EXTREME DOGGING
Dylan Reed
The sedan pulled up at about eleven forty-five to where the big skinhead sat on a bus stop bench reading a True Detective. He was about six four and burly, shaved headed, with a couple days’ growth. He was not wearing a jacket, just a tight white T-shirt, snug faded blue jeans, and combat boots.
The redhead in the backseat was packed into a loose summer dress of thin black cotton; her braless tits were halfway visible at the edges of the spaghetti straps, and with her legs held partway open, the cuckolder could see the lacy tops of her sheer black stockings where they hitched to her black garter belt. She also wore high heels, which would have looked amazingly fetching on her five-ten frame if she’d been standing up. Her pretty, pale, lightly freckled face was ringed with a cascading mane of copper hair.
“How’s it going,” he said.
She nodded. “I’m Vanessa.”
No other conversation was necessary. The guy did not introduce himself. He got into the backseat.
The redhead kissed him. It was a wet kiss on her part, and a dry one on his; he didn’t respond but kept his lips tight together. Vanessa got the message: maybe this was some kind of gay public sex no kissing rule. Either way was fine with her.
She tucked her long legs under her perfect ass and cuddled up against him, taking his hand and leaning heavily on his great bulk; she let her hand rest casually in his lap, not far from his cock, which was stiffening.
Mark hit the gas and headed for the nearest onramp. As her husband drove, Vanessa gently kissed the cuckolder’s ear, letting her tongue laze out to tease it; she let her breath come harder than it normally would have—not because she was really out of breath, but because she liked to feel the cuckolder’s cock stirring against her, and she knew from experience that one of the sure-fire ways to get a man hard in moments is for a woman to begin panting up against him. There were a thousand other ways, but she liked this one. It worked flawlessly.
“Have you ever gotten a blowjob on the freeway?” Vanessa asked.
The cuckolder shook his head.
“Hey, you two,” said Mark nervously. “None of that, now. No below-the-waist till we get to the Point. You know the rules!”
“Fuck the rules,” said Vanessa.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Mark, chastened. The car seat squeaked as his hips worked absently up and down.
She winked in the dark at the cuckolder; she smiled and he did not smile back. He was looking at her, his eyes roving over her tits, her face, her long legs tucked under a perfect ass.
“It won’t be long,” she said.
The cuckolder let his arm drape around her, caressing the side of her breasts as she ran her open palm over his stiffening cock.
It was ten minutes before Mark pulled into the parking space. That short drive, in fact, was one of the two biggest reasons this particular cuckolder had been lucky enough to get Vanessa tonight—ease of access. The other was—
“Oh, my,” said Vanessa. “You weren’t lying.”
“Not by much,” admitted the cuckolder as Vanessa’s hand, which had slid down his pants during the ride, moved gently up and down. There was a screech-chunk sound as Mark set the parking break.
“Take a walk, Mark,” Vanessa said.
Mark looked over the back of the seat, watching his wife stroke the skinhead’s big cock.
“I said take a walk,” Vanessa said as she lowered her face to his crotch. “You can watch like all the others.”
Mark got out of the car and slammed it behind him. He clicked the electronic lock and the sedan chirped. It would keep some overzealous voyeur from trying to hop into the action, which occasionally happened, though Mark was fairly sure the cuckolder could take care of anyone who tried anything too forward—including him. Mark’s cock stiffened as he stood a few feet away; a few other guys were standing at respectful distances for now, creeping closer. One already had his cock out.
“What’s your story, man?” he asked.
“I’m watching, same as you.”
“She your girlfriend?”
“Wife,” he said.
“No kidding! That’s fucking awesome. Hey, you think I could—”
“No,” said Mark.
“Of course, man. Had to ask, man. Don’t mind if I watch, though?”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
Mark resisted the urge to pull his own cock out just yet—there’d be a long, sweet suck before he saw her riding him. He knew it from experience—always ten minutes of suck, and at least ten of fuck, depending on the guy. The Point was the only place where you could get away with half an hour in the public eye without attracting law enforcement attention. He stood a few feet away and watched as the couple in the car got down to business.
Inside the car, the windows were steaming up. The cuckolder reached out for Vanessa and pulled the top of her dress between her tits, revealing perfect breasts with pale nipples, freckles dusting the former, goose bumps on the latter. He teased the dress there and held it, bent down and sucked one nipple into his own mouth. He caressed the other breast with his open hand as she relaxed into the seat and let her arms laze over the back of it. The cuckolder made love to her tits and Vanessa reached up to untie her dress at the back of her neck. The dress fell forward, giving the cuckolder greater access to her tits; he made love to them hungrily as she reached for his cock. As she ran her open palm over his bulge, she stroked the fingers of her other hand through his almost-skinhead hair; he moved from one breast to the other as his hand went up her dress.
He knew already that she was bare and wet; he could smell her, even over the lingering scent of her husband’s sweat and the chemical smell of a car too-recently cleaned. The upholstery of this bucket probably got a regular workout, the cuckolder knew.
As he put his hand up her dress, she went wide there on the seat, spreading her legs for him. His hand glided up and down the inside of her perfect freckled thigh, nearing her cunt; he got his fingers up against her, teasing her slit. He felt her melting onto his hand as he began to tease her open. She was snug, a practiced tightness, and as slick as cunts can be. He put two fingers deep inside her and his thumb against her clit. She moaned. She could feel her G-spot swelling, and if his skills at finger-fucking were any indication, he could too; he started to press against it, working the pads of his fingers over her swelling inside bulge as her cunt juiced still more.
As he finger-fucked her smoothly, he put his face right up to hers, and she parted her lips to be kissed.
But the cuckolder didn’t kiss her; their only kiss so far had been the abortive one when he got in. Vanessa loved to be kissed, almost as much as she loved to suck cock. Vanessa leaned forward slightly to press her lips to his, and he pulled back. His eyes narrowed and held hers tightly; she fell into them desperately with a sharp surge of abstract pleasure: “Whores don’t get kissed, they get fucked,” she whispered.
“That’s right,” he said, and that was plenty to send her whimpering into the stratosphere, her cunt giving a clench around his fingers as she felt more like a whore than she already did. Vanessa loved to be kissed, but she loved even more to be treated like the type of girl who didn’t get kissed.
“Well, I’ve got to do something with my mouth,” she whispered excitedly.
The cuckolder slid his fingers out of her, brought them up to her mouth and eased his hand into her cascade of red hair. He gripped her hair tightly as he forced his fingers in, and Vanessa whimpered. She suckled obediently, licking her cunt off his fingers. As she did, he used both hands to guide her face down to his crotch. His pants were already open, so it was easy to get his jockeys down and take his cock into her mouth. He was even bigger at close range. Vanessa’s lipsticked mouth went working up his shaft, licking precum from his tip and sliding down to tongue his balls. She started sucking with mounting eagerness, her lips circling his shaft as she pumped up and down on him.
After a few minutes she came up for air, panting.
“Now don’t dare come in my mouth,” she said.
“Don’t like the taste?” he asked.
“I love the taste,” she said. “But I wanna fuck.”
“Don’t worry,” said the cuckolder. Vanessa’s mouth went back down on his cock and started working eagerly over him; her tongue lavished affection on the underside as she tried to gauge his arousal from his moans. Promises, promises: the guy could still shoot on her face and never know it was coming… and then she’d be left making cell phone calls at midnight. No one wanted that.
Outside the car, Mark stood smoking, while a growing group of men edged in, a couple wearing trench coats, some in sweats, still others with their peckers out and visible. Mark didn’t do a thing; he just stood there, his cock erect. He glanced at his watch. His breathing quickened.
Vanessa suckled precum off the cuckolder’s cockhead. One hand held his shaft down near the base; with the other, she reached down and began to frig herself.
“God, I’m fucking wet,” she said.
“So do something about it.”
“I think I will,” she smiled, and climbed up onto her knees on the seat. She planted one knee on each side of him and slid herself down on him, using one hand to guide his cock to her pussy. She slid it up and down, looking into his eyes; his lips were tight, and she wanted very badly to kiss him. She felt a wave of erotic tension from knowing she could not. She worked his cockhead into her and said, “Fuck!” as she slid down onto him. He was big; he fit into her only with effort, making her feel fuller than she’d felt in ages. This position made her feel tighter, she knew from experience—or maybe it was just that she liked to use this position in situations where she could choose her cocks like a poor girl at a smorgasbord…and she always chose the big ones.
Mark was startled when the big dark car arrived; the masturbators all around him, seasoned professionals, yelped and scattered like cockroaches. Mark just stood there, watching, and when the plainclothes cop got out and pointed at him, he said, “Oh, fuck,” and then he reached into his pocket and obediently hit the button.
The door locks clicked; the cop reached in and hit his red lights, then opened the door before Vanessa could climb off the cuckolder. In fact, little had changed inside the car; Vanessa still rode him and he never even stopped thrusting.
The cop badged them.
“You mind stepping out of the car?” he said.
“We’re just having a little harmless fun,” said Vanessa.
“Please step out of the car. Both of you.”
Vanessa didn’t climb off the cuckolder; she was still riding him, her tits bare, her breasts brushing his face. He didn’t move to change positions, either.
“Please, officer. Let us finish. I’ll make it worth your while…” Vanessa turned a little toward him so he could get a better look at her tits; the cop appraised them eagerly.
“I mean really worth your while,” she said. “Just let me finish.”
“Officer, please,” said Mark, rushing up to him. “This is my car.”
“Your car? Who are you?”
“Her husband,” said Mark. “We…we meant no harm.”
“We meant no harm? Is this some kind of thing you people do?”
In the cop’s car, the police scanner chirped and crackled: 104 in progress. 17 on West Lincoln. 713 in Durden Heights.
Vanessa was riding the cuckolder with greater ferocity; she worked her pussy up and down on his cock so that the cop could see his shaft outlined against the door lights. The cop could smell her. In fact, Mark could smell her, too; the pungent scent of female sex was wafting out of the car.
“I’m afraid so, officer—”
“It’s detective,” said the cop.
“Detective, I’m sorry. Yes, this is a thing we do. We meant no harm.”
The cop made a disgusted noise. “You drive your wife up to the Point to fuck with strangers?”
“Yes,” said Mark breathlessly.
The cop squared his shoulders, growled: “You probably lick her clean afterward!”
“Yes, sometimes—” Mark began.
“You probably lick him clean afterward!”
“Yes, if he wants it—” gasped Mark.
The cop’s voice had been getting swiftly louder, and now he cried out in a bellow: “You probably warm him up for her!”
“Not this one…but, yes, sometimes—”
“You disgusting little—”
Vanessa rode the cuckolder, crying out as she said, “Oh, god, I think I’m going to cum…. I’m going to turn around and sit on you, jack me off while I ride you, please, baby?”
Vanessa lifted herself off the cuckolder, worked herself around, crowded herself up against the ceiling, steadying herself on the front seat. She spread her legs and nuzzled her cunt up to the cuckolder’s cockhead; at the last moment before taking him into her, she said, “You don’t mind, do you, detective? I don’t want to get our guest in trouble. I’ll still make it worth your while, if you…”
“That won’t be necessary,” the detective said. “You kids go right ahead and fuck. Do her fucking ass for all I care.” He pointed at Mark. “It’s you got some explaining to do, son. You warm your wife’s ‘boyfriends’ up for her?”
“Sometimes, Sir, yes—”
“Does that make your little pecker hard?”
“It does, Sir, yes—”
“Then show me,” snapped the detective.
Trembling, Mark obeyed. He unfastened his belt and unzipped his pants; he took his cock out, displaying it to the detective. It was hard.
The scanner chirped: 213 in progress, South Pendergast. 424 on Washington.
The cop was almost screaming: “You ever warm them up without her?”
Mark bleated: “No, Sir, that would be—”
“That would be what?” thundered the detective. “Show me what it would be, you little bitch!” He pointed angrily to the pink triangle lapel pin affixed to his trench coat, swept the coat open and reached for his belt buckle.
“Show me!” he shouted.
“Y-yes, Sir,” whimpered Mark, dropping to his knees and crawling to the detective. Vanessa let out a cry of pleasure as the cop opened up his pants pulled a half-hard dick out of boxer shorts with badges on them. Mark’s mouth enveloped the thick cockhead and started working up and down as his eyes turned up toward the cop. Without being ordered to, he took a deep breath, nudged the cockhead against his throat, and swallowed easily, taking the cop’s prick all the way into him. He came up for air and slid his tongue from cockhead to base and then to balls; he came up and started sucking again, pumping it down into his throat and then bobbing up and down on it. His eyes took in the sight of the cop’s cruel face; he was grinning savagely as his cock got sucked.
“Yeah, see what that is? It’s smoking pole, you little cocksucker, whether it tastes like your wife’s cunt or my boyfriend’s fucking asshole. And you like it, don’t you, pal?”
Mark whimpered.
“I said you like it?” Mark nodded obediently, never letting the cop’s prick leave his mouth. “Yeah, you do it pretty well for someone who needs a skirt to get his cock fix, son. You know what they say down in Q-town—married men give the best head.”
“Yes, Sir,” panted Mark as he worked his way from head to balls, caressing the shaft with his tongue and rubbing it all over his face.
In the car, Vanessa was crying out wildly. The cop leaned into the car and said, “You kids all right?”
“Just fine, Sir,” Vanessa whimpered.
The cuckolder was stroking Vanessa’s clit, his fingers pressed up alongside his big prick. She rode him facing out, moaning wildly as she lifted herself halfway off his cock and then slammed down onto him.
The police scanner chirped and bleated: 445 in progress. 17 at Western Park.
The detective turned back to Mark. “From the looks of it, you don’t mind it one bit—nobody’s putting a gun to your head.” He swept his trench back to reveal his—just to remind everyone he had one.
“No, Sir,” said Mark, slurping audibly.
“Now stroke it off.”
Mark slid his mouth up to the detective’s cockhead and put his hand around the shaft.
“Not mine!” howled the cop. “Yours, cocksucker. Stroke your dick off on my fucking shoes. You better aim, or you’ll be eating dirt.”
Vanessa cried out, moaning, “Come in me. Come inside me, baby. Shoot it in me.”
Mark lowered his cock to his hand and began to stroke rapidly while his mouth worked up and down on the detective’s cock. As he mounted toward orgasm, he could barely suck; uncontrolled moans were coming from his mouth, and so he put his other hand around the detective’s shaft and started pumping.
“Yeah, you can pretend I’m making you do this all you want, just like you pretend she’s making you do it…but you’re gonna spooge my fucking shoes before I fill your fucking mouth, aren’t you? Don’t you fucking dare shoot on the ground, pig, or you’ll eat dirt, so help me god, you’ll eat a cumload’s worth of dirt—”
Mark cried out, leaning over and aiming his cock at the detective’s big black shoes. Cum erupted from his cockhead, spewing over the black leather in streaming spurts. Some squirted into the dirt. Mark looked up at the detective in guilty anticipation.
“Clean later,” said the cop. “Now make me come.”
Mark put his mouth back where it belonged and started stroking the cop rhythmically, feeling his hips pump as he got closer. Inside, Vanessa cried out louder than ever, and the cuckolder erupted in a thundering roar of orgasm; the cop’s prick spurted cum and Mark suckled on it hungrily, his throat muscles working as he swallowed every stream.
“Now clean!” snapped the cop.
Mark licked the cop all over, then lowered himself to the big black shoes and started licking. It was hard to see where every drop of cum had hit, so the cop helpfully pulled out his pocket flashlight and shined it down on Mark.
“You missed a spurt,” he said.
Mark lapped it up.
In the backseat, Vanessa and the cuckolder were still moaning, and Vanessa was performing much the same service on the cuckolder that Mark performed on the detective’s shoes. Mark looked into the car and saw Vanessa’s face bobbing up and down in the cuckolder’s crotch; the detective reached out and slammed the door as Mark put away the cop’s prick and delicately zipped his pants.
The scanner crackled. Unspecified disturbance at the Point, nearby unit please respond.
Unit 226 on the way from Placer Canyon, ETA in five.
“Keep it real, cocksucker,” growled the cop. He walked over to his sedan and climbed in. He started the car and threw it into reverse as Mark sprinted for the driver’s seat. They raced each other down the mountain.
As Mark took the curves at high speed, Vanessa finished cleaning up the cuckolder, put his cock away, and fixed her dress. She sat facing him in his lap, leaning close.
“Same place okay?”
“That’s fine. That wasn’t what I expected.”
“You posted ‘up for anything.’”
“Yeah,” said the cuckolder. “That’ll teach me.”
He kissed her, open-mouthed, with lots of tongue.