Chapter 2

When Linda Suchard read her husband's letter she was amazed and had to pour herself a good, stiff drink--in lieu, perhaps, of a good, stiff prick. After a while she started to giggle about it, imagining how Hank and Billy must have looked as they watched the donkey perform. Then she imagined how the donkey and the girl must have looked, and that led to another stiff drink.

Linda decided she simply had to go over to the Watson's house and tell Veronica all about it.

Linda Suchard and Veronica Watson were good friends, and had been since they went to school together, led cheers for the football team and were pursued by lusty young men. One of the reasons for their friendship was that neither felt any jealousy about the other. Both were gorgeous girls, confident about themselves, slightly narcissistic and envious of no other woman.

Linda was a curly haired, tawny blonde.

Veronica was a flaming redhead.

Both were tall, long-legged girls with clear eyes and unblemished skin and just the right sort of curves. Both were active and athletic, trim and fit. They played tennis and swam and rode horses. Both had big tits with stiff nipples.

Both girls loved to fuck.

Linda and Veronica had both lost their virginity on the same night, on a double date that ended up in a plastic motel where, side by side in a double bed, they discovered the joy of being stuffed full of cock--and looked across at each other, grinning, aware that the pleasure of the happy occasion was enhanced because they were sharing it.

Fucking was such good fun that they did it again the next night, in the same motel--but with two different men.

A week later they decided, quite coolly, that it was time they started to suck cocks, and so two other fellows struck it lucky that night as, side by side and cheek to cheek, the two horny girls bobbed up and down on their towering cocks and swallowed their cum.

Then they switched men and sucked cock some more.

Everything about their lives seemed to follow a pattern. Linda met Hank at the same time that Veronica met Billy and, both aware that these relationships might be more than casual, they didn't share motel rooms with these men, fucking them in private. Hank and Billy both proposed marriage on the same night. Both girls accepted, not at all surprised, having expected the proposals. Just after graduation, they were wed in the same week and now, married, they lived next to each other in a fashionable country estate north of Dallas.

Hank and Billy had to travel frequently in connection with the oil business and the girls continued to see a lot of each other. They had talked about taking lovers to entertain them while their husbands were out of town, but they hadn't gotten around to doing it yet and weren't sure if they ever would. They shopped at Neiman Marcus and spent a lot of money and smiled when men stared at them as they walked down the street, tall and elegant, trim asses swinging. It might be fun to share a bed again, with two strange men--or one man, sharing him in the bed--as they had while they were at school. As long as Hank or Billy never found out about it, what would be the harm?

Well, maybe they would, sometime.

But at the moment, Linda was not thinking of men at all. She was thinking about Hank's intriguing letter and wishing that she had been there to watch that amazing performance. She would have liked to watch it with Veronica, sharing the visual experience as they had shared so many things. What on earth had it looked like? How could a girl take a donkey's cock up her cunt without splitting wide open? What, for that matter, did it feel like for the girl?

Linda had never thought about bestiality before. Now she found herself fascinated. And the most exciting part of it was that Hank had claimed the girl did not fuck donkeys for money, that she did it for the pleasure of it--and that having a group of men watch her fuck was simply a way of increasing that pleasure. What a depraved girl she must be! Linda had to admire a girl who was that wicked.

She was eager to show Hank's letter to Veronica.

She finished her second drink. The mail had arrived early and she wasn't dressed yet. She went to the bedroom to get some clothing on--but first she had to take her dressing gown off.

Then she was naked.

And, because Linda loved her own body, she paused to stand before the full-length mirror and admire her perfection. She winked at herself. She pursed her lips in a kissing motion. She could see, in the looking glass, how stiff and vibrant her nipples were. It surprised her slightly. She actually hadn't realized how horny Hank's letter had made her. Now she cupped her big, firm tits in her hands, lifting them and pressing them together into deep cleavage. Her thumbs swept back and forth across the taut tit-tips.

"Ooooooh," she murmured.

She stroked her sleek flanks and shifted her pneumatic hips, squirming before the mirror.

She turned and, looking back over shoulder, a lock of curly blonde hair falling over her brow, she gazed at her splendid ass. Linda's ass was shaped like an inverted valentine, the big firm globes sweeping out from her narrow waist and then cutting sharply in to the backs of her long, shapely legs.

She knew that men admired her ass.

She always loved to walk away from a man, or a group of men, knowing their eyes were fixed to her swinging ass.

She swung that succulent bottom now, her hips jolting out, admiring the fluid action.

She turned to face the looking glass again.

Her thighs were slightly parted now and she could see a slender trickle of juice running down from her crotch.

She watched it, fascinated.

Oh, I am feeling hot, she thought. Then she giggled. Imagine getting horny thinking about a donkey's prick!

It was a depraved fantasy.

And it was all the more exciting because it was depraved.

She dipped at the knees and spread her thighs wider apart so that she could look right between her legs and see her cunt. The slot was wide open, cunt lips unfurled like pink blossoms, foamy with pussy nectar. She placed three fingers down over her cunt mound and pulled her pussy up slightly as she gazed at it. She moved closer to the mirror. Using both hands now, she spread her cunt lips wide open.

She was wondering if a donkey's cock could possibly fit up that creamy fuck-hole.

She wasn't playing with herself. She was simply speculating on the maximum breadth of prick that her cunt could contain.

But in the process she was accidentally rubbing her throbbing clit with the heel of her hand and the horny girl began to tremble. She watched her pussy slot fill up with another wash of cunt juice. She was wondering if she should give herself a hand-job. She did that sometimes, when her husband was not home to fuck her. It wasn't as good as cock or tongue, certainly, but it was better than nothing--and at the moment she had got herself worked up to a state where she truly needed something in her pussy.

If she left her pussy untended, the damned thing was going to be squashing like a sponge between her legs when she walked. Worse, she was likely to soak the crotchband of her panties and be embarrassed to find a dark, wet patch spreading out in the 'V' of her tight western jeans. Veronica might notice and laugh at her.

Linda decided that a hand-job was definitely in order.

She thought about stretching out on the bed, then decided to do it in front of the mirror so that she could watch herself when she came. She was smiling in happy anticipation. She began playing with her tits and rubbing her nipples as a prelude to the culmination of finger-fucking. The nipples came out like bullets against her palms. She was standing so close to the looking glass now that when she pushed her belly out, rolling her pelvis, her mound of curly blonde cunt hair rubbed against the glass.

It was like--like rubbing against another woman, she thought. Linda had never had a lesbian experience but she had thought about it quite frequently, mainly through curiosity. What would it be like to go to bed with another woman? She had an idea that it might be very nice-- especially if that woman were as beautiful as she was. She wouldn't want some ugly old dyke who looked like a man, no flat-chested, short-haired girl with tattoos on her biceps. No, if she were ever to make love with a girl, it would have to be a feminine, sexy girl.

A girl just like herself.

Or--like Veronica Watson?

That thought caused Linda to tremble.

She had often seen Veronica naked, of course, for they had fucked and sucked side by side, and during those frenzied affairs Linda had often wanted to touch the other woman, to hold her and kiss her and caress her. She had an idea that Veronica might have felt the same way, too. They had looked at each other with a certain naughty speculation, a longing for contact. But it had never happened.