their own way. Yet there was not a one among them that seemed to inspire the response Rex did. He was truly unique in that respect. Women couldn't seem to pass him up.

Yet so far as Jan could tell, there was not anything especially unique about the dog. True, he had a handsome, intelligent face -- very masculine, too, of course -- but that was scarcely enough to justify such unusual attentions as he invariably commanded.

So this was just a part of Jan's ordinary curiosity with respect to the Levitt's dog. But another part of it was Marge Levitt's seeming preoccupation and possessiveness with respect to Rex. Jan had frequently noticed Marge's usually cheerful face changing rapidly to a sullen scowl if she came out of the supermarket and found someone talking to or petting Rex. Occasionally she tried to remember if this similar change of personality took place when Marge encountered a man being friendly to the handsome German shepherd. But this line of thought was usually futile, as Jan could not recall any such instance. It was almost always some housewife who could be seen being friendly to the sturdy, sleek dog.

Not that she pondered this overmuch. It was simply something she occasionally gave a modicum of thought.

Marge's possessiveness also seemed to continue at home, for she kept the dog chained securely and confined to the Levitt grounds. It was never allowed to roam free like other dogs in the neighborhood, and occasionally even Steve remarked that such a house dog should be more savage, instead of so friendly as Rex obviously was. Jan didn't know much about dogs, but she knew enough to know that this observation of Steve's was fundamentally correct. Logically speaking, a house German shepherd like Rex should be more vicious. But it was obvious that the dog's nature was sunny and affectionate.

Not that one ever got much chance to find out. Marge didn't even like to bring Rex next door when she stopped by for coffee on the odd morning. At least not since that morning when the dog had nuzzled Jan's leg in an over friendly fashion.

Marge had an unusual excuse to justify her possessiveness, though, and she self-consciously brought this up on every possible occasion. To Jan it seemed like a bad case of 'protesting over much, ' but Marge's justification usually went roughly as follows: Namely, that ever since Rex had sired the Boardman pups down the road by that German shepherd she- bitch Carla, the Levitts didn't want to take any chance of having any lawsuits due to Rex' cavorting.

Which seemed reasonable on the face of it -- but then on the other hand Jan had never heard of anyone being sued for letting their dog out and having it sire unintentionally some other dog. That was, after all, the way of the world, wasn't it? You couldn't legislate animal biology very well.

But then she was no expert on the law, so maybe she didn't understand the situation. Barrington Hills was a small community with very wealthy families, and there was no dearth of money around to support lawsuits if people became indignant over one thing or another. With people this wealthy it paid to be careful.

Still, nothing seemed to explain adequately Marge's continual nervousness, anxiety and possessiveness with respect to that dog.

Not that she hadn't been angry when she first learned of Carla's pups -- and it seemed to Jan unreasonably so. Those pups had really altered her personality.

Those pups. Several women in the neighborhood had tried to buy them, but the Boardmans were interested in selling only to their friends, and the price for such pedigreed German shepherds was high. The Boardmans didn't know many people in Barrington Hills; so far as Jan knew, she and Steve were the only persons they had offered one.

But what did she need a dog about the house for? Just one more worry and someone to clean up after. And she would have to go through a breaking-in period with it and so on. It scarcely seemed worth the trouble.

And so it went -- on most mornings, a sample of her daydreaming thoughts, idle and useless.

But this morning she was altogether too furious and uncomfortable to give any thought to Rex at all.

And it was all Steve's fault, that rat. She was too refined to use any term more rough than that. Last night had been absolutely the last straw. She didn't see how she could put up with the situation any longer. Maybe she would be able to discuss it with her parents when they arrived -- Sarah and Arnold Talbott were scheduled to arrive for two weeks vacation this afternoon -- she had always been able to discuss things with her mother, although of course she was suitably more reticent with her attractive, distinguished father, who, after all, was a man.

Jan sat down at the kitchen table with a weary sigh and lit a nervous cigarette. She fluffed out her long blonde hair and drew strongly on the cigarette, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke out through her luscious young mouth, which she felt was more refined for a woman than blowing smoke out through her nostrils. She had been brought up to behave like a lady, and she knew what was ladylike and what was not.

That rat. She couldn't forgive him. Although she had been brought up to be respectable, reserved and refined, and she knew better than to let her husband even guess that she might be capable of enjoying something like sex, she still nonetheless could not escape the torrential, merciless feeling of passion that arose in her loins whenever she encountered his heavy desire-hardened penis. And last night it had been worse than usual. And he had been worse than usual. She was beside herself. He had gotten her worked up to such a crazed pitch of desire with his foreplay, then disappointed her as usual with his early, too quickly arrived at, ejaculation.

Only this time she hadn't been able to calm herself down with a cold shower. After last night's big let-down she was still smoldering without let-up. She could still feel a slight twinge of ever present need within the sensitive walls of her vagina everytime she moved and scraped her thighs together.

As usual, he'd been terribly inconsiderate in bed, just satisfying himself and leaving her in the middle of her passionate escalation. He had fallen asleep almost immediately afterwards, while she'd lain beside him in passionate frenzy for almost two hours before she fitfully dozed off.

So it was little wonder that the twenty-one year old, curvaceous blonde wife had awakened in no less an erotic state than the sizzling fire that sleep had temporarily banked for the night.

And then to endure a similar sexual episode with him in the morning had been almost unbearable! Only the utmost effort on her part had kept her from bursting out into tears of frustration. Like a jet propelled athlete trying to set some sort of speed record, he'd raced his lengthy, lust-swollen young cock in and out of the overheated liquid sanctuary between her hotly steaming young legs, quickly settling his own needs, then hopping from the bed while she lay there still squirming and panting in unfulfilled desire.

"Gosh, baby, I'm sorry -- but I really got to hustle to work!" he apologized, wiping off his deflating cock with a soiled T-shirt as he hurried to the bathroom. Then at the doorway he'd turned and promised: "Look, baby, I'm going to make it up to you tonight -- after your folks have gone to sleep! Okay?"

"Oh -- whatever you say, darling..." she replied weakly, rubbing her thighs together and hoping that he wouldn't see how wildly, dreadfully turned on she was. She feebly managed a smile for him before he turned and stepped into his bath. Then the bathroom door had swung mercifully shut on her tears.

In reality she had no such hopes that he would satisfy her that night. That was an old promise of his that he usually forgot; she had no confidence m it whatever. Ever since her honeymoon night it had been like this, just a fast in-and-out for him, and smoldering resentment and frustration for her until her frustrated young pussy had a chance to cool back to normal, whatever that was.

But she wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to stand it. She knew that her nerves were in a bad way, and she smoked more than ever and had taken to nipping short drinks of whiskey straight during the day. She needed a vacation somehow, from the terrible tension in her aching young loins.

Jan sighed and looked around the kitchen before her eyes became glazed over again, reliving the events of the morning once more.

With Steve in the bath, the temptation had been almost overwhelming to finish the job with her fingers. She had played with herself up between her legs for awhile, groaned mindlessly, and then finally managed to control her unrequited passion.

She hadn't masturbated since she was thirteen, and she dreaded the temptation to start now. Reverend Johnson had been very strict about that when she confided in him. Girls that played with themselves got pimples on their faces and could never go to heaven, because they were sinners. Sex was only decent when carried on in the normal fashion between man and wife.

No, she didn't want to fall into that pit of degradation. That wasn't for her at all. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to work things out between them.

Jan sighed and put out her cigarette, which she had inadvertently smoked down to a nub. It didn't do at all to dwell on their problem overmuch. One shouldn't take sex all that seriously, of course. It wasn't nice.

Still, she couldn't ignore the smoldering ardor still glowing so warmly in her soft white belly and simmering urgently in her young loins. But was that so important? Not always. After all, they did love each other, didn't they? Steve's real estate job was very promising, and they were literally coining money. What young bride could ask for more than the beautiful home they were buying in swank Barrington Hills? Even their nice new car was paid for, and the furniture would soon be theirs. What more could any girl ask for?

It was these thoughts spinning idly through her pretty blonde head that she almost ignored the banging on the screen door.

Until a voice cried out sharply: "Jan -- oh, Jan!"

Jan looked up dreamily. There was a scratching at the kitchen screen door as well. Why -- it was Marge Levitt! With Rex!

She got up carefully, smoothing her skirt and putting the ashtray up on the kitchen table.

"What -- what is it, Marge?" she asked, unlocking the door.

"Don't you remember, dear?" Marge asked hurriedly, opening the door. Rex scooted in quickly through the open door, the handsome German shepherd's longish tongue lolling out all wet and pinkish looking. He moved quickly around Jan's pretty long, tanned legs, the soft fur of his coat brushing evanescently against her sleek hairless young flesh.

"Remember? Why --?"

"You said you'd look after Rex while we were on vacation," said Marge almost tearfully, and suddenly, abruptly, she flung her arms about Jan and hugged her tight. "Oh, dear -- you will be good to him, won't you? Feed him regular and take him for walks? Please, Jan! Say you'll be good to him!"

Jan pushed her away and looked into the teary face of the older woman. Why, Marge was actually crying over leaving Rex behind! "But -- Marge, if you feel like this why don't you take him on your vacation with you?"

"Ben says no," she sniffled into her hanky. Jan took her tearful face into her shoulder and ran her fingers into Marge's long black hair. The two women's breasts met beneath their shifts. "Two whole weeks without him!" Marge bawled.

"There, there, Marge, don't cry. It's not so long," Jan said gently as she knew how, patting Marge's back like a handler gentling an upset horse. The whole thing was strangely peculiar. It was not normal for a woman to get so upset over leaving a dog behind for two weeks. Jan looked down at where Rex had slid down onto the kitchen floor, his handsome big head resting on his forepaws. The dog's eyes seemed to be studying her very intently -- but why on ever for?

Or was she merely imagining it? She was so upset herself of late that her mind might conceive anything.

Marge did dry her tears. "Yes, it is long," she said, glancing at Rex, then at Jan and back again. "Longer than you think I wouldn't be able to bear it, Jan, if I didn't know that someone as nice as you -- and as innocent and trustable -- was looking after my little darling."

She had never heard a grown woman use such endearing terms before. But what did innocent and trustable have to do with it? She was beginning to wonder if Marge was losing her mind.

"There, there," Jan led her back to the door. "I'm sure that once you get yourself together you'll see the wisdom of taking everything in your stride, Marge."

Marge stepped outside the screen door and blew a kiss at Rex through it. The dog promptly got up on its haunches, panting. It's long pink tongue was genuinely slavering through his pointy canine teeth. "Bye darling," Marge said to him. "Aunty Jan will look after you now, lover. Be a good doggy for mama. Okay?"

Rex seemed to nod, adding considerably to Jan's mystification and confusion, and then Marge ran, with a sob, back to her own house.