New Erotic Fiction Presents: The Veterinarian

The Veterinarian

John Crook was a young farmer from North Wales.  He once had a dog called Shaggy.  It was a border collie and a damn good working dog, but plagued with stomach problems.  John could never forget when it started happening, and this had nothing much to do with Shaggy the border collie; it was much more to do with his first visit to the vets in the village…

  “I don’t know what’s got into him,” said the John to the receptionist, “he’s got diarrhoea and he won’t eat a thing.”

  “I’ll see if the vet can see him now Mr. Crook,” said the receptionist, “if you could just take a seat.”  She motioned to the plastic chairs stuck to the floor on the far wall.  There was also a couple of dog bowls full of water and a few magazines next to them, as though the dogs would pick up a copy of “Horse and Hound” while they were waiting to be castrated.  John took his seat awkwardly.  He was a mountain of a man and looked ridiculous sitting on these flimsy chairs.  To observe him from the entrance brought to mind attending a primary school parents evening; being forced to sit on those tiny little chairs given to the students.  John let go of Shaggy’s lead and the poor thing ambled over to the uninviting bowls of stagnant water.  John looked on and raised an eyebrow in sympathy for his sick dog.  At home he always gave Shaggy fresh water and fed him more or less what he ate himself.  He could never understand people feeding their dogs the kind of stuff he’d seen on the television.  Some of that stuff looked absolutely disgusting, and it was always made from something, loosely labelled as ‘animal derivatives’; the first time he bought the stuff he remembered thinking to himself that it could mean just about anything.  He remembered Shaggy turning his nose up at it, and he remembered thinking to himself that he couldn’t really blame the dog; he never bought it again. 

   John really couldn’t do without his dog.  Shaggy was great company, not merely a working dog.  John’s work left him little time for socialising, so as a result he had no real friends to speak of.  He hadn’t met a woman he was interested in for over three years.  The last one had worked for him on the farm just before the death of his father.  She was nothing but a tease however.  She had him taking her all over the place, into the city and away on holiday, yet he could never get her into bed.  It was pathetic really, and that summer saw the worst seasons harvest him and his father had ever seen.  John didn’t have much time for women anymore.

   Ironically enough, these recollections were interrupted by a female voice from behind a small, slightly ajar yellow door.  “Mr Crook?  Could I see Shaggy now please?”  It sounded melodically.  John jumped to his feet and whistled Shaggy with a single, short burst from his pursed lips.  John had weathered lips, but they could still whistle.  His whole face was very handsome in a strange, weather-beaten way.  He had seen many harsh conditions out in the open.  His father had taught him not to mind too much about his appearance, and it had worked; a young farmer on his own doesn’t have much time for a mirror in the bathroom. 

   He marched purposefully over to the door and pushed it a little further.  Inside he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.  He had expected someone a little dull looking, and the sight that greeted him made him ashamed of that thought.  She was stunning, and he judged this from only a profile view.  The vet was leaning on one of those sterile looking metal trolleys they have in hospitals and, strangely enough, hotels, and she was doing some kind of paperwork.  She didn’t turn to greet him straight away, and Shaggy was bored with the situation so he curled up on the floor and sighed.  John was too impressed with the spectacle in front of his eyes to notice his old friend.  She had on one of those classic, white doctor coats, and this one was just below the waist.  Because the jacket was open, hanging down to the metal trolley she was leaning on, apart from her head, he could only see her bottom half.  She had on a skirt, showing off her legs.  It was a pretty nondescript skirt, except for the split that, due to her stance revealed a little more of the inside of her thigh than would normally be on show if she was standing.  She had beautifully tanned legs and dainty looking feet, with heels on of all things; he had never seen a vet, or a doctor for that matter, wearing heels.  John could barely drag his eyes away from her.

   He began to feel stirrings in his loins.  The last time he felt like this was over a month ago when he saw a dreadful movie with Angelina Jolie jumping off a roof, wearing a long coat and black stockings; John didn’t get much time for T.V and movies.  He could feel his cock start to grow to the full capacity of his work jeans.  It was lucky he’d worn something tight because at the rate he was hardening he would have been sticking out like a sore thumb in anything looser.  He put his left hand in his pocket to try and hold it down and to cover the fact that there was a bulge.  Then before he knew it, just when he was giving his cock a disciplinary, she turned around.  “Mr. Crook?” she asked, holding out her hand.  As she threw out her hand the pen she was holding in the other one fell to the floor.  John left his right hand in his pocket and extended his left, but by this time the vet was bending over to pick up her pen.  She came back up slowly and hit her head on John’s extended hand.  She jolted a little, ducked and stumbled forward slightly and brushed her cheek against John’s stiffy.  He stepped back quickly and helped her to her feet.

  “Sorry,” he said, starting to stammer, “I …”

  “Quite alright Mr. Crook,” she interrupted, “I’m sorry I fell on you, are you alright?”  She was very professional about the whole thing, particularly since she just rubbed her right cheek along the length of his hard prick.

  “I’m fine, really,” he said, stooping to get the pen that caused all the confusion.  He passed it to her and felt the relief in his jeans as his cock settled down a little, leaving that nice semi-erect bulge in his jeans that made anyone looking think that he had a big dick.

  “Right, well who have you brought to see me?  Oh yes, Shaggy,” she said cheerfully, “Let’s get him up on the table shall we?”

  “Right,” said John.  He gave Shaggy a little whistle and a nod, and the old faithful dog came to his side.  John lifted him to the table without batting an eyelid.  He felt the vet’s eyes on him.  Yes, he definitely felt them.

  “You’re strong Mr. Crook, he’s not small is he?” she laughed nervously and glanced down at John’s crotch unconsciously.  He saw her and didn’t quite know how to feel about it.  “So Shaggy,” she said softly, as she rubbed his tummy gently, “what’s wrong with you then?”

  “I think he might have eaten something.  He’s not been the same since yesterday when he went out to the barn near the house.  Might have some of that old poison in there.  I don’t use it anymore because I lost a couple of other dogs a time back.  He might have got some old stuff that I never managed to find; under some pallets no doubt, but I’m not sure,” said John in a self conscious, concerned voice.

  “I see Mr. Crook.  Do you happen to know what…?”

  “I brought the old packet for you to look at,” he interrupted, taking it from his wax jacket pocket.  He put it on the table and the vet picked it up.  Suddenly John decided to go out on a limb.  “So do you have a name then?” Hardly the best ever chat up line – Mr. Cool.  He knew no better.  The vet looked up at him with the packet of poison in her hand, and she was quite flushed.  “Sally,” she said cheerfully.

  “You can call me John,” he said in reply; Mr. Nice Guy.

  “Well, John I think we should keep Shaggy in overnight and monitor his progress.  We have a night shift here and they take good care of the animals.  He’ll be well looked after.  If he doesn’t get rid of whatever it is in his tummy then we’ll help him on his way.”

   John looked very worried.  He nodded resignedly and knelt down to see his old dog.  He whispered a few words in his ear and Shaggy’s tail started to wag.  Then he turned and walked out of the door without another word.  Sally had seen this kind of behaviour before, so she was not offended.

   The rest of that day was one of the longest John had spent since his father died.  Shaggy was his only companion and he had no-one else.  He finished his working day extra early, simply because he could no longer concentrate on what he was doing.  He made his way back to the house.  After eating his Birds Eye dinner for one, a dreadful interpretation of Indian cuisine, John made a fire in his dusty sitting room and sat down in an old, studded leather chair with a good crime novel.  He never bothered much with electric light and usually only read until it was well dark and the fire was glowing, by which time he and Shaggy were usually napping anyway.  His ritual would be to tell Shaggy to go to bed, which was a comfy pillow in the corner of the room, and he would go upstairs to bed or cover himself with a thick blanket and go to sleep in his chair; usually the latter choice on cold nights.  Tonight he couldn’t get poor old Shaggy out of his head, and strangely enough he couldn’t get the vet out either.  She really was a beautiful woman, someone he’d like to have around more often, he thought.  He didn’t concern himself with thinking any untoward thoughts about Sally at that moment, he only thought about her being around, in much the same way as a beautiful painting might hang on the wall; she was very pleasing for him to look at.

   John was just putting down his novel, and considering reaching for the blanket behind his comfy chair, when there was a loud knocking on his conservatory door.  He jumped up and went to the door, tripping over all manner of objects on the way.  Being a busy farmer, living alone, John didn’t get much time to clear up.  When he got there, despite the grimy glass, he saw clearly that it was Sally and she had Shaggy with her on a lead.  The old dog’s tail was wagging furiously.  John just stood for a few more seconds looking at the two of them outside his window, in some kind of surreal epiphany.  Before too much time had passed, the door knocked again.  “Hello!  Mr. Crook are you alright?  Oh, I mean John,” laughed Sally as she stared through the window at John gazing into space.  He snapped out of it and opened the door.  It was beginning to get dark and cold out there.  Shaggy leapt up his leg and John knelt to greet him like he was a child.  Again, just the same as when he was at the surgery, despite his joy, John felt Sally’s eyes all over him.

  “I didn’t expect you do bring him home,” said John in excitement, “I can hardly believe it, he’s like a different dog!  What was up with him?” he asked, clutching at Shaggy’s fluffy coat with zeal.

  “It seems that shaggy might take a fancy to eating strange objects Mr. Crook,”

  “Please, call me John,” he interrupted.

  “Well, our worst fears were that he may have eaten the poison you put down years ago.  But Shaggy spent his time eating garden hose.  Lots of garden hose,” John looked amazed, “I am sure you can appreciate that this kind of diet doesn’t digest easily!” she laughed out loud and had to stop herself before she lost control.  John could see that she too was genuinely relieved that Shaggy was better.  “He might need to sleep a lot John; he’s had a rough day.  I thought I better bring him over as soon as we sorted him out.  It’s always best for them to rest at home in my opinion.”  She finished what she had to say and stood awkwardly while John petted Shaggy and hugged him tightly.  “Well, I’ll be off then John, and leave you two to catch up and get some supper.  He can eat by the way, I never mentioned that.”

  “No,” said John standing, suddenly aware of Sally standing there, “you must stay and have a cup of tea at least, and I need to pay you.  I’d like to do more but I…,” he stopped quite suddenly, aware of how it sounded, and when he glanced up at Sally she too was blushing.

  “You can sort me out when you call into the surgery John,” said Sally by way of rescue, only making it sound worse still.

  “Now that sounds like a deal!” said John with enthusiasm, surprising himself.  “Come on in Sally, I’ll put the kettle on.”

  They walked into John’s huge kitchen and Shaggy went into the next room to find his cushion; before long he was fast asleep in the corner of the room.  John motioned to a chair at the kitchen table and cleared a load of old letters and papers so that he could put a cup of hot tea in front of Sally.  She cupped it to her mouth like it was some form of face heater.  She blew on it before she sipped and it created a small steam cloud that moistened her cheeks, making her look almost wet when she moved the cup.  John looked on hungrily.  “Shall we sit in the lounge, I’ll coal up the fire and see if we can’t make things a little warmer,” he said.  There, he thought, he did it again.  These innuendos were getting a little out of control.  But perhaps, he thought briefly, they were not and it was just the way he felt about Sally that was causing some form of paranoia.  No, wait, he thought, she’s smiling.  She must be getting it too.

  “That would be lovely, I need a bit of a warm up,” she giggled.

  “Right then,” said John on his way through to the lounge with a handful of logs from the basket in the conservatory.

   Pretty soon they were sitting by a raging fire.  John had pulled up the only other chair in the room, so that it faced his own in front of the fire, at the edge of the deep piled hearth rug.  They sat in a silence for a few minutes, merely enjoying the crackling of the fire and the dancing images on the darkening walls and floor.  “I feel much better.  What a lovely fire, I’m surprised you ever want to leave this room,” said Sally.  John could just about make out her smile in the fading light.

  “It’s a case of having to Sally, the farm won’t run itself.  Although I wish it bloody would sometimes,” he laughed.

  “You need a holiday,” said Sally assertively, “you need to shut up shop and get away from it all.”

  “And you my love are a silly devil!  Just who would feed the cows and do everything else that needs to be done every single day?” asked John.  He meant it light heartedly, but Sally looked a little hurt.  Maybe it was the tone of voice he had used.  Suddenly John felt enormously protective of Sally.  He wanted to hold her and stroke her hair, and tell her all was well with the world.  She glanced over at him, making him flinch.  He had allowed his vulnerability to show and she was sure to notice his longing for her.  This seemed to make her smile and cheer up a little.  “Well what I do is imagine I’m somewhere else you know,” said Sally, slapping her hands on her knees and leaning forward meaningfully.  “You have to use your head a little for this John,” she laughed,

  “Well I’ll struggle there love, I’ll tell you that much for free!”

  “Yes…well I learned it from a relaxation therapist years ago, do you want to try it out?”  She asked eagerly.  John looked hard across the dark and got to his feet.  He couldn’t see her face anymore, so he had to put more wood on the fire or switch a light on.

  “Aye, alright then,” he said, humouring her, “but I’ll have to get some light on the situation in here, I can hardly see you in this darkness.”

  “No, John, don’t,” she said sharply, “it’ll be better for the relaxation.  Come, sit here on the rug in front of the fire.”  John felt very conspicuous and awkward.  He looked at Sally and saw her sitting there all comfortable in the arm chair, and here he was balancing between two acts, whilst being watched by a beautiful woman.  Should he switch on a light? Put wood on the fire? Or just do as he was asked and sit down on the rug in front of Sally?

  “I think I’ll just pop a log or two on the fire first, get things a little warmer.  They won’t light things up just yet until they get going,” he said by way of compromise.  He left the room quickly and walked to the conservatory to fetch more wood.  He paused briefly on the way to consider what was happening to him.  He was beginning to feel like a man again, a real man.  He felt as though she wanted him, and it felt good.  He smiled to himself and took a big, deep breath, allowing his confidence to fill his chest, almost bursting open his shirt.  When he returned he found Sally sitting on the edge of her seat, closer to the fire, it was quite clear that she was getting a little cold.  “It’s a good thing I went to get these by the look of you girl,” he said in his usual charming way.  The truth was that, where other women would find John’s manner absolutely intolerable and totally unattractive, Sally would find it touching, considerate, and in a raw, unpretentious way, very sexy.

  “Thank you John.  Yes I think you were right to get some wood.  I really need to warm up a bit, I didn’t realise it was so cold out,” she said.  She squinted and glanced over to where she thought Shaggy would be laying down and said, “Don’t suppose Shaggy minds too much.  Just glad to be home I expect.”

  “I bet!”  Replied John.  He suddenly realised how that could have sounded.  “I didn’t mean anything by that.  It would be wonderful to spend that much time with you; I just mean the dog and the vet thing and all.  Sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, “I don’t think there is a dog alive that likes spending time with a vet,” she laughed.  She also blushed a little.  “It would be that wonderful to spend so much time with me would it John?”

  “Well…erm… Sure it would,” said John proudly, “any man would be happy to spend time with you surely?” he quizzed.

  “Surprisingly few,” she said flatly.  John approached and put the wood on the fire.  Sally patted the rug in front of her chair, inviting him to sit in front of her.  He felt awkward briefly, yet he settled down in front of her with the hearth poker in his hand, under the pretence that he was waiting for the fire to get going.  He nervously put his other hand on the very old looking coal scuttle to the left of the fire; now both hands were occupied.  As the fire started to crackle and heat up, he felt almost paralyzed by his situation.  He was sitting on his knees and they were killing him, yet he dare not move through fear of looking either too keen, or absolutely ridiculous.  “You can’t be comfortable like that John!” said Sally incredulously, “and what on earth are you planning on doing with that poker?  Relax and sit on your bottom.”  Her voice sounded equally comforting and commanding, and John was put at ease and onto his bottom.

  “Alright then,” he said, putting the poker down on the hearth, “show me what’s what then.”

  “Right, close your eyes,” she said, moving toward the edge of her seat and placing her hands on his broad shoulders.  He had shoulders like a long, solid piece of mahogany.  They hadn’t been touched by a woman in years, and they had never been massaged.  Sally pushed her fingers into his shoulders and felt the stiffness of his muscles.  John almost jumped from his seated position.

  “Jesus Christ!  That feels like you’ve stuck a knife in my shoulder blades!” he screamed, “what the hell are you doing?”  He felt Sally’s hands fly off his shoulders and she moved back in her seat quickly.

  “Sorry John.  I’m sorry!” she said, mortified.  “I was supposed to ease your tension, not give you more.  But I think you are so tense, you need a massage.  And you definitely need to relax!”  She sounded almost angry just then, and no longer apologetic.  John was frowning and rubbing his shoulders.  “Please let me try again John, I’m sorry,” she said in a softer tone,  “I’ll try to relax you a little more gently.”  She moved forward again, and John moved away his hands warily.

  “Steady now,” he said, chuckling to himself.  He felt good.  Strangely good for someone who was just in such immense pain.  He was no fool, he knew just how tense he had become over the years, but if Sally thought she was going to relieve it all in one massage and a little bit of relaxation technique she was very much mistaken.  It would take half a dozen Buddhist monks and a steam roller to iron the frustrations from John’s body.

   Sally began again, but this time by stroking down either side of his neck with both hands.  He felt like a dog, and he allowed himself a little moan of pleasure.  He felt her smile behind him.  She moved a little more forward on the armchair and put her legs either side of his huge body.  Despite his working shirt, and her jeans, he knew that those beautiful tanned legs were underneath, and his cock twitched to life again in his trousers just thinking about what he saw in the surgery that morning.  He felt a shudder as Sally took one finger from each hand and applied a little more pressure on the sides of his neck.  Her remaining fingers continued to stroke lovingly.  The fire started to crackle a little more now and the room was getting much warmer.  Something flashed in the corner of John’s left eye, momentarily snapping him out of his semi-comatose state.  He flinched and turned his head only to realise that it was the shadow of Sally’s hand stroking him.  He breathed a sigh of relief and tuned back.  The fire was creating all kinds of dancing images throughout the room now that it was burning a little harder.  He kept looking at her shadow on the hearth out of the corner of his eye.  It pleased him to see his shadow getting massaged and thought how much he would like a mirror in front of him so he could see her doing it; she was so beautiful.  Then he saw something that clinched the deal for him.  Although they had flirted a little, he hadn’t really convinced himself that Sally was actually interested in him until he saw this.  The huge, flickering shadows of Sally’s hands stroking his neck were joined on the hearth and wall above by the hulking image of her head.  The dark, cloud-like head lowered itself toward his shadow and it appeared for a moment as though they were merging together.  John heard Sally breathe in deeply and it gave him a start.  She was taking in his scent; actually smelling his hair.  He felt self conscious for a moment, but then he realised that she wouldn’t still be there if he smelled bad.  Her fingers stopped stroking and instead they just held the sides of his head gently, like someone would hold a child’s head in their hands.

  “Close your eyes,” she said softly, “and you must do as I ask.”  John wanted to answer with another silly innuendo but suppressed and only smiled.  She felt his smile through her fingertips and giggled to herself.  “Don’t think like that John, this is serious.”

  “Right, alright then, let’s go.”  He closed his eyes comfortably.  He had never been this comfortable with anyone before, and it amazed him that he found this position so easily with Sally.

  “You must remember a place where you are peaceful and calm.  You are relaxed here and nothing bothers you.  Perhaps it could be somewhere you’ve been on holiday?”

  “Are you bloody kidding,” scoffed John, snapping out of his relaxed state momentarily, “what’s a holiday?” he laughed.

  “Alright, alright!  Just try,” said Sally impatiently, “I don’t know what you farmers do to relax, probably count hay bales or something.  Shoot pheasants or dig potatoes.  Whatever John, now close your bloody eyes.”

  “Right you are boss,” he said obediently.  It felt quite good to be instructed and told off in this way, he was feeling really horny and all he could picture when he closed his eyes was what he imagined Sally to look like, naked on the rug that he was sitting on.  The fantasy was making it uncomfortable for him to sit in the position he was in, wholly attributed to the growing bulge in his trousers.

  “Right, do you have your place?” asked Sally.  John nodded.  “Good.  Now I want you to sit down there, or lay down.  Now I want you to imagine any sounds you can hear.  For example, if you are in a park, you might hear some birds singing, or perhaps a nearby road.”  John thought for a moment just who would find a road relaxing, he frowned before settling back down into his own place.  “Now you must notice any smells and other sensory perceptions you might have, like the feel of grass under your feet or the wooden seat and arms of a bench; maybe the sand of a beach.”

  John gave way completely to what compelled him the most.  He couldn’t conjure parks, peaceful forests, grassy knolls, or even a golden beach by a shimmering sea.  All he could conjure was where he was: In his own lounge, in front of the fire, with this beautiful woman trying to relax him.  He could hear the crackles of the fire, the wind on the windows on the other side of the room, and the sound of Sally’s voice comforting him.  He could also smell the fire, and he caught a faint whiff of some lovely, sweet perfume.  It made him feel like he’d walked into a department store and enjoyed only the first few seconds of his approach to the cosmetics department, before that dreadful contradiction of smells invaded, rather than serenaded his senses.  He placed his hands down onto the floor and all he could feel was the warm, fluffy rug beneath him.  It was the only thing he really took much care of in the house because he liked to sit on it sometimes in his shorts; he liked the feel of it on his naked legs.  John had all but forgotten the feelings he had from sitting in front of his own fire until Sally helped him to relax, and it had been a long time since he had indulged himself in this way.

   As it is with most people when they are moving around a lot, in this case massaging, after a while Sally soon started to get very hot in front of the fire.  “I think I’m going to have to take off my jumper John, I’m getting a bit hot,” said Sally.  She immediately snapped John out of his relaxation and he came round with a gloriously drugged-looking smile on his face.  He turned to her and sighed.  She looked at him and laughed.  “You’ve certainly started to relax haven’t you?” she asked rhetorically as she grabbed the bottom of her sweater and started to lift, “you’re like a dog that’s had his belly tickled.”  She pulled it right up over her chest, covering her face for a second or two, and revealed about five inches of naked flesh as the other top went up with the sweater.  John was near to salivation as he saw her beautiful navel and the slimness of her waist where her hips gave way.  She also had a wonderful, ample pair of tits; either that or she had on a good wonderbra.  John had seen the adverts and followed the cultural phenomenon that was the push-up bra; however, he had heard recently some refer to wonder bras as millennium domes: very impressive to look at but nothing much inside.  As Sally pulled the sweater right off, John could control his feelings and curiosities no longer.  He was not a man known for his patience, tact or general consideration for others, and he was about to prove it.  Without a word of warning he turned on his knees and threw his huge arms around Sally’s wonderfully naked waist.  To his surprise she didn’t move much.  She let out a slightly startled noise but nothing as horrific as he briefly thought she would.  He pushed his weather beaten face into her stomach and smelled her skin.  He kissed around her tummy button and stroked the naked skin on her back, above the waistband of her jeans for just a moment before her top fell down and concealed her from him.  He backed off and removed his hands.

  “Sorry,” he said, ashamed of his animalistic advances.

  “Don’t be,” said Sally flatly, as she picked up his hands again and put them straight on her shapely boobs without hesitation.  “I like to be touched by you John.”  She was breathing heavily and she was flushed in the face, with smouldering, half-closed eyes and a soft come hither voice.  It was as though something else had started to control both of them.  John moved his fingers ever so slightly so as to maintain the dome shape of her boobs.  He squeezed gently and realised quickly that it was all real; as far as his knowledge would suggest anyway.  She certainly wasn’t wearing a push-up bra or anything like it.  He pushed his hands up, under the flimsy white top she had on and he quickly discovered an ordinary bra, built for comfort rather than fun.  However, when he reached the naked skin of her boobs at the top of the bra, she tingled, and he moaned.  He touched them so gently, as though they were breakable porcelain, and he breathed out slowly, in awe as he stroked his finger tips along them.  He pulled out his hands and lifted her top gently of, over her head and discarded it on the floor with her sweater.  Returning his face to its original position on her tummy, he continued his fondling of her boobs.  This time he took each hand and pushed it inside the cups, grabbing a handful of each of her boobs.  He scooped them both out of the top and felt the weight of them in his hand.  When he brought his head up and finally looked at what he held in his hands, he lost control completely.  He balanced the weight of Sally’s tits in his hands, and marvelled at them because he couldn’t hold them, he could only balance so much tit in one hand at a time.  He thrust his face into them and shook his head.  Sally wrapped her arms lovingly around him and welcomed him to her body, moaning out loud as she did so.  She pushed his face further into her cleavage and wiggled the top half of her body to excite him even further.  She reached around John a little more and sought out the back of his shirt.  When she found it she pulled it out of his trousers and leaned over a little more to feel the skin on the base of his back.  John shuddered to her touch and immediately pulled away from her and ripped off his shirt.  He threw it aside and it went straight into the dying embers of the fire.  When it caught hold it burst into flames.  If they were in a movie the dramatic music would begin now, because at that precise moment John grabbed hold of the waistband of Sally’s jeans and wrestled with them, trying to get them down.  Sally quickly released the button holding them up, and they came off her beautiful, long legs smoothly.  He pulled her onto the rug and pushed the chairs back.  They were both facing each other on their knees as though about to say prayers.  The backdrop of blazing flames lit their way around each other’s bodies as they started to silently touch each other and explore.  Sally went for John’s buttons on the front of his jeans and ripped them open quickly, before slowing down long enough to savour the sight as she slid them down to his knees, revealing a bulging cock inside a tight pair of white shorts.  John reached around her back and unhooked the clasp of her bra, allowing him access to her heavily hanging tits, with nipples hard and erect as though they were cold.  He moved his hands around the front of them.  He didn’t squeeze, merely touched.  His finger tips brushed the ends of her nipples and Sally broke the intense silence briefly by giggling, making her big tits wobble before his eyes.  John could take no more, he stood up and wrenched his cock out of his shorts and pulled them off with his jeans.  Sally stayed on her knees in front of the fire and before John could join her back on the rug she started to try and catch his hard dick in her wet open mouth.  John looked down and saw her knelt there waiting for him to put it in her mouth.  He shook it around the opening a little before allowing her to suck it in like she was drawing up spaghetti.  She did this a couple of times because she kept allowing it to pop in and out of her mouth like a lolly.  John didn’t know what to do with himself.  Was he going to cum in Sally’s mouth now, or get down on the rug and have some more fun?  He couldn’t decide, his head was spinning with the feelings pulsating from his cock to his brain.  Sally reached up and stroked her soft hands along the back side of his legs, over his thighs and onto his bottom.  Then she pulled him into her mouth further until no more of his cock was left in sight.  John wailed out loud like a hound, and he felt Sally grin against the pubic mound of his groin.  She nuzzled and shook her head, sending all manner of vibrations and sensations through his cock, before gagging a little on it and forcing herself to pull off.  John looked down and saw his beautiful image of woman with saliva hanging from her lips and chin, still connected to his throbbing cock in long strings.  It was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen in his life.  Sally however, clearly felt a little self conscious of the fact and grabbed her top to wipe her mouth clean.

   Seeing this vulnerability in Sally made John drop to his knees and take her in his arms again.  He kissed her passionately on the mouth and neck.  He pulled her as close as his hard cock would allow before he had to shove it upwards to point along her stomach.  She grabbed his ass cheeks and squeezed them hard, making him tense the muscles.  Then she moved her hand between their hot bodies to grab his cock again.  He pushed her away and down onto the rug.  He stood over her as though she were a prize, or something he had just captured at a hunt; he felt very powerful.  “You look fantastic!” said John lowering himself to kiss her.

  “It’s the light from the fire,” giggled Sally, as she grabbed his head, welcoming him to her lips.  She ran her fingers through his thick mane of hair as she opened her mouth for him.  They kissed deeply and John pressed himself against her again.  This time he pressed against the crotch of her white thong.  He could feel her wetness on the end of his cock and he reached down to rub his hard tool against her pussy lips.  They were still kissing when John fumbled his way around her thong, pulling it to one side and finally flicking the end of his prick against her swelling clit; this made Sally bite his bottom lip.  John pulled away.  Not dramatically, he was very relaxed.  He smiled at her and put a finger to his lip to feel if it was bleeding; it wasn’t.

   Looking at her and holding his lip, John had a sudden urge to do something he had never done with a woman before.  He was relatively inexperienced when it came to sex, and usually preferred to keep what’s below for his cock and not his head.  But he decided to change all that and started to kiss Sally’s neck.  He slid his body down hers a little further and started to feel the wetness from her pussy spreading up his stomach and onto his chest as he pushed up her tits to kiss underneath them.  Sally squirmed beneath him and kept her hands firmly in his hair, tussling it and massaging his scalp.  John could now smell sex all around him and it felt good to be there again.  He skipped kissing her stomach and moved straight down to her panties.  He started to rub his cheeks against her perfectly soft skin, and every time he came to the strap of her thong he slid his long, wet tongue underneath it.  As he was tonguing the strap of her thong, Sally was squirming her way around him still, trying desperately to push her juicy pussy onto his mouth also.  She was craving him so bad that eventually she just moved his head herself.  John had planned to do this, but considered that she might want to get warmed into it, a bit like extended foreplay; he was wrong.  John smiled as Sally rammed his head into her crotch as though he was an inanimate dildo.  He clung to her scent as a bee would around a honey pot and started to lap at her pussy hungrily.  He brought his hands into play, and spread her lips to expose the fullness of her hard clit.  He hesitated a little and thought briefly to himself that he might be hurting her because she was moaning and squirming more like someone in pain than someone approaching an orgasm.  When he hesitated she lifted her head from the rug and looked down at him, and she promptly followed this up with another shove at the back of his head.  His chin was running wet and he was struggling to breathe when Sally started to thrust herself against his face indiscriminately; it didn’t matter to her whether she hit his tongue, his mouth, his nose or even his ear, she just needed to rub herself frantically on something like she had a bad itch.  Before too long John’s head was vibrating and completely out of his own control; Sally definitely had the reigns.  These reigns were two clumps of hair at either side of his head, and she was pushing and pulling them as though she were urging a young horse to approach its first fence.  As well as this she continued to thrust her crotch as though she were fucking his face.  Then suddenly it stopped.  She pulled his hair one more time, John yelped, and Sally collapsed her head back onto the rug to recover her body, now very limp and panting.  John was amazed.  He had never done anything like that before, and he was surprised at how uninhibited Sally was.  He shook his jaw from side to side.  “Sesus!” he said, looking at her sprawled out on the rug with the firelight dancing over her nakedness.  Of course what he meant to say was ‘Jesus’, but sadly his jaw was a little locked and bruised.  Sally looked up at him and laughed.

  “You look like a scared little boy,” she said, “did I hurt your mouth?”

  “No, no.  I’m alwight, weawy,” he said, mocking his own strange voice.

  “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage is there?” she laughed again.

   John approached her and hovered over her body, offering himself to her once more.  She flushed in the face and breathed deeply.  Feeling down between her legs she caught hold of his hard cock.  She nudged the end of it against her pussy while John just stayed there, suspended on his huge strong, strut-like arms.  John moaned his gratitude and pushed forward, letting about half of his dick slide in easily.  Sally smiled and took him in her arms as he pushed in his dick to its maximum.  They fucked each other long and slow.  John felt like exploding inside her on several occasions but he pulled out his dick and let it rest on her naked thighs while he kissed her shoulders and warm, wobbling tits.  He liked to watch her tits shake and wobble so he continued screwing her while apart from her, supported on his long, strong arms.  He fucked her hard and Sally quickly realised what he was watching.  She smiled and pushed her arms together, causing her tits to merge into one large, beautifully soft pad, ready for him to bury his face.  However, it wasn’t his face that he wanted to bury in these beautiful mounds of flesh, it was his cock.  He pulled out of her and gradually straddled up to them; his long legs on either side of her body, trapping her underneath him.  “Oh, I see what your plan is,” said Sally in a cheeky voice.  She opened up her cleavage and allowed John’s cock entry.  He moaned as she wrapped her tits back around it and virtually buried it in sumptuous flesh.  Sally relaxed herself into John’s rhythm straight away and allowed him to fuck her tits.  His cock was very slippery and kept popping out until she placed her hands over the top.  John panted and stared at the spectacle.  It made him want to cum all over her, but before he could, Sally pushed him off and onto his back.  She reached down between her legs and put John’s slippery cock back inside her wet pussy; he glided in easily.  She had him as far inside as she could and John was very close to climax.  She gripped his chest, leaned back and rubbed herself on him, grinding down hard and leaning back so that her clit caught on the base of his stiff cock.  She took one hand away and played with herself while she moved faster and faster.  “Quick!” called John in a hurry, “I’m going to cum.”

  “Wait!” she commanded and pushed even harder.  She reached behind her ass and grabbed a hold of John’s balls.  She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the top of them and squeezed tight so John couldn’t cum if he wanted to.  He moaned out and twitched like crazy inside her.  Finally she moaned out and pressed hard on her clit, pinching it between her first to fingers.  She jumped off his cock during her orgasm, and released her grip on John’s balls.  She gripped his cock tightly as he sprayed his load all over her hand and his own stomach.

   They both fell flat on the floor, still in each other’s arms.  They didn’t speak, and they fell asleep in front of the fire until morning, when the cold air woke them with a start.  John woke first, with a huge smile on his face.  He looked at Sally laying on her front, showing her beautiful ass and lovely long legs, and he recollected the previous night.  He covered her with his blanket from behind the chair and stood to put on his trousers.  He walked out to the kitchen and found Shaggy wagging his tail in affirmation of John’s new discovery.  “Mustn’t get too excited boy,” he said resignedly, bending to rub between the dog’s ears.

  “Why ever not?” came Sally’s voice from behind him, “you were last night.”


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