Chapter 2

Sally wasn't home. Angie had been ringing on first the front and then the back doorbell for the past five minutes, but the only response she'd got was the frenzied barking of Sally's dog, Saxon, who was playing the part of watchdog with tireless zeal. Angie could hear him clawing at the other side of the back door as she stood, defeated, trying to summon up the courage to continue on home. She was on the verge of tears.

She was about to give up and head back out onto the street when a thought struck her. Once when she had come back from the movies with Sally, her friend had rummaged under one of the planters on the back patio and come up with the key. On impulse, hoping against hope, Angie slid her fingers in under the wrought- iron planter, feeling about... until she found it. Giggling to herself with relief, she unlocked the back door and eased herself in, appeasing the big German shepherd by calling his name and reaching out to pat his large head.

"Easy, Saxon. Hi, boy. You remember old Angie, don't you? Sure, you do. We're good friends. That's right, boy,"

She giggled aloud as the big animal jumped up on her and began to cover her face in eager dog-kisses.

"Whoa, whoa, boy! Enough's enough already. I can't breathe."

When she'd recovered from her fit of giggles, she slipped back outside to replace the key, then locked herself carefully into the house. The dog stood eagerly by the door watching her, his tail wagging like a metronome, his head tilted in anticipation of what she would do next.

Angie couldn't help smiling at the lovable animal's playful excitement.

"You've been lonely, haven't you, boy? Did mean old Sally go out and leave her handsome baby all by himself?"

She sat on a kitchen chair, and Saxon immediately sat in front of her so she could pet him.

"I can't imagine why Sally would want to go out with some guy when she's got a lovable brute like you at home for company. Why, you're the next best thing to a rhinoceros!"

She laughed aloud, remembering Dave Wagner's taunting comment that she would fuck a rhinoceros if she got the chance. She had, in fact, little doubt that she would not fuck a rhinoceros, but a handsome beauty like Saxon here might be something else again.

Angie's face became serious as she recalled how horny she was and how she'd been literally robbed of her orgasm by that creep of a salesman. She supposed she'd have to settle for her own fingers up her cunt again, but... she had heard rumors about girls backing their dogs. Was it possible? Could any woman really stoop to letting herself be screwed by an animal?

"Don't be dumb, Angie," she chided herself aloud. "I think the horniness is making you lose your marbles."

But a germ of the idea remained, and her face clouded slightly with the vague haze of building lust.

"Well, may as well go off to my lonely bed," she announced as she rose to her feet. "I doubt if we can expect your mistress home at this hour, Saxon old buddy. So I guess it's just you and me for the night. I don't suppose Sally would mind if I slept on her bed."

She headed straight for the bedroom, the dog trotting close at her heels. The big double bed looked inviting, with its neatly arrayed cover of purple satin and a plush pile of blue, green and gold pillows. The colors were reflected startlingly in a large mirror inlaid in the ceiling directly over the bed.

"When it comes to her bedroom, Sally lives like Cleopatra, doesn't she, Saxon? Imagine wanting to watch yourself getting screwed. What a lewd lady my dear friend is!"

Angie felt a little ripple of salacious arousal run up her thigh as she imagined her lovely dark-haired girlfriend being fucked furiously on the bed while she watched herself and her lover in the mirror overhead. Feeling the fire in her cunt flaring once again, she shook her head impatiently and yawned a slow exaggerated yawn, arms reaching high over her head.

"Well, Saxon, I guess I'll sack out. It's been one of those evenings, boy."

Undressing was a simple affair. She drew her blouse up over her head and stepped out of her jeans--and she was naked. Angie preferred not to wear underwear. She liked the sensual feel of her rougher outer clothes directly against her skin.

She tossed her clothes over the back of a chair and turned to face the dog, surprised to find him appraising the full length of her lushly molded body like any male confronted by a naked female. She was strangely tempted to cover her cunt-mound and her nipples with her hands, so penetrating was the animal's stare.

Amused to find herself actually blushing, Angie laughed aloud to ease the unnatural tension that had seized her and headed back to the living room and Sally's well-stocked bar.

"I think a nightcap would hit the spot, Saxon," she told the dog, who was again following at her heels. "Only way I'll ever get to sleep tonight," she muttered desperately, and bent forward to inspect the liquor bottles.

As she reached for the vermouth, a cold, wet, exciting contact at her momentarily exposed gash almost made her drop the bottle. Turning around quickly, she found the dog was staring up at her with something like a smile on his handsome face. Guiltily she realized he must have been attracted by the odor of her earlier excitement and had naturally sought to investigate in the manner of all dogs--with his nose.

Angie felt herself trembling as she set the bottle on top of the bar and reached carefully for the rye, this time making sure that her butt would not protrude invitingly in Saxon's direction. She mixed herself a Manhattan and headed back to the bedroom, sipping the drink in an effort to steady the trembling in her knees.

Even that fleeting contact of nose on cunt had felt incredibly good, reminding Angie even more acutely this time of the unsated need simmering in her empty snatch. She was going to have to quench the fire before she went to sleep, but first she needed a drink.

The dog's constant presence at her side was beginning to unnerve her, and she realized she was going to have to loosen her inhibitions before she could bring herself to touch her own pussy in front of him. True, he was only a dumb animal, but there was something about him, as though he actually felt her need to get laid and was concerned about it... As though he knew that she needed a big, stiff cock, and was slightly amused by her bewildered frustration.

Angie lay back against the pillows and sipped steadily at her drink, enjoying the almost immediate soothing effect of the alcohol. She suddenly felt good about being here in her friend's apartment with the dog Saxon instead of back at her lonely apartment or, particularly, off somewhere screwing that asshole Wagner.

She felt a renewed affection for the big dog sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, his massive head resting on the bedspread as his eyes locked to hers.

"Come on, Saxon. Come up and sit beside me, boy. Old Angie's lonely again. Just seem to strike out with people, but you like me, don't you, Saxon?"

For answer, the German shepherd leaped enthusiastically onto the bed and clambered over the naked blonde, lapping hungrily at her face until she again collapsed in giggles.

"Oh, Saxon! Oh, oh, ooooh-eeeeee! Stop it, boy. You're killing me!"

To escape the big dog's ardent caresses, she rolled partway onto her side away from him, her head buried in her hands, her arms clutched to her sides.

Enthused by this new game, Saxon crouched playfully on his front paws, his rear end wagging tirelessly in the air as he tried to nose his way in under the protective armor of Angie's clenched arms. His nose bored in at her side until it made sudden titillating contact with the sensitive surface of one partially concealed tit.

"Oh, Saxon!" Angie gasped, her cunt suddenly aquiver with the reviving heat of her earlier frustrated excitement. Almost without her willing it, her arms fell away from her chest and she rolled onto her back to give the dog easier access to her sensitive boobs. She gripped the dog's head to encourage him to pay more attention to her swelling jugs.

But Saxon needed no encouragement. As though he knew precisely what was expected of him, the German shepherd ran his long pink tongue wetly over first one lust-sensitized tit and then the other, the rough surface of his tongue driving Angie's nipples to hard, alert erection.

"That's it, boy! Yes... oh, yes, lick my tits like that, Saxon! It feels wonderful."

Angie's eyes had been closed for the last few moments, but they suddenly flew open as the animal's tongue made one particularly titillating swipe over her aching tit-peaks.

It was then that she caught first lewd sight of her own quivering nakedness splayed out wantonly beneath the massive working head of the German shepherd. Their image in the mirror overhead reminded Angie abruptly of the forbiddenness of this erotic play with an animal, even as her nerve endings responded more and more openly to the moist attentions at her boobs, crying for more of the maddening tonguing.

Seized with sudden shame even as her tits continued to respond to the avid licking, as her ass ground lewdly down into the satin spread, she reached over to the bedside table for what was left of her Manhattan and downed it greedily in one long swallow. The somewhat dizzying effect of the alcohol dulled her conscience for the moment, so she felt freer to concentrate on the wonderful sensations being drawn from her full quivering jugs by Saxon's strangely talented tongue.