Bunny’s Story

by

DeviantAgenda (321chatwin@gmail.com)
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Long after the ordeal, if there was such a thing as after, Bunny Rengel would blame her mother. Had her mother let Bunny have a dog nothing would have happened. How do I know you’ll take of it, her mother had said, which, looking back, was pure irony. Do you have any idea, mother, what I’ve done to take care of a dog?

Perhaps ironic as well, Bunny didn’t blame Mr. Thomas. She felt other things, certainly: hatred, rage, disgust… as well as, despite everything…less reconcilable emotions: devotion, need, longing. How could she not on some level long for the man who knew her core being so completely, who accepted her, who had moulded her?

She had always regarded him in a different light compared with other grown-ups. He was handsome, but not in any GQ way. She knew her mom had a crush on him, and that alone spoke volumes. Bunny could see why–there was no mistaking his presence or strength. He was, when he chose to be, ruthlessly charming. She often wondered if he had twisted her mother around his finger from the beginning to have easier access to her, Bunny.

He had never talked down to Bunny, which somehow gave extra weight to his comments, his bits of strategically placed approval, justified words of reproach. However, the most noticeable difference between Mr. Thomas and other grown-ups, other men, became clear after Bunny started to develop. Bunny’s tits developed early, and in earnest. Large, firm tits swaying from her chest before most of her girlfriends had even sprouted nubs. The moronic comments from the boys were easy to shrug off, the taunts from the girls less so. But it was the reaction of men that was the most unsettling.

There were two camps, the sneaks and the pervs. The sneaks stole furtive peaks and glances when they could, eyes darting away when she became aware of them. The pervs were oddly less annoying. They held their glances and might try to catch her eye. At first she would blush and turn away, but soon she realised that the easiest way to defuse a perv was to match his gaze, and then he’d be the one shuffling away.

The worst reaction by far was from her dad. It was as though she ceased to exist, in a physical way, anyway. Her childhood in his embraces, his warm affection, his sweet good night hugs? Gone. It was like she emitted toxic rays or something. He basically stopped looking at her at all.

But Mr. Thomas? He seemed totally unfazed by her changes. He never stopped looking at her, didn’t treat her differently, didn’t avoid her or seek her out, continued to talk to her in that easy grown up way, even if the tone and tenor of his gazes did change. His looks made her squirm—long, unhurried looks that lingered over her form, her tits, her ass, her legs with a calmness and openness that made her tingle. And made her, in an odd sense, feel seen—seen for who she was, for who she was becoming.

But the real reason Bunny could never blame Mr. Thomas, could never, despite everything, wish him out of her life, was that he was the reason for Rex. Rex, Mr. Thomas’s adorable, furry, big black mutt of a dog. When he first moved in, Bunny had squealed with delight, the dog she was never allowed living right next door. But, typically, her mother had strictly forbidden her from going over to bother the neighbour over “that stupid dog,” And then the impossible: Mr. Thomas realized her interest in Rex and had slowly worked his magic.

Not only was Bunny allowed the occasional visit, over the years her mother gave her blessing to Rex being Bunny’s surrogate dog. Bunny was allowed to feed Rex, take him for walks. She didn’t even mind cleaning up after him. It seemed completely natural, not at all gross or disgusting like her girlfriends said it was. She became Rex’s official dog walker. She was entrusted with the keys to Mr. Thomas’s house and took care of Rex when he was away.

During that summer, the summer, she was over at Mr. Thomas’s more than ever. She grew tired of the boys fumbling over her, of her girlfriends being catty and back stabbing, of the grown-ups being so incredibly lame and treating her so differently. Rex was perfect. He adored her. Barked and went generally crazy the second he saw her. They would wrestle around the yard through long, warm afternoons. He listened to everything she told him. Kissed her face with slobbery dog kisses that she increasingly loved. When he was worn out, she could rest her head on the barrel of his chest and read while he slept in the shade.

And Mr. Thomas was awesome, too. Never complained about her being around. Gave her and Rex plenty of space. There was an edge to him that made her mind her manners, but an affectionate side that made her feel welcome.

The first hint of what would follow happened during late afternoon. She and Mr. Thomas were talking by the front door, something about his needing her to look after Rex that weekend. Bunny remembered Mr. Thomas’s eyes being more intensely on her than usual. She remembered what she was wearing: tight white cotton shorts that were form-fitting snug and a sky blue halter top with built-in cups so no need for a cumbersome bra. Barefoot. Rex trotted over from the back yard and while she was squirming a bit under Mr. Thomas’s gaze, Rex unceremoniously stuck his nose right into Bunny’s mound. It wasn’t like he’d never done that before. He did it a lot, actually, and Bunny would just shove his head away and sometimes even roll her eyes if he was being persistent.

But this time he did it right in front of someone. And not just someone, but Mr. Thomas. Bunny blushed crimson, pushed her hands and arms down over her thighs and said, “Rex!”

To her astonishment, Mr. Thomas replied, “He’s just smelling you. Why are you embarrassed?”

Rex’s snout continued to try to push under her hands. Bunny gasped as his long, wet, sand papery tongue snaked out and swiped along her inner thigh.

“I’m… I’m not embarrassed,” Bunny lied.

“Then let him smell.”

Bunny looked up at Mr. Thomas. Felt the trap. If she continued to resist then she obviously was embarrassed, and was obviously a liar. Somehow, it was really important to Bunny that Mr. Thomas think she was honest. Slowly she stood straight, her heart pounding in her chest, and put her hands to her sides. Rex immediately lunged at her mound, pressing his nose into her slit while Bunny’s eyes rolled back in her head, her senses flooded with conflicting thoughts, emotions, sensations. Before she could push him away again, Mr. Thomas snapped his fingers, and Rex sat, whined, looking expectantly at each of them in turn.

“So, I leave in the morning, Bunny. I won’t have time to take Rex for his morning run.”

She nodded. Said something in return and ran back through her sliding glass doors and up to her room, where she lay on her side, thighs pressed together, a flood of arousal coursing through her. She wasn’t positive, but sensed she might have even had an orgasm as she rocked herself long and slow on her bed.

That night she explored herself in a way she had never done before. Explored her body. Felt herself. Felt her lips, amazed at how slick and sticky they were. Felt deeper into the folds, along her ridges. She imaged herself standing there. Mr. Thomas looking down on her. Rex digging his snout into her slit, hitting that magic button with his nose, and the twisting sensation in her belly that rippled through her thighs as she stood and let Rex have full access to her smell, and Mr. Thomas full view. Her body shuddered again, tightened, and convulsed.

She spent the entire day Saturday with Rex. Took him on his run. Fed him, played in the yard. He watched a movie with her. Snuggled up on the couch with her after supper, fell asleep with her, both of them sprawled out on the cushions. She woke that night, feeling his paw scrapping against her tummy. As she slide it away Rex stretched, his paw catching her right on her pussy, his stretching sending an excruciating jolt through her entire body, before he settled down, his neck now on her mound, his furry head on her belly. She felt his warmth against her pussy the entire rest of her restless night.

On Sunday, Bunny went through the day in a fog. She looked at the clock, counting down the hours until Mr. Thomas was due home. By afternoon it was time to decide. Was she going to do it or not. She looked at the clock again. Without allowing further time to think, Bunny suddenly stood up, feeling the heat between her legs. She called out, “Rex. Here boy!”

He ambled over. Sat facing her, looking up to her face. Bunny closed her eyes, waiting for him to press his snout into her. She opened her eyes. “Rex.” She patted her thigh, pulling the waist of her short denim skirt up, hoping her smell would be more pronounced. Rex leaned forward and licked her leg. Bunny furrowed her brown. Lifted her skirt up around her hips, her mound arching out in front of her, cupped in thin white panties. “Rex, come on!” But he continued to look at her.

Bunny’s agitation increased. She crossed to the living room. Pulled the coffee table to the side. Rex followed and watched. She gave him an annoyed glare and unzipped her skirt, stepped out of it. She breathed deep. Peeled her panties off. Stood there, bottomless. “What the hell,” she muttered and took off her top. Completely naked, she sat on the sofa, scooted her ass to the edge of the cushion, placed her feet up and out, her heels pressed to her ass cheeks. “Rex, it is here if you want it.”

She then closed her eyes and began to play with herself. Let her fingertips roam and explore and travel over her lips. She dipped her fingertip into the tight entrance to her hole, and spread the drizzling juices along her folds and up over her slit, feeling herself respond and moisten.

And then she felt it. A long, slow, luxurious, impossibly intense swipe of Rex’s tongue along her slit. She instantly convulsed and thrust her hips forward, a little mini orgasm instantly searing through her. She gasped, panted, collected herself. Then resettled and opened her pussy lips wide and waited, completely still. And then it continued. Swipe after swipe of that long rough tongue along her folds, lapping, lapping, lapping at her. Lapping up and over and across her gash. His tongue hitting low, right along her asshole and swiping up over her inner lips, her fingers struggling to open herself even wider.

She felt the tension build, a tension like a massive tidal wave in her belly that was ready to crash with a thunderous intensity that she couldn’t believe was possible… until she was suddenly aware that she wasn’t alone. In a panic that paralysed her, her orgasm instantly suspended in an agonising freeze, her eyes bolted open–as if awaking with a start from a dream–to see herself staring straight into Mr. Thomas’s smouldering, piercing, scorn filled eyes. But this wasn’t waking from a dream.

The unmistakable proof of what she was caught doing was so obvious that Bunny’s flash of crazed, desperate excuses and explanations burst in their own absurdity. Bunny groaned in soul wrenching humiliation, wanting to scream and screech. Wanting to pound her fists and somehow make it all a dream, to reach back through time and leave Rex’s supper in his dish and run home to safety without any of this happening.

Instead, she rolled to her side, and curled up into a naked ball and began to sob, trying to will away the reality that she had, in fact, woken into a nightmare.

THE END.

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1 Comment on Bunny’s Story

One Comment

  1. It was good until the end. I am not sure how this story should have ended considering she was caught, but to turn this sexy story into a nightmare, How rude!

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