Chapter 4

Little Scott Phillips awoke shortly past eight-thirty Saturday morning. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he lay in his bed as his mind cleared of its fuzziness, and slowly he remembered the events of the previous evening. Going to get Atilla -- the wanton exhibition of his chemistry teacher having her pussy licked by the dog -- his own excitement at the sight and the subsequent wild time on Mrs. Hamilton's bed -- seeing Atilla mount her while she sucked his cock. Crap, it had been a good time... but it had ended so terribly! First her throwing him out of the house, and then to come home and get beaten for staying out too late. Man, his ass was still sore where his dad had whupped him!

Both his parents had asked him where he'd been, and the boy had made up a story about searching all over town for the dog. He'd never once mentioned being at his teacher's place, much less what happened there, and he never would! It was too humiliating to admit! Anyway, with the instinctive insight of a bright youngster, he realized that if he admitted he knew what Atilla could do, it would open up a whole can of worms about who had trained it to do it, and who was enjoying having it done to them. Jesus, it had been the most exciting thing he'd ever seen, watching lovely Mrs. Hamilton getting licked and screwed by the German shepherd... but did Atilla do that to his own mother, too? And... did his dad watch like he had, getting all hot and bothered... ?

Man, maybe he'd sneak around some night when they thought he was asleep, and try to find out. But sure as shit he wasn't going to say anything! Scott shuddered at the whole shameful idea of his parents and Atilla together, and he quickly slipped out of bed, padding across to where his clothes hung in t he closet.

He undid the drawstring of his pajamas and unfastened the top part, and for a moment he stood naked, looking down at himself. Once again he remembered with scarlet embarrassment how he'd been nude in Mrs. Hamilton's bedroom like this, and how her fingers had stroked his penis into bursting hardness. Only he hadn't been enough for her, that was for sure! He found his eyes lingering on his now flaccid penis and the taut, round scrotum hugging his inner thighs. His slender cock jerked in responsiveness, tingling with blood and beginning to rise. Guiltily the teenager averted his eyes, quickly dressing in clean underwear, a thin blue sweater, and tight whip-cord pants. Then, shivering with mortification as though swept by a sudden chill, he left his bedroom and started down the hall.

His mother was busy in the kitchen when he entered, banging and clattering the dishes about as she prepared buckwheat cakes for breakfast. Mrs. Phillips was a lively redhead, still vivacious and good-looking at the age of forty, despite a propensity toward plumpness. She was wearing her favorite around-thehouse attire, a heavy blouse, a pair of paisley-print culottes and furry slippers, and by the way her pendulous breasts jiggled beneath the fabric, her son could tell she wasn't wearing anything else underneath.

Man, he thought as he sat down at the kitchen table, Mrs. Hamilton's tittles weren't all hangy like hers... but what the hell, she was his mother, not some model! While he looked at her, Scott tried to visualize what she would look like, hunched over naked on her hands and legs as his teacher'd been, begging the family dog to hump her. He shook his head, the thought too incongruous to believe, just as the older woman turned to wish him a good morning.

"Morning, Ma," Scott replied sheepishly, and stared glumly at the formica pattern of the tabletop.

"You're still not upset at being spanked last night, are you?" Mrs. Phillips asked, setting a glass of orange juice in front of him. "You were out late, you know, without telling us where you were. That was very naughty of you, and we were very worried."

"No, Maw, I know I deserved it." he mumbled.

"Well, don't let your father see you with such a long face."

"Is he up yet?"

"No." She put a plate of buckwheat cakes down, and moved the Karo syrup over closer to her son. "And mind you don't make any noise to wake him, either. He likes sleeping late on the weekends."

"Yeah, yeah."

"What are you going to do today?"

"I dunno."

"Well, there's always work to do around here. The lawn to mow and the hedge to trim, and the garage could be cleaned out."

"I can't do anything until Dad is up," Scott protested, poking at his flapjacks with his fork. He didn't feel hungry at all, but he forced himself to eat, knowing it would only cause more questions and trouble if he didn't. "Maybe I'll go over to the park until noon. Fool around with some of the guys."

"That sounds like a good idea."

Scott finished his breakfast without another word.

"Do you want any more?" his mother asked solicitously, having noticed something was bothering her son, but still thinking it had to do with his punishment the night before.

"No, thanks." he said, pushing his plate away.

"That's the first time I've seen you pass up my buckwheat cakes, young man. Are you sure... ?"

"No, Mom, I'm just not hungry. I... I have to go now if I'm going to do anything at the park."

"All right, if you insist. But mind you be back at noon!"

"Yes, I will," he said reluctantly. He kissed her perfunctorily on one cheek and left the kitchen almost on a run. The last thing he wanted to do was come back here at noon, but then, he didn't especially want to go to the park, either! He didn't know what he wanted to do, except be by himself awhile and sort out some of the confusion and hurt that was festering in his brain.

The Phillips' house was smaller than Mrs. Hamilton's, and in not as nice a neighborhood. It was a white-painted clapboard, built on a small hillock so that the porch off the kitchen was up on stilts. Below was the small basement playroom, which opened out, as did the stairs from the porch, onto a sloping backyard. The yard was fenced in, and was mostly crabgrass and burned spots where the dog peed, and the first thing Scott saw when he walked outside on the porch was that Atilla was gone again.

Oh no! he groaned inwardly, his heart sinking into his belly. Atilla had managed to get out again, perhaps by jumping over the fence, and now he'd have to spend the morning searching for him. And if he weren't back by noon with him, he'd get another beating more'n likely! Crap, where could he've gone? Not back to Mrs. Hamilton's, he prayed! No... any place but there!

Then the fourteen year old heard the familiar bark of the large German shepherd, and he sighed in great relief. The bark had come nearby, from the Benson place next door. Scott hurried down the steps and across to the connecting gate in the fence. He fumbled with the catch in his haste, then walked through into the Benson backyard.

Sure enough, Atilla was there. With the dog was Curtis Benson, the sixteen year old youth who went to the same high school as Scott, but in the next grade higher. Benson was in tennis shoes and a pair of faded jeans, and was bare from the waist up. He was just the kind of boy Scott wished himself to be, with a well-developed chest and arms, and thick, black hair his parents let him wear to his shoulders. His face was hard and patrician with a hawk-like nose and a thin mouth, and when he was mad, all he had to do was look at you, and you knew he was one mean mother to tangle with. He went out for all the sports, and was always making the junior teams, and the coaches were already figuring him for first-string next year. He got all the girls he tried for, and some he didn't, and many times Scott had heard him boasting and swaggering about laying this broad or that one. Once Curtis had shown Scott a used condom with its top tied in a knot to keep the cum in it, and had told him that he'd used it the night before on a virgin girl. Curtis went out with Marge Spanner a lot, but that was nothing special to boast about banging, since nearly the only guy in school she hadn't spread for was Scott.

Now Scott stood watching the older boy playing with Atilla. Curtis was throwing a rubber ball against the fence for the large, romping dog to retrieve, laughing while Atilla barked joyfully at the exercise. He took the ball from Atilla's massive jaws and was about to throw it again when he saw Scott there, and he paused to wave.

"You oughta be more careful about your hound, Scott," Curtis said with a broad grin. "I found him here fooling with the ball when I came out this morning."

"Yeah, he's hell to keep in, all right," Scott replied, walking over. "But shit, if we chain him, he just sits and howls all the time, and that's no good."

"I heard some other howling last night," the older boy chuckled. "You - when your ol' Man was taking the belt to you."

Scott didn't reply.

"How'd it go over at Mrs. Hamilton's, kid? Was the dog there?"

This time Scott looked up in startlement, his eyes widening. "How... how did you know that?"

"Hell, I was out with Marge last night, and she told me that's probably why you got smacked around."

"Did she... did she say anything else?"

"Uh-uh. Only that she'd told you Mrs. Hamilton had the dog, and you were going there to fetch it. Why, what happened? Did Mrs. Hamilton screw you? Haw! Fat chance of that! A woman like her would grind your nubbin clean off!"

Scott felt his face livid with burning embarrassment, and he gritted his teeth together to keep from blurting out the truth. Even if he didn't fuck Mrs. Hamilton, it was still a wild story to tell, and just one time, just once! He'd like to have something big enough to wipe that smirk off Curtis' face.

"Hey, you're blushing, Scott! Don't tell me you've got the hots for her!" Curtis snickered and with a glint in his eye, he nudged the younger boy in the ribs. "Well, there're worse dames to want. Too bad she's such a prude, though, all that fine meat going to waste. I hear tell she hasn't let a man near her since her husband left, and shit, that must've been a century ago! 'Course now, if she don't hanker after men, she just might go for you. You could drop your drawers and she could get out her microscope, and who knows? You might just tickle her fancy!"

That was the last straw. It was more than the tormented boy could stand, feeling his frustration and pent-up resentment goaded beyond endurance, his immature mind still reeling from the shattering experience of the night before. He knew it was a mistake to say anything, but he was unable to resist the temptation, and quivering with overwrought emotion, he burst out:

"Yeah? That's all you know, Curtis! I could tell you a couple of things about her'n me. I sure could if I wanted to!"

"Don't make me laugh, dingle-ass," the older boy scoffed. "Next thing you'll be saying is that you did screw Mrs. Hamilton."

"I didn't," Scott said hotly. "But Atilla did!"

"That's even a better one!" Curtis snickered gleefully. "Whad'ya do, kid, stay awake nights thinking up stories while you flip your pecker?"

"Listen, I'm telling you straight!" Scott was red all over his face and down his neck now, his words tumbling out before he had a chance to consider what he was doing. "I went over to her house, just like Marge told you. But when I went in, Mrs. Hamilton was naked as a jaybird, hunched over with her bum in the air and Atilla was licking her snatch!"

"The dog? Atilla? The dog was licking Mrs. Hamilton's box?" Curtis frowned, bewildered as he caught the younger boy's intensity and earnestness. "You're putting me on, aren't you?"

"The truth!" Scott said excitedly, and seeing he'd finally gotten Curtis' attention, he rushed on with his obscene story. "So I was watching it, and then she sees me and gets all embarrassed. But not for long, because she gets up and walks over to where I'm standing -- and not a stitch on, either! She starts kissing me and hugging me and before I know it, she's got my clothes off, too! Man, my prick was like a stone!"

"She-eit!" Curtis gasped, his eyes widening as he soaked it all in. "So then what happened?"

"Well, we get up on the bed and she crawls over me on her hands and knees, her titties swaying like cow-bells! I even got to suck one. 'Suck my tittie!' she told me. 'Suck my tittie!' And I do, nearly chewing it off I was so hot, and then she moves down and starts sucking my pecker instead. Wow! That was great!"

"Sucked you off!" Curtis' eyes were rolling around in his head like marbles now, his brain dizzy from the lurid tale he was hearing. "But what about the dog banging her? What about that?"

"I'm coming to that! So here was Mrs. Hamilton with my dork in her mouth, moaning and writhing around like it was a big stick of candy, and then Atilla hops on the bed and he..."

As the fourteen year old boy recounted the lewd and noisome mounting of the chemistry teacher by his dog, Curtis Benson listened with baited breath. He could picture it all, especially the scene when Atilla's fat dog-cock sank into the older woman's cunt like a sledgehammer! In spite of his own experiences with girls, he'd never been a party to anything half so torrid, and he began to feel a certain vicarious response, his own stubby penis starting to throb in his pants with excitement.

So Mrs. Hamilton is hot to trot for boys and dogs, is she? A thin smile of prurient desire creased his lips as the teenager thought of how nice a piece of her would be. And hell, he was a boy, too, wasn't he? Curtis was willing to bet that she'd be willing to spread her pussy for him, since she'd been so eager for Scott and Atilla. And even if Mrs. Hamilton weren't willing, there might not be much she could do about saying no...

The wickedly aroused youth turned his undivided attention back to Scott just as the story rolled to a finish.

"That dog of yours sure knows the score," Curtis commented breathlessly. "He works faster than I do! I wonder who trained him to fuck women!"

"I... I don't know," Scott stammered meekly.

"Maybe your dad, you think? Yeah, that's why he gets so uptight when Atilla breaks loose. He's afraid the damned dog will run around screwing all the neighbor ladies! Haw! And come back home with the clap or something!"

"Dad bought the dog full-grown. He probably got it that way."

"Well, wherever he learned, Atilla sure beat your time with Mrs. Hamilton. So you didn't get to wet your wick in her after all?"

"N-no. She promised I could, but then... then she told me no, and I was never to come back to her house again."

"Women are funny like that sometimes, kid. You'll find out when you get some pelts to your credit later on."

"You think I did okay, then?"

"Sure! I can tell by the way you told it, Scott, that you did just fine. Hell, believe me that Mrs. Hamilton might say she doesn't want you to fuck her, but really she does! Has to do with pride, the way I figure, and hers must've been pretty shaken up after humping the dog. Lots of girls can't just fuck and like it -- they have to be drunk and don't remember, or raped and never wanted it, or some idiotic excuse to make them pure and holy again."

"You... you mean maybe I can fuck her anyway?"

"That's what I'm trying to pass on, kid," Curtis said expansively, and then after a short pause added: "In fact, we could both take her on, and I bet she'd love it double as much!"

Scott sucked in his breath when he heard the emphasis of the older boy's words. "H-hey, I d-dunno about that."

"Don't tell me you're afraid to share her."

"No, it isn't that, but..."

"You don't even have Mrs. Hamilton yet to share!"

Scott lapsed into momentary silence, unsure exactly what was troubling him. But he was suddenly very sorry he'd ever opened his fat mouth to Curtis, seeing a leer cross the boy's face and knowing it meant trouble. If anything happened to Mrs. Hamilton because of his rashness, he'd never forgive himself! In spite of how she'd treated him yesterday, he didn't want her to regret what'd happened anymore than she had already. Then for sure he'd never get another chance!

Desperately he sought to persuade Curtis not to do anything wrong. "Hey, listen, if she doesn't love it, she could have us arrested or something."

"Don't be stupid, stupid," the second boy sneered. "After what she did, we could squeal on her. She talks, we talk."

Scott, caught on the horns of his self-made dilemma, tried again. "Well, maybe she won't talk. Maybe she'll scream!"

"Screaming is normal for girls, until you get them going. I remember Jane Trenholm yelling like hell when three of us wanted to gang-bang her, and then we started tickling her bush with a parakeet feather. She was still yelling afterwards -- but for it, not against it! Anyway, Mrs. Hamilton lives in that big house, so chances are nobody'll hear anything if she kicks up a fuss. I've got a hunch she won't, though."

"I still don't think..."

"Sure! It'll be a snap. Hey, and I just thought of something else, kid. Marge left her sister's vibrator in the car last night, and buzzing that thing between her legs always sets her off like a firecracker! I was thinking of returning it to her today, but now I won't! We'll take it with us!"

"With us? Now?"

"You know a better time? You're in on this, aren't you?"

"Well..." Scott was torn with conflicting emotions now. Crap, he was scared shitless of going back to Mrs. Hamilton and trying to fuck her. But the more he considered it, the more he thought of her tight, wet cunt sliding up and down over his cock the way she'd promised him. His penis was growing hard just thinking about it! He did want her, and this could be his one big chance to be a big man with Curtis, too!

"O-okay," he capitulated at last. "Only you gotta promise me you won't hurt her any if she doesn't want to do it with us."

"Naw, I wouldn't think of it, kid!" Curtis Benson laughed impatiently. "Come on, grab Atilla and let's move. Man, my loaf is down to my kneecaps just thinking about sliding it into Mrs. Hamilton's oven!"

Again he laughed, and the two boys and the dog soon set off towards Mrs. Hamilton's house. Simple greedy lust burned in the older boy's mind, and his mouth felt dry, small beads of sweat forming unconsciously along his brow. Marge's vibrating massager was stuck in his pocket now, and as Curtis Benson fingered the phallic-shaped tool, he thought to himself: Just you wait, Teach! Just you wait for what's in store for you... !

Lisa Hamilton suddenly cried out, waking up with perspiration streaming down her face, her blonde-haired vagina curiously wet and tingling. It had been another nightmare, another in a long series of them since she'd gone to sleep Friday night. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it of its confusion, seeing by the bedside clock that it was nearly ten a.m. and far later than she was used to staying in bed. Perhaps that was it, she thought woozily; she'd been sleeping too hard, and that was the reason for the late hour, and for a head which felt as if swaddled in cotton. The thirty-one year old teacher slowly sat up, still feeling groggy, frowning as she tried to remember the nightmare that had gone on and kept waking her up screaming in the darkened room...