Honey-Lee Meets the Afghan
By HoneyDew.
You padded off toward the shower, and I started making things happen in the kitchen. As I put bacon in the pan, I glanced at the floor, and OMG, there were semen stains in a puddle between the kitchen and dining room and a trail of droplets leading toward the bedroom. I grabbed a wet Swifter mop and made short work of the stains, washed my hands again, and carried on making breakfast, but I kept smiling and chuckling as clips of last night’s action flashed across the screen in my mind. It was a lovely day, so I shut off the AC, slid back the wall leading to the lanai, and set the table on the lanai. True to my word, the toast popped up just as you came in looking moist from the shower. I poured you a cup of coffee, buttered the toast, sliced tomato onto our plates, and served the bacon, eggs, and pan-fries.
We ate in companionable silence, watching a pair of great white egrets stalking their breakfasts in the shallow water at the edge of the canal that forms the southern boundary of our yard. Other birds swooped up and down the canal like an avian freeway. Finished with our breakfast, I got up and poured another cup of coffee, but as I set it on the table beside you, you pulled me onto your lap. Under my bottom, I could feel the firmness of your rising cock through my thin skirt, and I thought, OMG, he must have taken TWO of those little blue pills already! I rest my head contentedly on your shoulder and enjoy the feeling of your questing hand under my skirt and I ran my fingernails gently over the skin of your chest. But when your fingers began to probe my pussy, I stood up. “Not before I’ve had my morning douche,” I admonished and began to clear the table.
After tidying the kitchen and starting the dishwasher a few minutes later, I headed for my bathroom. “The morning newspaper will be on the driveway if you’re interested” I call over my shoulder. Once in the bedroom, I slipped out of my skirt, panties, and tee and adjusted the water temperature in the hand-held shower. I douched thoroughly, applied lotion, and dried myself before slipping in a tampon to absorb any excess water. I touched up my makeup and hair and slid into clean white panties, a skin-tone elastic bra, and a cute little white sundress with some glitter. When I came out, you were sitting at the table on the lanai reading the newspaper, but now, a big white Afghan dog is lying beside your chair. “He was sniffing around the backyard and looked lost,” you explained.
The dog looks up at me and gives a tentative wag of his tail as I sit back on your lap. This time though, when your cock starts pushing up, I just wriggle a little more. “You’re my good little whore” you say and stand me up just long enough to slide my panties down and toss them aside. Dog gets up, goes over and sniffs my panties, picks them up in his mouth, comes back, and lays down, panties between his front paws. Meanwhile, you continue to fondle my boobs with one hand while using the other to fondle other things under my skirt and between my legs. I sigh contentedly. Suddenly you exclaim, “What’s This?” as your fingers encounter the string dangling from my pussy.
“Oh darn! It’s a tampon I forgot to take out after douching.”
“I’ve always wanted to pull on one of those strings,” you laugh, and grabbing a handy tissue, you slowly pull the string from my pussy until the tampon plops out onto the tissue. It is unstained, of course, but fairly enlarged with water, so you just wrap the tissue around it and drop it in the waste basket beside the beer fridge. But I can see the incident has made you horny again, so even though it’s bright daylight and our yard is only semi-private, I don’t object when you drop your shorts, lift my skirt and slide me down onto your erect cock. I even spread my legs so you can fondle my emerging clitoris. I lean back against your chest and let my pussy muscles contract and release and contract around your cock. Soooo good! But suddenly I feel something different happening between my legs. It seems Dog is taking an interest and, as well as your hand down there, Dog is right in there copping licks whenever he can.
“You are a horny whore slut, aren’t you” you exclaim when you look down. “Even a dog can tell what a horny bitch you are.” And with the sudden inspiration, you demand, “Get down here and suck this cock for me.” I guess, being blonde, I’m sometimes a little slow to catch on, so I just kneel on the rug in front of your chair and take your cock in my mouth, tasting a bit of my honey and enjoying its firmness as I let you slide easily down my throat. By the time I feel Dog’s cold nose on my pussy it’s too late! You have your hands firmly tangled in my hair, my face is buried in your crotch, and a long canine tongue is enthusiastically licking my bare bottom under my short skirt.
I can’t see what’s going on back there, but I feel you reach over with one hand and flip my skirt up, leaving me exposed. And I certainly feel it when a warm furry body is suddenly up on my rump, and a slim but very long and warm something injects itself into my pussy. I struggle a bit, but a big dog’s penis is different from a man’s. Once it’s in, he expands a knot at its base and there is no way it is coming back out until he shoots his load. With your hands on my head and in my hair, keeping your cock firmly planted deep in my throat, I can’t even object.
Now Dog is getting going! I’ve had some young dudes bang my pussy fast and furious for a few minutes, but nothing like this! The dog must be doing about 60 strokes a minute. And he doesn’t stop! After ten minutes of fast-humping me, he picks up the pace, faster and faster. And now, finally, I feel the gush of his cum. He stops humping, gives a few last thrusts, and pulls out. “OMG,” you laugh as you lift my head off your cock, “that was something to watch! And you came at least twice! I know because you damn near bit my cock off when you came. You came for a dog!”
“Oooooh, I suppose I did,” I admit, blushing. “But,” I hedge, “actually, I was cumming for your cock in my mouth.”. “Are you up for sloppy seconds?” Seeing the neighbor across the canal come walking down to her dock, I grab your hand and step into the house, your cock preceding us.
“Now, where were we?” you ask rhetorically as you sit on a kitchen chair and pull me toward you. I straddle you and the chair and settle myself down onto your cock, and you pull me close and kiss me hard on the lips. I like sitting like this, your cock buried deep up inside of me, your lips bruising mine, your hands fondling my breasts and petting my skin under my shirt. I squeeze your cock with my pussy and wriggle with pleasure. But you have other ideas.
You lift me off your cock, take me by the hand, and lead me toward the bedroom, Dog following faithfully behind, his nose sometimes sniffing my bottom. In my bedroom ceiling are two large silver hooks about 6 feet apart above the large open area at the foot of the bed. You must have noticed them earlier as you must have noticed the thick white nylon rope coiled neatly on a hook just inside the closet door. You waste no time in grabbing the rope with its two attached pulleys. You kick a footstool into position and attach pulleys to the hooks so the rope ends hang down to the floor while a great loop drapes in between. You yank the big duvet off the foot of the bed, toss it on the floor, and firmly push me down on top of it. The dog is watching intently. With a quick, decisive motion, you crouch, hook your fingers under the hem of my dress, lift it off over my head, and pull my panties down around my ankles, leaving me naked except for my bra, heel slippers, and bright red toe-nail polish.
You quickly fashion a noose for each of my ankles, then slowly pull on the rope’s center loop. The rope runs smoothly over the pulleys, and soon, my legs are spread as wide as possible. But you don’t stop pulling. And my ankles are lifted off the floor and my legs and lower body until only my shoulders and upper back are cushioned on the duvet. From this angle on my back, I can admire my sexy open-toe shoes and pretty toenails way above my head. And I can also see that Dog has an erection. I am quite astonished at how large it is – fully 8 inches long, as large around as a smaller man’s penis – and blood red.
You loop the rope so it is secured behind my neck, then stand over my face and say, “OK, buddy,” and as if waiting for the cue, Dog comes over and begins to nose and lick my pussy. You crouch down over my face, and I obediently begin to lick your balls. The dog is interested. He stands and loops his front paws over my wide-spread thighs and begins to lick my clit, which is beginning to pay attention. But the rope is too high for him to reach my cunt with his cock. So you adjust the rope so my hips are closer to the floor and Dog is instantly into me. Fortunately, his cock is wet and slippery, and I am already quite wet and open from your earlier attentions, so it slides in painlessly.
Despite the strangeness of the situation, I am incredibly stimulated by Buddy’s pounding, and when you lay down on top of me and slide your cock into my throat and start to lick my belly, I go over the top in seconds. But it doesn’t stop! You begin to fuck my mouth just as though you are in my pussy. Perhaps influenced by Buddy’s pace, you’re pumping about twice as fast as usual – maybe 30 strokes a minute. That’s one second going in, one second coming out. Full depth in; almost full stroke out. The now familiar orgasmic waves begin to wash over me. I want to scream, but the scream is punched back by your plunging cock, so I just reach up with my arms and grab onto your butt cheeks pounding above me.
Of course I lose all sense of time and reality. I don’t lose consciousness, but the sheer speed and intensity of our fornication seem to lift me into a new universe, one where stars explode soundlessly around us, where the waves of the ocean wash up over me as I lay on a beach, each wave bringing another body-wrenching orgasm and where there are 1000 men, perhaps 10,000, ringed around me, every one with his hard cock in hand, everyone waiting his turn in me.
When you cum, it is like the most wonderful, creamy milkshake I’ve ever tasted. It soothes my throat, moistens my lips, and, I’m sure, provides me much-needed nourishment. You pull out and kneel over me, licking spots of your cum off my lips and cheeks, then kiss me sweetly. Buddy finishes up with his three final, spaced thrusts, and I feel his cum flushing and filling my channel. He gives a final lick to my rigid clit, and I cry out because it is now so super-sensitive. He hops off of me and wanders out of the room, most likely to lie on the lanai and lick his balls. You stand and slacken the rope, lowering my body to the ground. “Great fuck, Honey,” you compliment and saunter out, cock still semi-up and swinging back and forth as though seeking new cunts to conquer.
I step into the bathroom and flush out my pussy, have a quick shower, comb my hair and fix my face. I wore a clean bra, panties, crisp pink shirt, white shorts, and blingy open sandals with a 3-inch heel. I feel great! I’ve been thoroughly, magnificently fucked by man and beast twice already today, and it’s only 3:00. Outside, I find you enjoying a beer on the lanai with Buddy at your side. “If we’re going to have a dog around for a while until we find his owner, we had better stock up on some dog food,” I suggest. “And I need a few things from the store as well.”
“Let’s do it then,” you agree, so I grab keys and purse and head for the garage. When I slide open the van’s side door, Buddy jumps right in and braces himself upright on one of the “captain’s chairs.” At the store, you volunteer to stay in the van with Buddy so we can keep the AC running as the outside temperature is 98 F. So I dash in alone and run into a big shock! On a bulletin board just inside the lobby is a big picture of Buddy with the word REWARD over his head. I step close to read the text beneath and learn he’s from “the Estates,” an acreage development about 3 miles north of our place. Well, I’m sure going to miss him, but I take one of the little tags with the phone number from the bottom of the poster, stick it in my bra, and hurry in to do my shopping. I buy a small bag of dog food just in case . . .
The ride home is a bit somber, as we’ve both come to love Buddy as we’ve started to call him. I now know from the poster that his name is Bobby; perhaps the names are close enough, so he always responds to Buddy. We get home, traipse inside, and I call the number. A woman’s voice answers the phone, and when I ask if she’s the lady who has lost a dog, she squeals, “Oh yes! Have you found him?” I give her the address, and she says she and her husband will be right over. She sounds so excited. It’s like talking to a 5-year-old on Christmas Eve. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, the doorbell rings, and Bobby gives a Woof! – the first time he’s barked.
At the door are a man and a woman. She’s about 45, blonde, beautifully made up and groomed, an inch or so taller than I am, not fat but, as my dad used to say, “nicely filled out.” He’s a bit older, graying my height but “stocky,” wearing a heavy gold chain and three big rings crusted with stones – diamonds or good fakes. A second marriage for both, I suspect. I welcome them in, and Bobby welcomes them both with a sniff to the crotch. “We’re sitting on the lanai,” I offer, so they follow me where you’re sitting with a freshly opened frosty beer. “Beer all around,” I ask, but they decline.
“We just have to thank you so much for finding Bobby. I’m Gloria, by the way, and this is my husband, Mike. We do the round of introductions. They’re Gloria and Mike Holmstead from the Estates, they recently retired and just moved to Florida a year ago. They love the weather, and isn’t it a shame about the recent scandals in Washington and Tallahassee?
Finally, Mike leans forward, saying, “Now we advertised a reward, and we want to pay up. We’re thinking $100.00. Does that seem right to you?”
“Oh no!” I exclaim. “It has been ample reward just having Buddy – uh, Bobbie with us. He’s certainly an amazing dog with very special talents.” Gloria starts at my remark, and her eyes open wide. Knowing I’m talking about him, Bobby lays his head in my lap.
“He’s a nice dog,” Gloria tries to say casually, “but I wouldn’t know about his talents.”
“Mmmm, I’m sure you do,” I tease. “He’s been very well-trained and coached.” Gloria choked, but Mike just laughed.
“I think we’ve been made, Glo,” he laughs again, “but that’s alright because these folks entirely approve of Bobby’s special training, and I would be happy to know another couple with similar interests.”
After that, our conversation becomes much more cordial and intimate, so when I disclose that I’m an “unmodified” tg-woman, they both clap their hands together in delight. “Listen, we must go because we committed for tonight, but tomorrow’s Sunday. Could you come over for Sunday brunch around 11:00? We can talk about all kinds of interesting things and maybe have fun. I promise Bobby will be there and happy to see you.” Gloria is fairly dancing in her chair with excitement.
“We’d be happy to come,” I answer without even consulting you, confident in your interest in the finer things of life. After Gloria, Mike, and Bobby leave, we look at each other in amazement. But the house somehow seems emptier. “Come,” I say, “let’s swim.” I pull my hair into a top knot, pop out of my clothes on the spot in the living room, and then help you with yours. “Hey, this is the first time I’ve seen him “at ease.” By the way, what do you call him? Most guys have a name for their cock.
“His name is Pierre. I named him after a former Canadian Prime Minister.” you grin as we walk out to the lanai hand in hand. The salt-pool water is kept at about 90 degrees F, so it feels like a luxurious bath as we step in. We float around in the clear blue water, enjoying the slipperiness of our bodies touching, our skin sliding over each other. I back you to one side where I know a jet of hot water is coming in from the heater. The water blasts against your back and rump, relaxing the muscles there, and the water flowing around your body also caresses my skin. We’re simultaneously in each other’s arms, and your mouth is on mine.
The pulsing water flow, the heat, the tropical breeze, and our embrace are intoxicating. We go out of the pool together and into the shower to wash away the salt, then pat each other dry with big white towels. When we step out of the bathroom, we just collapse on the big bed, holding each other, your warm cock nestling comfortably in my pussy as we whisper sweet nothings. “Good night, my sweet, beautiful slut whore” you whisper as you doze off.
When I wake, it is 1:05 by the clock radio. The bedroom door to the pool is still open, and a half-moon hangs bright in the south-west. The temperature has dropped, and I feel chilly, so I pull a sheet over us as you sleep quietly. Crawling down under the sheet, I find your sleeping cock, slip it in my mouth, lay my head on your tummy, and suck contentedly like a baby with a nipple. When I wake again, I’m still in the same position, now sucking on a dildo, and you’re gone. Frantically, I leap out of bed, but you’re in the other bathroom, obviously in the shower and singing a happy song. I quickly put some coffee on to brew, run for the shower to finish my ablutions and enjoy coffee on the lanai with you. I love Florida mornings.
When I return, you’re drinking coffee and scanning the Sunday paper. “Did you find my little surprise?” you chuckle. “When I woke up, you were sound asleep with my cock in your mouth and didn’t want to give it up; when I pulled out, you started to whimper, so I found a replacement in the drawer beside the bed, and you settled back to sleep.”
We have a chuckle over your little prank, but it’s 9:30, and I need to douche and dress if we’re going to be at the Holmstead’s by 11:00. And no, you can’t watch. This is one thing a girl has to do by herself.
The End.
*This story has been edited by AI to fix spelling, formatting errors, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t always mean a story’s narrative/plot flaws are fixed (That’s the author’s job). Also, AI can be inaccurate at times when editing grammar. The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here.