The Watchdog!

Rachel Roberts tells her husband how the next-door neighbor woman was beaten, robbed, and raped in her bedroom a few nights ago.  It had been on the news and is the street gossip.

“And don’t suggest a gun,” Rachel said, waving her hand.  “You know I’m against them.”

Mike shrugs.  “Maybe we can ask the police to keep an eye on things?”

“The police can’t watch every house every night, and I won’t feel safe until they catch that prowler.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“I ought to have some protection when you’re not here.  What do you think of a watchdog?”

He nods.  “Good idea, honey.”

That afternoon he takes her and Dylan, his nineteen-year-old son from a previous marriage, shopping for a watchdog.

*****

“I’ve got just what you’re looking for,” the dog breeder said, leading them to the rear of his kennels.  He shows them a full-grown male Mastiff.

“He looks more like a pony than a dog,” Rachel said wide-eyed.

“It probably eats like a horse, too,” Mike mumbles, thinking of the food and vet costs of such a massive dog.

The dog breeder explains that the Mastiff was an ancient breed, a ferocious fighting dog used by the Roman legions and later in Europe to kill wolves that ventured near small villages at night.  But for all its ferocity, he assured them, the Mastiff was always very affectionate and devoted to its owners and made not only a good family pet but a watchdog perfect in every way, not just a barker but a natural protector of the home.

What the breeder doesn’t tell them is that he sold this particular Mastiff as a puppy three years ago to a young couple, and now he’s reselling it because the irate husband caught his wife receiving a thorough fucking from the animal.

Mike Roberts had no way of knowing that he was buying his lonely wife a four-legged lover and a watchdog.  Of course, Rachel doesn’t either.  They take the dog home, and nothing out of the ordinary happens for several days.

*****

Tyson is the dog’s name, named after Mike Tyson, the boxer, and it certainly looked the part despite the dog’s friendliness to Rachel and her stepson Dylan.  A Mastiff is built similarly to a Saint Bernard, although its hair is short and sleek, silver-fawn.  Tyson is tall as a Great Dane but stockier and more powerfully built at one-hundred-eighty-five pounds.

Rachel keeps the dog in the fenced backyard, where Dylan romps with the playful animal every day after college.  When she goes out to feed and water her new watchdog, Tyson never fails to nuzzle her from behind, trying to sniff her butt.  At first, Rachel hurriedly puts down the dog’s food and water and then scolds Tyson on the run as the woman dashes back into the house.  But she soon overcame her fear of the animal and started slapping the dog for its inappropriate overtures and scolding it on the spot.

No matter how hard she slaps the animal, Tyson hardly blinked an eye.  The dog never so much as growled at her, which made Rachel ashamed for hitting the dog so much.  The woman reasons this is the way of all dogs, and Tyson is only trying to get acquainted with her.  Rachel finally decides the most sensible thing would be to let the dog smell her once, figuring it would fulfill its instinctual urge and end the embarrassing incidents.

Too modest to do it out in the open where her neighbors might see and surely misunderstand her reasons, Rachel opens the kitchen door one morning while her stepson is at college and calls Tyson to the house.  The Mastiff came galloping across the yard.  She holds open the door, and it trots into the house for the first time since her husband had brought the animal for her.  Tyson’s head is as high as her waist, so she doesn’t need to stoop when she pets the animal.

“All right, boy,” she said when it nuzzled her abdomen.  “I feel silly about this, but I know you’ll keep after me until you get a good smell of my behind, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Rachel goes over to the kitchen table.  She pulled up her housedress and skins off her panties, then leaned over the table and braced herself on her elbows with her dress up around her waist, presenting Tyson with her bare, outthrust rear end.  Rachel is five-foot-four.  At forty-five, she’s about twenty pounds overweight.  The excess fat had thickened her thighs, hips, and buttocks and caused a slight midriff bulge around her waist.

The horny dog’s floppy ears perk up at the sight of her exposed, womanly rump.  Tyson’s ex-mistress had often bared herself to the animal this way, though in the bedroom, not the kitchen, so the dog’s subhuman mentality perceived this as a sexual invitation.  Tyson’s glands began to react, and the Mastiff started to respond as the previous owner trained it.

“Don’t just stand there licking your chops,” Rachel said, glancing nervously over her shoulder.  “You’ve been trying to smell my butt since we brought you home.  Well, now I’m gonna let you do it so you’ll quit embarrassing me out in the yard.  Go on, smell it.”

Tyson lumbers up behind her, sniffing the air.  The Mastiff nudges its cold snout into the crevice of her warm buttocks.

“Oh God,” Rachel squeals.  She jumps reflexively.  “Your nose is like an ice cube.”

Forcing herself to relax as best she can, Rachel steels herself for the necessary but unpleasant task, and she spreads her legs slightly to increase the space between her cringing ass cheeks.  She feels ridiculous bending over the table this way.  All she wants is to give the animal a smell so it will leave her alone from now on, and she hopes the Mastiff will hurry now that she’s made her anus more accessible to it.

There’s no rushing the big dog, however.  The Mastiff can sense its new mistress’s mood of nervous unsureness, and the scent she’s giving off tells the animal that, for some reason, her fear of it has suddenly returned.  The Mastiff works the broad front of its short, dark muzzle into her butt crack and begins sniffing in earnest.

“Oh, hurry,” Rachel pleads.  “Haven’t you smelled me enough by now?”

The dog hadn’t, for it kept sniffing away, apparently enjoying the odor.  Rachel is keenly aware of the dog’s cold nose, which seems all the colder when the dog’s warm breath begins bathing over the inner slopes of her rear end.  She sets her teeth and makes her hands into fists.  She’ll have to make the animal quit if it doesn’t stop soon.

Rachel is beginning to have doubts about this idea.  It seemed like a good idea to her logic-oriented mind at the time, but now that she’s allowing Tyson to smell her most secret of all spots, it’s affecting her strangely.  Not only is it making her nervous, but she can feel a faint tingling in her loins that’s upsettingly like the beginning fermentations of sexual arousal.  Without warning, the Mastiff sticks out its tongue and starts lapping at her forbidden area.

“What the fuck?” Rachel groans, shivering involuntarily as the warm, wet tongue washes the crevice of her tremulous rump.  “I didn’t think you’d want to do anything like that.”

The animal keeps licking the trough of her butt crack.

“Stop it.  Stop it,” Rachel shouts, squirming with a blast of unbidden sensual discomfort that makes her weak in the knees.

She tries to pull away from the vulgarly behaving beast, but every time she moves her behind, the dog follows insistently, working its snout deeper and deeper into the cleavage of her soft white butt cheeks.  Rachel scoots hopingly halfway around the table before she leans limply forward with her head in her arms and gives in to the irresistible pleasure of the dog’s lust-inciting tongue.

“Ooooo….”

It feels good.  There is no denying it.  Rachel knows it’s shameful to let an animal lick her back there.  ‘I’ve tried to stop the dog, haven’t I?  Oh, what can it hurt?’ she rationalized.  ‘Tyson’s only spit-bathing my rear end, and it feels so nice.’  Rachel tells herself it’s no different from letting a pet lick a hand or face.  Still, in the back of her mind, she knew better because if her new watchdog was licking her hand or face, it wouldn’t be causing butterflies in her stomach or sending ripples of illicit pleasure through her spine.

“I shouldn’t let you do that to me, Tyson,” she said.  “But go ahead.  No one will ever know, will they?  It does feel lovely.  Oh, yes, do it.  Lick me deep.  Oooooh.  Wash the crack of my ass with your hot, wet tongue.”  Her teeth catch her lower lip.  She reaches back, letting her large, pendulous breasts flatten against the tabletop, takes hold of her white mounds of flesh, and pulls the twin hillocks further apart.  “Fuck,” she whines, rocking her flared hips as the Mastiff licks hotly right into the puckered brown orifice of her erogenous rectum.  “It might be nasty, but it sure is nice.”

She doesn’t want the animal to stop now.  Her husband has been gone for nearly three weeks, so Rachel’s sex fuse is getting pretty short.  It isn’t sex, but it’s close enough.  Having her butt licked is a form of tantalizing torture.  She thinks she might climax from it if the dog keeps it up for a few minutes longer.

With her head resting on the table, she can’t see that the dog’s canine cock is erecting swiftly, inch by inch, sliding all red and gleaming, wet from the furry sheath in front of the dog’s large, dangling testicles.  So far as Tyson is concerned, licking his mistress’s ass is a pleasant pastime but only a prelude to bigger and better things ahead.  The Mastiff is through with her rectum and ready to move on to the next warming-up exercise, which means paying the same lingual attention to the moistening slit below.

“Ahhhh, God,” Rachel cries in pleasured shock.

She feels the dog’s educated tongue slap wetly over her furry pussy slit and wriggles thrillingly between the puffy softness of her hair-rimmed labia.  Its tip tickles the nerve-laden bud of her blood-enlarged clit as it drags its tongue through that vaginal trough and gives her anus another mind-numbing lick.  Rachel hadn’t expected anything like this, but it felt so terrific that she wasn’t about to object.

“Yes, yes,” she moans, a sensual smile washing over her face.  “Oh, you naughty dog.  That feels divine.  Lick my pussy.  Lick deeper.”

‘This is so wrong,’ she thought, but her mind was fuzzy, and she didn’t care.  ‘What would Mike think if it could see me now?  Oh, to hell with it.  Mike’s out of town, and Dylan’s at college.  There’s no one in the house but Tyson and me.  Wrong or not, I like what he’s doing to me.  Let him lick me off before I put him back outside.’

She’s slipping into a mood she hasn’t known for years.  It’s so forbidden and erotic.  It makes her feel the way she had as a teenage girl.  When she was first awakening to sex, Rachel sometimes let a date go as far as playing with her breasts through her blouse and bra.  Sometimes, she’d allow her pussy to be petted a little through her secretion-moistened panties.

But it’s much more sinful to let the enormous dog lick her privates, giving her an even more incredible thrill.  Tyson’s tongue is so hot and scratchy, and it feels marvelous.  She spreads her legs a fraction more.  Her lower abdomen settles upon the table, the edge pressing into the fronts of her fleshy thighs, and she begins sighing softly, her eyes closed.  Her shamelessly exposed ass sticking out, wagging almost imperceptibly.

“Ooooo.  Ahhh.  Deeper.  Lick deeper,” Rachel moans.

With her legs slowly inching wider apart, the hairy crack between them opens bit by bit.  The woman’s pussy lips flutter submissively as the dog’s tongue laps incessantly between them to collect the clear, slippery fluids oozing down from her secreting vagina.  Rachel loses herself entirely in the mind-fogging pleasure of the lurid act.  She’s read of such things as this with a sense of revulsion.  She had been unable to understand how any woman could allow such things.  But now it’s happening to her.  She can’t honestly blame any woman for enjoying the wicked pleasures of a hot, avidly lapping animal tongue.

Her new watchdog is licking beyond the brownish outer labia of her parted pussy now.  It’s getting better and better.  She shivers with lustful delight as she feels the dog’s roughened tongue scrubbing the highly sensitive folds of reddish tissue comprising the vestibule of her aroused, tingling vagina.  The Mastiff is licking her good, the upper surface of its canine taste organ dragging abrasively over the tender tip of her elongated clit.

“Mmmm.  Ooooo.  Ahhhhhh,” she moans, her hands making trembling fists, strands of jet black hair (which she keeps dyed to hide the gray) hanging down in her face.

As far as Rachel is concerned, this can go on for hours because she’s enjoying it to the utmost.  So is the horny Mastiff, but the dog’s cock is fully erect now, a colorless liquid drips from its pointed tip, and the dog’s sperm-burdened testicles are transmitting a message to the canine brain.  The Mastiff backs off, licking its chops.

“Oh, no.  Don’t stop now,” Rachel whines.

Her orgasm is in sight, and she wants it desperately.  She needn’t have worried about being deserted in her moment of carnal craving, for the instinctive urge to copulate has taken over the Mastiff.  Up it rears, the dog’s forepaws prancing across her buttocks and up her back as it half-walks, half-bops forward on its hind legs.

“Oh my God, no, not that,” Rachel shrieks when she realizes what Tyson means to do to her with a flash of fear-filled alarm.  “Get down, Tyson.  No.  You mustn’t.  Letting you lick me is one thing, but, motherfucker, this is going too far.”

Tyson has his ideas on the matter.  The Mastiff is not one to take no for an answer.  When she swings back her arm, attempting to knock the animal off and rise simultaneously, the dog growls at her for the first time.  Giving her the same vicious warning brought her rushing to the cowering meter reader’s aid a few days earlier.  It scares the hell out of Rachel.  Then she watches in horror as the dog’s powerful jaws enclose her upper arm, the sharp points of its menacingly bared teeth prick but not break her skin.  Rachel nearly shits herself.  Those fangs will rip her flesh and crush the bone if the dog bit down.

“All right,” she squeaks in a voice thin with terror.  “I won’t fight you.  Do what you will, only dear God, don’t hurt me.”

The Mastiff releases her arm.  Rachel breathes a sigh of relief.  Beads of cold sweat stand out on her skin.  Her heart hammers against her rib cage.  The palms of her clenched hands are moist with sweat.  The hulking watchdog her husband had brought to protect her from prowlers will stick its dirty animal cock inside her, and there was nothing she could do about it.  She doesn’t dare try to stop the animal.  They’re alone in the house.  If Tyson turns vicious, she dreads imagining what he might do to her.  Those wicked teeth of the dogs can tear her to pieces in no time.

Cursing her stupidity, realizing too late that her naive logic had gotten her into this precarious predicament, Rachel resigns herself to her humiliating fate.  She loathes allowing the demanding dog to fuck her like a whimpering bitch in some back alley.  But she’s whimpering and every bit as helpless as a bitch in heat.

It’s an outrage, a crime against nature, but what can she do?  Raped by the very dog her husband bought to protect her from such an attack by a human male.  It gives her a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.  She cringes at the knowledge that this is her fault for being such a ninny as to think that letting the animal smell her butt would satisfy the dog’s urge and end the embarrassing incidents in the backyard when she goes out to feed it.

Rachel wishes she never mentioned a watchdog, but it’s too late for that now.  She can feel the pointed head of the dog’s organ poking erratically at her saliva and secretion-slick crotch.  Despite her reluctance to allow this unholy union, it gives her an unbidden perverted thrill.  ‘How big is Tyson’s cock?’ she wonders without wanting to.  ‘Will I be able to take it?  Oh God, don’t let him hurt me.’  Tyson finds the mark and teasingly jabs a couple of hot, hard inches into his mistress’s soft, moist crevice.

“Ooooooo,” she said and shivered with fear and anticipation, steeling herself to take the rest of the dog’s unseen member.  Tyson’s back arches, driving the dog’s thickening shaft swiftly inside her cunt.  “Oh, God,” she cries.

Her red lips draw back over her white teeth.  Her eyelids snap wide open.  ‘How much has Tyson got?’ she wonders dizzily, for it already had more cock in her than her husband owns, and the Mastiff is still stuffing it up into her stunned belly.  The head bumps her cervix, jolting her womb as it shoves the most feminine female organs higher into her shocked abdominal cavity.  Tyson rams in the rest of his pulsating cock, his furry haunches flattening her ass cheeks as he impaled her to the hilt.  She sucks in her breath raggedly, shuddering helplessly from the delicious ache of being penetrated deeper than ever she had been.

“Fucking hell,” she groans.  “It feels like it reaches clear up into my chest.”

Tyson barks triumphantly, clasping Rachel’s torso with his forelegs.  The Mastiff begins humping its massive cock into her cunt.

It somewhat takes her breath away.  The dog’s cock, which she’d never seen, felt like a foot long.  The Mastiff is skewering it into her cunt with long, rhythmic strokes that keep her womb bobbing in her belly.  Its tapering shape pointed at the head and thick as a man’s cock at the base stretches her hair-ringed vaginal opening almost to the limit during the instroke.  Then allowing her elastic labia to spring back nearly to their original elliptical position toward the end of each outstroke.  As a result, it’s opening her up anew each time the red cock punches home.  It feels for all the world as if the canine cock is penetrating her for the first time with every thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” she moans, responding to the flood of lust-inciting sensations despite herself.

The fear is rapidly draining from her now.  A mind-dulling flush of carnal delight rushes in to fill the void.  ‘Tyson might be a dog,’ she thought dimly, ‘but he’s got a wonderful cock.  And it’s giving me the best fucking I’ve ever had.’

The middle-aged homemaker’s resistance evaporates.  She gives herself over to the mounting tide of her unsummoned sexual desire and lies there docilely across the kitchen table, her head cradled in her arms, thoroughly enjoying the wicked act of intercourse with her huge watchdog.  A mood of willful licentiousness envelopes Rachel.  She doesn’t give a hoot about the right or wrong of it any longer.  Now that Tyson is rutting into her cunt, Rachel discovers she loves it.  Tyson’s cock is bone-bard, much hotter than a man’s, slick as glass, and so unbelievably long.

“Yes.  Yes,” the woman moans, grimacing in rapture as the nerve-rich head of her blood-glutted clit flips maddeningly over the cool edge of the table.  “You are a brute of a dog.  But, oh, fuck, your cock feels so good.  Fuck me, baby.  Fuck me hard.  Ohhh.  Ahhh.  Ahhh, yes.  Give it to me.”

Her words mean nothing to the dog, but not the husky tone of her voice.  Tyson’s ex-mistress had been quite vocal during intercourse, so he catches the gist of Rachel’s impassioned request and starts fucking her faster and harder.

“Ohhh.  Ahhhh.  Ahh,” Rachel moans between gasping gulps of air.

Tyson’s arching back pumps his rear end to and fro in a blur of motion, causing his inflamed cock to plunge like a piston within the silky sheath of her wetly sucking vagina.  The Mastiff gives it to her faster than any man alive could ever hope to, walloping her so that the dog’s hindquarters mash the perspiration-moistened fatty globes of her milk-white buttocks like balloons.  While the pointed head of the dog’s skewering cock beat like a ball-peen hammer against the hypersensitive mouth of her displaced womb.

“Oh shit, I can’t believe it,” Rachel shrieks.  “It’s just too incredibly good.”

But she has to believe it and, depraved as it makes her feel, she must admit that she dearly loves it.  She’s being fucked silly by her giant dog, and nothing else matters.  Who cares if it’s vulgar and demented?  If they call it bestiality and make laws against it in every civilized country.  ‘What the fuck do they know?’ she wonders.

“God help me if anyone ever finds out about this,” she whines, starting to rotate her rump as the overflow of her copious cuntal secretions begins trickling all warm and sticky-wet down the insides of her parted, weak-kneed legs.  “But I don’t care if you are a dog.  Oh, Tyson, lover, you magnificent animal, ram it into me.  Never stop.  Ahhhhh.”

The table legs are creaking rhythmically now, and Rachel’s mature cunt is so full of hot woman goo that she’s beginning to squish every time Tyson stuffs his pulsating cock into it.  It feels like a red-hot poker jabbing deep into her viscera, searing her internal organs, and cauterizing her womb.  The hurt it causes is excellent.  ‘If the cock ruptures me, let it,’ is Rachel’s attitude because her brain is flooding with carnal bliss.

Squish came the juicy report each time the Mastiff drove balls-deep into her cunt.  It then slurps when the dog pulls that cock partway out.  Her pleasure-drenched cunt sucks at it, reluctant to part with even a fraction of an inch of it for a split second.  ‘Squish-Slurp.  Squish-Slurp.  Squish-Slurp.  Squish-Slurp….’  On and on goes the slippery sounds as Tyson fucks into her with animalistic abandon for a few more minutes that seem glorious hours to Rachel’s desire-dazed brain.  She can feel a knobby lump forming at the base of the dog’s thrusting cock.  ‘The knot,’ she thought.  Part of her wants to push free to prevent the dog’s knot from entering her cunt.  Rachel knows that canine knots can get quite big, and going by the size of the monster cock already in her cunt, the prospect of taking Tyson’s knot terrifies the woman.

However, given her age, she’s not as tight as when she was a teenager, and after some forceful pounding of the growing knot into her pussy lips, it slips inside, making Rachel gasp and groan as it stretches her cuntal walls.

“Yes, yes, oh, shit, yes,” she screeches.

The knowledge that the dog would soil her human womb with its nasty animal sperm registered on her lust-fogged mind gave her an additional sordid thrill that tingled clear down to her toes.  She can hardly wait to feel the dog’s jizz spewing into her, and she knows beyond a doubt that the first steaming jet will bring her off along with the animal.

The passion-crazy woman begins bucking and gyrating her ass, gasping for breath as she screams, “Do it.  Please do it.  Oh, goddamn, hurry, Tyson.  Cum in me.”

Tyson’s rear end is jerky and arrhythmic due to the stuck knot for about five more seconds, and then the beast yelps fulfillment.  With saliva drooling from the dog’s mouth, the glassy-eyed Mastiff hunches its cock and knot home for the final time, grunting and whining as its balls start convulsing to expel its massive canine load of stored-up semen.  The first stream gushes out of the dog under pressure, splashing all hot and gluey-thick over the ultra-sensitive neck of Rachel’s orgasming cunt and womb.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Rachel cries, throwing back her head as the sudden inundation of superheated dog jizz triggered her release.  “Oh my God.  I’m cumming.  I’m cumming.”  Her cunt clenches like a fist, then expand like a balloon.  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  God, yes.  Oh, fuck,” she groans, her face contorting from the rapture of her internal explosion.

Jets of sticky hot jizz shoots into her like bullets.  Sperm ricochets off the tender mouth of her rhythmically contracting womb and washes back down the barrel of her cock-packed cunt, coating the rippling walls completely and then spewing out in waves of foam over the swollen brownish lips of her plugged pussy.  The stuff mats in her pubic curls and begins running luridly down the inner slopes of her shaking legs.

“Ohhhhh.  Shoot it.  Shoot it hot and deep,” Rachel squeals, her head sagging in a series of jerky motions until her nose flattens against the tabletop.

Her pleasure-numbed vaginal orifice snaps mindlessly, the orgasmic platform at the front of her velvety tunnel clutching at the dog’s semen-spraying cock and knot with a heartbeat-like rhythm that only aids Tyson in releasing every last drop from his balls.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” Rachel groans gutturally, and her head flops to the side, her cheek resting against the cool table top as she begins sobbing brokenly, the flesh-quaking tremors of her tremendous climax racking her body repeatedly.

Rachel’s so weak after the Mastiff pulls its cock and knot free of her greedy cunt that she can only lie on her belly, sighing and whimpering, while Tyson laps up the trickles of their mixed juices oozing sluggishly down from the depths of her well-reamed cunt.  Hot until the dog cleans her gash and the sperm on the insides of her thighs, the Mastiff saunter casually over to the kitchen door and scratches to get out.

In a daze, Rachel staggers over and opens the door for the dog.  Then she pours herself a cup of coffee and sits dejectedly at the table of her shame.

Now that the mind-searing heat of the insane act is over, Rachel feels awful about it.  She couldn’t understand what had come over her.  There was no excuse for a decent woman like her.  Desperately she tries to justify her immoral actions by telling herself that she’s an average, healthy woman who’d been susceptible to perversion only because her husband was away from home so much.

In the end, feeling miserable and guilty, she buries her face in her hands and begins sobbing bitterly, nearly choking on the remorse she suffered from her wicked wrongdoing.

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