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Archive name: bm-inc.txt (wife/dog, blkmail, teen-m)
Authors name: Donna (anonymous)
Story title : If I do it...

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-= This work is copyrighted to the author © 2000. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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If I Do It, It Must Be Normal
(wife/dog, F/m-teen, reluc, blkmail)
by Donna (Anonymous)


I've been married for six years to a very nice man, a 
widower, whom I'll call George. In many ways George is 
the ideal husband. He's honest, hard working and a good 
provider for his son and myself. The major problem is 
that he's almost twice my age. I'm in my thirties and 
he's well over sixty. That wouldn't be a problem except 
that over the past four years he's gradually become 
impotent and two years ago he completely lost interest 
in sex. 

We never have sex. I don't mean seldom. I mean never. 
Even that might not have been a problem if he'd 
maintained his interest in sex and had been willing to 
satisfy me in some other way, orally or manually, but 
he's too much of a puritan for that and he seemed to 
assume that since he wasn't interested in sex anymore, 
I wasn't interested either. He was wrong. I became very 
frustrated and, since masturbation was my only outlet, 
I masturbated frequently. Of course I had to do that in 
secret because George would have thought I was depraved 
and sinful if he'd caught me at it.

But if my husband lost interest in sex, his son, my 
stepson, who I'll call Philip, didn't. He's fourteen 
and, perhaps like most fourteen year old boys, seems 
obsessed with it. I do the laundry and have to wash his 
sperm-soaked washcloths every week so I know he 
masturbated even more frequently than I did. He also 
hid girlie magazines in his room and peeked at my body 
all the time and spied on me trying to catch a look at 
me undressed.

Philip is a good looking kid and big for his age but 
he's aggressive, demanding, inconsiderate and more than 
a little spoiled. Perhaps because he lost his mother at 
an early age, George gives him everything he wants and 
exercises very little discipline. 

Even though I didn't particularly like Philip, 
occasionally, just for amusement, I'd give him a peek 
at me in my undies, or a look down my blouse, or up my 
skirt. I figured it was harmless and I certainly had no 
intention of letting it go any further than that. But 
you can't put a horny boy and a horny woman in a house 
together and not expect problems.

It all started with the dog. Philip agitated for a dog 
so naturally we had to get one. I refused to try to 
house-train a puppy so George and I went to the pound 
and picked out a grown one. Butch is a very big, black 
mongrel. 

George thought that having a dog would teach Philip 
responsibility but, of course, I was the one that ended 
up with the responsibility of caring for the dog. I 
feed it, make sure it has water, let it out when it 
wants out, take it for walks and take it to the Vet. 
Philip yells at it and pets it occasionally. 

So the dog ended up loving me and following me around 
everywhere and is reluctant to let me out of his sight 
even if I have to pee. So when the dog and I were home 
alone I'd go to the bathroom and leave the door open 
and he'd sit in the doorway and watch me.

That's what got me into trouble. One day, after I'd 
finished peeing and was just about to get off the pot, 
the dog strolled over, stuck his head between my legs 
and licked me. It was like an electric shock! No one, 
man or beast, had licked my pussy since my dating days 
years ago. (Some of the males I dated qualified as 
beasts.) 

I got so excited by the dog's tongue that I kicked off 
my panties and spread my legs wider and let him lick 
some more. I couldn't help myself. Eventually he got 
tired and quit, leaving me on the edge of orgasm. I 
wanted more. I left my panties laying on the bathroom 
floor and went to the kitchen to see what I could find 
that Butch might like to lick. I knew he loved peanut 
butter but that seemed too messy. I finally decided on 
peanut oil. I pulled up my dress, spread some on my 
cunt, sat down on a kitchen chair, spread my legs wide 
and called him over. He slurped it up and I had a 
tremendous orgasm.

From then on it became a daily ritual. As soon as 
George left for work and Philip left for school, I'd 
pull off my panties, sit down on a kitchen chair, 
spread some peanut oil on my cunt and let Butch eagerly 
lick it off and lick me to a great orgasm. It was 
admittedly a perverted thing to do but what was the 
harm? The dog liked it, I certainly liked it and who 
was it harming? If George had learned about it he would 
have been appalled and probably order me out of the 
house and straight to hell, but it wasn't like I was 
being unfaithful by having an affair with the mailman.

Soon I stopped wearing panties entirely. What was the 
point? By noon they were dirty with dog slobber, peanut 
oil and my own wetness.

I swear I'd never had any dirty thoughts about fucking 
a dog before he started licking me but I certainly 
started having them then. In addition to a tongue Butch 
had a cock, a very big cock. I'd seen it on occasion. 
It wasn't long before I started checking to see just 
how big it was. I'd get the dog over on his back on the 
living room carpet and play with his sheath. His cock 
would slowly come out. It looked a little gross at 
first, red and wet with lubrication and with that big, 
round knot at the base, but in size it was very 
impressive and it certainly was a cock.

I soon got used to the way it looked and one morning. 
after I'd played him into an erection, I got my nerve 
together, pulled up my dress, straddled him on the 
floor and eased myself down on it. It was the first 
cock I'd had in two years and it felt great! I rode him 
to three quick and glorious orgasms before he had one 
himself and lost interest.

I felt very depraved after that first time. Getting the 
dog to lick me off could be passed off as a mild 
perversion, just fun and games, but fucking a dog? That 
was bestiality with a capital B! I took a long, hot 
shower, washed thoroughly and promised myself I'd never 
do it again! 

Well, I amended that promise a short time later, I 
wouldn't do it again unless I got really horny and 
absolutely had to have some relief.
I felt that way the very next day. So from then on our 
morning licking sessions were followed by fucking 
sessions. I tried various positions with Butch. Dog 
style didn't work very well because, in his excitement, 
he had a hard time finding the right port of entry and 
he'd withdraw too far and slip out all the time. 

We settled on either me astride him on the floor, or me 
slouched down on the couch with my bare ass half over 
the edge of the cushion and my legs spread wide and my 
feet on the floor and him mounting me missionary style 
with his back paws on the floor and his front ones on 
my shoulders. In that position I could guide him in and 
then take hold of the knot at the base of his cock and 
keep him inside me.

The first few times I got the dog to fuck me I still 
felt very guilty and depraved, but I soon got over 
that. As someone once pointed out, what we do is 
"normal". It's those strange things that other people 
do that are "abnormal".  The dog clearly enjoyed it, I 
certainly enjoyed it and we were harming no one.  What 
my husband didn't know wouldn't disturb his moral 
principles. Besides, my husband actually benefited by 
it. Since I was no longer sexually frustrated I was a 
much happier, cheerier person. He noticed it and 
commented on it, congratulating me on getting over my 
"constant gloom".

And yes, if you must know all the dirty details, I 
occasionally did get carried away with lust and suck 
off Butch. I know, if you haven't done that, it sounds 
gross, but it really isn't much different than sucking 
off a man and it's just as enjoyable. There is, 
however, one major difference: The dog doesn't run 
around and tell all his buddies that you give great 
head. Again, after the first time I did it I felt very 
guilty and depraved, but again, I soon got over that 
and did it again and again.

However, there were problems. Butch didn't understand 
that this little affair we had going was supposed to be 
kept a secret from my husband and his son. Even when 
they were around he'd stick his nose up under my skirt 
or dress and try to lick my cunt. He knew that was the 
prelude to fucking. Philip, my stepson, saw him do that 
a number of times and once, when Philip was in the 
kitchen, I bent way over to take a pan out of the 
drawer in the bottom of the stove and Butch jumped on 
my back and tried to mount me. 

I tried to laugh all this off and blame it on "dogs 
will be dogs". That seemed to work with my husband, but 
Philip started eyeing me suspiciously. He's sharper 
than his father. Not nearly as nice, but sharper.

Still things went on their merry way until one 
disastrous day. George went off to work and Philip went 
off to school. As soon as they were gone, as usual, I 
pulled up my dress, spread peanut oil on my cunt, sat 
down on a kitchen chair, spread my legs wide and called 
Butch over. He eagerly licked me off for awhile and 
then we retired to the living room. I pulled my dress 
up around my waist, sat down on the edge of the couch 
and Butch, who knew the drill, immediately hopped on me 
missionary style and I guided his cock inside me. We 
were both on our way to a great orgasm when I looked up 
and was shocked to see Philip standing in the doorway 
to the dining room staring at us wide eyed, his mouth 
open and his pants bulging. I found out later he had 
skipped school and snuck back into the house in the 
hope of catching me doing something dirty with the dog. 
He did.

Horrified, I immediately pushed the dog off, ignoring 
his wine of protest, and jumped up and smoothed down my 
dress.

"You were fucking the dog!" Philip declared, stating 
the obvious.

"I was not!" I declared, denying the obvious.

"Yes you were! I saw you! I'm going to tell Dad!"

"He won't believe you!" I tried to scoff.

"Yes he will," Philip confidently declared and I knew 
the boy was right.

"Well, you just can't do that!" I was scared to death! 
My husband would have a moral fit and order me, the 
perverted harlot, out of his house. What kind of 
divorce settlement could I get if I was charged with 
adultery with a dog? I anxiously mulled it over for a 
few seconds. "Ok. What do you want to keep quiet?" I 
asked. "Money? I'll give you money. How much do you 
want?"

He thought about it. That was positive. It showed he 
could be bribed. I started mentally reviewing my 
checking account, trying to figure out how much I could 
give him.

"No, I don't want money," he finally decided, a sly, 
expectant smile on his face. "I want to see you naked."

We stared at each other while I debated my options. 
There weren't any.

"Ok," I finally reluctantly agreed. "Let's go 
upstairs."

"You stay!" I ordered Butch and went up the stairs. 
Philip eagerly followed me. I went to his bedroom and, 
when he was inside, I closed the door, not wanting 
Butch to join us. I told Philip to sit on his bed, 
which he expectantly did, and then, standing in front 
of him in the small room, I started taking off my 
clothes. I pulled off my dress and, since I wasn't 
wearing any panties, I was already half nude. While he 
stared at my crotch I took off my bra and kicked off my 
shoes and stood in front of him stark naked.

"There!" I declared. "Had enough?" I asked after a few 
moments and reached for my dress.

"No," he told me. "I want to touch you."

"Wait a minute! That wasn't part of the deal!" I 
protested.

"It is now," he told me, still staring at my body like 
it was candy and he was ready to eat it. "Lay down here 
on the bed," he ordered, patting the bed next to him.

"No! I'm not going to let you feel me up!"

"I'll tell Dad what you were doing with the dog," he 
threatened.

"Well, I'll tell your father that you tried to feel 
me up!" I threatened.

"Well, I'll tell him you tried to seduce me! Who do you 
think he'll believe?" Philip demanded and smirked.

It was a good point. His father would believe him, 
not me.

I reluctantly lay down on the bed next to him.

Rather hesitantly at first, he touched my breasts and 
then, gaining more confidence, he caressed them, 
squeezed them and played with my nipples. No one had 
fondled my breasts in years and despite my anger at the 
little shit I felt myself getting aroused. I tried to 
suppress it.

Then he ran his hand down across my stomach and started 
playing with my pubic area. At first he just rubbed it 
but then he started trying to find his way in my cunt. 
Involuntarily I spread my legs to give him more room 
and then I just closed my eyes and let it happen. He 
found it. I was hot and well lubricated and he easily 
slid a finger inside me. I tried not to groan but as he 
worked first one finger and then two in and out I 
couldn't help but move my hips to meet them. I was 
almost on the verge of an involuntary orgasm when he 
suddenly pulled his fingers out.

I opened my eyes to see him getting off the bed. He 
dropped his pants, kicked them away, and did the same 
with his shorts, displaying a major erection. His cock, 
which jutted out from his body, was much bigger than 
I'd thought it was, almost adult size . "Sit up!" he 
ordered, standing next to the bed.

I sat up.

"Suck my cock!" He ordered, waving it in my face.

"No!" I told him. "I don't suck cock!" Even if you 
discount the dog, that was something of a lie. I hadn't 
sucked off a man since I'd met his father but before 
that I'd sucked off lots of them and had enjoyed it 
immensely.

"You don't?" he asked surprised and very 
disappointed.

"No," I told him, but I was very tempted.

"But I thought all women did it," he said, very 
dejected. "I've seen pictures of women doing it and 
there's a girl in my school that does it for any boy 
that asks."

"Well, get her to do it!" I told him, still staring 
at his cock.

"I have. She's done it, but now I want you to do it," 
he informed me, stepping closer.

"Well, I don't do it!" I told him, looking longingly 
at his cock.

He thought about that for a moment and then said 
sternly, "Well, you're going to have to. You're going 
to have to suck my cock! If you don't, I'll tell Dad 
you fucked the dog!"

"I'll tell him you tried to make me suck your cock!" I 
threatened, but I was staring at it and weakening. He 
may have heard that in my voice.

"He won't believe you. Come on, Mom. You know your 
going to do it eventually." he declared, impatiently 
sticking his young, strong, attractive cock in my face 
and stroking it. "Suck my cock, Mom."

Philip seldom called me "mom". George, my husband, had 
tried to get him to call me "mother" when we were first 
married, but with little success. Why was he calling me 
"mom" now? I absently wondered. Was it because a mother 
was supposed to satisfy his needs? He obviously had a 
need! It was staring me in the face. Or was it because 
calling me mother made it more erotic and more 
exciting? It had that effect on me.

He was right, of course. If he kept insisting I knew 
that sooner or later I'd have to do what he wanted. I'd 
have to suck his cock. Besides, the more I looked at it 
the more I wanted to do it. I finally reached out and 
tentatively took hold of it. It was the first human 
cock I'd held in years. It was young, smooth and strong 
and felt great. I bent over, studied it for a moment 
and then took it in my mouth. It tasted like cock, very 
good cock. Philip groaned as I moved it in and out, 
savoring it.

I wanted to go slow and fully enjoy the first blow job 
I'd given to another human in years but the kid got 
excited, grabbed me by the hair on the back of my head 
and started ramming his cock into my mouth as far as it 
would go. Fortunately, along with algebra, I'd learned 
to "deep-throat" during my senior year in high school. 
I took it all. Despite this rape of my mouth I was soon 
enjoying it. I like a little force now and then.

I soon sensed he was on the verge of coming and sucked 
harder. He groaned, jammed his cock down my throat and 
held it there. I felt his sperm pumping down my throat. 
There were gobs and gobs of it. You would have thought 
the little jerk had been storing it up for months, but 
he hadn't. I knew because I washed his handkerchiefs. I 
swallowed and swallowed and when he was finished I 
sucked him clean and then pushed him away.

"There!" I told him, wiping off my face and trying to 
sound disgusted, which I wasn't. I'd had an orgasm 
while I was sucking him and was hot for more, but I 
forced myself to say, "Ok. I did what you wanted. Now 
that's the end of it!"

"But I didn't get to fuck you!" he protested, standing 
in front of me with his cock at half-mast. "The dog 
gets to fuck you. How come he gets to fuck you and I 
don't? I want to fuck you!"

"No!" I told him, staring greedily at his cock, which 
was already starting to grow again.

"I'll tell Dad!" he threatened. "I'll tell Dad you 
fucked the dog and then you made me let you suck my 
cock!"

I thought about that. It was a very scary thought. His 
father would probably believe him. "But you can't do it 
even if I'd let you," I pointed out.  "You can't fuck 
anyone. You're not even hard."

"Well, get it hard!" he ordered. "Suck it!" He stepped 
forward again and waved his half-erect cock in my face. 
"Common, Mom, suck it hard again. I want to fuck you," 
he pleaded, changing tactics.

What the hell? I'd already sucked it once and I 
certainly wanted to be fucked. I took his nearly erect 
cock and sucked it into hardness. It only took a 
minute. Then I climbed up further on the bed and spread 
my legs. He immediately jumped on me and started poking 
me with his cock. I took hold of it and guided it 
inside me. It felt wonderful! But I wasn't given much 
time to enjoy it. He banged away at me trying to bring 
himself off. He was an even less considerate lover than 
the dog. Fortunately, because I'd sucked him off first, 
it took him a few minutes to come and in that time I 
managed to have another good orgasm. Not great, but 
good.

It was like he'd just gotten a wonderful new toy, me, 
and he wanted to play with it. He followed me around 
for the rest of the day trying to feel me up and we 
fucked three more times. By the last one at three in 
the afternoon he'd tired enough to slow down a bit and 
I managed to have a tremendous orgasm.  Then, thank 
God, he fell asleep and I was able to get the house 
cleaned up before his father got home from work.

Philip wanted to skip school again the next day and 
stay home and fuck, but I refused to let him. When he 
go home at three-thirty he dropped his book bag on the 
floor, grabbed me, dragged me up to his bedroom, made 
me suck him off again and then we fucked. That became 
the pattern. I'd suck him off and then fuck him every 
afternoon when he got home from school and, of course, 
we'd do it on weekends when his father was out of the 
house. I still continued to do the dog, but much less 
frequently. Philip was in heat and, even though I was 
too, I was getting more sex than I could handle. It 
wasn't very good quality sex because, despite my 
efforts to train him, Philip remained only interested 
in his own gratification, but he certainly made up for 
the quality with quantity.

The problem was that he soon became careless and wanted 
to feel me up and fuck me when his father was in the 
house. He'd come out in the kitchen and attack me when 
I was cleaning up after supper and his father was in 
the living room watching TV. If I was in the mood, and 
thought it was safe, I'd let him feel me up a bit. It 
was something of a turn-on to let the son masturbate me 
with his father, my husband, only fifty feet away and 
oblivious to what was happening. But I refused to let 
the kid fuck me under those conditions. It was crazy! 
Philip seemed convinced that his father was stupid, 
blind and deaf and wouldn't care if he did catch us in 
the act. Philip acted accordingly. But, of course, I 
couldn't go along with that!

One evening after supper when I was about finished in 
the kitchen and was just cleaning the sink, Philip came 
up behind me and started feeling me up.  George was in 
the living room watching TV. It seemed safe enough and 
I was horny so I let the kid hike my dress up around my 
waist and play with my cunt.  As usual I wasn't wearing 
any panties. He fingered me for awhile and then took 
his cock out and rubbed it against my ass, begging me 
in a whisper to spread my legs and bend over further so 
he could shove it in. We'd done it that way many times, 
with me bent over the kitchen table or the sink and 
Philip mounting me from the rear, but, of course, not 
when his father was in the house. It was too dangerous 
to do it then so I refused, but I was hot and if the 
boy wanted to masturbate me to orgasm that was fine.

Philip continued to finger me, rub his cock in the 
crack of my ass and softly plead with me to let him 
fuck me. I was just standing there bent over and 
enjoying the fingering when I happened to look up at 
the kitchen window and saw my husband's reflection in 
the glass! I froze. George was standing in the doorway 
to the kitchen watching us! I stared at him, scared to 
death, trying to decide what to do. Philip, who was 
oblivious to his father's presence, kept fingering me 
and pleading with me to let him fuck me. I just stood 
there, bent over the sink, my dress up around my waist, 
frozen in fear. In a moment George was going to come 
storming into the kitchen ready to kill! What was I 
going to do? How was I going to explain my way out of 
this? It flashed through my mind that I'd have to claim 
the kid had attacked me, forced me. But a moment later 
I realized that wouldn't work. Why hadn't I made noise, 
called out for help? 

My husband had only been fifty feet away. Why had I 
just let the kid lift my dress up around my waist, 
stick his fingers in my cunt and rub his bare cock 
against my ass? Why hadn't I made any noisy protest? 
There wasn't any explanation for that except that I 
hadn't objected to it and had quietly let it happen.  
Besides, if I tried to lay the blame on Philip he'd 
tell George about the dog and I'd be exposed as a 
degenerate capable of anything.

I stared at my husband's reflection in the window, 
holding my breath, waiting for him to act. I waited. He 
didn't act. He just stood there watching us. After a 
few moments he stepped back into the shadows of the 
darkened dining room, but I could still make him out in 
the darkness and he was still there watching us. I 
slowly realized that he wasn't going to do anything, at 
least not now, and I relaxed a bit and breathed again.

Then I began to think that perhaps the kid had been 
right. Perhaps George really didn't care if the kid 
felt me up and fucked me. Then I began to get 
irritated. Why didn't my husband care? After all, 
sexually at least, I was technically his possession. 
Didn't he feel any proprietary rights to me? What was 
I? Just an object to be shared and used? And why was he 
still watching? He must be enjoying it! He was the 
pervert! Perhaps he was even getting a little turned on 
for a change. Perhaps he was even getting a partial 
erection.

The more I thought about it the more angry I got. Ok! 
If he liked what he was seeing and wanted a show, by 
God, I'd give him a show! I'd give him something to 
see! I spread my legs wide apart and bent way over the 
sink. Then I reached under, grabbed Philip's searching 
cock and guided it into my cunt.  When Philip thrust 
home I looked up and checked the window again. George 
was still there in the shadows. Philip banged away at 
me with his usual lack of finesse but I groaned and 
moaned like it was the best fuck I'd ever had. In a way 
it was. It was certainly the most exciting. I was 
fucking the son right in front of the father, my 
husband. I had a tremendous orgasm and during it I 
looked up to see if George was still there to see it. 
He was.

After it was over, and I'd cleaned Philip's sperm off 
my crotch and thighs, I joined my husband and his son 
in the living room and we all watched TV like nothing 
had happened. Nothing was said and George gave no 
indication that anything was wrong.

That evening when we went up to bed I was more than a 
little apprehensive. I thought that perhaps George was 
saving up his anger until we were alone, but nothing 
was said. Then I thought that perhaps seeing me fucked 
by his son might be enough of a turn-on that George 
would want to have sex, but he just said, "Goodnight, 
dear," as usual, and turned over and went to sleep.

It was clear that George didn't care that I was fucking 
his son. Well, if he didn't care, I didn't care. So I 
continued to suck off and fuck the kid when he got home 
from school and I still do it every school day. Despite 
my efforts at training, the boy is still a poor lover 
but, aside from the dog, he's the only one I've got, 
and my husband seems to approve of him.

I was, and still am, careful not to rub my husband's 
nose in it and perhaps force him to react. I still 
generally try to keep Philip at bay when George is in 
the house, but if Philip comes on to me in the kitchen 
after dinner, and I'm in the mood, I let him feel me up 
and fuck me. But I insist we do it with me bending over 
the kitchen sink and Philip entering me from the rear 
so I can watch for George in the window. He's usually 
there in the darkened dining room watching, which 
greatly increases my pleasure.

Perhaps that seems a little sick to you, but to me it's 
just erotic.  Where is the line between a "little sick" 
and erotic? And like the man says: If I do it, it must 
be normal.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 6