Pussy Hound

"Hi! If there's a Pussy Hound card in your wallet to go along with that lapel pin, we're going to have fun tonight!"

"Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude, but that H doesn't by any chance stand for 'Hound,' does it? Really?!"

"Okay, mister, let's see some identification. We don't let fake Hounds in this here bar."

"Is that a Hound card in your wallet or are you just happy to eat me?"

"Say, that's a handsome lapel pin. How'd you get it?" (This last one was usually accompanied by the visual equivalent of wink-wink, nudge-nudge.)

The Hounds were immensely grateful for being anointed and sought out, and they were all too willing to offer their services. Truth be told, most Hounds were self-conscious about their particular fetish, and often they'd had the unhappy experience of being forced to screw when they just wanted to keep eating. To be plucked from obscurity, recognized as worthy and actually invited to express one's gift by a lady with full and uninhibited appreciation of its specialness, well, that was a rare and beautiful thing.

h

Sheryl still swooned at the thought of her first encounter with a Certified Hound. She'd been set up by her sluttiest friend, Anna, who told her she had to drop whatever she was doing and get this particular man in her pants. As planned, Sheryl found him at Sullivan's one Thursday night amongst the crowd that started the weekend early.

Glenn was not hard to spot: short, bald, glasses, Jewish, approaching forty. He was neither ugly nor attractive. He seemed to be having a good time among friends, glass in hand, looking around at the ladies, with the look in his eye that held out little hope for scoring. Sheryl locked him in her radar, circling the room to choose the best angle of approach. She decided on stealth, coming up from behind.

"Hi, Glenn." He spun around to see who'd put her hand on his back. Sheryl was an arresting sight to virtually all men, and she had put in the required effort to insure that she would arouse the desired reaction. Glenn did not disappoint. He stared stupidly at Sheryl, openly admiring her beautiful tanned face, her long, silky hair, before his eyes fell to the stiff nipples protruding bralessly through her silk blouse and the short velvet skirt from which her graceful legs descended. He visualized his face lodged between her thighs, and shivered noticeably.

To Sheryl's surprise, however, he wasn't wearing a lapel pin. She regrouped quickly, thinking there was no way she was going to pick him up if he wasn't the right guy.

"Oh, I'm sorry. My friend Anna told me to say hello to someone named Glenn. She said he was a real Hound."

Glenn almost fell off his chair, amazed at what seemed to be happening. This gorgeous babe whom he couldn't hope to have in a million years was actually inviting him to go down on her. Like a bad actor in a sitcom, he realized he wasn't wear his "H" pin. "Shit!"

"Excuse me?" Sheryl asked, looking for all the world as if she had no idea what the problem was.

"Oh, sorry!" he stammered. Reaching for his wallet, he spilled his drink, causing everyone at the table to jump out of the way and look over at Glenn and some stunning babe they'd certainly have remembered if they'd ever seen before.

Sheryl smiled and turned back to Glenn, who had finally managed to get his wallet out and was trying mightily to extricate the card from among the clutter. Sheryl could see that it was, in fact, a Certified Pussy Hound card, and she took him by the arm and led him away from his shocked companions.

As they crossed the room, she whispered commandingly in his ear, "I want you to eat my pussy 'til I can't walk anymore." He readily agreed.

She found an empty room, pulled him inside and locked the door. Turning away from Glenn, Sheryl spread her legs wide as if she'd been busted by the cops, flipped up her miniskirt and bent over at the waist, and pressed her hands flat against the wall. She looked at Glenn over her shoulder, and pushed out her exposed ass.

Glenn, to his credit, knew what to do, and he did not hesitate. Smoothing both hands over her silken panties, he buried his face into the cleft of her bottom, pressing his tongue gently into her asshole. Sheryl moaned and reached back to pull his head into her harder. She knew she'd found the right guy.

Glenn ground his face into Sheryl's tight backside, then slipped his hands inside her panties from the bottom. He gripped the warm smoothness with grateful appreciation, while his thumbs reached down to stroke agonizingly close to the swelling lips of her cunt. He tongued her asshole through the material, and squeezed her ass hard.

The panties had to come down, and come down they did, but not before he licked her exposed crack, while Sheryl reached back with both hands to spread them apart. Glenn ate her hole while slowly pulling her panties down her long legs, while Sheryl stepped out of her underwear, wobbling unsteadily, her entire consciousness centered on her backside.

Glenn pushed a hand down firmly on Sheryl's back, making her bend lower, and pushing her ass higher and her pussy back to Glenn's waiting mouth. He put his tongue inside her and grabbed her hips with conviction. Sheryl squirmed into him, and his tongue went deeper, as he pulled her back and pressed his face forward.

She felt completely exposed and completely taken by him. Her hands fell from the wall and she bent over at the waist. Her asshole pointed to the ceiling, and her pussy was open and presenting. Her crotch was fused to Glenn's face, soaking him in the delicious stink, and he bent his knees to position himself to eat her voraciously. Sheryl reached between his legs to find his erection, and she squeezed him hard to express her lust. He thrust his pelvis forward, but did not flag from his exertions between her legs.

They were rocking in an insensate but perfect rhythm, her ass locked in his grip, her hands now inside his pants, holding him for all she was worth. They somehow communicated that they could each do this forever, and neither lover broke the spell. She came in relentless spasms, vocalizing her pleasure, "Fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck ..." which only made him drive harder and deeper, as if such a thing were possible. She squealed and grunted, abusing his prick as best she could.

Soon, one hand found its way inside her blouse, and she made him squeeze her nipple as hard as he could. This only encouraged him, and he placed his other hand, fingers spread wide, on her ass crack, before inserting his finger carefully but determinedly into her tightly puckered asshole.

This was quite simply more than Sheryl could bear. She pushed her ass higher to force his finger deeper, and she moved her ass in a wide circle to maintain maximum pressure. Glenn worked her clit ferociously with his tongue, and Sheryl let the final round of orgasms crash over her and take her down to her knees.

Utterly overwhelmed but still consumed by the sexual ordeal to which she had just succumbed, Sheryl unbuttoned her blouse and squeezed both breasts wantonly, before spinning around to face Glenn at crotch level. She roughly undid his buttoned trousers, and proceeded to suck his cock as if she meant to murder him. Glenn fell back against the wall, Sheryl holding on, working his balls, her head bobbing up and down spreading saliva and tonguing his shaft. Glenn looked at the ceiling through closed eyes, awaiting the inevitable eruption, which came soon enough, covering Sheryl's exposed chest with sticky, white fluid. She spread his cum over her tits, and pulled his face down to her, where they flopped to the floor together and kissed long, hard and deep.

All she could think was, "Thank you, Toni Bentley."

Chapter 12

Andrea had had quite a week. Having just recently arrived from the Midwest, she was still completely in love with, and overwhelmed by, the city. Her new job looked like it would actually work out, and, contrary to what everyone and their mother had warned her, her officemates seemed genuinely warm and welcoming, and they'd been delightful company on several recent tours of nearby drinking establishments. Several of them, both men and women, liked to keep the same late hours she did, and no one seemed to notice, much less to care, when she dragged her groggy ass into work a few minutes late after an early morning of inebriated excess.

She was also pleased how much easier it had been to attract sexual attention than it had been back home. Andrea had an over-developed sexual appetite, and she was not unappealing, with dark black hair that fell nearly to her waist, a slim figure with small but shapely breasts, and full lips and soft brown eyes. True, her nose was ample, but it did not detract from her overall appearance, and her straightforward demeanor made her easy to approach.

The problem, as she saw it, was that her sexual thermostat was set too damned high. Andrea was preoccupied with sex and it sometimes made her anxious. She not infrequently found herself slipping into the bathroom at work to masturbate, and she was troubled that her thoughts were clouded with fantasy whenever she talked to men whom she considered desirable, which was quite a lot of them. Her nipples frequently ached stiffly, and her panties were almost always damp. Sometimes, she even crossed her legs at the ankle, pressed her warm thighs together and rocked back and forth at her desk to stimulate herself unobtrusively. At a certain point, she'd become so flushed that she'd have to run to the ladies and finish herself off vehemently. After cleaning herself up, Andrea returned to her desk, shattered, limp and, for the time being, satisfied.

One time Andrea went altogether too far, and she'd made some serious noise in the bathroom while shamelessly violating herself. When she opened the stall door, she looked exactly as if she just gotten laid, with her hair tumbling over her eyes and the tails of her shirt draped like flags over her legs. She did a double take as she caught sight of someone in the mirror, who turned out to be Dana, a graphic artist by day and weekend biker chick.

"Having fun in there?" she asked Andrea with a nasty smile. The two ladies had said hello before, but that was the extent of their interaction so far. Andrea was in no position to pretend she didn't know what Dana was talking about, and she didn't bother.

"God, I'm an idiot. I do this everyday," she confessed with a laugh.

"Well, are you done?" Dana asked, walking slowly toward Andrea, holding her gaze steadily. "I mean, you got anything left for me, or all you all fingered out?"

Andrea felt bitch-slapped. She had never done anything with another woman, though she had thought about it once or twice. Dana did look pretty hot, dressed all in black, except for a garishly colored sash she'd tied around her waist that accented the hips of her low-cut pants, and showcased the elaborate jewelry housed in her naval. She wore no other piercings (thank God, Andrea thought), and she wore her short black hair in a flair of spikes. Narrow black plastic glasses framed her thin, pretty nose. Her mouth was full, but she wore no makeup.

Dana was bigger than Andrea, and her close physical proximity was intimidating in a thrilling sort of way. Andrea looked at Dana in an intentionally helpless way to let the co-worker know that she hadn't done this before, but she could be persuaded to surrender if the intruder led the way.

Dana understood and took control of the tantalizing situation. "Let me show you what you've been missing."

Dana backed Andrea into the handicapped stall, which seemed palatial compared to the space in which Andrea had just masturbated. Dana took Andrea's head in both hands and lowered herself to kiss the smaller girl, first sweetly and then deeply and hungrily. Andrea reciprocated without difficulty, and felt her nipples sharpen. She reached around to squeeze Dana's ass, and Dana pushed her against the wall before roughly opening her blouse without somehow tearing away the buttons.

Andrea unhooked her bra and pulled the other woman's face deeply into her cleavage. Dana softly caressed the fullness of her flesh, and lovingly tasted first one pointed nub and then the other. Andrea exhaled as she swooned. Dana's tongue painted Andrea's breasts, while Andrea ground her crotch into Dana's pubic bone to respond as best she could.

Dana pulled away and stared intently into Andrea's intoxicated eyes, and separated the strap from the buckle of Andrea's belt and threw the zipper open. She took possession of Andrea's soak panties and found what she was looking for. She entered Andrea's slit with her long middle finger, and imposed the weight of the heel of her hand onto the reddened clitoris. Andrea died and revived in short order, and made the kind of noise that had given her away to Dana before. Dana's tongue entered her mouth again, as she crushed Andrea's cunt with cruel ferocity. Andrea responded with a leaking flood, and Dana guided her orgasm to a thrashing completion.

Andrea slid to the floor with grateful lassitude, holding on to the back of Dana's thighs with no strength whatsoever. Dana smiled and tousled Andrea's hair and stepped back to give herself room. She quietly unfastened her own belt and stepped out of her loose trousers, and kicked off her shoes. Andrea remained seated on the floor, with her back against the cool tiles, and appreciatively reached up to slip her hands under her lover's panties, and gently guide them down her long legs. Dana moved into position, standing with her pubic hair at Andrea's eye level.

Andrea surveyed the scene before her without alarm, strange as it was, glad that she had such a skilled instructor to show her the way. She explored the region with open palms, letting herself thrill Dana by lightly stroking her pelvis and curving into the tangles of plentiful brown hair that topped her mound. Dana pressed her hips forward and threw her shoulders back, and Andrea took hold of her ass while she advanced with her open mouth.

Her tongue tasted the acrid wetness and ran the length of the labial lips, before entering Dana's opening and experience its astonishing slickness. Dana took her head and forced her more deeply inside, covering Andrea's face with her glory, and Andrea responded by attacking her prey with purpose. As Dana's head fell back, a sound escaped that told Andrea she was doing it right, not bad for a first-timer. She ground her face into the mess, squeezing Dana's ass hard, making her squirm, riding with her gyrations, not relenting in any measure.

The lovers fell into a slow rhythm together, as they shared an understanding that long and slow, long and slow, long and slow, would be just what the doctor ordered. There was no need to hurry. They were not at work. They had no responsibilities. They were not in danger of being caught at every moment. This was what they needed to do, and they needed to do it well.

Andrea lovingly stroked Dana's tight thighs, as she patiently focused her attention on eating her first pussy. Dana curled her fingers into Andrea's hair, in part to keep from losing her equilibrium and tumbling over. Andrea sensed the precariousness of the situation, and realized she could help Dana remain upright by inserting two fingers up her dripping cunt, and placing the middle finger of her other hand between Dana's ass cheeks and spreading out her other fingers on either side of her deep crack. Dana exhaled fiercely and bent low at the waist at these new, but most welcome intrusions, and Andrea brought her head forward to remain embedded among the smooth folds of the wet skin.

Dana was entering an unsustainable phase, and she began to tremble uncontrollably. Andrea let Dana guide her climax, content to both cause and feel with real immediacy the arrival of the orgasmic release.

h

Tonight, Andrea and a few of her new friends were meeting for dinner at a new place that had just opened around the corner from work. She'd been developing a serious crush on one of the guys who joined them regularly, Kevin, and he'd been the exclusive subject of her filthiest fantasies of late. Andrea understood the risks of sleeping with one's workmates, but if Steve was interested, so was she. Tonight she hoped to find out.

She arrived at the crowded restaurant on the early side, having lost interest in the pile of work that had accumulated on her desk. The hostess had suggested she wait for the others in the bar, and she was fortunate to order a drink just as one of the stools was being vacated. She wedged herself in among the tightly packed crowd, and looked in the mirror while stirring her olives.

Without intending to, she caught the eye of a young gentleman seated to her immediate right who appeared to be waiting for a table with a few of his friends. Andrea wore an electric blue silk blouse under a gray jacket, with large hoop earrings, and she had attracted her fair share of attention among the assembled males of the species. Her seatmate was tall and thin, with close-cropped brown hair, and clean-shaven, wearing a tailored dark suit, double-breasted, with an off-white shirt, a floral tie in a small, perfect knot, with a matching pocket silk.

He also seemed rather shy. He quickly looked away when their eyes met briefly in their reflection, but he checked back promptly to see if Andrea was still looking at him, which she was. She smiled at him in a way that made it impossible for him not to turn toward her to say hello and ask if he could buy her another drink.

"Sure," she said, encouragingly. "I'm meeting some friends for dinner, but they're always late, you know?"

His name was Steve and he worked in a law firm in the neighborhood. Andrea told him about her recent move to the city, which offered all kinds of conversational possibilities, making it easy for the two strangers to avoid the usual awkwardness of bar chatter. Steve was funny, too, and she found plenty of excuses to touch his forearm and lean in toward him to share a laugh.

As the next round of drinks arrived, Andrea was far along in her thinking about how much she'd like to see Steve buck naked and hard. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing and whether there was any activity in his pants. Perhaps, she thought, I can help him get started, and rested the flat of her palm on his closest thigh. As Steve turned toward Andrea, placing his knee between her legs, she noticed for the first time that he was wearing a gold lapel pin, a small capital H embedded in a circle.

She caught her breath. "That's not what I think it is, is it?" Her brain stopped working.

Steve smiled sheepishly and reached for his wallet. Andrea felt a tingle shiver down her spine and back up to her crotch, as she tried unsuccessfully to maintain her composure. When Steve laid his laminated Certified Pussy Hound card on the bar, she flushed crimson before regaining her composure. "Let's go," was all she needed to say.

Afterwards, as her friends followed the hostess to their table, they wondered aloud what had become of Andrea.

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