Colette was sweating, taking out her irritation on the
weeds in the flower bed beside the house, when she
heard the taxi stop in front. She peered around the
corner of the house, squinting into the late afternoon
sun. Even before she saw the figure sashaying up the
front walk, she grimaced. She knew it had to be that
cunt, Christina, come to collect Denny’s car, but she hadn’t
yet figured out exactly what to do with her. Dennis was
Colette ‘s nephew, and barely 18, brainy but naive, and
Christina was a 31-year-old double divorce, a slimy bitch
who was on the brink of getting him into real trouble.

Neither Dennis nor Colette had quite gotten over the
sudden death of his parents — Colette ‘s sister and
brother-in-law — almost five months previously, and
they’d been spending some extra time together. One such
occasion was last night, when they went to the 4th of
July concert in Riverside Park. And who should show up
but Christina, who wouldn’t know Petr Tchaikovsky from Joe
Borowski. She was wearing a tube top, short shorts, and
heels (of course), but Denny seemed to think she was
just peachy.

Of course he did. When some bitch prances around,
looking like that, any guy — especially one with
galloping teen hormones — was going to hunger for a
piece. And no 18 year old, when he smells pussy, is
going to listen to good advice from his 36-year-old
aunt. She couldn’t even begin to deal with young Dennis
until she got Christina the Slut to back off. But there was
no time to do anything last night. Before Napoleon had
even thought about a retreat, Denny had handed his keys
to Colette , and he and Christina were headed off into the
dark.
Now, while he was at work, Christina had come by to pick up
his car and so underline the new level of intimacy
their relationship had reached. Colette flung down her
gardening gloves and entered her house through the side
door. She could already hear Christina’s peremptory knocking.
Colette ‘s level of irritation was now bubbling,
dangerously near the red “FURY” zone. The image of Christina
seducing that green kid was maddening.

(Has she fucked him yet? Well, whatever, she won’t do
it again. I’ve despised that sneaky little slut from
the instant we met. And I’ve got no qualms at all about
the prospect of stomping her flat. But I can’t risk
martyring her for “love” — at least not yet. First
I’ll try reason and diplomacy, as bitter and useless as
that approach will doubtless turn out to be. And, if
that tack doesn’t work…, well… I’m a tad older than
Christina, but bigger, in better condition, full of righteous
wrath, and not averse to a cat-fight….)

Colette , calmer, took a deep breath and opened the front
door.

And standing on the porch was Christina, all designer
sunglasses and capped teeth. Her flimsy white sundress
was obviously intended to display a lot and hint at the
rest. She was blonde, of course, and nicely tanned, of
course. A smallish girl, 5’2″ maybe, and 110 pounds at
most, she had the figure of a sexy adolescent and the
mind of a whore.

Christina cocked one eyebrow, and Colette almost hit her for
that. But, after a pause, she gestured her inside. Christina
sauntered in, trailing a mixed aroma of trendy perfume,
brandy fumes, and body odor. She scanned the room and
sniffed at the rather minimalist decor.

“Denny sent me to get his keys,” she said, her voice
dripping with self-satisfaction.

Colette struggled to remain calm and succeeded only in
looking grim. “Well, it’s not going to be that
simple….”

“Yes, exactly that simple. My time is valuable. I’m not
about to….”

A sudden tumult at the back door interrupted her.
Colette opened it, and Hamlet, her massive black Great
Dane, came bounding into the room, made a skidding,
scrabbling turn, and headed straight for the stranger,
Christina. He was sniffing, panting, and drooling, and, to
Christina, he might as well have been the Hound of the
Baskervilles.

He was a spirited beast, almost a yard high at the
shoulders, and, when he was interested in something,
there wasn’t much that could dissuade him. And, right
now, there was something about Christina that interested him.

He was crowding her, sniffing, zeroing in on her
crotch.

She tried to step away from him, but he kept circling
her, pressing close, questing with his nose, and giving
her no room to manoeuvre. She swatted at him with her
purse and managed only to lose her grip on it, sending
it skittering across the floor. All the while, Hamlet
was growing increasingly agitated. And so was Christina, who
was unaccustomed to any kind of dog and quite
intimidated by one this size — even if he weren’t
jostling her, and growling, and shoving his snout
between her legs.

So she was already near panic when Hamlet seized a
mouthful of her dress and began playing tug-of-war,
complete with appropriately histrionic growling.

“God, Colette , make him leave me alone.”

Colette shrugged. “He smells something. It doesn’t take
much these days. Neighbors down the street have a bitch
that’s in heat, and it’s been making him horny as
hell.”

Christina shrieked and staggered about, as the dog pulled her
to and fro.

Colette thought, “And I guess all bitches smell pretty
much alike.” She chuckled, and then The Idea came to
her, dazzling in its perfection.

After pausing a moment to admire The Idea, she turned
her attention back to Christina.

“Take off your dress,” she said, keeping her voice
matter-of-fact, despite her inner excitement.

Though distracted, Christina gaped at Colette . “M-my dress?
Off?
Why?”

“He probably smells something on the dress. And he’ll
just rip it to shreds if you don’t give it to him. I
certainly can’t do anything with him when he’s like
this.” Mentally, she crossed her fingers. “Give him the
dress and maybe he’ll be satisfied. I’ll give you
something else to wear.”

Hamlet continued to drag Christina around in smaller and
smaller circles. Already dizzy, she was tiring fast,
and now was desperate and almost incapable of coherent
thought. She shucked the sundress’s shoulder straps,
and the loose garment dropped to the floor, where it
trapped her feet until she managed to kick off her
high-heeled sandals and stagger clear of the tangled
mess. Since she was too proud of the youthfulness of
her tits to wear a bra, she was now naked, except for
her white thong panties.

Hamlet, of course, having won that round, proceeded to
ignore the discarded dress, but turned his attentions
back to Christina’s crotch, now an even more exposed and
enticing target.

“Nope,” Colette observed. “He seems to want the panties.
Better give ’em up….”

Christina, frantic, ripped off her panties, barely keeping
her balance in the process, and flung the wispy garment
across the room. Hamlet watched it, tempted only
momentarily, but couldn’t be diverted from his goal. He
thrust his wet nose into Christina’s sparse but definitely
brunette pubes.

“Aaaaaa! Omigod, he-he’s l-l-licking meee! Please,
Colette , ma-ake him ssstop!”

He was, indeed, and very systematically. If Christina tried
to protect her pussy, he darted behind her and attacked
her crotch from the rear.

“Colette , please…. Oh, please!”

Twisting, wriggling, fluttering, Christina tried in vain to
escape from her canine assailant, but he was a lot
better at this game than she was. And she was soon
sweating heavily, gasping for breath, and increasingly
uncoordinated.

“Please, Colette ,” she wheezed.

At that moment Hamlet brought her down with a well-
executed low block. On her knees, Christina was even less
agile than she’d been on her feet. And Hamlet
immediately bore in, licking and snuffling. Christina made a
last, feeble attempt to fend him off, but failed. After
that, the dog worked her with almost no coherent
resistance.

And she was horrified by the dawning realization that
she was beginning to enjoy it. (Why is this happening
to me? I mean, I’m no virgin — not for almost 20 years
— but I’m not some porno-slut, either. I’m one of “the
beautiful people” after all…. I have money, too, all
that alimony. I sure don’t need sex with a dog.
Disgusting…. But, omigod, that TONGUE!)

At that moment, the Tongue touched her clitoris, and
she just about fainted. She slumped forward, thereby
opening herself up to an attack from the rear — which
is exactly what Hamlet immediately launched. He was all
over her, stepping on her, snuffling here and there,
and finally goosing her with his wet nose, which caused
her to rise up on all fours. He buried his nose between
her legs, and his tongue slithered its way underneath
her, back and forth, bathing her crotch with drool,
from cunt to asshole.

“Please….”

Colette was captivated by the spectacle. Christina, on hands
and knees, thighs straddled, was beginning to go with
the flow, whimpering and wriggling her ass in
counterpoint to Hamlet’s questing tongue. Meanwhile,
the dog’s wet cock, easily 9″ long and 2″ thick, was
fully emerged from its sheath, primed and ready.

“I wonder if she’s got AKC papers,” Colette giggled.
“Well, I don’t suppose it really matters…. It’d be
unkind to try to intervene now, with Christina going into
heat and Hamlet so frustrated lately…. Que ser,
ser.” She kicked Christina’s purse and shoes under the sofa,
swept up the sundress and tossed it into Hamlet’s room,
took a moment to fetch her camera, and then settled
back to watch and record.

“Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, pl-
please….”

Colette snapped a photo from time to time and wished she
had a camcorder. Christina’s elbows turned outward and were
bending, her head and upper body sinking, and her
twitching butt rising. She was acting instinctively
now, without conscious thought, simply squirming
through the most basic mating dance.

Hamlet paused a moment, dramatically, then suddenly
scrambled onto Christina’s back. (“She’s lucky I just gave
him a manicure yesterday,” Colette mused.) Finally, he
managed to plant his forelegs astride Christina’s torso,
while his scrabbling hind legs brought his stiff prick
to the very edge of her cunt.

“Oh god,” Colette thought. “He’s really going to do it.
And I’m going to let it happen.”

Hamlet’s movements became more and more frantic.

“Please, Colette ….”

“‘Please’ what? ‘Please’ drag the dog off? ‘Please’
help him stick it in? What?”

“I…I…I….”

Just then Hamlet’s efforts were suddenly rewarded, as
his glistening, questing cock finally found the
entrance to Christina’s cunt and slipped inside.

Another “Kodak Moment.”

Christina froze, mouth agape…. In surprise? Horror?
Anticipation? And then Hamlet lurched, and, all at
once, his cock thrust itself hilt deep into her
dripping cunt.

He immediately began churning furiously, a runaway
piston, each stroke rasping across Christina’s swollen
clitoris. Meanwhile, she was already writhing her hips
back against her masterful doggie lover. She could feel
her orgasm approaching like a tsunami. Her eyes were
squeezed shut; her mouth hung open; she was sweating
heavily….

And then the tsunami hit.

“AH-AH-AH-OOOOOOO! Omigod…omigod…omigod…!”

Colette was startled into action. She really had to
stifle the slut. Improvising, she lifted Christina’s head by
the hair and stuffed one of Hamlet’s chew-toys between
the woman’s teeth, muffling the passionate wailing,
neatly and appropriately.

Hamlet’s own orgasm was not long delayed. After cumming
in a delirium, he slowly calmed down, delivering a few,
intermittent thrusts in passing. At length, he lay
there, draped over Christina’s up-turned rump, panting
lustily and drooling onto her naked back. She was in a
stupor and, of course, still impaled on Hamlet’s
knotted prick.

After a time, Colette carefully disengaged the two
lovers. All the while, Christina remained off somewhere in
La-la Land, mentally. Physically, she just lay in an
untidy, motionless heap.

“Well, you don’t smoke, boy, but I’ll bet you could do
with a nice nap, right about now,” Colette said. Hamlet
rubbed against her contentedly, as she petted him and
then led him off to his bedroom.

Returning, she regarded with disdain the dazed woman
lying in a puddle of miscellaneous fluids. It was time
to continue Christina’s “attitude adjustment.”

She jabbed Christina in the ribs and roused her from her
daze.

Christina, back in the here-and-now, shuddered at the
enormity of what had happened. (“I’ve just been fucked
by a dog,” she thought, “while Colette watched and took
pictures…, and — oh, god — I enjoyed it.”)

“Get up, bitch,” Colette sneered. “NOW — or I’ll make
you lick up that mess.”

Flushed, Christina awkwardly obeyed.

“I don’t think my nephew will be seeing you again, not
after he learns what a bitch you are — literally. And
these pictures will really fascinate both of your ex-
husbands…and your trashy friends, too, I’ll bet….”

“Don’t, Colette , please…. I’ll do anything….”

“‘Anything’? Really? That’s a tempting offer. Maybe we
can work something out. I’ll get back to you in a day
or two. But, meanwhile, get your slimy cunt the hell
out of my house.”

“B-but I’m NAKED!” Christina wailed.

“You can just wait in the back yard while I get you
something to wear.” Colette hauled her, stumbling, to
the back door.

Christina looked bleary and confused. “Please…. I-I don’t
have the car keys or-or any money. How’ll I get home?”

“Walk. You can use the exercise,” Colette sneered.

Colette opened the door and stepped back.

“Out,” she said.

But Christina seemed too exhausted to move.

Colette looked down at Christina’s bare ass, smeared with
drool and cum, and she reached for Hamlet’s braided
leather leash, hanging in its place beside the door.
Using the doubled leash, she stung Christina’s ass with as
much whiplash as she could muster. With a yelp, Christina
stumbled clumsily down the back steps and then stood
there stupidly, rubbing her butt and whimpering. Colette
watched a moment and then nodded.

“Wait there. I won’t be long.”

She retreated a few steps into the kitchen, fetched a
stout orange bag that had once held 44 pounds of dog
food, and deftly cut a neck hole and two armholes in
it. She flung the garish, makeshift garment out the
back door at Christina, who still seemed stupefied.

“That should fit well enough,” Colette hissed. She
looked at the ground. The shadows were longer, but it
still would be hours until night fell. “Go out the back
gate and down the alley. There’ll be a bit more privacy
that way. You can probably find a place to hide until
dark — but don’t hang around here, unless you want
another romp with Hamlet. I’ll be letting him out again
in a few minutes.”

She gestured peremptorily and closed the door.

She got herself a cold beer, sat down at the kitchen
table, and began making a shopping list: collar and
name tag, doggy dishes, chew toy…. She smiled as she
heard the back gate creak.

Her smile broadened as she was inspired to amend her
list — food dish yes, water dish no. The bitch can
just drink out of the toilet. She paused, wondering if
Hamlet would prefer Christina’s cunt to be hairless from now
on.